Hamish’s warm breath gusted against Darshan’s neck as he gave freedom one last attempt. “You’re nae even trying now,” he murmured, the words thick and hoarse. He nuzzled that dear little spot just below Darshan’s ear, freeing an embarrassingly whimpering moan. “You didnae happen to bring your bottle of oil along for the journey, did you?”
“No?” He’d been told essentials only. If his shaving equipment and kohl failed to meet the criteria, what made his lover think a bottle of oil would’ve?
Hamish stepped back, letting Darshan slip to the ground.
A twinge of disappointment struck him in the chest. How he wished he could say otherwise, if only to dispel the sudden absence of Hamish’s touch, but to speak anything beyond the truth would be a ridiculous stance to take. “I did not believe you would be comfortable enough to attempt sex in a tent with others so near, especially your brother.” He rather doubted he could perform under such circumstances, let alone expect his lover to be ready for it. “And the thought of having sex in the wilderness is not one I have given much contemplation to. Ever.”
“Ever?” Hamish echoed, snickering. “I cannae believe I just found something you’ve nae done that I have.”
“You have had sex in a forest?” Darshan blurted, realising the foolishness of such a statement when he had very nearly emptied himself into his drawers only moments before.
His lover shrugged as if it was the most common thing in the world for a man to be intimate in the wilderness. “Near the edge of one, sure. That’s what me brother was alluding to. We were meant to be hunting and—”
“Let me guess.” Darshan rubbed his back. The bruised flesh and abraded skin had mended almost as soon as it happened, but all that healing magic layered over itself itched something fierce. “The only prey he stuck was you?”
“He had me arse naked up over a log as soon as we realised we both fancied men.” His brows lowered as his gaze slid downward. “Are you all right?”
The concern slathering that question curved his lips. “Quite fine.” He wasn’t against being manhandled over an object, so long as there wasn’t anything to dig or scratch him. “I must admit, over a log sounds like several types of uncomfortable.”
Hamish grinned. “A little, but I was an impatient lad of eighteen years. You remember your late teens, right?”
“Rather fondly in parts,” he murmured. Like that time he had engaged in a masked orgy. His stewards had found him draped over a marble statue of the wine goddess, Madaara, being filled at both ends by a pair of well-built men whilst a third fellated him. “Not so much in others. And there are a few I still cannot recall clearly.” How he must’ve run his father’s lackeys ragged as they scrambled to cover up whatever escapade had taken his fancy at the time. They were likely relieved he’d mellowed with the years.
His lover snickered. “I can imagine.”
Darshan hummed to himself, considering the options laid before him. “If you desire it, we do not require oil to have a little fun.”
“To be honest, I prefer when it’s involved.”
“As do I.” Why else would he have insisted on using it? “But that was not quite what I meant.” He slunk up against his lover, gliding his hand across Hamish’s groin.
“A hand job?” His mouth twisted, pursing and not in the slightest bit impressed. “If I wanted that, I could do it meself.”
“Such insolence,” Darshan murmured. As if he’d offer something so mundane as that. He focused on the flesh directly below his hand, sending a soft vibrating pulse through his fingertips.
Those sapphiric eyes widened, then rolled back. “All right,” he said on the wings of a moan. “I cannae do it like that.”
“I am afraid that, if you want more, you shall have to wait.” Darshan ducked to gather up his share of the fallen wood. “We really should head back, they will be expecting our return. Surely, you do not want them to catch you with your trousers at your ankles, do you?”
“You bloody tease,” Hamish muttered. Nevertheless, he followed suit in gathering up his share of the wood before leading the way back to camp.
Darshan tugged his cloak tighter around him, although the new clothes aided a fair bit in staving off the chill that had settled in his fingers and face. Last night had been the warmest one he had experienced since arriving here.
Nevertheless, he rather wished he was still abed, wrapped in his lover’s arms as well as their blankets.
Like the previous morning, they had broken camp with the rising sun and made for the road. Their group couldn’t have been placidly travelling along for more than an hour when they came upon a squat tower standing proudly at an intersection. By the battlements and thin windows, it had to be a guard’s outpost. Was it an occupied one?
Darshan peered at the battlements. He couldn’t spot anyone. Perhaps this was a relic of old borders from back when the clans fought for every scrap of land. His companions certainly had a complete lack of care about them. If it was occupied, it was clearly manned by allies.
His attention turned to the road. Whilst both routes were equally as wide, the one leading straight ahead had the smoothness of excessive use. Whereas the left was pitted with water-filled ruts and holes.
Gordon turned off to the left, giving barely a glance at the tower as they rode on by.
“Who goes?” a voice bellowed from somewhere up above before a white-haired head poked over the battlements. “Identify yourselves.”
Gordon swung his horse about, grinning up at where the voice had come from. “I think your eyesight’s failing you if you cannae recognise us.”
More of the white-haired head poked over the brickwork, along with the heads of two other guards who seemed to be equally as grey-haired as each other. “Prince Gordon? Ah and Prince Hamish,
