A/N: I lied again. No Zyric and Rhyan this chapter because it's already way too long, but I HOPE you'll enjoy it anyway. :) Translations at the bottom.
PART II | Chapter XX
2:20 | Sugar and Spice
“
Keda!”
Of all the things Baisyl might have prepared himself for when it came to meeting his guard’s ‘acquaintances,’ a tiny child launching itself into the towering man’s arms within thirty seconds of their entrance was not it. At nine summers, tops, it stood at barely half Kedean’s height with pitch black hair that probably would have been arrow straight if neat, and Baisyl guessed that it couldn’t have weighed much more than a sparrow—though it obviously wasn’t suffering energy wise from malnutrition. He couldn’t begin to guess the sex.
“
Keda, nin huoje!” the child spoke rapidly in a language Baisyl didn’t recognize, half burying the words into Kedean’s chest in any case. “
Mama shuo…ta shuo nin…” All Baisyl discerned was that it was upset or concerned about something.
Obviously, though, Kedean recognized it, stooping to one knee to better accommodate the child’s height and returning the embrace—which earned him two clinging hands winding their way around behind his neck as he asked, “
Na…ta shuo shenme, ne?” his tone comforting, but also surprised as well as curious.
The child held on, reminding Baisyl of a monkey the way it stayed latched onto to Kedean’s hip as he stood again, lifting it effortlessly. “
Ta shuo, jho ren sha’le nin…”
Kedean raised his eyebrows, and Baisyl felt severely out of the loop—an irritating position to be in when it involved a little child. “
Zhen’de? Hao'shiang ta pian nin. Kendin mei’shi…” At last, another adult joined the scene—the one with the child in the instant before it ran off if Baisyl remembered correctly—a woman somewhere between twenty and thirty summers with similarly loose black hair. Hers, at least, was neater.
“Keda…?” Her tone held the same seeking, concerned note as the child’s, but with a clear undercurrent of equal parts hope and disbelief.
“Salahri,” Kedean greeted in turn with a dip of the head, “…it is good to see you again…” and that was all it took to break her disbelief.
Like a mask crumbling to sand, her guarded expression vanished, replaced by the happy, choked laughter of someone who didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. After dipping her head in turn, blinking rapidly and hastily sweeping a palm under either of her eyes, she met his look with a proper smile, pressed the backs of her fingers to her lips and then to each of Kedean’s cheeks. Baisyl tensed without a thought, something altogether unfamiliar itching under his skin at the gesture, and he looked away, suppressing a frown.
When she started speaking in the language the child had, Kedean responded with something quick in that tongue and nodded to Baisyl. She blushed immediately, turning to him as if noticing him for the first time. “I am sorry…the words of the north lands are still hard with me.”
“Baisyl, this is Salahri, and her daughter Kita,” Kedean introduced them, the child still hanging off his side like an ornament, “…and this…” He indicated the man approaching from behind the woman, “…is Mettir, her husband.”
Guilt and relief swamped Baisyl at once, and a subtle warmth bloomed in his cheeks as he greeted the man with a nod, mentally kicking himself for his own antics. “A pleasure to meet you both,” he murmured, forgetting his skirts for a moment and giving a bow.
If the man noticed, he didn’t show it, only smiling and touching the back of his hand to his lips and then to his own forehead in a similar gesture to that of his wife. “A friend of Keda’s is forever a friend of this family,” Mettir greeted, his accent thicker than his wife’s but his words fluid and more confident. “But…” He glanced between them, eventually settling on Kedean, “…why did you approach this way? And…” Here, he shook his head, “…we had heard news of your death?”
“So I’ve been told,” Kedean said with a pointed glance to the girl at his hip. She met his look with wide eyes, and with a word to her in her tongue from Kedean, she reluctantly loosened her grip, consenting to be set down but lingering by his side. “We used this entrance to avoid incriminating anyone,” he went on to say, “…as there’s likely to be a price on my head come morning or the next day. I’m afraid we didn’t get off to a good start with the city guards. I do apologize for whatever I…interrupted,” he said with a glance behind the couple to the large wooden table at the center of the room, around which a group of men were seated. The cards and dice between them suggested a game of sorts, though they lay abandoned now, most of their eyes on the new arrivals.
“I was losing anyway,” Mettir provided good naturedly. “So many will want to know where you’ve been…and how you came to return to us?”
“As I am interested in hearing how I met my end,” Kedean said, “…and from whom you got the news, because I certainly wasn’t informed,” he added as an afterthought, “…but this night is already late.”
“Of course,” Mettir agreed instantly.
“Yes, you must be so…worn?” Salahri added, though her eyes turned to Baisyl when she spoke, the honest concern there startling him. “If there is some…” She hesitated over her words, and eventually amended her sentence altogether, saying uncertainly, “If I can help…?”
Glancing to Baisyl, something appeared to occur to Kedean, and he reverted to woman’s home language, apparently making a suggestion or request, because as soon as he finished she nodded, responding enthusiastically before turning to Baisyl. “Follow…with me,” she beckoned. When Baisyl hesitated, Kedean urged him on, and warily, he consented, allowing her to lead him off towards a door on the far side of the room, all too aware of the eyes that followed him.
