Weak.
“The solitude was preferable to the alternative.” Not an answer, but what was there to say? He couldn’t tell Bo the truth, that the habit was his pathetic attempt to control his own behavior. “Penance is best paid in private.”
This close, he could breathe Bo in, the human scents of salt and skin mingling with vanilla and honey.
“Got it,” Bo answered, still so close, so Everil could feel the words. “Said you weren’t super familiar with what humans are good with. Keep things above the waist and don’t try to pierce my nipples with your horse fangs, and we’re fine. Or I can pull out the bossy card in a no-fucking-intended way.”
Everil drew a sharp breath, anxiety washing out relief, cinnamon and bile burning the back of his throat. There was too much space in Bo’s words. Too many ways to get it wrong.
“If you would have me move, I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me.” Everil forced the words out through a throat gone tight. “My ability to intuit another’s needs is less than adequate. Even, I fear, with the bond as a guide.”
“Hey, that’s fine.” Bo squeezed Everil’s wrist. Gentle pressure and so ridiculously pleasant. “No one’s expecting you to read my mind.”
Nimai had.
“I–” He didn’t know what todo.
“Be glad you’re not in my head. I go off on goddamn tangents about leaves.” No sudden sharpness in Bo’s voice. No wave of irritation. “I want you to put your hand on the back of my neck. Use the hand I’m not holding.”
Everil waited for anger. For the all-consuming drag on their shared energies, leaving him dizzy and faded. It didn’t come.
“I, too, am given to tangents about leaves.” Best they couldn’t read each other’s thoughts. Everil’s had been less than pure.
Taking a breath to steel himself, Everil lifted his hand, resting his fingertips lightly against the back of Bo’s neck. He could feel the late autumn chill on the human’s skin, and after a moment’s hesitation, he settled his hand more soundly, arm resting almost weightlessly against Bo’s back. The man relaxed further against him.
“Just like that, yeah.” There was a weight to Bo’s words, to his emotions, that Everil didn’t know how to read. “You’re fucking warm, too. Added bonus. You good to be like this for a bit?”
“So long as you’re comfortable.” Everil could help him be comfortable. A simple thing, to raise his body temperature. The evening was cold, and humans were delicate. It would be inhospitable to leave Bo shivering.
Yes. Hospitality. Not pleasure at the contented noise Bo made. Not the selfish desire to coax him to linger near, where his presence eased both the bond’s persistent seeking and the constant bleeding ache that’d begun the day he’d torn himself from Nimai.
Damaged,he’d warned Bo. The man had taken it for the metaphor it wasn’t. Though, he supposed, the emotional descriptor also applied. After all, he was clinging to a human after cringing in anticipation of his displeasure.
“Plenty comfortable.”
Clinging, and desperately grateful for the man’s casually offered approval. This wasn’t why he’d come.
“I did wish to speak to you. There are some complexities of bonds I’ve not yet mentioned. Not mind reading. Your opinions on leaves are your own.”
“My opinion is that the leaves here are fucking gorgeous right now,” Bo said, his words a ticklish whisper against Everil’s skin. “We really have to do another round of shitty warnings right now?”
“Not this time.” Everil might have tried if he thought it’d make the least bit of difference. “Declan reminded me that my perspective is somewhat specific. It isn’t all discomfort and oaths to unexpected wards.”
“Declan sounds damned good at reminding. What else, besides discomfort, wards, and makeup hugs after bickering?”
It was a strange thing, having a conversation with Bo tucked close against him. Strange and distracting, the usual ache gone, but the hollow hunger it left behind still very real, and Bo’s energy so ready to flow into those empty spaces.
Summer nights. Drowsy heat and starlight. Orange segments drizzled with honey, the sweetness licked from sugared fingers.
Very, very distracting.
“The whole intent of an affinity bond is power. An ability to exceed one’s natural limitations by drawing on the energy of another.” Everil allowed his thumb to trace the side of Bo’s neck as he spoke, just once. A selfish indulgence. “Put simply, you should be able to manage some basic glamour, even now. Though perhaps not more complicated work.”
“There go my dreams of making it big as a street magician.” Bo’s tone was light, as was his touch, his thumb running over Everil’s wrist, slow. “I think I’ll cope.”
Everil drew in a sharp breath as Bo repeated the gesture. It had been a very long time since someone had been so close. Longer still since that closeness hadn’t involved some element of lack or pain.
“Street magic should be well within your grasp. Transformation, creation, and the like would be more challenging. I–” Best to confess it and get it over with. “I fear it requires a certain level of generosity that I am not particularly adept at.”
