8. Giving In (NSFW: explicit sex)

The thick clang of a wind chime roused Avery from his sleep. He blinked, eyes focusing on an unfamiliar ceiling. Unbeknownst to the mage it had been two days since the incident with Emery, and he could only recall fragments after his return from death. He remembered the night sky, strewn with so many stars, and the feeling of being cold then warm as Birger carried him into town. In fact, all Avery could clearly remember was Birger—his face tight with concern, arms cradling him bridal style, that must’ve been a sight.

The more Avery woke up the more he realized that his consciousness wasn’t a pleasant one; he felt dehydrated and his head throbbed. He squinted over at the swaying curtains; it was sunny and the light indicated late afternoon. He sat up slowly and peered around the room. It was upscale but still maintained a homey atmosphere—floral wallpaper, upholstered furniture, patchwork bedding, decorative molding—Birger must’ve sold Emery’s horse… Avery flushed. The choice of lodging did not go unnoticed.

His belongings had been arranged in a kind and orderly way—Sachie’s doing. She had always been fascinated by his clothing and accessories and took great pleasure in examining his possessions. He imagined she tried them on while he slept, stepping into his trousers and slipping into his brocade waistcoat and filling them out better than he ever could; admiring herself in the full-length mirror tucked in the corner by the open window. The thought made him smile.

The wind chime gonged once more. It was a rich spiritual sound, and it reminded him of a Medina temple, serenely dark, smelling of damp soil and woody incense…

Though his body begged for more sleep, his mind felt restless. He rolled and hefted himself out of bed, only to have the room spin. He jerked forward and caught himself on the nightstand. Easy there… He’d been dressed in a modest sleeping garment and his hair was loosely tied and bedraggled. He slowly walked over to the mirror to assess the damage as his stomach rumbled with hunger despite his nausea. He braced the wall as he studied himself in the mirror. His glamour had dropped. Horrifying. He bared his teeth and blew air through the gap. Horrifying and yet…a strange consolation—to see himself so plainly. He untied his gown and examined his chest; there was a scar in the dip where his ribs met his sternum, and surprisingly, he wasn’t bothered by it.

But his face would not suffice. He glamoured himself. It took more effort than it usually did, but he’d be damned if the staff saw him with anything less.

***

Avery spent the rest of the day wandering the inn. Eating, bathing, then lounging. All alone until sundown. He missed Birger and Sachie… He double checked the lobby, the garden, and the dining area, but the two remained unavailable. He went to the front desk to ask the receptionist.

She blushed. “Oh, the Ourensean swordsman…” Avery didn’t like the twinkle in her eye. “Yes, he’s boarding here, sharing a room with a young lady.” She looked at her paperwork. “Oh, he’s paid for your room as well. You must be Avery.”

“Has he been in?”

“I haven’t seen him. Should I leave a message?”

“No, that’s alright.” He skulked back to his room, fingertips idly touching the textured walls. He plopped onto his bed with a huff and drifted to sleep.

He dreamt of trees and campfires and bad weather.

***

Avery awoke to knocking. He lifted his head and wiped the drool from his chin. “Wh—”

The knocking continued.

“Wuh—one moment,” he said, gathering himself from his mound of blankets and pillows. He shuffled over to the door, re-secured his robe, and paused before opening. “Yes?”

“It’s me.”

He squinted. “And who is me?”

“Avery…” came the muffled voice.

“But I’m Avery.” It was quiet, and Avery opened the door. He tried to hide his excitement with a blithe, “Well, hello there.”

Birger looked down at him with a typical Birger expression, one of amusement but mostly irritation. “I see you’re still breathing. Good. We ride out tomorrow.” He turned to leave but Avery touched his arm.

“Hold on…where have you been?”

“Working.”

“Oh, and Sachie?”

“Also working…I think, I hope.”

Avery stared up at him, lips parted, robe barely clinging to his shoulders.

Birger audibly swallowed. “Well, goodnight.”

“Stay. Please,” he said, and Birger froze. “I miss you.”

The knight hesitated.

Avery read that as acquiescence and pulled him inside. Birger closed the door behind him.

“It’s a mess,” Avery said, fixing the bed. “Someone surrounded me with pillows.”

“I did.”

“Oh…” Avery flushed. “It felt nice, waking up like that.”

Birger nodded, but he remained by the door and peered around as if he had just entered a crime scene.

