Page 76 of Sword Dance

“How are you doing?” Damiskos asked.

“Oh. Uh.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll be all right, I think. Thank you for … ” He made a vague gesture. “Everything.”

“Of course. Would you like … ” He didn’t know how to make the offer, didn’t even know exactly what he was offering. He held out a hand.

Varazda looked at him for a moment, then seemed to make up his own mind about what the offer meant. He nodded.

He moved to sit in front of Damiskos, leaning back against him. Damiskos wrapped his arms around him, and Varazda sank back into his embrace, his body loosening, relaxing.

“Oh, Dami. Thank you.”

Damiskos kissed into the soft, tangled waves of Varazda’s hair and tightened his hold. “No trouble at all.”

They sat like that for a long while. The clouds slid away from the moon again, silvering the vines with their heavy bunches of grapes. A pleasant breeze moved across the terrace. Still there were no sounds from the villa. Varazda’s body was a warm weight against Damiskos’s chest, one wrist lying across Damiskos’s thigh, wholly at ease now. Damiskos could feel him breathing, softly and evenly, and wondered whether he was asleep.

“Do you mind if I call you Dami?”

Apparently he wasn’t asleep.

“You can call me anything you like. First Spear, Dami, whatever.”

Varazda laughed slightly. He did sound a little sleepy. “I don’t have any nicknames myself—just so you know.”

“Yes, you do. I heard the girls down on the beach calling you Phari.”

“Oh, well. They just made that up. Nobody calls me that at home. Anyway, I like that you can pronounce my real name.”

“Me too.”

They sat still a moment longer.

“This is … this is nice,” said Varazda finally. He sounded … Damiskos couldn’t quite place it at first. A little embarrassed? “I feel much better. Actually, I feel a little … ”

He shifted in Damiskos’s arms, arching his back slightly, his hand trailing featherlight over Damiskos’s thigh.

Oh.

“That’s normal, actually,” Damiskos said softly, lips brushing over Varazda’s hair. “You get a sort of rush in battle, and then when it’s over—if you’re not completely exhausted—it’s got to go somewhere.”

“And that’s where it goes?”

“Often.”

“Mm. I don’t think it’s that at all. I think it’s just you.”

Damiskos laughed. “Sure.”

He was hard as a rock himself—had been since before he invited Varazda into his arms—but he hadn’t expected any relief. Truthfully, he wasn’t even bothered by that. It was all about what Varazda wanted in that moment. But if what Varazda wanted was … well.

He gathered up the hem of Varazda’s shirt in one hand, pulling it up, and with the other stroked firmly over Varazda’s flat, tight stomach, letting his fingertips dip down under the upper edge of Varazda’s trousers.

Varazda gave a sobbing gasp, a beautiful sound that shot through Damiskos like a pang of hunger. One lovely hennaed hand curled in Damiskos’s hair, the other clutched at his thigh. Damiskos went on stroking, slow and warm and simple, pushing his fingers a little further under the fabric of Varazda’s trousers, until they brushed the curls of hair that went straight across, like a woman’s.

He wanted to find every place where Varazda liked to be touched. He had always imagined himself a reasonably good lover, patient and attentive when he needed to be. He wanted to be better than he had ever been before, to find things to do to Varazda that Varazda hadn’t even known he wanted.

He slid his left hand over Varazda’s belly, lifting his right hand away to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. This left him free to explore the smooth planes of Varazda’s chest, silver-white in the moonlight. He let his hands roam above and below, over slim pectoral muscles and tight nipples, up over Varazda’s white, exposed throat, down to trace the subtle V that delineated his abdomen. And here, improbably, was that calm joy that Damiskos had felt eluding him earlier: sinking into this moment, giving pleasure like a gift.

Varazda was much quieter than the first time, almost withdrawn in his pleasure, eyes closed, biting his lower lip. But the soft sounds he did make were enough to convince Damiskos that he was enjoying everything so far.