I can believe that. A son of the emperor would likely only need to express a mild interest in a person for them to throw themselves at his feet. Hamish shook his head. “It’s nae that.”
“Am I not to your taste, then?” There should’ve been heat in that question, or at least a little bitterness. But Darshan’s voice remained light and calm.
“I have nae taste.” The words were out before Hamish could consider them. Hearing them aloud had his cheeks flushing hotter than any summer day could make them. “That’s— I didnae mean— That came out wrong.”
Darshan laughed. He might’ve given a little snort and tried to quickly cover his amusement by clearing his throat, but it was definitely laughter.
“Sure,” Hamish mumbled, his face heating further. Was that what this was going to be like? He’d fumble and the man would laugh at him? “That you understand straight away.”
“I do not need you to tell me. I can see the lack of taste.” The man spread his arms wide and spun on the spot, gesturing at the room. “One only needs to take in the ghastly decor.”
“Hey!” Yes, carved figurines from his childhood still lay scattered about various shelves, along with small trinkets his niece or nephews had brought him during their excursions. Only his bow, gifted to him when he’d reached manhood, had an actual place where it belonged, but he would hardly call it horrible.
“Not that it is entirely without redeeming features,” Darshan added, a mischievous smile plumping his cheeks. “A few throw rugs, some gauzy curtains… getting rid of the antlers.”
Hamish’s gaze swung to the pair of antlers set above his bed. They had come from a magnificent twenty-pointer three autumns back. It had fed a good portion of the nearby village, too. He turned back to find Darshan grinning at him. “You’re nae serious, are you?”
“A bit.” Those hazel eyes lowered, creasing at the corners. “Forgive me.” The man’s whole chest shook in mirth as he spoke. “Do continue. It has been some years since I got anyone flustered.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Oh?” Darshan rocked back on his heels, mock surprise lifting his brows. “He does flattery, too? You are most welcome to continue babbling nonsense at me, if you like. I can wait.”
For once, Hamish wished he had the time to spare. Then he’d find out just how much patience the man really had. “Do you think I have nae experience in this?”
Genuine surprise danced in Darshan’s eyes and raised just a single brow. “No, I—” His lips twisted sourly before he ran a hand over them, mussing his moustache. Huffing, the man turned from him. “The thought did cross my mind,” he confessed, the words muffled. He waved his hand flippantly. “One can hardly determine much from a single kiss.” His gaze settled on Hamish, uncertainty flickering to life in their depths. “Am I moving too quickly for you?”
Hamish shook his head. If anything, this was the slowest he had ever gone with a man since his first time.
“Allow me to make myself perfectly clear on the matter. I am aware of how this is viewed in your kingdom.” He reached out, a timid hand alighting on Hamish’s chest. Warmth soaked through his undershirt. “I want you, make no mistake about that, but not if it means further strife for yourself. If you want me to bac—”
He cupped Darshan’s jaw, marking the faint hitch in the man’s breath. “What I want…” A smirk took his lips upon recalling Darshan’s original question. Hamish wrapped an arm around the ambassador’s waist, drawing them closer together. “…is to be very bad.” He caught the soft gust of Darshan’s gentle laughter and a flash of a grin before he claimed the man’s mouth with his own.
Darshan sagged against him. He made a small noise in the back of his throat. Not quite a whimper, but not deep enough to be a moan. The sound raced down Hamish’s spine, running straight to his groin. He hadn’t heard a noise so unashamedly needy in years.
“Your mouth tastes like sin,” the spellster purred against his lips.
Hamish grinned. “I’d hold off on any such declarations. I havenae started sinning, yet.” He drew the man’s lips back to his, prepared to make good on that promise.
Hamish slanted his mouth over Darshan’s, their tongues twirling around each other. This was familiar, like a dance. Dim though, as if it were a distant memory or dream.
Still, he recalled the steps.
Darshan’s hands slid up Hamish’s shoulders, a soft moan escaping the man’s mouth. The gentle kiss Hamish had started with was met with unabashed passion. It set his head spinning.
When he paused to catch his breath, the raw desire pouring off Darshan seemed ready to ignite the very air.
The man’s fingers slunk up Hamish’s neck and carried on to entwine into the thick coils of his hair. Darshan pressed against him, necessitating that Hamish grab the man’s hips. The spellster seemed to take it all in stride, grinding against Hamish.
That was new. Any other man would be halfway through with hauling down his trousers. Was Darshan waiting for some sort of signal from Hamish? He hadn’t ever actually taken the lead before, always being the receptive one. And he’d thought after the man’s boldness in the pub…
His hands shook as he tightened his hold on Darshan’s hips and took the first step back. Terror and expectation mingled in Hamish’s muscles as the spellster practically flowed after him into the centre of the room and towards the bed. His room. His bed. Not once had he ever been brave enough to let anyone take him here.
His gaze slid cautiously to the door, as if it might swing open at the mere thought. Nothing could stop that. It may remain closed at the moment, but he couldn’t lock it. We shouldnae do this. Not here. The guards could, theoretically, return at any time.
And if they found him with the Udynean ambassador?
“Hamish?”