The last words he heard Kedean say were, “I was hoping I might speak with Balasar…”
And after that, Mettir’s response of, “Bala? He has not been through for months. You would find better counsel with Jerith.” Baisyl barely had time to wonder who either of the men where before the door shut behind him and their voices faded out.
Outside the room, a low-ceilinged passage lead as far as the light carried in either direction, lit by torches along the way and tiled with stone, the floor dirt. It reminded Baisyl of the sewer, except narrower, cleaner, and slightly better lit. She veered to the left and he followed in silence, taking in the efficient, but unadorned sights with a curious eye for detail, a number of questions already arising.
If this place, wherever it was and whatever it was, housed a number of people as it seemed to, how many? Who built it, for what purpose, and how was it being made use of now? How long did these tunnels go on, why would any self-respecting location have a secret sewage entrance—protected by professional magic at that—and if it was indeed still to be kept hidden, why?
“This is a port city, is it not?” Baisyl asked abruptly, and the woman glanced back.
“I am…sorry?”
“Ships,” Baisyl said. “Ships, large boats, come to this city? Yes?”
“Yes,” She nodded, “many ships.”
“And this establishment is below sea level,” Baisyl said. “How is it not flooded?” She blinked at him, confused, and he pursed his lips in thought, mentally working out how to reword himself. “Where we are,” he said at last, “…this place…it is underground. It’s deep, and the sea is close. Why is there no water here?”
“It is safe here,” she answered. “It is…they made it safe here. Protected.”
Nodding purely for her benefit, Baisyl resolved to ask Kedean. Minutes later, when she led him through another door and into a domed room dominated at its center by a quietly bubbling hot spring, he also resolved to
thank Kedean—very graciously. Inside, a basin and a bucket already sat waiting, and just as he started to wonder why, she stepped up to explain.
“This only…” She indicated the spring and made a negative, slashing gesture with her hand, “…is no. It is too hot.” She grabbed the bucket and walked over to the wall on the entryway side, dropping it beneath a small, crude faucet Baisyl hadn’t noticed before. “This…” She gave the knob several twists until water spurted out into the bucket, “…is yes. Safe.” When it was full, she turned off the knob and emptied the bucket into the basin.
“Together…” she continued, returning to the spring with the empty bucket and stooping carefully to fill it without scalding her hand, “…is best.” Once filled, she emptied it in with the first batch, steam wafting up like angry, billowing spirit as the heated water bubbled and fizzled out. “Like this. Okay?”
Even bathing like a commoner insisted on being complicated. Splendid.
Aloud, Baisyl said, “Yes. Thank you.” When she started for the door though, he called out, “Wait,” a thought occurring to him, and she turned, “…my clothes? Where…” She pointed to the floor by the wall, and Baisyl frowned. When her meaning registered, he shook his head. “No, no, afterwards,” he clarified. “What am I to wear when I finish?”
“You have with you no other thing to dress?”
“Not on me, no,” Baisyl answered. “The rest of my things are with Kedean…or, rather, amongst our bags…” A frown crossed his face at the thought, “…which are with our horses…which are…out…in…” He trailed off.
“Keda?” she said after a significant pause.
“Yes,” Baisyl agreed, not in the mood to work through explaining the rest of the situation in its entirety. “Have him fetch me my things.”
“Him? You want for…him to bring them?”
“Yes,” Baisyl repeated, trying not to lose patience but failing to see where the difficultly lie in understanding such a simple request. Thankfully, she left after that, though not without sending him a last, puzzled parting look. He shrugged it off, blaming the language barrier, and began stripping as soon as the door shut. After folding them neatly and setting them stacked well out of the way, he retrieved the bucket and moved over to the faucet. On twisting it on, though, he quickly frowned, because if he had to venture a guess, it smelled like…
Brushing a hand through it, he murmured a quick incantation to test that it held no harmful substances before flicking his tongue briefly over one finger to taste it. He grimaced and confirmed aloud to no one, “Seawater. Marvelous.”
Not surprising, given the circumstances, he reasoned, but…to bathe in salt water? Better than nothing, but not optimal in the least. Which begged the question: was the spring water salt as well, fresh, or brackish?
Turning off the faucet, he dumped the bucket and moved the spring, scooping out a bucketful. After a eyeing it for a moment thoughtfully, he ran a hand a few inches above the surface, attempting a similar heat transfer method as he’d done with himself and Kedean in the sea, this time bidding the excess heat in the water to move faster out into the air. Steam hissed in response, bubbling up over the lip of the bucket like a thick, roiling ground fog spilling out onto the floor, but in its wake, the bubbles in the water quickly died out, the surface stilling.
When he trusted it not to scald his fingers, Baisyl brought his hand closer the surface and, finding it safe enough, brushed them through. Satisfied with his result, he swirled his hand in fully to wash off any lingering salt water, ran another quick test to ascertain the water’s safety content wise, and gave it another taste test.
Fresh. He smirked.
“Well,” he briskly informed the waiting tub of mixed water, “…it doesn’t seem that I’ll be requiring your services any longer, does it?” and upturned it.
He made quick work of refilling it with the boiling spring water and brought it down to a useable temperature as one. The basin itself wasn’t large enough to fit a person comfortably, leaving him to ladle the water onto himself while standing, but given that it was fresh, and clean, and warm, and that he’d been without any such luxury for days, he contented himself with what was available without much difficulty. Honestly, he missed soap more than the convenience of sitting.
