Hadrian smiled and gathered bowls.
They ate soft carrots and cold, stringy beans with the last of Hadrian’s cheese, standing in the kitchen. They didn’t talk, and the silence weighed on Dorian. There was a tension now between them, a distance that made his skin itch. But Hadrian seemed reluctant to talk about what had happened, so Dorian kept quiet.
When they were done eating, Dorian collected water, and they drank and washed their faces and hands. By the time they were done, the sunlight through the heavy curtains had dimmed considerably.
“We should probably sleep,” Hadrian said. “We both still need it for the healing.”
“Yes.” Was all Dorian said before taking off his boots and crawling into the bed. He was happy to end this torture, or at least suffer it while pretending to sleep.
“Um,” Hadrian said, looking around the room. “I would probably sleep better not on the floor. Get more rest, I mean. Better rest. So that we could get the healing done. The better sleep I get, the more quickly I’ll be able to finish the healing. But I understand if you would not sleep better with me… um, you know. You need rest too. That is important.”
Dorian couldn’t help but grin. No matter the circumstances, Hadrian was going to talk. And no matter his own stress, Dorian was going to enjoy hearing it. That was an odd thing. He’d spent most of his life in one type of quiet or another. He used to crave the silence of an open field or the nights when his companions finally found sleep and stopped trying to force conversation on him.
Maybe they’d just been saying the wrong things.
He raised the thin blanket off his legs and shifted back to give Hadrian room on the bed. Hadrian settled down in front of him, his long, taut body stretched out stiffly in front of Dorian.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Dorian pulled the blanket over them both and, after a moment, Hadrian moved closer. So close their bodies touched, and Dorian felt every point of pressure like a brand on his skin. His blood raced, and his body vibrated with the need to touch this man. Instead he stared at the elegant line of his pale neck and the soft circles of his golden curls and wondered how long he could hold out against this new enemy.
8
Hadrian was playing with fire. He wasn’t sure if Dorian really wanted more—wanted him—but he needed to know. So much so that he was willing to crawl into bed with him and hope for the best. He was really on a roll with good ideas.
That kiss in the shed played over and over in his mind while they ate and washed, and pretended the tension wasn’t smothering them. And Dorian’s apology after. Hadrian tried not to be hurt by it. He thought he understood the reason behind it—probably some noble or self-sacrificing ideal—but he couldn’t be sure. Unfortunately, now that he was exactly where he’d intended to end up, he didn’t know what to do to get the answers he needed, or how to let Dorian know what he wanted. Hadrian had spent his life being told he talked too much, but words had finally failed him.
He shifted closer to Dorian, feeling each point where their bodies met—the backs of his thighs, Dorian’s chest against his back, his ass pressed against Dorian’s hips—like a brand. A shiver of want rippled through him, but he stayed still. Hadrian knew what he wanted. Dorian was the reluctant one here. It would have to be his choice.
They stayed in that tortuous limbo for what felt like an eternity. Hadrian was too busy trying desperately to keep his imagination in check to find any rest, and from the sound of his breathing, Dorian wasn’t faring any better.
When Dorian’s hand brushed against his side—nothing more than a whisper of touch—Hadrian gasped. Dorian hesitated, his fingers stilled, but each point of contact felt like tiny bursts of warmth that stole all Hadrian’s attention. Dorian’s hand moved, gliding softly over his ribs to his stomach, sending heat radiating through his middle.
Dorian shifted closer. Close enough now Hadrian could feel the man’s breath on his neck. Feel the press of his solid body against his back. Hadrian’s spine tingled and his cock ached to be touched, but he remained still, letting Dorian lead.
The barest press of Dorian’s lips against his neck made Hadrian shiver and sigh. He moved his head to give Dorian more, and for a long moment, he only felt the tantalizing warmth of breath against his skin. Then another kiss came, still as gentle and soft, but Dorian didn’t pull away this time. His mouth moved to trail kisses over his neck to the sensitive skin under his ear. Then he took his ear between his teeth, biting down gently, and Hadrian moaned.
Dorian pulled back slightly. “Sorry,” he breathed.
Hadrian rolled over so they were face to face and brushed his fingers along Dorian’s cheek. “Don’t be.”
Dorian closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “Do you…” He opened his dark eyes and looked at Hadrian. There was so much longing and fear mixed on his handsome face that Hadrian longed to pull him in. “Do you want this?” he asked quickly. “Do you want me?”
Hadrian had to hold back a laugh. How could this wonderfully confounding man not see how much he was wanted? Hadrian moved his hand to cup the back of his neck, running his fingers through the fringes of his short, silky hair.
“Yes,” he said firmly.
“Why?”
This time Hadrian couldn’t hold back the laugh. “Because you are… kind. You are brave.” He caressed his jaw with his thumb, still holding those dark eyes. “You know about crops and like apples and don’t tell me to shut up when I talk too much.”
A smile tugged at Dorian’s full mouth, and it made Hadrian’s heart sing. “I like it when you talk,” he said softly.
Hadrian huffed. “You’re the first.” He sighed. “You are nothing like what I expected, and I am glad I know you, even a little. Also, you are incredibly sexy.”
Dorian sniffed and shook his head. “You are nothing like I expected, either. And I am glad I know you. And…you are the most beautiful man I have ever met.”
“God-like?”
