PART II | Chapter XII
2:12 | Teaching Hearts to Dance
“
No,” Baisyl snapped for possibly the fifth time in as many minutes or less, but then, catching Kedean’s look, he added a half-hearted, “…thank you,” with a flat smile. “No, thank you,” he repeated. “I don’t dance.”
After the most recent disappointed hopeful made it out of earshot, Kedean shook his head. “Are you honestly going to tell me you’re the only noble I’ve ever met who doesn’t know how to dance?” he asked.
“Oh, no, I know how to dance,” Baisyl said. “I just don’t know how to…
that…” he clarified, waving his hand indistinctly towards the crowds of their fellow travelers swaying to and fro on the makeshift ‘dance floor’ before them—nothing but a flat, over-worn area of thin grass surrounding the fire they’d set up for the night. “That’s simply…moving…absurdly, at that, to…noise.”
“Moving to noise?” Kedean repeated, dubious.
“Yes.”
“You don’t like the music?”
Baisyl did, actually.
The rapid beat now playing came alive in the air, edging under his skin, sparking warmth in the cool night and it seemed to resonate with the movement of each turning body participating in the dance. It had surprised him to find that they had musicians among them in their troupe, small as it was, but as soon as the impromptu ‘festivities’ started up as people finished eating, he found himself devoting far more attention to the music than the food, trying to dissect the various interwoven sounds, pick out the different parts and identify the pieces. The complexity of it alone fascinated him, and he quickly discovered that he was unfamiliar with many of instruments.
But he’d already spent long enough pretending he didn’t want any part of it, so…
“It’s…different,” he said. “I’m accustomed to music being more…refined.”
“So you don’t like it?” Kedean repeated.
“I think it’s…” Baisyl found that, with his guard’s eyes on him, it became nearly impossible to lie outright. Thus, “It’s alright,” he confessed at last, reluctantly, and Kedean smiled.
“So you
do like it?”
Baisyl groaned. “You’re as difficult as I am!”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Whatever are you getting at?” Baisyl grumped, resisting the urge to push his lip out in a pout for emphasis, his eyes stubbornly locked on the slowly dwindling bonfire and the food in his lap forgotten. “The music is pleasing enough…what more do you want of me?”
Instead of answering, Kedean asked, “Are you interested in dancing?” and Baisyl glanced over, well aware that there were multiple ways to interpret that question. After a few moments, he played it safe.
“I’m interested enough, when I know the music and the steps,” he said, “…but as I’ve told every man who’s asked tonight and as you already well know, I am unfamiliar with both the music and the steps. I couldn’t-”
“Yes, I’m aware of that, but that’s not what I asked,” Kedean said. “You could be taught the steps very easily; they’re quite simple.”
Baisyl huffed. “Learn from one of those boys? I’d rather-”
“Did I say anything about anyone else?”
Baisyl looked up, letting his surprise show. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m still not quite catching your meaning. If you could come to the point and be very direct about it, I would appreciate-”
Beside him, Kedean stood, turned to face him, and offered a hand. “Dance with me?”
Comprehension dawned with a blush, and Baisyl’s first utterance of, “Oh,” came out notably smaller than he intended. “You—ah…I see.” He cleared his throat, hating the heat in his cheeks that remained as he looked up, meeting Kedean’s eyes. “You know you really are going to make me make a fool of myself…”
Kedean’s expression softened. “No…only you could make a fool of yourself, and you won’t.”
Baisyl’s lips pursed as he argued, “You don’t know that…” but he set his dish aside even so, pointedly ignoring flighty, hopping fluttering sensation that persisted low in his throat as he let his fingers disappear within Kedean’s grip.
“I do,” Kedean countered, and Baisyl took a breath as he helped him up, releasing it from between his lips only when they came face to face. “Relax,” Kedean advised. “You’re still far too tense. Try to enjoy yourself for once.”
“I’ve enjoyed myself in the past,” Baisyl insisted, and wondered if he had, “…and in any case, you’re barely touching my hand…how could you possibly tell whether or not I’m too tense?”