He’d finished with his body and was working with his hair—knelt by the side of the basin, his head down, and the bulk of his hair in the water as he sloshed water over the nape of his neck and through it, running his fingers along his scalp—when there came a knock. He rolled his head to the side, pushing his mass of soaked tresses over to one side and out of the way enough to speak clearly.
“Identify yourself,” he said, expecting either Salahri or Kedean.
Sure enough, “Are you decent?” Kedean’s voice answered, and Baisyl allowed a ghost of a smile to slide into place.
“Well, that’s a bit vague…” he answered, stringing his fingers down through wet locks. “Might you specify?”
“Are you…” Kedean started to ask, and then paused. After another moment, he asked, “May I come in, milord?”
“But of course,” Baisyl responded. “Need you even ask?”
Silence answered him, Baisyl’s smile tugged a fraction wider, and the door opened. “Where do you want me to set your clothes?” Kedean asked quickly, and Baisyl didn’t need to look to know that his head was either down or to the side, his eyes diverted and his posture likely rigid as a boarding plank.
“Hold them for me, if you would,” Baisyl instructed, and barely suppressed a chuckle at the stifled startled cough from Kedean’s direction.
“My lord, there’s no need for you to…rush. You may finish, I just think it’s best that I stay…out of your way-”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Baisyl cut him off. “I can’t see you being a hindrance to me from way over there, those garments are clean, the floor is filthy and the most of it is wet by now besides.” He twisted his hair, rolling it into a long cord and leaning up and back. “In any case…” he continued, wringing the collective mass of it out over the basin, “…I’m very nearly finished as it is.”
“Ah…but-”
“How is this entire complex not flooded?” Baisyl asked abruptly, pushing his hair behind him when he finished with it, standing, and sloshing water over his knees to rid them of the collected dirt from kneeling as he stood. “I would think that, being below sea level, it would be impossible to create a series of tunnels under a city that hugs the shore, let alone maintain them at a livable standard.”
It took Kedean a moment to adjust to the unexpected topic, but after which, he answered. “The tunnels were…dug at the time of the first Purge, milord, hundreds of years ago,” he said, sounding rightly set off-balance, but continuing anyway. “They were used by sympathizers to house suspect witches until they could escape city limits. Many flocked to this city for the boats as a means of fleeing, and no one expected tunnels for the reason you mentioned, making it ideal. The walls are still laced with old spells to keep the water out and the air breathable.”
“I take it it’s no longer used as a safe house for witches.”
“Not witches, no,” Kedean agreed, “…and it has grown since then, its uses changing, but…it still shelters…” He held his ground, impressively enough, as Baisyl stepped forward, “…a number of those on…poor terms with the city authorities…”
“I see. So, simply put, you’ve brought me to a nest of jailbirds, cutthroats and vagabonds, is that it?”
“More like…mercenaries,” Kedean corrected, eyes shutting for lack of a better escape, “…soldiers for hire, the occasional runaway slave or traveling shaman, foreigners who don’t find welcome in the more traditional resting places…and the families that own the businesses above ground that connect to it.”
“Is there a drying cloth in that pile somewhere?”
“Top,” Kedean said without looking, and Baisyl retrieved it.
“You know…” Baisyl tilted his head down and wrapped the towel around his hair, twisting it tight to wring out the majority of the water before moving on to the rest of him, “…I do believe I said I’d rather you not touch me like this. Looking, on the other hand…”
“If-”
“Hold this,” Baisyl instructed, draping the used towel back over his guard’s arm before he got a chance to respond. “How did you first come upon this place?” he asked as he reached for the provided clothes.
“I worked for a man shipping textiles into this port,” Kedean answered, “…and met a merchant onboard whose brother was in the business of running caravans from here to Rochve…”
Baisyl looked up, halfway into his trousers. “You’re quite serious?”
“He’d arranged beforehand to meet up with Tuphon in the city when we came to dock and invited me along,” Kedean continued. “We stayed with one of Tuphon’s close friends, a local blacksmith whose shop happens to be located over and connected to these tunnels. I was looking again for work at the time, and they introduced me to one of the mercenary leaders…it landed me my next job.”
“For a reserved man,” Baisyl said, slipping his arms through a billowy, off-white undershirt, “…you certainly have mastered the art of making acquaintances with and gaining the trust of a great variety of different persons.”
“It happens,” Kedean said, “when you travel…and listen to those who prefer to talk.”
The corner of Baisyl’s lip gave a brief, upwards twitch and he synched his belt into place—all but a necessity when working with clothes large enough to fit his proper body. “You may open your eyes, Mister Akuwa…I am, to borrow your words, decent.” When Kedean did just that, Baisyl graced him with an almost honest smile. “I meant to thank you.”
Kedean blinked. “For what?”
“Why…for the bath, naturally,” Baisyl answered. “It almost manages to make up for you dragging me through decomposing sewage.”
“Almost,” Kedean repeated. He said it so neutrally, Baisyl struggled to make up his mind whether or not he was being teased.
“Yes, almost,” he asserted, and a moment of silence stretched between them.
