“Likewise.” If he had ever been given that mythological chance to choose, like his siblings had, it would’ve been someone bold enough to chase him even knowing the consequences.
“Since we seem to be getting our tongues horribly tangled.” Darshan wrapped his arms around Hamish’s neck. “How about we go back to something a little easier on them?” He coaxed Hamish down, their lips brushing each other for but a breath.
Hamish drew back to eye the man. “You’re really nae bothered?”
Sighing, Darshan’s fingers returned to roaming Hamish’s neck, sliding up to thread into the thick hair near the nape. “No.” Those hazel eyes lifted. The hot and wanting glaze to them had vanished, replaced by something far softer. “I am not exactly a stranger to being… a port in a storm as it were and if that is all you require, I am happy to oblige.” His hands slid down to the waist of Hamish’s trousers. “But I do find these being still on as bothersome. Allow me.”
Before Hamish could speak either way, the man set to work on the cords. Hamish’s trousers dropped at a phenomenal rate.
Darshan’s gaze slunk down Hamish’s body, clearly tracking the very direct passage of his fingers. A soft groan escaped the man’s throat as he caressed Hamish’s length through his smalls.
Hamish’s legs trembled at the touch, threatening to dump him where he stood. It had been far too long since any but his own hand had ventured so close. “Wait,” he gasped, breathless. He was almost naked whilst Darshan, bar his boots, was still fully clothed. “Do I nae get to undress you?”
Darshan grinned. “If you like. Allow me to make it easier for you. These buttons can be fiddly.” He waved his hand down the sherwani and the front unfurled like a butterfly.
More magic? The man had clearly just used some to undress himself. Was there anything those spellsters didn’t use as an excuse to show off their power?
Shrugging out of the sherwani, Darshan tossed it to one side and spread his arms in open invitation. “When you are ready.” Underneath sat a short tunic very similar in design to what the farmers wore out in the fields. Likewise, the trousers—although cut in a manner that hugged the man’s legs and tented eagerly at the groin—were merely fastened by a simple cord. Removing both would be an easy matter.
Hamish’s fingers fumbled to untie the knot at Darshan’s waist and failed. Focus, you idiot. He could perform better than some novice. Sucking on his teeth, he tried again to similar effect.
His gaze flicked to the door as he finally loosened the ties, it helped keep the heat dominating his face in check, but brought back far more sinister thoughts. “I dinnae suppose you’ve a spell that can keep that shut.” He indicated the door with a jerk of his chin.
Darshan wrinkled his nose. “Excusing the fact I do not do spells—” He all but spat the word. “—I am going to say yes… and no. I could place a barrier in front of it,” he continued before Hamish could ask, tugging himself free of his trousers as he spoke. “Very easily, in fact.”
“But?” Hamish pressed.
The spellster offered up a smile that bordered on embarrassed. He laid a hand on
Hamish’s arm, steadying himself whilst freeing his other leg of clothing. “It would fail once my thoughts turned to other matters.”
“Ah.” It had never occurred to him that, whilst spellsters could weave incredible and terrifying feats at a whim, it was intrinsically linked to their thoughts. Or what that really meant when distracted. “Bit like archery, then. Part instinct, part focus.”
“You could say that.”
Hamish made swift work of discarding the man’s tunic. He rocked back on his heels. Rather than be faced with a man clad only in his smalls, there was another tunic beneath. “Just how many layers are you wearing?”
Darshan lowered his gaze, but not before Hamish spied him blushing. He fingered the tunic as if surprised to find it there. “Only the three.” He hauled the final article off over his head. A faint shudder ran through his body. “Tirglas is a touch colder than back home.”
“Aye?” Hamish drew the man closer. Their chests touched at every breath, Darshan’s vaguely hotter. He tipped the man’s head back, caressing Darshan’s chin with a thumb and struggling to think of anything beyond kissing the spellster senseless. “How about I help you warm up, then?”
Humour creased those hazel eyes and a brief chuckle shook Darshan’s torso. “I thought you would never ask.” He leant hard against Hamish, rocking them off-balance.
With one hand, Hamish gripped the bedpost. “That was more of an offer than a question.”
Snickering and shaking his head, Darshan gave a gentle tap on Hamish’s chest that had him landing back onto the bed. “Are you really going to quibble over semantics right now?” He grasped the waistband of Hamish’s smalls, tugging the front down just enough for the afternoon air to slink its way into his short hairs.
His length strained against the soft linen. Crawling a little way up the bed allowed his smalls to slide off that little bit more. He tugged them down further still.
A faint whimper greeted him being fully naked to the world. Breathing heavily, Darshan assisted in fully removing the smalls, tossing them to one side. Those bejewelled fingers gently wrapped around Hamish’s length. A soft groan parted Darshan’s lips.
Hamish fisted the blankets, fully reclining as Darshan’s hand moved. His touch was soft and warm, definitely practised at jerking off another man. Just as I’d imagined. He pushed the thought away, letting it slink back into the forbidden depths. This wasn’t the time for thinking. This was only about the moment.
Darshan silently withdrew his presence.
With an objection fighting its way along his tongue to be heard, Hamish sat up only to discover the man was pausing merely to remove his own smalls.