“The muscles in your fingers…” Kedean said, running a thumb feather-gently over Baisyl’s knuckles, “…are connected to every other muscle in your body in some way or fashion. As such, from a single touch here…” He brushed the underside of Baisyl’s index, middle, and ring fingers, “…here…” traced the curve of Baisyl’s palm, “…or here…” and finished by drawing a loose circle around Baisyl’s wrist, “…can be used to gauge muscle tension throughout the body if you know what you’re looking for.” He looked up, their eyes meeting. “Your pulse is also quite fast.”
Baisyl swallowed. “That, ah…that would actually be…entirely your doing, at the moment…” he said, “…and it has nothing to do with me being tense.” Kedean’s eyebrows notched up, but before he replied, Baisyl continued. “And they won’t find this…inappropriate? For a betrothed woman to dance with her guard?”
“No,” Kedean said. “This isn’t an intimate dance.”
“But they are…paired…” Even as he said it, though, Baisyl noted that Kedean was right. Though it was partner dancing, the makeup of the pairs was as varied as they came: young and old, middle-aged pairs of the same gender, young groups of friends, and even children. While he spotted occasional couple, it clearly wasn’t a requirement, and he sighed. “I see.”
“You needn’t look so disappointed,” Kedean said. “It’s-”
“Do you like me better this way?” Baisyl asked suddenly, and Kedean blinked, surprised, as they made it to the designated dancing area.
“What do you mean?” he asked, adding, “Here, lift this hand on the downbeat and turn…” as the music came in again. “Step out with your left…”
“I mean…like
this…” Baisyl repeated, finding, to his surprise, that it actually wasn’t that difficult to keep up. “As in…in this…”
The beat kept the body moving, certainly—an active rhythm with a playful melody balanced atop it—but the moves themselves were simple enough to follow, and he found himself largely mirroring Kedean’s steps in reverse, their bodies coming close, but rarely actually touching unless there was a mutual turn involved, as if the aim were to keep an invisible ball aloft, caught between their two bodies, without ever actually making contact themselves.
“As a woman,” Baisyl said finally, “…do you prefer me as a woman?” and Kedean frowned.
“You’re the same person either way,” he answered, “…I don’t understand what you mean…” and their right hands came together, marking a pivot, Baisyl’s skirts licking about his ankles as he turned.
“Yes, but…I’m just…asking if you’re more interested,” Baisyl insisted, irritated that his skin missed the touch when they parted, and they stepped passed each other, inches apart but not brushing.
“More…interested? Physically?” Kedean asked, and Baisyl huffed.
“I…yes, I suppose,” he answered.
“Then…I couldn’t say,” Kedean said. Baisyl opened his mouth to object. “You are…strikingly beautiful, as both a man and a woman,” he continued, “…and my preferences aren’t usually swayed one way or the other by gender alone.”
The music stopped abruptly, leaving them standing exactly as they were: face to face and hand in hand with barely a foot of space between them. Baisyl found himself only very distantly aware of the movement of others around them. Before he gathered himself enough to comment, though, a single, low and wavering flute note marked the start of a new, very different song. Kedean made to pull away.
“Wait,” Baisyl halted him, tightening his grip before fully making up his mind what he intended to say, but Kedean stilled obediently nonetheless. “We could—that is…I wouldn’t mind learning another?” He watched as Kedean hesitated, and in the background, the soft, hollow sound of the lonely wind instrument gradually gained strength.
“This is…very much a lover’s dance, milord,” Kedean said at last. He made no effort to pull away again though, and stayed still, waiting. Baisyl ventured a glance around.
And so it was.
On all sides, the children had left, as had all but two, obviously married older couples, and the floor was slowly filling with younger, shyer—and some not so shy—pairs. Around the edges, he heard the sound of giggles and soft laughter, murmured requests for a dance, and the lighter, warmer titters of responses from the young women.
A second, more tenor note joined the first as the dancers came together on the floor, and Baisyl looked back to his guard.
“Show me,” he said, and despite making it a statement, he knew the request behind the words betrayed itself in his eyes as Kedean held his gaze, reading it.
“They will talk, if I do,” he said at last, taking Baisyl’s fingers in his again even as he said it, and Baisyl shook his head.