“You can sit,” Avery offered.

“I rather stand.”

“Alright…”

“You…” Birger leaned back and folded his arms. “Do you like the room?”

“Certainly a grandmother’s aesthetic…but yes, it’s comfortable. Thank you.”

Birger looked pleased…and constipated.

Avery sighed. “Why’re you acting so strange?”

“I’m not.”

“You are! You’re not even looking at me.”

Birger huffed. “I know what you look like.”

The two went silent and Avery thought of the night in the valley, of them lying together. He felt as if they had reached a mutual understanding then, that they had come to terms with all the intangibles: their feelings, their desires, so why was Birger acting aloof? As if Avery was a nuisance. “Ugh! You drive me insane. Hot then cold then hot again.”

Birger stiffened. “…I—”

“And you know what’s sick?” Avery marched over and cornered the knight. “I fucking love it. I love how complicated you are. I love how I can’t pin you down.”

Birger flushed, deeply, even his ears went bright red.

And Avery blushed in response. “Wh—what?” He backed up and covered his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“I’m…not complicated.”

Birger smiled, eyes downcast like some demure maiden, though his mouth stretched in a perplexed way, lopsided and tired. Avery paused, processing what he had just said.

“I’m not complicated,” Avery repeated, resolute. He leaned in and gripped Birger’s cowl. “Agree with me.”

The knight considered him for a moment and then brought his hand between them. He trailed his knuckles down Avery’s chest, pausing between his pecs. His brows knitted, gaze full of sorrow as he beheld the new scar.

Avery’s body buzzed from the touch. And the look? He savored it, memorized it. “There it is, hot again.”

He looked guilty. “We cherish most the things we can lose.” He held Avery’s chin. “And I’ve already lost so much…”

“Oh, so now you deny yourself happiness? Birger, I want you. Yes, in a carnal way.” He rolled his eyes. “But also…you, wholly, completely, let me in… Let us try…”

Birger sucked in a breath and released him. He turned to leave but Avery slammed his palm against the door.

“No! You’re a coward, you know that? A masochist. Allow yourself to fucking feel again.”

Birger scowled over his shoulder.

“Mean-mug me all you want. I’m sick of playing this coy game with you. Either love me or have nothing to do with me.”

The knight’s scowl waned as he turned. “An ultimatum?” he asked, eyebrow cocked.

“Yes? I suppose…” Avery folded his hands together, but he had no rings to twist. “Ugh, nevermind—go, I hate that you’re seeing me like this.”

“Like what? Disheveled?”

“Dish—no, desperate.”

“Ah.” Birger tilted his head, considering the mage as he puffed and sulked. I’m no coward (he knew that Avery knew that too), and he certainly wasn’t a masochist, and he had been feeling again…but apparently he had much to prove. Birger slid his fingers into Avery’s hair and tousled it further—ruffling and fluffing it out until it was a wild mess. The truth was… Birger was terrified of love, it was such a raw feeling, and heartbreak wasn’t something he wanted to experience again, but…withholding intimacy, denying himself… What an unbearable existence. How long had it been since he held someone in his arms? And how could a man say no to someone like Avery? Beautiful, ridiculous Avery.

The mage took the mishandling in a daze, he didn’t even flinch when Birger cupped his cheeks.

“I like you desperate,” said Birger, nose ghosting his; eyes closed, lips so agonizingly close. “And as I’ve said before… If I kiss you, it’ll be difficult to stop.”

Avery huffed and frowned and groaned and rose onto his tiptoes, and closed the distance—lips claiming Birger’s. Infuriating, making the first move, but he couldn’t take it anymore, and the way Birger was holding him and kissing him back… Goddess. Avery abandoned all apprehension, tongue eagerly tasting, hands roaming—desperate, desperate, desperate.

He’d never kissed anyone like this—obnoxious, tongue-forward, noses smashed—but damn did Birger’s arms feel fantastic wrapped around him, holding him steady, close and crushing, possessive. If Avery could eat his tongue, he would—he’d eat his heart too. All of him, every morsel.

Avery draped his arms around Birger’s shoulders, fingers lazily stroking his overgrown hair, moaning into his mouth as he felt warm hands touch the small of his back, trailing up and pulling at his robe. He lowered his arms, allowing the garment to slip off his shoulders, exposing his chest, which Birger quickly attacked with kisses—sucking an erect nipple, then snatching it between his teeth. Avery’s head angled back, hissing in pain then shivering as Birger’s tongue apologetically licked.

