Darshan’s eyes narrowed as he scrubbed at his chin. “I am wondering…” He crept closer until he hovered over Hamish. “…how much of a mood are you for indulging me? Just for a moment.”
“That would depend on what you want.”
“A mere question, I assure you.” The man cleared his throat. “These other men you have been with?”
Hamish swallowed. The last thing he wanted to talk about was them.
“Was it rather a case of arse up, head down and not speak a word?” Darshan cocked his head even though Hamish hadn’t answered. “Are you certain they actually like men that way? Or have they all just been looking for a convenient place to stick it?”
Hamish shrugged, a queasiness bubbling in his gut. He had known a few that had felt the same, but generally? “I dinnae ken much beyond most of them being sailors who were likely to leave port within the day.” If not the hour.
Again, something flashed across Darshan’s face. There for no longer than the first time, but definitely pity.
He peered at the man. If Darshan pitied him, did that mean… “Is it nae the same for you?”
Darshan’s expression melted into one of sorrow. “Not at all,” he whispered. “There is so much more.” He crept up the bed, one knee slipping between Hamish’s thighs to gently part them. “Allow me to show you what sex between two men can be like.”
Hamish rolled his eyes. “Men cannae have sex with each other,” he mumbled. Maybe it was the language barrier, or twisty Udynean thinking, but the man couldn’t be aware of what he was implying.
Amusement snorted out Darshan’s nose. He smirked, the act skewing his moustache. “What utter nonsense they teach you Northerners.” He laid atop Hamish, stretching out so that his whole body touched. “Would you like to discover if that is entirely true? Because I do not believe I have heard any disapproval.”
Hamish wet his lips. Dare he agree and find out just what the man was jabbering about? He desperately wanted to agree, but past disappointment cautioned him against hoping too much. How many times had men declared they would show him a good time only to be more concerned about their own pleasure?
“My word,” Darshan snickered, propping himself up on his elbows. “You need not say a thing. I can practically see the dice rolling around in your head.” He grinned. “Do they land in my favour?”
“Do whatever you wish,” Hamish finally managed. He had come here for this very reason. What point was there in backing out now?
The spellster shook his head, the brown curls of his hair bouncing with the exaggerated movement. “Oh no, no, no. That simply will not do, my hirsute friend. Since it has been years for you, I would rather make it about your wants.” He sat back, the grin turning cheeky as he winked. “Although, if you insist on keeping mum about it, I might just decide to flip you over and have my way.”
Hamish’s heart thumped a few heavy beats at the very idea. He shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant, aware his length twitching against the man’s thigh had likely given him away. “I wouldnae mind.” It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been manhandled before.
“I see,” Darshan murmured. “Well there is an ocean of difference between not minding an act and explicitly desiring it.” His hand ran idly up and down Hamish’s forearm, the action oddly intimate. “You never answered my original question, you know. I can rather deduce how the past has gone for you, but I am far more interested in your desires now. Do you want to ride or be ridden? I am open to both, if that helps.”
He slowly rocked his head from side to side. Whilst he wasn’t entirely sure what Darshan meant, he did know what he wanted. “You in me.”
“Riding it is, then.” It might’ve been a trick of the candlelight, but Hamish could’ve sworn he’d seen a flicker of disappointment in his response cross the man’s face. Before he could muster the courage to ask, Darshan hopped off the bed and sauntered to his travel chest.
Hamish rolled onto his side to find Darshan’s back facing him. The man’s olive-brown skin appeared unmarked by ink or blemishes, save for a single star-shaped scar halfway up his torso. He hadn’t noticed if there was a matching mark on Darshan’s chest, having been far too distracted with other thoughts both now and earlier, but the scarring looked reminiscent of an arrow wound. Couldn’t spellsters fix any fault?
Darshan bent to rummage in the travel chest’s depths, seemingly ignorant of how the act gifted Hamish a full view of that perfect backside. Whatever he searched for took far too short a time, but he returned to Hamish’s side swiftly enough with a brown bottle.
“And that is?” Hamish jerked a chin at the bottle. Some sort of liquid sloshed inside, just visible through the cloudy glass.
“This?” Darshan stared at the item as if surprised to find it in his possession. “Just oil.” He uncorked the bottle and poured a little of the almost transparent liquid onto his fingers. “It was perhaps a little presumptuous of me to bring so much, I wasn’t exactly anticipating meeting anyone like-minded during my stay.” A faint smile creased his eyes. “But here we are.”
“I’m still nae sure why you need it.” Was it a Udynean thing? He knew they had dozens of olive groves and typically used the oil all the time food-wise, but he’d never considered it might have other applications.
Darshan scoffed as he set the re-corked bottle on the floor. “If you want me in you, then you shall need preparation, especially since you have not done it in so long. Surely, you do not expect me to enter you dry… do you?” He seemed to almost cringe at the question, staring down at his oiled fingers. Was he dreading the answer?
Hamish frowned. None of his previous rutting partners had ever prepared him. Often, there