“They may think what they like…our business is not theirs to mind, and we’re unlikely to come across any of them again after this trip, regardless,” he said. “You may tell them, should anyone be so bold as to ask, that I was quite insistent on learning the moves, and that after trying in vain to explain the impropriety of the situation, you finally agreed to humor your obstinate young mistress.”
“Mm…” Kedean smiled—small, but there—as his hand drew Baisyl’s up, repositioning his grip and bringing his other hand down to settle between Baisyl’s waist and hip. “You know…” When a fresh drumbeat joined the two dancing flutes, he guided Baisyl in until a half foot of nothing separated them, and Baisyl’s pulse responded in kind, “…I don’t think anyone will believe me.” He spoke quietly, but closely enough now that the heat of his breath brushed, warm, over Baisyl’s forehead, and Baisyl kept his eyes stubbornly open, resisting the urge to shut them and lean in. “I certainly wouldn’t.”
“Yes, well,” Baisyl said, softly, “…
you’re not supposed to-”
A range of instruments came in as one, barely a whisper of sound at the outset—like the first rays of dawn on the far horizon—but a whisper that started immediately to crescendo, building on itself as surely as the sun rose and providing a gradual, rising wave of supporting chords behind the melody. And the dance began.
Kedean, as before, immediately took the lead, guiding their steps, one into the next in perfect time with the winding melody around them. This time, though, Baisyl found himself relying not so much on mirroring his guard’s moves as surrendering control of his actions in their entirety, allowing Kedean to conduct his body as a player would their instrument—or a puppeteer their marionette—and letting subtle, but effective body language steer him from motion to motion.
It felt like a game of trust of the sort where one half of a couple was blindfolded and the other instructed to guide their partner about a room littered with obstacles, some dangerous. Baisyl, of course, was the one dancing blind. Yet, though it certainly brought about a certain degree of nervous anxiety, it surprised him how willingly he handed over control—how willingly he entrusted Kedean to serve as his guide and eyes.
Had he put so much faith in the man already?
The music changed. Not to a new song, but clearly to a transition point, the instruments joining together for a sweeping, mass crescendo. And then all but cutting off, as sharply as if snapping a cord or jumping a cliff.
He found himself at a wavering, tentative pause as the quiet, all but inaudible whisper of remaining music floated around them, his back to Kedean’s chest, his body fit snugly into the encompassing curve of the man’s embrace, and his guard’s hands on his waist, holding him in.
“Alright…” When Kedean spoke, he leaned in, dipping his head so that his words ghosted, warm and close, against the back shell of Baisyl’s ear and down, along his neck, “…here…you’re going to have to improvise.”
“Im…impro—wait, what?” Baisyl’s eyes flit back open; when had he shut them?
“You don’t know what improvise mea—?”
“Of course I know what improvise means!” Baisyl snapped. “I just don’t-”
“Good,” Kedean said before he finished, “go.”
And that was, apparently, all the warning he was ever going to get.
The pianissimo transition phase ended, the initial flute and its partner rejoined the supporting melody in full, and Baisyl stepped out as Kedean released him, only their hands joined. His eyes darted over the crowds, trying to gauge how best to proceed, but it seemed Kedean was right; everyone was making the steps their own. So be it. He improvised.
It came easier than he expected.
While it was an interesting game of sorts to follow Kedean’s every subtle instruction, there was a certain undeniably thrilling freedom in not knowing from one moment to the next what exactly he planned to do—and also to keeping Kedean on his toes. In addition, though he never would have seen himself doing it in a lifetime and afterwards would probably never admit to having tried it, twirling—in a dress with one hand up, supported by Kedean’s, and his skirts fanning out around him—was more ‘fun’ than he ever would have thought to give it credit for. So was dipping, if only because it brought their faces inches apart for a few brief seconds.
Unfortunately, though the second part likely lasted at least as long as the first, it ended all too quickly, and before long the music was coming to a real, final stop. As small laughter floated up around them and the other couples started heading back off the floor, though, Baisyl found himself lingering, hesitant to move or release Kedean’s hands, as he knew that as soon as he did the moment would be broken and it would be some time before they found their way back together.