They stood closer than he’d realized. Close enough, Baisyl noted, to smell the outdoors on Kedean’s body—a sharp contrast to the enclosed, trapped air of the tunnels—and it occurred to him to wonder how it was that he felt more vulnerable there, fully dressed, with Kedean’s eyes on him than he had but a minute before, bare as the day he was born but safe from scrutiny. He blamed it on the weight of the man’s gaze, the way it flit over his face but lingered unmistakably heavy on his lips before moving back up to meet his eyes. It made Baisyl’s tongue itch to dart out, his mouth barely parting of its own accord.
“Kedean-”
“I don’t suppose,” his guard said, catching Baisyl by surprise, “…that there’s anything I could do to make it up to you the rest of the way?”
Baisyl blinked, thrown. “I…” Silently, he cursed the unprecedented arrival of his pulse in his throat, and
why, pray tell, was forming words with his mouth suddenly a feat to be reckoned with? “…never thought it that far through?”
“Mm.” Kedean reached out, traced a feather gentle line along the curve of Baisyl’s cheek to usher back a damp strand of hair, and Baisyl felt his lashes dip. Physically resisting the urge to press into the touch, he held back a swallow,
wanting more than he dared admit for that hand to slip down, curl behind the nape of his neck and draw him in, for Kedean to dip lower, lean in until his breath was hot on Baisyl’s lips, and- “I’ll show you to your sleeping quarters, then,” Kedean said, his hand dropping back to his side after tucking away the loose hair.
As soon as his guard turned, heading for the door, a tightly trapped breath in Baisyl rushed for freedom. His fingers twitched towards fisting, his wound up body not knowing whether it wanted to groan or scream. He settled with gritting his teeth, running his tongue along the backs of them in constrained irritation and following in his guard’s wake.
His was a small room, sparsely furnished with little more than a mattress and a bedside table—though he hadn’t expected much—and of course, windowless. Baisyl pursed his lips as he stepped in, eyeing the same plain stone-tiled walls and dirt floor of the hallways with unmasked distaste. The meager attempts of dim, struggling candlelight to light the room did little to help its appeal.
“It is a bed,” Kedean pointed out, and Baisyl gave the alleged piece of furniture a second glance: a hay-stuffed, misshapen mattress thrown on a low, sagging wooden cot and topped with a single thin, patched sheet.
“Ah, yes,” he agreed, “…or…something that’s doing at least a…semi-decent job of passing itself off as one, in any case. It looks…a bit like one, anyway…if you narrow your eyes…and make use of your imagination-”
“Baisyl-”
“Alright, you’re right,” Baisyl conceded, “…it is probably a bed…” He considered a moment. “Either way, I can’t imagine what else it might be, as it certainly doesn’t look even remotely like any-” At Kedean’s look, he cleared his throat. “Right, very well then, I’m through. You were saying?”
Kedean sighed. “You’ll be alright?” he asked. “With this?”
“Touched,” Baisyl said, stepping in, “as I am, by your concern for my comfort and well-being…it’s not as though I have a plethora of choices, is it?” With a glance back, the subtle acidity to his words faded out again, and he sank to the edge of the bed, his eyes diverting to amble about the room as he asked, “I don’t suppose you’ll be joining me…”
The soft approach of footsteps startled him into looking up, but Kedean stopped before making it all the way to him. “I think…I’d be concerned that your…bed…might not hold under the weight of the both of us.”
Baisyl pushed his lips together, holding in his smile, determined not to laugh over such a silly thing. He managed to rally together a straight face for all of two or three seconds—until a vivid mental image of precisely the scene Kedean hinted at came to mind, and he broke, pressing his palm up against the choked sound so despicably close to a giggle that he was rather glad he stifled it. If Kedean’s answering expression was any indication, he didn’t stifle it well enough, and he groaned, pushing against his guard’s leg as if to shoo him away.
“Don’t…” he whined around his groan, “…judge me…” and promptly collapsed backwards onto the hay mattress. A pause followed.
“Judge you?” Kedean asked finally, and Baisyl turned just enough so that by squinting one eye open, he could examine his guard’s expression.
“Yes, judge,” he said. “You were making fun of me.” Kedean’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “You thought my laugh was ridiculous.” And a fraction more. Fed up, Baisyl pushed up onto his elbows, indignant. “Admit it!” he insisted.
“Admit what?” Kedean countered openly.
“You think I laugh like a woman.”
Kedean stared, met Baisyl’s look and held his peace for about as long as Baisyl had managed to, and broke, his stalwart expression surrendering to a smile that had absolutely no right to turn Baisyl’s stomach to warm jelly. But it did anyway.
“Baisyl…” Kedean began seriously, his tone somewhat belied by the way his eyes danced with amusement visible even in the flickering light, “…I hate to have to tell you this, but…” His eyes dragged pointedly over Baisyl’s body, his protruding chest in particular, “…you do, at the moment, happen to
be a-”
Catching his meaning immediately, Baisyl snatched up the only pillow on the bed and tossed it with as much force as could be applied to a such a lightweight and malleable object. Kedean caught it without effort.
“Arse,” Baisyl asserted, eyes narrowed, and his guard chuckled—that same low, rumbling baritone sound that crept under his skin and made his nerves prickle to attention without fail. He made a point of not swallowing.
“Arse?”
