The darkness offered a shield against the embarrassment of vulnerabilities revealed in the harsh light of day or the softer luminescence of firelight. Disaris didn’t worry that if Bron saw her unclothed, he might find her disappointing. Her spirit scoffed at the foolish thought. Bron had been the other half of herself from the moment they met. He would never turn away from her, even if she had a horn growing out of the middle of her forehead.
Their exploratory foreplay grew even more heated, more frantic, until Bron abruptly put an end to it by pulling away from her with a groan. “We have to stop,” he said between gasps.
Disaris held on tight when he tried to roll off her. “Why? What’s wrong?” Panic crept in, along with chagrin as she wondered what had made him suddenly distance himself.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said in a strained voice. “But if we keep going, we’ll do more than kiss and touch.”
She knew what he alluded to, and her relief was so profound, she was nearly lightheaded. Her belly clenched with anticipation and a little apprehension for what she was about to invite and embrace, but her body yearned for the beautiful moon boy almost as much as her heart did. “I want to do more,” she said softly. Her hand found his neck, stroked the tight tendons there and felt when he gulped.
“Are you sure, Disa?”
She could almost hear the way he held his breath as he waited for her answer. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in mylife,” she said and wrapped her arms tightly around him, hands pressing on his back until he rested his full weight on her.
Some would say she’d surrendered her chastity to Bron jin Hazarin that night. She disagreed. Loving him had never been a war between them. She’d never been his adversary. There had never been any surrender. She’d simply shared another part of herself with the friend she loved most, loved best in the world.
That introduction to lovemaking had been a little awkward, a little clumsy, a tiny bit painful, and wonderful beyond words. Afterwards, Bron lay in her arms, nuzzling the warm spot under her ear. His hand cupped her breast beneath her shift. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Disa.”
She threaded her fingers through his hair, careful not to pull any of the tangles there. “Stop fretting,” she said. “It only hurt at first, and not that much.” Her inner muscles still pulsed with the memory of him deep inside her, and there was a warm slipperiness coating her thighs.
She didn’t lie to him. There was no previous lover to compare him to, but he’d been gentle in every way, and the initial discomfort of being stretched and penetrated had quickly faded, becoming a lovely throb only appeased by his repeated thrusts.
He rose on his elbows, lifting most of his weight off her. He was still nothing more than a blacker shape in the dark, and she wished she could light her firestick to see his expression instead of just feeling him staring down at her. “Are you sorry we did it?”
It was the question she’d wanted to ask him. “Are you?” Her stomach clenched in anticipation of his answer.
“Only if you are.”
She reached up, searching for his beloved face. He kissed her fingertips when they glided over his mouth. “I’m not sorry at all. In fact, I’m so not sorry, I want to do it again.”
The tension between them evaporated, and they both laughed. She coaxed him back down to rest against her. “Disa,” he whispered in her ear. “You bring me joy.”
They spent the remainder of the night discovering the wonder of friends becoming lovers. By the time dawn arrived, the winter storm had blown itself out, and Disa dozed in Bron’s arms, sore and satiated.
She was reluctant to leave the sanctuary of the barn and the lover’s refuge she and Bron had made in the loft, but Farmer Ordine was likely halfway home with his wife and wouldn’t appreciate finding them there, no matter the reason.
They donned their heavier clothes, pausing at times to steal a kiss or a caress. Bron picked bits of hay out of her hair, and she returned the favor. She flinched at one point as a twinging cramp rippled across her lower belly. Her thighs ached too, and she dreaded having to climb down the ladder.
Bron hugged her, sympathy in his eyes. “I know you don’t want me to apologize, but I hate that you’re in pain and I’m the reason for it.”
She returned his embrace, holding him close. “I was a lot more sore after the first two days working in the tannery.” She tilted her head back to grin at him. “And that wasn’t nearly as fun.”
He laughed before peppering her face with more kisses. He helped her down the ladder, hands on her hips as she slowly descended the rungs. Euwey the goat bleated a greeting from her own nest of hay and watched as her human rescuers unbarred the barn doors and pulled them open.
They had to leap out of the way when a small avalanche of snow cascaded down with a soft rumble. Disaris stared at the massive wall of snowdrift as high as the lintel that completely blocked the way out. They were walled in by a barricade of white. She looked to Bron. “I don’t think we’re going anywhere soon.”
He studied the snowdrift, then glanced up to the hayloft. “Stay here.” He climbed the ladder, once more disappearing into the loft’s tenebrous depths. His steps made the floor boards above her creak while thin ribbons of dust rained down from the rafters. There were more creaks and then the painful squeal of hinges.
When Bron rejoined her, he wore a triumphant look. “The snow didn’t reach high enough to block the loft doors,” he said. “But the drift is still tall enough that we can just step out onto it and walk down.”
With the exception of hauling a squirming Euwey up the ladder, his plan worked perfectly. They managed to escape the barn, even closing the loft doors behind them. There was nothing to be done about the main barn doors, now blocked from within by the berm of snow that had fallen inside.
The journey home was slow and difficult as they trudged through snow as high as their thighs in some places, taking turns carrying Euwey. Disa’s father and Bron’s mother met them when they were halfway to Bron’s house. Hazarin cried happy tears at finding them both alive and unharmed.
Her expression changed, as did Reylan’s when Disaris recounted how they’d escaped the storm and ended up staying in Farmer Ordine’s hay barn. Bron didn’t flinch or look away under her father’s sharp regard, though Disaris felt her ears and face go hot.
“Let’s get everyone home,” Reylan finally said. “I’ll carry the goat.”
When the group parted ways at Hazarin and Bron’s house, the woman hugged Disaris. “I’m sorry for sending you and Bron out for that troublesome nanny goat. I’d never have done such a thing if I’d known a blizzard was coming.”