One of Kedean’s hands lifted, rising to Baisyl’s face, and he brushed a thumb over Baisyl’s cheek, bringing to light the fact that Baisyl’s face as a whole was quite flush. He lifted his head.
“I look a wreck, do I?”
Kedean chuckled. “Not at all. Color looks good on your cheeks. Come, though…” he said, and nodded his head to the side, “…we should get back before all the staring gets to you.”
“All the…” Baisyl looked, and sure enough, he could have sworn half the eyes of the camp were on them. He pursed his lips. “
Why-”
“Because you are the most beautiful woman in a thousand mile radius, and they can’t for the life of them understand why you decided to dance with the strangest looking man they’ve ever seen,” Kedean answered.
Baisyl frowned, opened his mouth, and-
Thunder rolled—distant, but audible—and they both looked up. Eyes on the night sky, Baisyl swore.
“It’s like having the gods dictate to me that it’s bedtime…” he grumbled, and Kedean’s smile was wry. Baisyl sighed, releasing his grip and folding his arms over his chest as he let his eyes wander, anywhere but towards his guard. “So…I suppose you’ll stay out a bit longer?” he asked. “Dance with some local girls?”
Kedean glanced down, eyebrows raised. “Local girls?”
“Not your type?”
“Am I allowed to dance with the local girls, milord?”
“I…suppose I wouldn’t consider it my place to say,” Baisyl conceded, “…yet…” and Kedean’s smile was small, but in evidence.
“No, I don’t suppose it would be,” he agreed. “I was just thinking…in terms of your safety, if I spent my time running off on various escapades with the opposite gender…it might impede my judgment. But,” he hastened to add, “if you don’t think so-”
“Oh, no,” Baisyl quickly cut in. “That is a very astute point. Certainly, in terms of my safety…that is, all personal matters aside, I would very much
prefer that you not…dance…with anyone…else.”
When he made himself look, he found Kedean watching him. “You should return to the wagon, milord,” his guard said, gently enough, “before it rains.”
Baisyl nodded. “I will. In…a moment.”
“I’m going to speak briefly with our train leader once more, and then I will join you,” Kedean said. Then he added, quieter, after a moment’s silence, “And you may rest assured that I will not be dancing with anyone…local, female, or otherwise in the meantime…”
Baisyl didn’t mean to smile—really. He nodded again, quickly, and this time left without another word. He didn’t expect to have company again within a minute of arriving back at the wagon.
It was her shuffling that gave her away.
“I’m sorry, milady…” A servant girl. Perhaps one the merchant woman had decided to bring along, for the trip’s sake? Her arms were full. “The missus instructed me to deliver these to you, but…it was near time to leave by the time they were finished, so they never made it to your wagon.”
Baisyl looked. She was carrying bedding, a nightdress, and his clothes—cleaned and folded—and he barely stifled a grin, turning a grateful smile on her instead. “Thank you…the wait was no trouble, and I’m happy to have them.”
She lingered, though, after setting her delivery down, and after a moment, Baisyl arched an eyebrow, inquiring, “Is there something I might help you with?” and she immediately straightened, a spot of warmth, visible even in the dark, blooming on her cheeks.
“No, milady…it is only, I…well…” The spot of warmth grew. “I couldn’t help but notice…your soldier, he is…he’s very…curious…isn’t he?”
Baisyl’s other eyebrow lifted. “Curious?”
“That is, I meant only to say…well, he’s a very…large…man,” the young woman said, “…and you’re…well, you’re not…”
Not a large woman.
Baisyl smiled slowly, almost wickedly, as comprehension dawned. “My apologies…but I’m afraid I still haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about…” he said sweetly, while making sure to let his expression say the exact opposite, and when the woman looked up, she caught on instantly, her eyes widening.
“But—aren’t you frightened?” she asked in a hushed whisper. “I would think that it would be…painful…and if you’re off to be wed…what if you’re caught? Doesn’t it scare you?”