First times were always fascinating; all discovery, bodies responding to one another in a unique form of communication. Birger was an odd one, tender with an edge, like he was torn between devouring Avery or cherishing him. Teeth and rough handling, then kisses and flattering words. All the mage could do was hold on, hips pressed to Birger’s—feeling vulnerable against worn leather and cool steel—mouth slack as the knight sampled every inch of his neck and chest.

“Am I moving too fast?”

It took Avery a moment to process the question, the words even. His head slumped forward, chin tucking down as he looked up through his lashes. Difficult to think while his flesh hummed, and his body ached for more. “What?”

“Do you want me to slow down?”

“Slow down?” Avery laughed, breathless. “Yes, but I also want it…aggressive and everlasting.”

“Slower but aggressive,” Birger said, kissing his forehead, “and everlasting?” He made a sound—something between mirth and consideration—as he untied Avery’s robe. The garment fell to the floor, pooling around his ankles.

Avery shied away. “Now I’m the only one naked…that isn’t fair.”

“You’re right, it isn’t.” Birger repositioned them so that Avery’s back was to the door, grasping his slender wrists and pinning them above his head, stretching and displaying the mage in an indelicate way; one hand easily securing both of his wrists, and the awareness of that ignited something unrefined in them both.

“How long have you been wanting to do this?” Avery asked, adoring the way Birger leered at his body.

“Probably just as long as you,” Birger parried, kissing the scar above his ribcage. “Though I admit—I’m paralyzed by the options here.” He gazed intently, lingering on Avery’s armpits, then descending the subtle valley of his chest, following the trail of neat hair downward where his arousal twitched with need. He released the mage’s wrists. “Keep your arms like that,” he said, kneeling.

And Avery obeyed.

But it was a struggle. Just feeling Birger’s breath on him sent him careening, cock sorely neglected as his thighs got all the love, until a cursory flick of his tongue nearly ended him… The knight meant to tease him, he should’ve known, Birger was known for teasing, why wouldn’t that be a hallmark of his lovemaking?

Avery tried to keep his composure, just enough moaning to placate Birger, but not enough squirming and labored breathing to keep that mischievous tendency at bay. Goddess, and Birger knew how to suck. He studied the technique—tongue flush along his underside, the muscles of his cheeks doing most of the work…head bobbing, hand sheathing as his mouth retreated…

“I bet…” Avery began with a heavy breath, “that you’ve been dying to taste me.”

“I have,” Birger admitted between slurps. He gave Avery a satisfying twist and stroke with his wet palm.

The mage melted, arms slumping, but he righted himself, forcing the back of his palms to the wall and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Are you trying to demean me?” Birger asked, hand still stroking.

“Me? Never…ah… Ah!” Avery couldn’t take it. His hands came down and anchored themselves in Birger’s hair, tugging and holding on while his body curled over him. “I’m going to—if you don’t stop—”

He ceased his efforts and Avery sighed with relief, collapsing backwards. He peered down at his knight—who appeared smug even while on his knees—and though arousal was at the forefront of the experience, there was something else there…like this was the beginning of something wonderful. Avery felt like himself, accepted and at ease, like they had done this a million times already.

But Birger couldn’t decipher Avery’s expression. “What’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed by the change.

Avery leaned against the door. “Don’t look so devastated, nothing’s wrong.”

He rose and took Avery’s hands. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Tease me?”

He looked ashamed.

“As if I don’t enjoy it.” Avery laughed and kissed him. “It’s not that, I feel…” He paused, remembering, and then started untying Birger’s shirt. He pulled the fabric apart and beheld a bare chest, no necklace.

Birger didn’t say anything, and Avery felt foolish.

There was an awkward silence until Birger pulled away from Avery and started undressing. He walked towards the bed, shedding one layer after another. “I don’t want you to think that was planned,” he said. “I didn’t remove it knowing we’d…y’know…” He looked over his shoulder, embarrassed.

Avery locked the door and drifted over, hungrily watching as Birger stripped. He didn’t want to talk about it. He felt stupid for nearly ruining this moment. He tackled the towering man instead, startling him, knees catching the side of the bed and delivering them to the mattress. But Avery wasted no time, his lips were on him in an instant, hands cupping his chest. Birger grunted at the fondling, cheeks flushed, but he spread his thighs and Avery quickly nestled himself between them, mouth wandering downwards, already salivating from the smell of him.

