Lincatheron’s massive frame had Fenric crushed against the stone, one hand fisted in his hair hard enough that Fenric’s head was tilted back at an angle that had to hurt. His other handgripped Fenric’s hip with bruising force, fingers digging into flesh like he was trying to hold him in place through sheer will.
And Fenric—gods, Fenric was clinging. His fingers clawed at Lincatheron’s shoulders, his back, anywhere he could reach, pulling him closer even though there was no space left between them. He moaned into it, his cheeks flushed, brows drawn as though it hurt to be kissed like that, or to stop.
Lincatheron made a noise in response. Low and guttural and possessive, the kind of sound that shouldn’t come from someone as controlled as him. His mouth moved from Fenric’s lips to his jaw, his throat, biting down on the pale column of skin hard enough to leave marks.
“Fuck—” Fenric’s voice was wrecked, barely recognisable. “We can’t?—”
“I know.” Lincatheron didn’t stop. His teeth found the junction of Fenric’s neck and shoulder. “I know Fen, Iknow.”
“Then stop.”
“You first.”
Fenric’s laugh was short and broken and edged with pain. “You know I can’t.”
And then Lincatheron was lifting him. Just—liftinghim like Fenric weighed nothing, hands gripping his thighs as Fenric’s legs wrapped around his waist. Lincatheron slammed him back against the wall hard enough that I heard the impact, heard the breath punch out of Fenric’s lungs.
“We have to stop this,” Fenric gasped against Lincatheron’s mouth, even as his hands tangled deeper into dark hair. “If anyone finds out?—”
“I don’t care.”
“Yes you do.” Fenric pulled back just enough to meet Lincatheron’s eyes, and even from here I could see the anguish written across his features. “You care about your position, your reputation, what Varyth would?—”
“I care aboutyou.” Lincatheron’s voice cracked on the word, and my heart twisted at the sound. “I can’t do this. Can’t keep acting like I don’t?—”
“Don’t.” Fenric’s hands moved to frame Lincatheron’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Don’t say it. It only makes it harder.”
“Harder than this?” Lincatheron’s laugh was bitter, hollow. “Harder than watching you every gods-damned day and not being able to touch you except in the training yard? Harder than lying awake knowing you’re down the hall and I can’t—” He cut himself off with a sound of pure frustration, pressing his forehead against Fenric’s. “We can’t keep doing this.”
“I know.”
“We’re going to get caught.”
“I know.”
“Someone’s going to notice how I can’t fucking breathe when you’re in danger. How I throw myself over you like some kind of?—”
“I noticed.” Fenric’s tone was almost gentle. “You think I don’t see it? The way you position yourself between me and every threat?”
“Then you know this is insane.”
“Completely fucking insane.” Fenric’s thumb traced across Lincatheron’s cheekbone, the gesture so tender it made my throat tight. “And I still can’t stay away from you.”
My brain was trying to process what I was witnessing, trying to reconcile this with every interaction I’d seen between them. Every look, every gesture, every moment that had felt weighted with something I couldn’t parse.
Oh.
Oh.
That look across the dinner table. A conversation happening in the space between them. Lincatheron’s arm thrownprotectively across Fenric’s chest when they’d both been unconscious in that tunnel.
The way Fenric had screamed at him after the cave-in, rage masking terror.If you ever do that again, I will kill you myself.
Lincatheron’s desperate justification.If something happens to you?—
Every single moment clicked into place like puzzle pieces I hadn’t known I was collecting.
Holy shit.
