“I will take it, thank you.” Although the lower half of Darshan still sought out whatever comfort eluded him, his torso remained relatively still. Eventually, even the man’s legs calmed down, reaching back to entwine themselves with Hamish’s. Mercifully, he had discarded his boots somewhere between entering the tent and burrowing under the blankets. That he still wore socks was a blessing, too.
Hamish closed his eyes. He dozed, drifting to sleep only enough to jerk himself back awake before repeating the cycle. Anything deeper eluded him like a fish taunting the bait line.
“ ‘Mish?” a voice hissed.
He peered through one eye. Had he dreamt that? It sounded almost like Gordon, but it couldn’t be their turn to take the watch, he had only slept for a short time.
A figure lurked by the tent entrance, bent over but still the right size for his brother.
“Wake up, you lump,” the voice growled before Hamish could move. The command was swiftly followed by a whump as a hand came down onto the blankets.
A shriek erupted from the covers. Darshan sat upright to face his assailant.
Hamish flinched. He would’ve been prepared to weather the usual good-natured slap on his thigh. His lover, not so much.
The spellster’s shimmering barrier slammed around them, enclosing only half of Gordon’s body. His brother launched back through the tent flap, cussing every word he knew. The shield trembled at the action.
Hamish thought nothing of it until Darshan groaned and pressed a hand to his temple. “Are you all right?”
“I will be.” He glared at the entrance. “Kindly request your brother to not wake me in such a manner again. He was fortunate my first thought was a shield otherwise we would be short one tent.”
And one brother. He’d only witnessed one moment of magic being used violently, but he had heard plenty of stories about battling spellsters and could well-imagine the damage a provoked spellster could do, especially when startled awake by a slap to the flank.
Hamish hauled on his overcoat whilst his lover returned to his woollen blanket cocoon. A yawning sigh, followed by Darshan’s barely audible breathing, was the only way Hamish knew the man had resumed his slumber.
He sorely wished he could rejoin his lover.
Gordon glared at him when he exited the tent. His brother stood not far from the campfire, which neglect had seen it burn low during the previous watch. “You could’ve warned me he was in there.”
“Warn you?” he echoed, his voice high but hushed. “You didnae give me a chance. You just belted the blankets.”
“I didnae bloody expect him to be in there with you.” His brother eyed him, then the tent. “I wasnae interrupting anything, was I?”
“Only our sleep.”
The look his brother shot him was one of complete and utter disbelief. “We’re nae home, you ken, you dinnae have to hide the truth. Lad moves fast, I’ll give him that. We’ve only been on the road a day. I expected him to wait at least for a few more before getting his end away.”
“We were nae having sex,” Hamish hissed, struggling to keep his voice low.
Gordon crouched by the fire to give the barely-burning wood a few pokes. Flames flared up between the pieces then died. “Bloody wet wood,” he mumbled, chucking a thin branch onto the coals. “You’d think Sean would ken better than to…” The words trailed off into a stream of grumbles and curses as he worked on getting the wood to burn.
After a couple more encouraging prods and a handful of dry branches, the fire sputtered back to life.
His brother brushed the dust from his hands, looking immensely pleased with himself. “Now then, what’s this? I thought two men didnae do sex, that you called it something else?”
“I do.” So did every Tirglasian he’d been with. “Apparently, Udyneans dinnae differentiate. And I’m nae pulling your leg. It really was innocent. He was cold and so—”
Deep, belly-shaking laughter erupted from his brother. “By the Goddess’ swollen teats.” He slapped his knee. “They use that one in Udynea, too?”
Hamish frowned. What, in the Goddess’ good name, was his brother on about?
“I’m cold sleeping all on me lonesome,” Gordon clarified before Hamish could ask, his voice pitched abysmally high. He clasped his hands at his chin and batted his lashes. “Can I come warm meself with you?” His brother arched a brow at him. “You sure I wasnae interrupting a little late-night warming session?”
“Gor…” he growled, his face growing hotter the longer Gordon talked.
In response, his brother gave a wicked chuckle. “Did you offer to warm him up from the inside? That was my standard answer with Muireall.”
Hamish wrinkled his nose and, with a hearty shove to his brother’s shoulder, tipped Gordon onto his smug arse. “I dinnae want to think about you and your wife.”
Gordon lay on the ground, cackling like a merchant who had swindled a buyer. “Oh, so it’s all right if you talk about getting it off with your latest piece but, Goddess forbid, if I say a word…?”
“It wasnae some ploy to get into me smalls, he was freezing.” Outside of the tent, the wind had the usual toothy bite. He knelt by the flames and warmed his hands. Maybe they should’ve waited a few more weeks for the weather to warm up. Darshan couldn’t have faced these sorts of temperatures before. How cold could it possibly get in a land that bordered deserts?
Grunting, his brother righted himself. “Easy enough to remedy. We’re already stopping at Old Willie’s. Nae hard to see if we cannae find a lad the right size with some clothes to spare whilst we’re there. Will your man wear clothes that’ve been on another?”
“He’ll live.” Darshan didn’t strike him as the type to have ever worn hand-me-downs, but the chill air should suffice as a rebuttal to any protests. Given how cold he appeared to be, Hamish doubted there’d be any objection. “And he’s nae me man.” Sure, they had both agreed to being lovers whilst