“Mister Akuwa is a very…gentle man,” Baisyl responded, allowing himself a coy smirk that seemed to capture his one-person-audience’s rapt attention, “…and…” He let the smirk turn daringly mischievous, “…he makes whatever consequences that might lie down the road
well worth it…” Here, his smile turned innocent again, “…if you catch my drift?”
Her stare was huge as she swallowed, nodding. “Yes, milady…I most certainly do. You’re…a far more daring woman than I.” She took a step back, preparing to turn, when-
She yelped, hopping full off the ground and a hand jumping over her mouth as Kedean caught her shoulders to keep her from tumbling backwards.
“Miss—?”
“Mister—master—sir, ahh…I-I-I’ll be…going…now…” She squeaked out the last word, and fled as soon as Kedean released her, leaving said man to stare, bewildered, after her.
It took him a moment to turn his puzzled frown on Baisyl. “Petrifying poor, innocent young servant women, milord?”
“Who…me?” Baisyl asked, with mock innocence. “Why, I never…”
Kedean snorted.
Baisyl smirked. “Anyway, that one wasn’t innocent at all…”
“No?”
“She was concerned for my well-being, you see…” Baisyl started, and Kedean raised an eyebrow.
“I see…?”
“She thought your cock might be a bit much for me to handle,” It was the first time Baisyl ever saw Kedean stumble on his way into the wagon; he counted it as a personal victory, “…petite, fragile little woman that I am…”
“I…see,” Kedean responded, and cleared his throat, settling down on ‘his’ side of the wagon quite promptly. “I told you they would assume things,” he grumbled, half beneath his breath, and then asked, “And what did you tell her?” clearly trying not to sound terribly interested.
Baisyl smiled, and approached. “I told her…” he said as he moved in on his guard, shortening the distance between them to about a foot before stilling and dropping to a knee, “…that you were oh, so
very gentle with me…and that she needn’t fret, I was quite enjoying myself…”
“Ah…” Kedean, clearly tense, swallowed. “Milord-”
“Here,” Baisyl dropped off a set of sheets, “…your bedding. She was kind enough to deliver our sleeping materials before delving into the secrets of my non-existent sex life…” and with that, he turned, left to feel Kedean’s eyes on him as he moved back to the other side of the wagon.
When he settled, he started immediately to undress, and behind him, Kedean made some indistinguishable muffled sound and got quickly to work arranging his bedding.
The night air was crisp and cold on Baisyl’s skin, and after removing his dress, the cool silk of the provided nightgown felt like a poor substitute, though softer. He shut his eyes against a shiver, drawing his fingers back and up, over the patterns holding his hair aloft, and, finding the pin, he pulled it, allowing his hair to drape back down like an unstrung curtain over his back before running his fingers through the remaining braids, loosening and unfastening them.
“I hope, Mister Akuwa, that you were being quite honest when you asserted that you preferred both bodies equally,” he said, breaking the quiet without stilling his hands, “…as I’ll have you know…I have no intention—or desire—to sleep with anyone in this body…ever.” Finished, he shook his head, the loose, dark waves rolling free over his back as he glanced over his shoulder. “Is that quite clear?”
Kedean met his eyes, his gaze steady. “It is, milord.”
Baisyl smiled. “Good.” And he lay down.
An hour later, he had yet to fall asleep, turning restlessly and gritting his teeth to keep from shivering. Apparently, this didn’t go beyond Kedean’s notice.
“Milord, if you’re-”
“This is stupidly uncomfortable,” Baisyl snapped, making the words dry to keep from whining. “It’s hard…and freezing.”
“It’s a blanket on wooden panels, milord, of course it’s hard…”
“And
cold,” Baisyl repeated for emphasis.
“And what would you have me do about that? Hold you until you fall asleep?”
Baisyl glowered into the darkness, determined to ignore the way the suggestion warmed his otherwise cool cheeks and neck. “I was being serious…” he mumbled softly, once he knew he had the composure to reply adequately.
Behind him, Kedean sighed. “So was I, milord…” he responded at length. “I’m afraid it’s the only rational suggestion I have. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Five minutes passed.
Then, huffing, Baisyl gathered up his bedding, and he shivered as he stood, bare feet padding quietly against the wood on his way to his guard’s side.