Birger was certainly a grower. Avery sucked in his bottom lip, contemplating; he wasn’t sure he could do this without a degrading amount of noise and effort. He nestled further down, so that his knees were on the floor and glanced up at Birger; it was endearing, seeing the knight so flustered and willing.

“The anticipation is killing me, Av,” Birger said, and the mage’s heart lurched at the nickname. He rubbed his cheek against his thigh, enjoying the warm feel of taut muscle.

“Would you like me to service you? Have my way with you?”

“I…” Birger shifted and folded his hands across his belly. “I’d…prefer it.”

Avery grinned. “Ohoh!” He stood and made his way over to his belongings. “I never figured you the type.”

“What type?” Birger asked, voice gruff with indignation.

The mage retrieved his vial of lubricant and sauntered over. “A bottom.” He tied his hair up into a high ponytail.

Birger grabbed a pillow and smothered his own face with it, groaning.

“Don’t be ashamed. I find that incredibly sexy. Big powerful man wanting his hole filled. I’ll be gentle…unless you don’t want me to be.”

Birger lifted the pillow and said, “I’m not a bottom, I just prefer—”

“Ah, ah!” Avery returned to his position between Birger’s knees, saddened to see his cock now at half-mast. “There’s no judgment here, you can return this favor any time.” He slipped his mouth over Birger, sucking until he was fully erect again, gagging a little around the swelling.

The knight was silent, clearly holding back, but his hands spoke volumes, wringing the poor sheets. The pillow remained on his face.

“Birger, if you don’t remove that pillow—”

He did with a huff, whipping it aside. Avery continued, head bobbing, trying his newly acquired technique, keen on getting this stubborn man to moan, to loosen up. He wanted nothing more. Avery started purposefully drooling, lapping and slurping up and down. That got a reaction out of Birger; he cussed—some Ourensean vulgarity—and bucked up, making Avery gag again.

“Fuck, sorry.”

But Avery was horribly turned on. He gripped Birger’s thighs and rolled him up so that his hole was exposed. The knight became an even deeper shade of red, eyes full of outrage though his lips parted with want. It’s not like he put up a fight, Avery could tell he was carefully holding the position, focused on him, waiting for him to—

Avery slid his tongue over his entrance and Birger moaned something fierce and then laughed like he couldn’t believe what was happening. His body went stiff, but Avery held him firm. In truth, Avery had never done this before, the idea of rimming a stranger grossed him out, though he was never against receiving… But Birger was Birger, and Avery was willing to stick his entire head into him if he so desired.

He hooked his arms around Birger’s thighs for leverage and just…ate him out. Nose pressed to his balls, eyes closed in concentration, jaw working as he licked and kissed and sucked. He never adored a man like this before; he always found them somewhat repellent, but there was nothing repellent about Birger, he was a darling and he deserved the world.

Birger had ascended, and the entire second floor of the inn knew of his pleasure, the knight inadvertently made sure of that, the harlot. Avery stroked him as he ate, and then he felt Birger’s balls tighten, and knew all too well that he was close, so he released him, gently rolling him back to earth. He wiped his mouth and chin with an embroidered handkerchief and then peered down at his lover with a smirk. Birger looked pissed, one hand in his hair, the other strangling a blanket.

“Oh no, was that too much?” Avery cooed as he stroked himself. It was immensely satisfying knowing that he could make Birger unravel.

The knight turned his cheek and said, in a rather demure and princely way, “Just fuck me already.”

Avery snorted. “Rude”

“Please,” he amended, teeth bared in a sneer.

He obliged and their first time was very much an embrace; chest to chest, Birger hugging Avery in a vice-like hold. The mage gave him all that he could, sweating and panting, goaded by the man’s impassioned moans; observing him in all of his uninhibited glory; adoring his broad hair-covered chest, witnessing every knock of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed and groaned. He was tight but pliant and drawing Avery in; cock trapped between them and eventually soiling them with a strained cry. Avery gripped the headboard, chasing his own release, grunting as Birger looked up at him with reverence.

“Don’t pull out,” he said, hands firmly cupping his ass.

And Avery came with a shudder, spilling into the knight.