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Damen had just taken his turn on the Stones board with Nikandros when he felt the swift rush of air behind him - a passing body through the room. There was hardly a rustle of fabric, or a lingering of warm air from the balmy autumn evening outside.
Whoever it was, walked into Damen’s suite and continued straight through to the bed chamber.
He lifted his eyes from the board, having already missed a chance to see the intruder. He raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Who was that?”
Nikandros bit back a shy smile from across the table. “His Royal Highness, The King of Vere, my lord.”
Damen laughed loudly and placed a hand on his bent knee. “I should have known.”
“Shall I leave you?” Nikandros asked, reaching for his cloak on the back of the nearest chair.
The King of Akielos raised a hand. “No need, let us finish our game.”
“You’ll make the King wait?”
Damen laughed again. “In my homeland, he must absolutely wait.”
At this, Nikandros joined in with a chuckle.
They continued their slow pace as they worked across the board. The heavy, ivory game pieces were Damen’s father’s, and worn down with years and years of play. Around them, the candle flames burned low and steady as evening turned into night. The friends had been playing the game for most of the evening, catching up on the goings on in Akielos while Damen had been away. It was like old times, before war and treachery had ripped apart their lives. Now, in a new era of peace and change, they talked as old friends once more.
They talked of Delpha, the new wave of change in their combined empire. They talked of the mysteries of Vere and what strange new traditions would be formed.
They even talked about Laurent.
“Do you call him ‘Husband?’” Nikandros asked quietly.
An abrupt and bashful laugh fell from Damen’s lips. “No. Why? Should I?”
Nikandros shrugged. “A team of kings, ruling together, devoted to each other. It’s all very picturesque.”
Damen’s curls brushed over his forehead as he shook his head slowly. “He would never pretend to be content as ‘husband’.” Damen, on the other hand, felt his body flush at the thought. Laurent - his husband - and he was the only one who would know him as intimately as that.
With a casual clear of his throat, Damen resumed play, pushing the tempting thoughts of husbands and Laurent out of his head for a few moments more with his friend. A leisurely twenty minutes had passed before he heard a familiar footfall behind him.
“Good evening, Exalted,” Nikandros said, standing and bowing his head.
Damen twisted in his seat to see Laurent standing in the doorway. He had dressed down to his pants and his white shirt, unlaced at the collar. The weather was warm in Ios, and finally, finally Laurent had begun to shed his tight Veretian layers when he was here. It helped, of course, that the sun was down.
In the dim light of the room, he could see that Laurent’s hair was damp, and brushed to one side, hinting that he had bathed while Damen dawdled over a game board. The sight of him made his heart tumble in his broad chest. He liked the feeling, and his missed it desperately when they were apart.
At last he smiled at his lover-king. “Oh,” Damen remarked, feigning surprise at seeing Laurent standing in his chambers. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Laurent stepped into the room and came to stand beside Damen at the game table. “Lying doesn’t suit you,” he said. “I was waiting for you.”
With a smile, Damen gestured to the board in front of him. “I was engaged.”
“I see.” Laurent placed a hand on Damen’s shoulder for balance as he leaned over the table to inspect the game.
The silken fabric of Laurent’s chemise brushed against Damen’s bare arm, and he reveled in the closeness. They’d been separated by weeks only, after a month long stay in Vere. Damen, having left Arles first, had made his way back to Ios at an unhurried pace. He revisited the forts on the border, and did his best to embrace the Veretian influence that was spreading slowly across his country.
There was plenty to occupy his mind these days, with his duties as king and the prospect of combining countries. He planned tours and meetings and dreamed of a slavery free Ios. Even so, knowing that Laurent was here, in his palace, in the room beside him, lifted his heart higher than it had been in weeks.
The faint scent of a freshly-bathed Laurent was enough to make him warm on the back of his neck. He smelled of Akielon soaps and oils, and freshly laundered clothes. He was too clean and Damen couldn’t push down the primal desire to make him dirtier.
Before he did something stupid with his hands, Damen gestured to the seat nearest him, and Laurent sat without another word. The seat was close to Damen; a mere arm’s reach away. The tips of his fingers itched to close the space between them.
Patience.
Damen silently took his turn, and watched Nikandros as he pondered his next move.
With a loud cough, Laurent pointed a finger at a space that would win Nikandros the game and all of Damen’s pieces.
Damen growled in discontent, as his friend let out a laugh of victory. “His highness is a Stones player, I see,” Nikandros said, claiming his move.
“I’ve played once or twice.”
Nikandros saw his moment for leave. He reached for his cloak and bowed to both kings. “We shall play for a rematch tomorrow, Exalted. Good evening.”