“Milord—?”
“You’d best not be the type of person who rolls around, flails their limbs about, or mutters incessantly in their sleep,” Baisyl quipped, and dropped his things unceremoniously, making Kedean grunt and move, surprised.
“Ahh…” His guard blinked, “…you mean…like you just were, milord?”
Baisyl pursed his lips. “May I lay with you, or not?”
“By…all means.” Kedean helped him arrange the bedding, and Baisyl had never known his heart to beat so fast as it did in those moments.
What was he afraid of?
He knew Kedean wouldn’t take advantage of him—not unless he explicitly
wanted it—and yet, his pulse felt like a canary in his throat as he knelt down and refused to calm as he determinedly slid his legs beneath the covers. When a hand touched his shoulder, though barely, he tensed before his mind spared it a second thought.
“Milord…” Kedean spoke softly, gently enough to make Baisyl’s heart knot with guilt for the reasonless fear he felt, “…surely you know by now that I mean you no harm.” Baisyl looked over, propped up on his elbows but otherwise laying down, the warmth of the other’s body clearly in evidence, and he surveyed his guard’s face in the dark, studying what the shadows masked but also, perhaps more so, what they couldn’t hide. “I will never…hurt you.”
Slowly, Baisyl released his breath. The result came shakier than he might have liked, but he spoke up anyway, murmuring, “You can promise that, can you?” as softly as Kedean had, but with a different edge to the words.
When Kedean made to respond, though, Baisyl shifted his weight and reached out, placing a single finger feather-gently on the man’s lips with a, “Shh, don’t speak…” before letting his hand slip down, coming to rest just along his guard’s jaw as he leaned in. And he kissed him. On the lips, but so softly and fleetingly that one might never have thought the event to have transpired, except that Kedean’s eyes were shut when he drew back, and he waited the few moments it took for him to open them again before he continued, as quietly.
“I appreciate the sentiment…as I do everything you’ve done for me thus far,” he said sincerely, “…but…you needn’t concern yourself so much over me. I am a capable man. I merely have a few…issues that I’ll have to face on my own, in time. Goodnight.” And with that he lay down, putting his back to Kedean, if closer than he dared before.
It was some time before Kedean released a breath and followed suit, rearranging himself as well and settling down in turn. When he did, he pulled Baisyl a notch closer still—much to said man’s surprise—bringing them all but flat against one another, and he laid a hand over Baisyl’s waist, leaving him spooned against the plane of Kedean’s chest and stomach, trapped to feel the rise and fall of every paced breath and release.
“Goodnight,” came his murmured reply, quiet and deep against the back of Baisyl’s head, and Baisyl shut his eyes.
From there, he knew that if he pressed back even a little—dared to slide his body into and up along the curve of Kedean’s—the hard shape of his guard’s strength would make itself boldly evident through the thin silk of his nightclothes. How much persuasion would it take, then, to convince the man to move his hands? To slide them down, over Baisyl’s hips and legs and then up, under the cool, fine lace and fabric of his nightdress to-
Baisyl bit his lip, nearly hard enough to break skin, to keep from emitting any telltale sounds of frustration—because he
didn’t want that. And yet he did.
He
never wanted a man touching him in this body—hell, Mele knew he didn’t even touch himself in this body. The thought of giving himself up that way, of letting someone else take over completely a part of him that he still wasn’t even close to comfortable with, terrified him. And yet he wanted to be touched.
He wanted Kedean’s hands on him; he wanted to touch, taste, feel and
be with the man in every sense of the word. But not like this. Not when he felt weak and alien in his own skin. Not when he was twice as nervous and twice as shy and twice as quick to blush, but half or nothing of everything he liked most about himself.
Thoughts of Myles, the man on the pirate ship, the orc on the same ship, and any number of men in even his own house in the months after he was cursed—the way their eyes roamed over him, how little they thought of him but yet how much they desperately wanted to use him for their benefit—still made him sick.
