"Anything," Evran breathes.
"Promise me that if you ever want me to stop, for any reason, you'll tell me. Promise me that you'll never stay silent out of fear or obligation or thinking you owe me this. Promise me that no matter what else happens, you'll always know you can say no."
The care in those words, the absolute sincerity, makes Evran's eyes burn with unshed tears. "I promise. I swear it. And I'm saying yes right now. Yes to you. Yes to this. Please, Vaike."
For one more suspended moment, Vaike holds himself back. Then something breaks—the last thread of his control snapping—and he's reaching for Evran with both hands.
One hand cups Evran's face, thumb brushing across his cheekbone with devastating gentleness. The other slides into his hair, fingers tangling in the short strands. The touch is electric, sending shivers down Evran's spine, and he leans into it helplessly.
"I've wanted this," Vaike admits, his voice low and rough. "Wanted you. Tried so hard not to, tried to do the right thing, but gods, Evran, you make it impossible."
Then he's pulling Evran up, rising from the chair simultaneously, and suddenly Evran is being lifted into Vaike's lap as the Warlord sits back down. The position puts them face to face, Evran straddling Vaike's thighs, close enough that they're breathing the same air.
Vaike's hands frame his face, thumbs stroking across his cheekbones as those steel-gray eyes bore into his. "Last chance,"Vaike says. "Tell me to stop and I will. I'll step back, we'll pretend this never happened, and I promise it won't change anything about your place here."
"Don't stop," Evran whispers, his hands coming up to grip Vaike's shoulders, needing the anchor. "Please don't stop."
Then Vaike closes the distance between them and kisses him.
The contact is electric, overwhelming, everything Evran has been dreaming about and more. Vaike's lips are warm and firm against his, moving with confidence that makes Evran's head spin. It's not gentle—there's too much pent-up want between them for gentleness—but it's not rough either. It's perfect, consuming, exactly what Evran needs.
Evran makes a sound—something between a gasp and a moan—and Vaike swallows it, one hand sliding to the back of Evran's neck to pull him closer. Evran's fingers tangle in Vaike's hair, finally getting to touch like he's wanted to for weeks, and the reality is so much better than his imagination.
The kiss deepens, and Evran feels like he's falling—like all the ground beneath him has disappeared and there's only this, only Vaike's mouth on his and strong arms around him and the taste of him that Evran is finally, finally getting to know.
When they break apart for air, Evran is shaking, his breath coming in gasps, his entire body thrumming with want and relief and joy. Vaike's forehead rests against his, their breathing mixing in the small space between them.
"I've wanted to do that for weeks," Vaike admits roughly. "Every time you looked at me, every time we were alone together. Gods, you have no idea how difficult it's been to keep my hands to myself."
"I have some idea," Evran manages, then kisses him again because he can now, because this is allowed, because Vaike wants him too and nothing has ever felt this right.
This time when they pull apart, Vaike's expression has softened into something that makes Evran's chest ache. There's still heat there, still want, but also something tender that takes his breath away.
"Stay with me tonight," Vaike says quietly. "Let me hold you. Let me have this."
"Yes," Evran breathes, because there's nowhere else he wants to be.
Vaike pulls him close, tucking Evran's head against his shoulder, and they sit like that in the firelight—holding each other, breathing together, finally allowing themselves to have what they've both wanted for so long.
And for the first time since arriving at the stronghold, Evran feels completely, utterly safe. Not because he's been accepted into the clan or proven his worth through work and courage. But because he's being held by someone who wants him for himself, who's shown that his wellbeing matters more than desire, who would give this up to protect him.
That's what makes it possible to finally let go—to stop protecting himself, to stop hiding what he feels. Because Vaike has proven that he can be trusted with this
Chapter 15
Evran wakes to soft morning light filtering through unfamiliar windows and the warm weight of an arm draped across his waist. For a moment he's disoriented, not recognizing the room—larger than his own, with different furnishings and the lingering scent of pine and leather that he's come to associate with Vaike.
Then memory floods back—the library, the kiss, Vaike carrying him to these chambers, carefully undressing him and holding him through the night. Not asking for more than Evran was ready to give, just touching and kissing and learning each other in the quiet darkness. Falling asleep wrapped in strong arms, feeling safer and more wanted than he ever has in his life.
Immediately, Evran is aware of the very solid, warm and comforting figure plastered firmly along the line of his back, a single thick leg wedged in between both of Evran’s as large callused fingers rest quietly against Evran’s lower abdomen. He feels a content, languid smile blossoming across his face as Vaike’s breath stirs the fine hairs at the nape of his neck, and the rise and fall of Vaike’s chest moves in perfect tandem withEvran’s own. Even though the moment is perfect, he still yearns to shift around to face Vaike, to gaze at the peacefulness and relaxation on a face normally tormented by responsibility and the burden of rule. He wants to watch the fluttering of Vaike’s eyelashes as he dreams and to trace his plump, parted lips with exploratory fingertips.
But Evran doesn’t want to wake him up. Not when he’s afraid it will make this moment end and shatter the magic of last night. So instead, he shimmies back further into the defined expansion of Vaike’s chest, chasing that lulling, radiant warmth seeping from the warlord as it soaks into Evran’s skin. And as he moulds himself to fit snugly along the contours of Vaike’s body, Evran feels something rigid and stirring pressing against the curve of his ass. Instantaneously, his own cock begins to harden in response and he’s left momentarily light headed with simmering lust as it begins to churn low in his gut.
He’s felt this before when it comes to Vaike, but he’s never had the man naked and pressed against him in bed. Unable to help himself, Evran pushes backwards with gentle, seeking hips, hoping against hope to find Vaike is just as interested as Evran is. After a few minutes of grinding into the heat of Vaike’s body with restrained motions, Evran begins to notice the subtle uptake in Vaike’s breathing, how the once slack fingers against Evran’s stomach have begun to twitch and dig white indents into his skin.
“Evran,” Vaike groans throatily, the lower timbre of his voice still soaked with sleep and the heady vibrations rattle down the length of Evran’s spine and shoot straight to his dick.
“Good morning, my lord,” Evran murmurs, already flushing.
