“Nothing to be sorry over,” Bel replied, voice deep and carrying through his chest. He left his hand at Nicodemus’ lower back, idly stroking it in a way that Nicodemus decided he liked, although it was not calming him down. Not that much would, at the moment. “You know, anyone here would do this for you, if you asked. I think even Rosa or Elisa would try. You always take care of us.”
Nicodemus raised his head. “I thought of it, before I left to go into town and then ran into you.” Summoned Bel, he half-remembered now. Bel had said as much. “I considered asking them.”
Bel didn’t open his eyes or lift his head from his pillow. “Would you have asked me?”
“You called meinnocent,” Nicodemus reminded him, annoyed all over again. “I didn’t think you’d want to.”
“That you thought that only proves how innocent you are.” Bel smiled to himself, satisfied at something. “I am a wolf in wolf’s clothing.”
Nicodemus had been a rather protected lamb, protected by the wolf, in fact, but didn’t bother saying so. “I’ve asked you now,” he pointed out instead.
Bel opened his eyes to consider him. “I could remind you that you’ve never asked, but the way you’re slowly rubbing against my thigh suggests you’re not in the mood for a discussion.”
“I’m sorry,” Nicodemus said again, trying to hold still.
“But I smell nice,” Bel repeated in a curious, vaguely questioning tone, as if he didn’t know that being around him was like standing next to the stove. It had always been so. Nicodemus just hadn’t understood.
“And I like the look of you.” Nicodemus told him seriously. He did not think Bel handsome, although he was, in a rakish way, like an illustration in a scandalous novel. “I like to watch your eyes change—they do, you know. I used to avoid looking at you directly because it…it was…you know how to pop corn? I would feel like that. A kernel dancing in a skillet.” Bel blinked. Nicodemus reached up to Bel’s chin, his jaw, the lobe of his ear. “And I remember what you did to me—what you did for me. My body remembers. But you can ignore me and sleep. I’m not offended.”
“And you’ll just touch yourself next to me? I’m expected to sleep through that?” Bel’s voice was wonderfully rough.
Nicodemus shrugged as best as he could while lying on his side. “I might not. There is always chafing, but I try not to make it worse by starting too early.” He wasn’t sure what to make of Bel’s silence. “The rut is not the pleasant experience some might imagine,” he explained at last.
“I’m starting to gather that,” Bel said softly. “You hurt yourself unless you are careful, and you lack the sense to even feed yourself, it sounds like. You cannot think, which must pain you.”
“It’s a lot to manage. Even from the outside, it’s a great deal to go through.” Nicodemus ducked his head. “Perhaps some other asterions get sweeter versions.”
“I wonder…” Bel exhaled lowly. “I think I should thank Holt. He kept this from us—for your sake, I expect—and he saved you from serious injury. Without rest or much food for himself, and concerned with only your pleasure. I wonder how I will measure compared to that.”
“Holt did getsomepleasure out of it,” Nicodemus answered, sharp, but then looked up to find Bel frowning. “I didn’t think how tired he would also be. And he was not my lover, so why should he stay?”
“I don’t think he’d be upset that you didn’t consider that.” Bel was still frowning. “Not our kind, noble Holt”
Nicodemus wondered if he was smiling. “Areyou going to thank him?”
Bel nearly growled. “No.”
“I’ve made my choice anyway,” Nicodemus reminded him, and, because he could, draped himself even more over Bel so he could hide his face in Bel’s chest. Bel carded his fingers through his hair, then trailed a touch down to Nicodemus’ neck. He pressed on tender places.
Nicodemus whined and tried to stop himself from grinding against Bel’s hip. “I thought you were tired.”
“Oh, I am,” Bel assured him. “But I can still see to you.”
“I can wait,” Nicodemus argued, although it was weak. Bel could feel his stiff cock and, if he kept teasing Nicodemus like this, would feel every bit of want he was creating. Nicodemus ought to ask him about that, but the thought came and went when Bel scraped his fingernails over the sensitive skin and Nicodemus jolted. “Bel.”
“Come up here,” Bel ordered in a rumble. “My mouth works fine, or so I’ve been told.”
Nicodemus narrowed his eyes before sitting up. Bel shuffled a little, reaching back to rearrange his pillow. Then he raised his eyebrows. Nicodemus’ jealous peevishness, faint thought it was, was forgotten as he contemplated Bel’s suggestion. Nicodemus had wanted Bel to fuck his mouth. He hadn’t considered the reverse.
“I’ve never done that,” he admitted, but moved when Bel tugged on his wrist to encourage him. He straddled Bel’s waist before hesitating again. He leaned down to make sure he could see Bel’s face clearly. “Truly? The way I wanted you to do to me?”
“Not if it pains you, lamb.” Bel touched Nicodemus’ chin. “You don’t look happy.”
Nicodemus found himself studying his hands while he played with the hair on Bel’s chest. “Truthfully, I…while I like very much when you hurt me, I have no desire to hurt you. Or to be commanding or rough the way you are.”
“No, you are rough in an entirely different way,” Bel observed dryly, but then took hold of Nicodemus’ wrist to give it an encouraging tug. “I enjoy excess. That is my particular vice. Most things I simply do not mind. If you don’t want this—”
“I do,” Nicodemus assured him quickly, earning him a smile.