Why couldn’t things have been different? Why did it have to be
now, with him like
this, that he found himself travelling foreign lands to even more foreign destinations without even the slightest clue what fate he’d meet when he arrived? And what of Zyric? After he fetched his brother, Kedean would surely…what? Return Baisyl home? Deliver him to his betrothed? Leave him in the middle of…nowhere?
Brow furrowing and heart clenching tighter than he liked, Baisyl shoved the thoughts away. If things hadn’t happened as they did—if he’d never been cursed—he never would have met the man now holding him, and then what? It did no good to wonder.
Best to just wait, and watch, and learn—experience and appreciate things as they happened and discover as much as he could in the time he was given about this strange, quiet, careful, and caring man who knew more about the world they lived in than Baisyl had ever imagined there was to know.
Behind him, Kedean’s breathing was slow and steady—the pace of sleep—and overhead, the first drops of rain tittered over the roof of their wagon. Oh, the irony. It was with these thoughts and a resigned sigh that Baisyl, too, soon surrendered himself to sleep.
Thunder woke him hours later.
Long before dawn still, Baisyl frowned as he stirred, uncertain of the reason for his awakening—at least, until a second, cracking lash of lightning lit the sky in nearly perfect time with its thunder—and he sighed, shutting his eyes again though he planned not to sleep. Bit by bit, he reminded himself of his surroundings: a wagon, by a forest, with a bunch of merchants, travelers and-
Kedean.
His guard still slept at his back, holding him, and their bodies were warm together now. When he moved, he found their fingers entwined, and fresh warmth crept up along his neck. Well, well, well—when had
that happened?
Chances of him disentangling himself without stirring his guard’s notice?
Slim.
After a darting, longing glance to the rain outside though and another moment’s debate, Baisyl decided to risk it. He worked his way free more easily than he expected. Whether or not it woke Kedean, he couldn’t tell for sure, but his guard didn’t move and
looked to be asleep, so he let the issue lie, and slid out from under their shared covers, moving out to fetch his clothes.
After reaching the folded stack, he took it out, set it beside him and knelt, gathering up the base of his nightdress. As soon as he drew the gown over his head, he shivered—bared breasts coming to attention under the chilly touch of the night and skin prickling to life in turn—but then, a thought occurring to him as he reached for his change of garments, he only grabbed them again before moving to the far lip of the wagon. There, propping himself back on his hands and leaving one leg to dangle down, he lifted the other out, baring his foot to the rain.
He curled his toes as the raindrops hit, smiling contentedly despite the chill as the magic took effect and his false image lifted before his eyes. When it finished, he relaxed his foot, unfurling his toes and letting his leg fall down to dangle languidly with the other as he glanced over his shoulder.
He eyed his guard’s resting form, wondering amusedly if he weren’t actually conscious and fully aware that his stark naked charge was now inspecting him like—what was it he’d said? A cut of meat? Baisyl almost chuckled at the thought, but decided against doing anything drastic, and started to dress instead. Pants, belt, shirt, vest, and boots—as soon as he finished, he hopped over the side and into the grass.
And oh, yes, the rain felt fantastic.
Cool, surely, but clean and fresh and he shut his eyes, tilting his head back to face the sky as he walked out and feeling the gentle patter of it against his cheeks and nose and eyelids.
“If you get sick…” Kedean’s voice came in the form of a low grumble from wagon, and Baisyl stilled, his lips curving gradually upwards, “…I’m going to be the only one around to take care of you, and it won’t please me to deal with you whining because you
had to stand out in the middle of the cold rain at two hours past midnight…”
By then, Baisyl’s smile was a full-fledged grin, but he still didn’t move. “I wondered if you weren’t awake. My apologies for disturbing you, you may lay back down…”
“And will you take your clothes off again and stare at me if I do?”
Slowly, Baisyl lowered his head, blinked, and turned, so that by the time he faced his guard, his expression utterly neutral and he asked, “Would you like it if I did?”
He couldn’t read his guard’s expression through the dark and rain, but by now he knew the man well enough to guess. At last, he heard a resigned, “I still have no idea how you expect me to answer such questions, milord.”