“Yes, arse,” Baisyl repeated, huffy, “…or…dickish, or rude, or hyper masculine, inconsiderate and chauvinistic…”
“Arse…” Kedean tested the word, apparently ignoring him altogether and looking thoughtful. “You know…” he said after a moment, “…I don’t think anyone has ever called me that…”
“Yes, well, that…” Baisyl tried—honestly, he did—to stay indignant and aloof, but one look at Kedean’s curious, pensive expression as he mulled over whether or not he had in fact ever been called an arse before, and Baisyl lost his pseudo-irritation to an eye roll and a thoroughly amused smile. “You know,” he said finally, “to be perfectly honest, it doesn’t surprise me in the least.”
Kedean looked up. “What doesn’t?”
“That you’ve never been called that before,” Baisyl said, “because…frankly…that is quite possibly the absolute farthest thing from what you are.”
“Oh?” Kedean responded.
“Think for a moment, truthfully,” Baisyl insisted. “Have you ever, even once in your entire life just been…” He sat up and swept his arms wide, “…
pointlessly rude, to anyone, simply because you didn’t feel like going to the effort of being polite?”
“I’m not a saint, Baisyl.”
“No,” Baisyl agreed, “…but, you are easily the closest I’ve ever come to meeting one.”
“I think, somewhere along the line,” Kedean said, “…you became severely misguided about how nice of a person I am.”
“Mm? Oh, by all means,” Baisyl invited, “…disagree. Tell me, what is the most heartless, wicked, depraved thing you’ve ever done?”
“I’ve killed people.”
Baisyl frowned. “Killing a person does not necessarily denote wickedness,” he argued. “It depends entirely on who the person is.”
“Yes, well, I’m fairly certain,” Kedean countered, “…that whoever it was, it was
someone’s father, mother, brother, sister, son, or daughter…and that alone makes me pretty cruel from at least one perspective on a countless number of accounts.”
Baisyl pursed his lips. “But you’re not-”
“And no, I don’t think you laugh like a woman,” Kedean said.
Baisyl blinked. “What?”
“That one time, just a minute ago, moments before you accused me of thinking so, maybe,” Kedean conceded, “…but generally…no. I…don’t think your laugh is particularly masculine or feminine, actually. It’s the one thing that doesn’t seem to change, regardless of what body you’re in, and it’s…nice. Very…open, but warm.”
Slow, subtle heat rose in Baisyl’s cheeks, and he found himself at a loss for words, silently wondering how Kedean managed to take such a simple, unassuming statement and leave Baisyl feeling like something personal and delicate and private was being gently pried open and bared to the world.
Kedean released a breath. “I should-” he started, turning as if to make for the door, but Baisyl jerked up, catching his guard’s fingers to stall him before the reasoning behind his actions registered even to himself.
“Wait,” he blurted, “…don’t…” ‘…
go…’ Kedean’s gaze flicked to their intertwined fingers, and Baisyl swallowed, withdrawing his hand and cursing his own impulsive reactions. “I don’t…” He mentally scavenged for a reason, anything to justify him holding his guard up. “How…am I to know when dawn comes?” Oh, brilliant. Kedean’s expression nearly made Baisyl wince, but he barreled on, determined. “There are no windows, we’re underground, and the torches will have gone out…won’t it be black day round?”
Kedean’s look relaxed some. “Those,” He indicated to two peculiar, colorless orbs just larger than a fist hanging from netting strung from the ceiling on either side of the door, “…and two over there,” He pointed to the far wall, “…will start to light, come daybreak.”
“Sun orbs,” Baisyl murmured. “More spells?” Kedean nodded, and Baisyl waited, lingering, potently aware that he wanted more than anything not to be left alone, but out of excuses to hold his guard back. “You can-”
“Baisyl-”
“Mm?” Baisyl looked up, and Kedean met his eyes steadily, but in silence. “What is it?”
Kedean seemed to debate a moment, uncertain. After which, he asked, “You’re sure you’ll be alright with this?” and Baisyl released a breath, turning his eyes to the ground.
He shrugged. “The bed is…fine. You trust these people, and so should I,” he said. “I’m being…needlessly foolish, you oughtn’t concern yourself with it.” He kept his eyes stubbornly trained downwards, unwilling to betray any inner turmoil with his expression. “Get some rest.”
No words, no movement. A second before Baisyl lifted his head to repeat himself more firmly, Kedean asked, “Is it being alone that bothers you?” and Baisyl’s eyes darted up anyway, caught off-guard. “Because-”
“I’ll be fine.”
“-if you want, I can-”
“I
said, I’ll be-”
“I heard what you said,” Kedean growled, surprising Baisyl into silence. If the tone came from anger, though, it faded as fast as it came, something else entirely replacing it in seconds. “But…you don’t…look…”
“I look a wreck,” Baisyl said flatly.
“You don’t look at ease.”
“I don’t
feel at ease,” Baisyl countered, irritated far more with himself than anything else, “but that hardly excuses keeping
you up all night. I’m a grown man, and I am fully capable of caring for myself. I don’t require…body guards to stay with me through the night patting my head in reassurance in order to see to it that I get a proper night’s rest. If-”
“I…don’t actually remember offering to pat your head,” Kedean said, and Baisyl sent him a weak glower.
