If nae now, then when? They might never get another chance like this and he would only wind up kicking himself if he let this opportunity slip away. “Sorry. I was just—” Hamish took another few steps back towards his bed, coaxing Darshan to follow with a gentle tug of the man’s arm. Maybe if they were quick.
Darshan’s cocky smile returned. No trace of nerves. He’d likely never concerned himself about being caught in the act, probably indulged in his desires on the regular. Still, his bejewelled fingers seemed to tremble slightly as he picked at the few buttons holding the neck of Hamish’s shirt closed.
Hamish stepped back again, this time, ensuring the man didn’t follow him. The back of his knees touched the bed frame. “What are you doing?”
“Undressing you? Generally, nakedness is involved.” Darshan fussed with the collar of his knee-length coat—a sherwani he had called it—undoing buttons Hamish still couldn’t make out amongst the embroidery running down the front of the outfit. “Unless you would prefer to do it yourself?”
“Fully?” Most of his times had involved no more undressing than the quick downing of trousers and smalls.
Darshan paused in tugging one of his boots free. “Are you certain you have experience with this?”
“Aye.” Was that the something the spellster had expected from him? “Just… nae here.” He spread his hand, indicating the room. A large percentage of his time rutting involved a dark place in a pub’s storage. “And nae fully naked.”
Frowning with his other still-booted foot awkwardly held in his hands, Darshan shook his head. “That simply will not do.” He hauled the boot off and tossed it to one side. There was a shimmer in the air between them.
Firm, but gentle, pressure from the very air hit Hamish’s chest, tipping him off-balance. Having no chance to right himself, he fell back onto the mattress. He propped himself on his elbows. Had that shimmer been magic? Aye. The act had been so precise.
Darshan planted himself between Hamish’s parted knees. He stared down at Hamish, his arms folded and a wolfish grin parting his lips.
The sight sent a shudder through Hamish that tingled and pooled in his groin. Every dark story he had ever heard of spellsters flooded his mind, rendering him incapable of speech. How much of what he had been told was true? It was a bit late to worry about having his soul stolen through a kiss, but what of other things?
The man bent over him, laying a hand on Hamish’s thigh. “If we are doing this, I would prefer no barriers between us. So, either you take that shirt off.” That grin was back for a heartbeat. “Or I do.”
Nae barriers. Not even linen. Just bare skin wherever they touched. “I think I can manage that.” He stood with Darshan backing away to give him room. With the buttons at his neck already undone, it was a simple matter of untucking the shirt from his trousers and pulling it over his head.
The action was met by Darshan’s whispering gasp.
“My word.” The man’s gaze ran over Hamish. Barely-restrained lust burned in those hazel eyes. The tip of his tongue brushed across his upper lip ever so slightly. “You are practically a walking rug.” His fingers reached out, returning to clench at his side before they could land on skin.
Hamish looked down at his chest and shrugged. Yes, he carried a dog’s-worth of dark red hair there, but it was hardly anything noteworthy. “I guess it’s a Tirglasian thing.” All the other men he had ever been with—the only exception being that one ambassador from Dvärghem—were native to his country. And even the dwarf had been just as hairy as himself, if not more so.
“Yes?” Darshan cast another hungry glance over Hamish and sighed. “I rather think I grew up in the wrong kingdom. Minamist lacks men like you.” He bit his lip, seeming to consider the statement. “Well, maybe the docks, but I suppose I cannot count the few Tirglasian sailors who make port.”
Frowning, Hamish paused in untying the cords of his trousers. Had he imagined that jittery note in the man’s voice? “Do you usually talk this much?” His past experiences had all been rather quiet beyond grunts, and the occasional pained hiss from himself upon their entry.
The man’s cheeks darkened. “Not generally.” One side of his mouth hitched up. “But then, I have never been nervous about this before.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Which is surprising in itself seeing that this is most definitely not my first time. But I am afraid you might find me rather lacking in certain departments. I am no sparsely-haired elf, but I am hardly a rug either.” He laced and unlaced his fingers, toying with a ring or two along the way. “I hope you actually do find me to your taste after all this.”
“You’re a man, you’ve a pulse.” Too late, he clapped a hand over his mouth. He hadn’t actually said that out loud, had he? Well, there goes me chance. When the words weren’t immediately met with Darshan’s departure, he lowered his hand. “I dinnae mean you were—” He fisted his beard, tugging at it slightly, letting the pain help clear his head. “What I meant was—”
Darshan’s laughter stilled Hamish’s his tongue. It was a dark sound that seemed to relax the man’s shoulders. “Oh dear,” he murmured, laying a hand on Hamish’s chest. “Is the bar truly set so low?” His other hand slunk up Hamish’s side, the faint brush of nails digging in as the man’s touch wandered across Hamish’s back.
Heat flooded his face. Of all the corners to back himself into. “I’m nae exactly in a position to be picky.”
Pity flashed in those hazel eyes and flattened Darshan’s mouth for a heartbeat. “Well, neither can I,