He left the room and closed the door quietly behind him. At last, they were alone. Damen focused on clearing the board and ignored Laurent’s penetrating gaze at the side of his head.
“Are you playing for indifference? You’re failing, I can feel your desire even now.”
“Can you?”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
Damen laughed dropped the remaining pieces on the board with a clatter. “I was in the middle of a game, and wasn’t expecting you until morning. I do have other engagements aside from attending to you.”
“Like Stones ?”
“Like Stones.”
Laurent crossed his arms and exhaled slowly through his nose. It was a mark of his fading patience, but the realization only excited Damen more. These small details were his to know. He wanted more of this; banter, conversation, teasing. With a smile, he realized a solution was right before him. “Would you like to play?” Damen asked. “I’ll call for tea.”
“ Tea ?”
Damen stood to call a servant. “Yes, an evening tea tray. I’ve already had one prepared. We can share it.”
“You don’t want to take me into the other room and have your way with me?”
“I absolutely do. It’s practically all I can think about.”
At his words, he heard Laurent’s breathing change. Tight, controlled breaths signaled his surprise, and his arousal. There was a flush high on his cheeks and his eyes were deep and blue like the sea. He watched Damen warily.
“ But ,” Damen added, “I also enjoy spending time with you. Could you argue that waiting makes things more exciting? More satisfying?”
His words had flustered the young king. Laurent blinked, mouth slightly open. He took a long moment to swallow and Damen watched the muscles clench under his pale, luminous skin. Laurent’s voice was deep as he said, “Haven’t we waited enough?”
“No, I don’t think.” Damn sat back in his chair and smiled easily at his lover. “Play with me.”
Laurent heaved a sigh and made to move to Nikandros’ vacated seat at the opposite end of the board.
Damen reached for Laurent’s leg, fingers stretching over his thigh and around the back of his knee. The tendon there was stretched tight. Under his silken trousers, the skin was hot against Damen’s fingertips. “Stay here,” he said, moving his thumb over the sensitive area beside Laurent’s kneecap. “I like having you close.”
Laurent’s eyes fluttered down to where they were touching. He lay his hand flat over Damen’s arm, sleeve riding up enough to show the bright gold that circled his wrist. It clinked softly against Damen’s matching cuff. Damen’s heart beat painfully in his chest the way it seemed to do any time his eyes caught the flash of gold on Laurent’s wrist.
That he would wear it, all this time...
In a moment of tenderness that their embrace demanded, Laurent sighed and looked over at Damen. “I missed you, Damianos.”
Damen watched Laurent quietly, and flipped his arm so their fingers could intertwine. A helpless breath fell from his lips. “Laurent…”
There was a quiet knock, and a pair of servants padded into the room with the tea service. The tension snapped between them, like a burnt out flame and Damen tore his eyes away to nod at the servants. With practiced precision, they placed the gilded platters of tea and food on the table in the sitting area, then bowed out of the room.
Laurent leaned over and pressed a slow, delicate kiss to the side of Damen’s neck. “You set the board, I’ll prepare your tea.” He stood and walked swiftly to the other side of the room while Damen attempted to recover from the moment of sweetness. His fumbling fingers made too much noise and as Laurent returned with a tray of sweets and tea, he said, “Something distracting you?”
“Be quiet,” Damen growled, finally setting the last game piece. He took the earthenware cup of tea Laurent offered. It was sweet and tasted of mint. “How do you find your return to the Palace of Akielos?”
Laurent was cradling his cup between his long fingers as he sank back down in his chair. “I much prefer the change in scenery, actually.” He took his first move, a bold jump towards the middle of the board. Typical.
They exchanged turns a few times before Laurent spoke. “You smell like sawdust.”
“I was sparring with Nikandros and his men earlier. Does it bother you?”
He was quiet for a moment before he answered. “No. I like the smell of you. I like the smell of Akielos.” Damen grinned.
Laurent took two of Damen’s pieces, then reached for an almond cookie from the tea tray. “These are Veretian,” he remarked, chewing.
“I brought them from Arles. For you.”
Laurent flushed and tried to hide a smile. He reached for the other sweet on the tray, a small piece of flakey, sticky baklava. Without hesitation, he held the piece out to Damen between his fingers.
Rather than pull the sweet from Laurent’s fingers with his lips, he took hold of his wrist. He removed the baklava with his fingers, placed it in his mouth, then pulled Laurent’s hand to his lips to press a kiss to his knuckles.
While the flush grew more pronounced on Laurent’s cheeks, he merely shrugged as though to say, As you wish. Then, with all the steely confidence he possessed, he licked the honey off his own fingers.