“I was…” he started to defend himself, and then gave up, relinquishing a feeble sigh. “Never mind it,” he murmured instead. “Where will you be sleeping?”
“Some ways down the hall, I’d guess,” Kedean said. “It depends on where they have room.” A pause hung in the air, unaltered, lingering. “It is not foolish to be concerned,” Kedean spoke up finally, quieter. “It is natural…but I give you my word that these people mean you no harm.”
“I know,” Baisyl said. “I realize that, and I trust you. It’s just…after today in particular,” He shook his head, “…and…after everything, I just…sometimes, I nearly reach the point where I start to think it doesn’t matter, and I feel almost entirely like myself, and then something
happens, as if fate is shoving its reminders down my throat and all of a sudden I feel…helpless…again, like I can’t…like I’m not…myself, and I find it…hard to…” Somewhere in the midst of his rant, his eyes found Kedean’s, and gradually, his tongue forgot where it was headed with his words, the rest of them tangling and slowing like too many loose threads. When it became obvious he no longer knew how to finish, Baisyl pursed his lips and shut his eyes, tilting his head down with a quiet, “Don’t…look at me like that…”
Above him, Kedean was a picture of confusion. “Like what?”
“Like…” Baisyl drew a resolute breath and made himself look back up; Kedean’s expression had barely changed, “…that,” Baisyl said, by way of providing an example. “Precisely…like you are. Like you…care…or some such…nonsense,” he continued, and Kedean blinked.
“But…” His puzzlement showed, “I d-”
“Because,” Baisyl pressed on with an air of determination, “it is highly distracting. I could be going on about virtually anything, and then you…
look at me…” Some small voice in the far corner of his mind warned that he was rapidly treading into dangerous territory, but he disregarded it, “…and suddenly, I can no longer think rationally, or create functioning sentences or…” Hesitation threw a knot into his throat, and he swallowed it down, “…breathe…”
Kedean’s eyes were on him, his gaze unreadable but heavy as it had been before with a thousand words unspoken.
“And all I can think,” Baisyl shook his head, “is that I wish…to all the heavens and back that you would just…” Why had he started talking in the first place? This was foolish; he shut his eyes. “…kiss me…” He drew a breath, “…and then you
don’t,” he grit out, “…and you turn away like nothing’s happened, and it’s maddeningly frustrating, and I don’t understand-”
Softly—like a raindrop coming to land—but without a breath of warning, Kedean’s lips came to rest against his, folding over the rest of his sentence and stilling his heart in a single move. Baisyl’s lashes quivered with an attempt to lift, but the effort fell flat, and he shivered instead, opening his mouth welcomingly when Kedean tilted his head and submitting as his guard took control, initiating an achingly slow dance of lips and tongue that made Baisyl’s body ripple with heat and awareness.
His hands found Kedean’s and lead them in, guiding them to his hips, and he made a soft, muted sound of endorsement when his guard immediately responded by drawing them up his sides, finding a comfortable niche in the dip of his waist and tugging him in. Kedean’s mouth swallowed Baisyl’s groan, and the increased contact made him shudder all over again.
It was similar, and yet wholly different to kiss in this way. Most noticeably, everything of Kedean’s was larger by comparison.
His broad lips hammocked Baisyl’s smaller ones. His hands were careful and slow moving, but powerful and calloused and made Baisyl’s seem like fragile, brittle, soft things by contrast, and while Baisyl had never matched Kedean in size or strength, he’d at least held a candle to him as a man. Now, for every inch of Baisyl’s body that was yielding, Kedean’s was adamant. Where Baisyl’s dipped and curved, Kedean’s was rigid, flat, and hard as silk-encased steel, and Baisyl couldn’t decide whether that ought to rightly be intimidating, but it wasn’t. It felt uncompromisingly safe.
Almost curiously, he ran a hand up along the length of Kedean’s chest, feeling the shape of his strength through his clothes and relishing in the subtle shudder he earned for his actions. Encouraged, he pressed himself closer still, all but fitting himself against the hard frame of Kedean’s figure and taking no small amount of satisfaction from the restrained, beset sounds his guard made when he drew back from the kiss in favor of applying light, barely wet kisses to the length of his jaw.
“Baisyl…” Kedean’s voice crawled under Baisyl’s skin, low and thick with restraint, and Baisyl felt his body’s response as surely as thunder after the lightning—raw heat pooling low in his gut and a pulsing, tight,
slick need where he ought to have been hard as a rock.
He swallowed hard. “Mm…hm?” he managed, the gentle, warm wisps of Kedean’s breath down his neck dizzying all on their own and making rational thoughts hard to come by.
“We…” Kedean said, obviously with effort, “…should stop now.”
Baisyl groaned, never having heard a more unappealing suggestion. “But-” Lips brushed his neck, gently grazing the tender line of skin where only Kedean’s breath tread before, and Baisyl’s strength melted. His objection diminished to something of a garbled whine, his body sank weakly against his only source of support, and his fingers curled into his guard’s tunic. “Kedean-”
Some distant, easy-to-ignore part of his mind was vaguely aware that all of this was rather embarrassing on his part—what with him aching like wanton street walker after nothing more than a kiss and the barest hint of necking on Kedean’s part—but it was simple enough to blame that on his body clearly being a slut and move on to more interesting thoughts. Like maybe, if he tilted his head just so to give Kedean better access and darted his tongue out, tasting the salt of his guard’s throat-
Kedean buried a low, primal sound into the curve of his neck and shoulder, and Baisyl sort of wanted to ride him like a cavalry stallion.
