His massive frame was gentle as he stepped closer, one hand finding Fenric’s wrist to still the anxious motion. “Fen,” he murmured. “Hey. Look at me.”
Fenric’s eyes snapped to his, but Lincatheron didn’t flinch from whatever he saw there. Instead, his other hand came up to cup Fenric’s face, thumb brushing across his cheekbone with infinite care.
“There you are,” Lincatheron said, barely above a whisper. “Just breathe with me. Nothing else matters right now.”
And gods, Fenric melted into that touch like he’d been carved hollow and Lincatheron was the only thing that could fill the space. The way Lincatheron’s whole body curved around him, protective and tender, like Fenric was something precious he’d die before letting anyone harm.
Fenric’s breathing began to slow, matching the steady rhythm of Lincatheron’s chest against his. His eyes fluttered shut, leaning into those careful hands like a man finding sanctuary.
“That’s it,” Lincatheron murmured, and there was a reverence in his expression. As though calming Fenric’s panic was the most important thing in any realm. “I’ve got you.”
I stood there, forgotten for a moment, watching them exist in their own small universe where nothing mattered except the space between their bodies, the rhythm of shared breath.
“I won’t say anything,” I said quietly, not wanting to break whatever spell they’d woven but needing them to know. “To anyone. Ever.”
Lincatheron’s gaze found mine over Fenric’s head, gratitude and something fierce flickering there before his attention returned completely to the man in his arms.
Fenric’s eyes opened. And the expression on his face?—
Gods.
It was devastating.
He looked at Lincatheron like he’d hung every fucking star in the sky. Like Lincatheron was the sun and the moon and every celestial body that mattered, all condensed into one ridiculously massive warrior with careful hands.
“Better?” Lincatheron asked, voice smooth as silk.
Fenric nodded, a small smile ghosting across his lips. “Better.”
Lincatheron’s hands framed Fenric’s face, thumbs brushing across his cheekbones with infinite tenderness.
“For what it’s worth,” Lincatheron murmured, “I love your stupid face too.”
A startled laugh broke from Fenric’s throat, bright and unexpected in the heavy air. “Mystupid face?”
“Absolutely ridiculous,” Lincatheron confirmed, but his words were molten with affection. “All perfect angles and pretty eyes and that mouth that says the most devastating things without even trying.”
Fenric was grinning now, the panic finally bleeding out of him. “You’re an idiot.”
“Your idiot.”
And then Lincatheron was kissing him again, Fenric melted into it completely, hands fisting in Lincatheron’s shirt to pull him closer.
Three swift knocks echoed through the chamber.
All of us jumped like we’d been struck by lightning. Fenric went rigid against Lincatheron, eyes going wide with fresh terror.
“Driss?” Fenric called out.
“Yeah.” Cindrissian’s voice came through the door.
Fenric sagged against Lincatheron with visible relief. “Come in.”
The door opened to reveal Cindrissian in all his glory, ink-black hair catching the moonlight as those crimson eyes swept the room. He took in the scene—Lincatheron and Fenric pressed close together, me standing awkwardly to the side—without so much as a flicker of surprise.
His gaze flicked between the three of us, settling on me with something that might have been amusement.
“Well,” he said dryly, “at least if you fools got caught, it was by someone who knows how to keep a secret.”
