Honovi thought about the pieces of metal taken out of Siv’s body and the power that must have been present to make a clockwork metal heart beat in someone’s chest. He thought about the way Siv had been herself right up until she wasn’t. “If we’re lucky.”
Blaine blinked at him, straightening up on the bunk. “You said you had something for me?”
Honovi nodded and went to the narrow, bolted-down desk in the corner. He undid the latch that kept the top drawer secured and opened it, withdrawing a lacquered wooden box. He carried it over to Blaine and lifted the lid, showing what was nestled in soft cloth inside.
Blaine’s sharply indrawn breath was all Honovi needed to hear to know he’d made the right decision. His husband reached up to touch the marriage torc he hadn’t worn in so long, fingers resting against the woven gold. “I’ve missed this.”
“I missed you wearing it,” Honovi said roughly.
He’d missed his husband even when Blaine was in the same city as him because their roads couldn’t cross. Honovi had been present in Amari as a diplomat, and Blaine had been hiding behind a false identity as a professor. Their class standing was so far removed as to be laughable according to Ashionen culture. Their clandestine meetings at the embassy had been as much about politics as it was about their own relationship.
But Blaine had known that politics would always come into play when he’d married Honovi, and Honovi had known his husband was guided by the star gods personally. They both had duties they could not walk away from, but their marriage vows still stood, and Blaine’s throat had been bare long enough.
Blaine leaned back, tilting his chin up. “You should put it on me.”
Honovi didn’t hesitate to lift the torc, tossing the box aside. The gap between the ends was the same width from the first and only time Honovi had removed it from Blaine’s throat since their wedding day. He hadn’t adjusted it back to the original size after removing it, not wanting to risk metal fatigue. It made it easier to press one engraved, rounded end into the softness of Blaine’s throat and pull the other around his neck, slipping it back into the only place it should ever truly rest.
He could see the way Blaine’s pulse fluttered in his throat as the ends of the marriage torc settled against his collarbones. Honovi pressed hard on the metal with careful fingers to close the gap at the front until barely a finger’s width of space remained.
Blaine tipped his head back and let out a thick sigh, lifting one hand to curl his fingers around the gold torc, eyes falling shut. “I love you.”
Honovi cupped the back of his head, sliding his fingers through Blaine’s hair to get a good grip. “And I you. That will never change.”
He leaned down to kiss Blaine, holding him in place, as if this would be enough to keep him there by Honovi’s side. He licked in deep, Blaine letting him, and Honovi didn’t mind when Blaine’s hands found their way to his hips and began undoing his belt.
“I need to get back to the flight deck,” Honovi murmured against his lips.
Blaine nipped at his bottom lip, tugging the leather belt free. “You need to do your duty as my husband and fuck me.”
“If you insist.”
“Oh, I do.”
Honovi groaned, all thought of getting abovedeck flying out of his mind. He pulled away long enough to strip out of his heavy flight jacket, tossing it aside. Blaine did the same with his own, both of them scrabbling at their clothes in between kisses. Honovi’s fingers brushed across the torc when he shoved Blaine onto the bunk, still mostly dressed. He followed his husband down, settling into the cradle of his hips, kissing the breath from his lungs.
Blaine turned his head away after a moment, and Honovi’s lips dragged across the edge of his jaw. Honovi kissed his way down his husband’s throat while Blaine shoved his hand between the mattress and the bolted-down frame, coming up with a familiar tin.
“You’re still wearing too many clothes,” Blaine gasped out as Honovi scraped his teeth over his collarbone.
“So are you,” Honovi muttered.
Blaine made an inarticulate sound when Honovi rolled his hips, seeking out friction. “Don’t stop.”
“I thought you wanted me to get undressed?”
Blaine grabbed Honovi by the shoulder, hooked a leg over his hip, and rolled them over farther onto the bunk. Blaine kissed him fiercely, teeth scraping together as Honovi did his best to undo both their pants and free their half-hard cocks. Blaine opened the tin one-handed, the lid clattering off the side of the bunk to roll somewhere on the floor.
“Yes,” Honovi panted against warm skin, licking at sweat beading up on Blaine’s throat as his husband took them both in hand, touch eased by the cream. “Like this.”
It was too much of an effort to let go, to strip, and fall back into bed. They had duties abovedeck still and an immediate need that was best taken care of quickly. Honovi groaned when Blaine tightened his grip and dragged his hand upward on a heavy stroke. His hips rolled into the motion, and Honovi chased after Blaine’s mouth like a starving man.
Lying together like this reminded him of all the times before when they’d flown together, curled up until there was nothing between them but pleasure. It was messy and quick, their hands sliding together as they found a rhythm, holding each other close. The pent-up need he’d carried with him out of Glencoe came undone minutes later when Honovi spilled across his husband’s fingers, knuckles pressed against taut muscle as Blaine curled in close, gasping out his name. Honovi pulled him close, making a mess of their skin and the sheets beneath them, their clothes—it didn’t matter.
Honovi rolled onto his back, pulling Blaine half on top of him, getting the fingers of his clean hand around the short braid he wore now. He pressed a careful kiss to the corner of Blaine’s mouth, breathing in deep and holding on.
“Don’t cut your hair again,” Honovi murmured.
Blaine pressed their foreheads together, squirming from the mess they’d made. “I have no plans to.”