“Boots,” his guard grit out, “…off…” and ‘
Oh,’ Baisyl thought with muddled surprise as Kedean guided him back ‘til his heels hit the edge of the cot, ‘…
that was rather easy…’
He might have taken the time to wonder if it weren’t in fact too easy given his knowledge of Kedean’s habits thus far, except that as soon as his boots hit the floor, his back hit the bed, Kedean seeming to all but materialize over him, looming like some immovable wall of raw strength under which Baisyl was defenseless. And it was in that moment, for the first time, with his body trapped to the sheets under Kedean’s, that Baisyl’s heart threw itself against the cage of his chest with a spike of real fear.
Instinctively, his body tensed, like a ripcord pulled taut. His throat stopped up, his nails dug into his palms as his eyes shut, and-
Kedean kissed his forehead. “Now, sleep,” he said quietly, a thin vein of tight self-discipline in his tone but mostly quiet resignation, and Baisyl felt his panic trickle out like water from a leaky cauldron. His pulse still beat fast as a hummingbird as he opened his eyes in baffled bewilderment at the abrupt change of events. “And get some rest,” Kedean continued, meeting his gaze solidly as he leaned back, freeing Baisyl from his pin, “…before you convince me to do something we both regret come morning.”
“You…” Pushing up on his elbows as Kedean left the bed to stand, Baisyl struggled for words, never having felt so cheated and relieved at once, as well as angry, and embarrassed—childish, stupid, grateful, and impossibly frustrated. “You
scared me,” he growled out at last, inadvertently choosing anger as the easiest and best defense, and Kedean glanced back.
“And for that, I apologize,” he said, sounding honestly regretful.
“You did it on purpose,” Baisyl realized aloud, and Kedean’s silence said more than any words. “
Why-”
“You’re not skittish, Baisyl,” Kedean said. “You’re a capable man…a bit unconventional at times, but nominally sure of yourself. If you were truly comfortable with proceeding in the direction we were headed, something as simple as being pushed onto the bed would not have alarmed you.”
“You moved too damn fast,” Baisyl snapped.
“And if you were in your own body would it have bothered you?”
Baisyl opened his mouth, fully ready to retort, but realized a moment before the words came out that Kedean was right. It wouldn’t have bothered him. Hell, at this rate it probably would have made him all the more eager, and his stance weakened. “But…” he argued, too much of the fire in his words gone, “…you
know that I’m not in my own body-”
“And I’ll be damned if I take advantage of your desire in the spur of the moment to get something out of you that you don’t really want to give long term,” Kedean said.
Baisyl felt like curling in on himself—drawing his legs up to his chest, shutting his eyes, and putting his forehead to his knees. He made do with dropping his eyes to the sheets, glowering at nothing as if to make up for his obviously poorly veiled insecurities. Was it really necessary that his guard repeatedly see through him like clean glass?
“Just days ago you shook when I touched you too personally this way and swore to me you never wanted anything of this nature outside of your own body. Hours ago you reminded me of it, and…I can’t believe you’ve changed your mind entirely in such a short period of time.”
Baisyl released a sigh, his glower softening with defeat. “Must you always be right?”
“I wish it were so.”
“You might have driven your point home a little more…subtly,” he muttered, and when Kedean said nothing, he ventured a glance up.
“You know…you may think that my powers of resistance know no limits, but…if you hadn’t been so clearly uncomfortable in that moment, I may not have been able to convince myself that it really was a bad idea.”
In other words, Baisyl realized, he’d been driving the point home as much to himself as to Baisyl. Well, perfect.
“And what if it’s not a bad idea?” Baisyl asked. At Kedean’s look he pressed on. “That is…what if I
am changing my mind? What if…this curse never lifts? What if I can’t…ever get out of it? Maybe…perhaps now it’s better if I start to…get used to…” Even the thought of never fully regaining his own body made his stomach lurch ominously, but he suppressed the feeling. “If you haven’t…guessed yet, I’m very, very tired of having this curse be a controlling factor over my life…”
“And I can’t blame you for that in the least,” Kedean replied. “If it is the case…” he added after a moment, “…that after some cool, rational thinking, you decide you’d like to try…expanding the list of activities you’re willing to partake in in your current body…then I will be more than willing to help you with that. Slowly. But-”
Baisyl opened his mouth.
“-
not tonight,” Kedean finished pointedly. Baisyl shut his lips with an expression that wasn’t a pout because nobles didn’t pout—but it might have been pretty damn close. “Sleep well.”
“Wait-”
“We shouldn’t do anything impulsive.”
“I’m not impulsive!” Baisyl argued defensively. That at least got Kedean to turn again. “Not particularly, anyway…” Baisyl continued, and when Kedean’s expression didn’t ease, he pursed his lips. “Perhaps a little?”
“You held a gun to your head,” Kedean said point blank, “…on a ship full of pirates and leapt over the side into near freezing water that you thought to be infested with man-eating eels when you
didn’t actually want to die.”