Damen wanted to shove the Stones board off the table and press Laurent into the worn, ancient wood. He wanted to kiss him deeply and feel his ivory skin under his palms.
“Lost your taste for the game already?” Laurent teased, noting the change in Damen’s breathing and the darkness of his eyes.
“I told you it was all I could think about.”
Laurent chose not to answer. He merely made another move, a poor one. Damen couldn’t decide if it was a flustered mistake, or if he was letting him win. The blonde king took a long draught of his tea and eyed Damen over the rim of his cup.
Damen made his move half-heartedly, stealing one of Laurent’s pieces, then Laurent countered by taking nearly half of Damen’s.
“Enough,” he growled. Even he could hear the change in his voice. It was deep and gravelly, laced with the desire for Laurent that always burned low in his chest.
“It’s not like you to relent so easily.”
“Kiss me.”
The reaction in Laurent was small, but momentous for Damen. The slight, slow upcurve of one side of his mouth. It creased in the corner, a tiny crescent to mark his happiness. He leaned forward so they were close, close enough to feel the warmth from each other’s skin, the breath from their lips. Damen could smell the sweet mint tea on Laurent’s breath. His eyes were bright and shining in the dim light of the room. Damen felt as though his heart would burst from his chest.
Without breaking their stare, Laurent reached for Damen’s hand and pressed a long, open mouth kiss to his palm.
A breath of laughter fell through Damen’s lips at the parallel from their night in Karthas. “You tease me,” he said, pulling their hands towards him so he could return the gesture.
Laurent was still smiling. “I enjoy watching you. It’s not often that I have the upper hand.”
“Isn’t it?”
Laurent shook his head slowly, eyes still locked in place.
“Funny, I feel the same way.”
At last, their gaze was broken as Laurent looked down at the floor, as if gauging the space between them. Then, with the ever-present grace of a fox through the underbrush, Laurent stood from his chair, straddled Damen and sunk down on his lap. He linked his fingers behind Damen’s neck and leaned close.
The candlelight flickered across Laurent’s blonde eyelashes and Damen was overwhelmed with such happiness, he thought it may burst through his chest with each heartbeat.
“I’m sorry,” Laurent said, haughtily. “Did you want to finish the game?”
Damen pulled Laurent’s hips against him, answering the question at once. A quiet breath rushed from Laurent at the feel of Damen’s arousal.
“I’d have you against this table, if you’d let me,” he growled, pressing his face into the warm, fleshy valley of Laurent’s neck.
He shuddered against Damen’s chest, fingers clenching in his hair.
“Well, why don’t you?”
Damen groaned into Laurent’s skin, then reached for the hem of his shirt. I came over his head easily, and then his hands were on smooth, unblemished skin. The center of his chest was level with Damen’s lips and he pressed a kiss there, to where his heart might be. Laurent’s arms tightened around Damen, silently begging for an embrace within the moment of passion. Damen complied, pressing his palms flat between Laurent’s shoulderblades. He held him tight enough to squeeze breath from his lungs, and Laurent sighed against him.
“Damen,” he whispered reverently. “I…”
“Hmmm?” Damen hummed.
“Please. I don’t want to wait any longer. Make love to me.”
Damen pulled back enough to see Laurent’s beautiful face, stripped bare and open. With his fingers, he brushed stray blonde strands from his forehead. There was a time, not long ago, when each curve and sharp edge of Laurent’s face was as unfamiliar as his mood swings. Now, it was open before him, like a familiar book. He was overwhelmed with gratitude, love, and desire.
He laughed suddenly as Nikandros’ words came back into his mind.
Laurent frowned. “Not the reaction I was aiming for, admittedly.”
“Nikandros asked if I called you husband.”
Golden eyebrows shot up in surprise. “An interesting segue…”
“I said you would never be content as ‘husband.’”
Now the eyebrows lowered in a scowl. “You think so?”
Damen balked. “ Would you? It seems so simple, compared to what you are…”
At this, Laurent’s smile returned. Small, and sweet and only for Damen. “Maybe so, but being ‘yours’ does have its appeal, I must admit.”
Damen grinned.
“And, if you please, I’d very much like for you to make me yours right now.” He gestured behind him to the table with their discarded game.
There was laughter. Loud and without restraint. “As you wish, Exalted,” Damen said, reaching forward. With a swoop of his long arm, he cleared the table, scattering pieces across the room with more force than necessary. Then, with every ounce of gentleness he saved for Laurent, he lay him back on the broad expanse of knotted olive wood. He hovered over Laurent, leaning close enough for their noses to touch. “Welcome home.”
Laurent reached up to pull Damen down to him, and kissed him for all he was worth.