“How about honestly?” Baisyl suggested breezily. “Or bluntly, or forthwith…or even seductively,” he added. “That might be interesting…”
“M’lord-”
“Come here,” Baisyl cut him off with the lazy command, and Kedean’s body language painted the picture of a man at a loss.
“Go…there?”
“Yes, Mister Akuwa,” Baisyl repeated patiently, “here.”
“It’s raining.”
“Of that, I’m well aware.”
“It’s
wet.”
“Yes…” Baisyl agreed again, “…rain does
tend to be wet, on a fairly reliable basis.” Before Kedean could add anything else, Baisyl continued. “Come now…you’re the battle-scarred soldier here, I’m sure you can handle a little-”
Kedean dropped from the wagon to the grass, and approached; he moved in till he stood directly before Baisyl, leaving a foot of space between them, if that.
“Alright…” he said quietly, “…I’m here. Now, would you mind telling me what I’m doing…standing out here, in the rain, in the middle of the night, with an arguably insane, sopping wet redheaded nobleman who is very, very clearly determined to catch cold?”
If the words had held an ounce of irritation, Baisyl would have backed off then and there—but they didn’t. Instead, Kedean sounded only resignedly curious, and ever patient, and when Baisyl reached out, catching his guard’s hands, Kedean returned the grip, moving to cradle Baisyl’s fingers in his own as if on instinct.
“You are here,” Baisyl said, “…because I’ve changed my mind.”
“I see…” Kedean said, allowing his hands to be guided to Baisyl’s hips without struggle, “…in what way?”
“I’ve decided…” Baisyl dictated, “…that you’re too slow.”
“Mm…” Kedean sounded unconcerned, “…and am I then to have to endure some sort of…punishment?”
Ignoring the brief flash of a thousand or more creative ways to take that, Baisyl cleared his throat. “Ah…no,” he said. “Merely…in lei of your…deliberate dawdling…I have made an executive decision to personally enforce the collection my winnings of some days back…effective immediately.”
Kedean looked down. “You’re collecting on our bet.”
Baisyl nodded. “Yes.”
“Here?” Kedean double-checked.
“Yes,” Baisyl repeated.
“Now?”
“No, Mister Akuwa,” Baisyl sighed, “…I’m collecting an hour or two from now, when you quit arguing with me and—
yes, now-”
“Baisyl…”
Baisyl looked up to find his guard smiling amusedly. “Yes,” he quipped, “what?”
“You have the patience of a rabbit.”
“And you have the stubbornness of an ox!” Baisyl huffed immediately in reply, indignant. “You-”
Fingers touched his chin, and whatever he intended on saying after that never made it, silenced in favor of a last, fluttered exhale as Kedean leaned in, and did exactly as he was instructed.
A/N: I think I spent too much time trying and failing to describe those dances. Eh. As far as the music is concerned, think "celtic" - a festive, playful dance tune for the first one, and then a more Lord-of-the-Rings elvin romantic something or other for the second one. I listened to a lot of "Secret Garden" when trying to get the scene right, and it looked good in my head, but I'm not sure how well it came out on paper.
Anyway. I hope you liked it; we'll obviously be getting a lot more details next chapter, along with some "fun" stuff, though I'm not entirely certain what degree of fun we'll get to. I know Kedean wants to behave himself, but Baisyl is very determined, and he's going to be wet and they do have to get back into the wagon at some point...
Well, Kedean has his work cut out for him. Sorry for updating so quickly again. I seriously never write this fast...
Oh! And I meant to put in a line or two where Kedean questioned whether his debt hadn't already been paid when Baisyl kissed him, and Baisyl would have replied no, because that was one-sided and Kedean wasn't an active participant. I.e., Kedean had to kiss Baisyl, not the other way around, but it never made it in there, because...well, it just didn't. Kedean wants to kiss Baisyl, first of all, and second, the kiss Baisyl gave him was...really more of an emotional thank you than anything else. When your typical, yaoi-manga uke gets those huuuuuuge anime eyes because he's so touched by the words of his seme and pink shoujo bubbles float up in the background moments before he tackles the seme, bursting with fountain tears of gratitude....yeah, that was Baisyl's version. A little more subtle, but...he was touched, even if he didn't want to let on.