Baisyl frowned, clearing his throat. “Yes, well…at least part of that was your fault.” Kedean met his look blankly. “The part where I thought it was infested with man-eating eels,” he impressed, and Kedean looked a moment away from rolling his eyes.
“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“No,” Baisyl said, shaking his head. “No, you are not. Ever.”
Kedean turned towards the door.
“Wait,” Baisyl blurted once more, and Kedean stilled. “But…I’m still…I want…” Gods, this was rather pathetic, wasn’t it? When Kedean folded his arms amusedly, waiting, Baisyl’s cheeks warmed and his teeth grit.
“You know, there are some things you can…attend to…on your own,” his guard suggested, and some of the tension in Baisyl’s jaw relaxed, confusion replacing embarrassed frustration.
“What?”
A pause ensued. Kedean waited, and apparently there was an innuendo in there somewhere that Baisyl wasn’t getting, because-
Oh.
“You’re suggesting I
touch myself?” Baisyl burst out, and Kedean coughed into his fist, head down.
“Something…vaguely along those lines, yes.”
“No,” Baisyl said flatly, and Kedean looked up, visibly surprised. “It sounds…disgusting. Absolutely not. I can hardly imagine making any progress in any case.”
Kedean blinked. “You’ve…never—?”
“
No, I’ve never,” Baisyl insisted, indignant. “In this body, that is—obviously I have in my own, but that’s another story entirely—but no, I haven’t, and I don’t intend to, thank you very much. The thought doesn’t hold even the slightest bit of appeal.”
“You’re sure?”
Baisyl narrowed his eyes. “You,” he said pointedly, “may find breasts and other such…” He waved his hands vaguely, “…things…”
“Things?”
“…all fine and wonderful, but in case it has yet to dawn on you,” Baisyl gestured towards himself, “
I…am not particularly interested in women in general, least of all their various and sundry…bits…”
“Bits?”
“…parts?”
Kedean shut his eyes.
“The point,” Baisyl emphasized with less than ample patience, “is that…moist…things…where there ought to be a cock is not fun for me, alright? It sort of…spoils the mood. Fast.”
“I don’t think you have to be attracted to yourself in order to successfully…” Kedean made a vague, all encompassing gesture and Baisyl restrained himself from rolling his eyes.
“No,” he agreed, “…but might I remind you that I don’t
feel like myself. This body isn’t…it’s not
mine-”
“It might feel like yours if you-” Apparently Baisyl’s expression was adequately icy, because Kedean left it at that. “Right, well, I’m sure you’re the best judge. If you’re looking for a mental damper, just…think of all the beautiful children we could have if neither of us showed any restraint.”
Baisyl winced. “There are lot of things we can do that don’t involve any risk of…that…”
“Which is the only reason I’m consenting to partake in such things, if that is your wish…later,” Kedean said. Finally, he made it to the door, and this time Baisyl made no move to stop him.
“Sleep well,” he said with an air of resignation, and Kedean dipped his head.
“And you, milord.”
The door shut quietly, but with finality, and Baisyl sank reluctantly against the hay-stuffed mattress, his mind, for once, on everything but the poor quality of his surroundings. Kedean probably wanted children one day, damn him. Despite all appearances he was just that type of man—the kind who looked right with a child on his hip, clinging to his neck like there wasn’t a thing safer in the world, and there probably wasn’t. He’d make a great father, if he ever found it in him to settle down, choose a woman and build a family.
Baisyl shut his eyes, rolling onto his side and jerking the covers up over him. It wasn’t his business what Kedean wanted to do with his later life; he would be long out of it by then. They had no permanent place in each other's futures.
So why did the thought alone make his throat sting and his chest ache, like something was being torn from him?
"Keda, nin huoje! Mama shuo...ta shuo nin..." - "Kedean, you're alive! Mama said...she said you were..."
"
Na...ta shuo shenme, ne?" - "Hey there...she said what now?"
"
Ta shuo...jho ren sha'le nin..." - "She said...someone killed you..."
"
Zhen'de? Hao'shiang ta pian nin. Kendin mei'shi..." - "Really now? It seems she's decieved you. It certainly isn't so..."
A/N: You have no idea how much trouble I went to in order to assure that Kedean and Baisyl did NOT jump each other this chapter. I hope you appreciate that effort because I know the female body doesn't sit well with some of you. If you're still wondering, there /will/ be some "het" content at some point EVENTUALLY (though to me it really doesn't feel like het, but I know some will disagree), but full on male body on male body will come first, definitely. Soon. Ish. Hopefully the emotional development will sustain you guys for now for a bit longer. I hope it's pretty obvious that these two are making progress on that front. :)
And if you guys really, really, REALLY don't want to even think about girl bits I might be persuaded to put a warning up first and/or make it really super soft core or something. Not that it was gonna focus on the woman parts anyway. Hopefully you can tell this story is more about who they are and not what they are. Hopefully.
On a completely unrelated note, in my head Salahri, Kita, and Mettir look sort of Arabian-ish, but the language is almost completely Chinese pinyin with just a few spellings altered to make it more phonetic to an American reader. Because I'm not going to bother annoying everyone with a bunch of my own made up fake languages all the time. But um, yeah, I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as a copyright on languages but I sure as hell don't own Chinese in case anyone was wondering. :D
