Chapter 263 - 261: Back Against The Wall.

Chapter 263: Chapter 261: Back Against The Wall.

​(It’s something Khobi likes about Crade; how clear the sky is at night.

The stars didn’t show themselves around Briyagi, so it’s nice to be able to look up and see them again.)

​" Hey , what are you doing?" a disembodied voice interrupts from somewhere within the steam behind him, "You’re gonna let all the heat out."

​Just like that, the shutters slam closed on the night, and Khobi starts as the room descends into darkness.

​An instant later, the torches along the walls flare to life, one by one.

And as they illuminate the room the steam starts to shift, and in the light of their flames Khobi manages to make out the shape of a figure, looming up out of the the gloom.

Which in itself isn’t so odd –it was rare to ever bathe alone, particularly in the depths of winter; Khojin Frost and his men always used to head straight for the baths together after a hard day training out on the mountain.

​But it’s all wrong, because of who it is.

​No , Khobi thinks to himself, eyes wide in disbelief.

​He doesn’t understand.

​Why are you here ?

​By firelight, the blue of Loac’s eyes has always been particularly striking.

​Here, they’re iridescent .

​They stop Khobi dead in his tracks.

​This is Scargga , he wants to say, but for some reason the words don’t come out. You’re not supposed to be here.

Not like this.

​Especially not like this.

​Because while his lower half is submerged, Khobi knows instinctively that he’s naked.

The heavy steam obscures his vision somewhat, but there’s no mistaking the dark skin of his bare chest or the thick lines of his arms hanging off the edge of the bath, and it’s hard to tell whether the mist filling the room is rising from the water, or from him.

​Despite the moisture the air, Khobi’s throat suddenly feels uncomfortably dry.

​"What’re you just standin’ there for?" Loac asks, in that low, husky drawl that Khobi despises for the way it sends shivers down his spine.

Here, like this, it’s even worse; the lights turned low and nothing but water between them, "...There’s enough room for two."

​Khobi swallows.

​He shouldn’t.

​Even his subconscious knows that.

​He shouldn’t .

​His towel falls away anyway.

​Pulse quickening, he nudges a toe into the water. It’s just shy of scalding but he steps down into the water and wades in anyways.

​Loac watches him every step of the way.

​It takes an agonising amount of time, but eventually Khobi seats himself in the water and forces himself to relax into it.

It comes up to his chest, licking up around his biceps and shrouding him in heat.

It feels amazing after the wintry blast from before , and with a sigh he lets his eyes sink closed.

​Loac says nothing. Which would honestly be just fine with him, if he would just stop fucking staring .

​It’s driving him insane.

Because how is he supposed to relax when he can feel those eyes of his on him, shamelessly lingering on whatever bare skin they can latch onto, burning as they go.

But when he opens his eyes to tell him to get lost, the words die on his lips.

​Because with the air shifting around him; muscles rippling as he lounges amid the haze, Loac looks...

​Well.

Fucking hot .

​Unfairly so. And as he locks eyes with him he runs a hand back through his hair; slow and deliberate, so that there’s no mistaking that he’s preening, and Khobi starts to feel that familiar tightening in his gut; that coiling, gnawing ache of a need gone unmet for far too long.

​The heat’s not just in the water now, it’s in him. And it’s building.

​Khobi lets out a shaking breath as he averts his gaze.

It’s a big bath; large enough that they could both stretch out to their full length and still never brush.

But it suddenly doesn’t feel like there’s nearly enough space between them.

​(And at the same time, too much.)

​Loac shifts, and the bath’s surface ripples as he rises to his feet; small waves lurching towards the stone as water rains down off his form.

Wordlessly, Khobi watches it fall; oddly transfixed by the droplets as they catch on the smooth, glistening lines of his chest and his hips.

​Lines that Khobi wants to reach out and touch.

​Desperately.

​"What do you think you’re doing?" It’s only when Loac’s but a pace away that Khobi finally finds his voice.

It comes out a lot breathier than he was intending, and hitches as Loac stoops to press one hand into the stone behind him.

And too late, Khobi sees that hunger again, and as he watches the blue of his eyes is swallowed up by black.

This close, he wants to be swallowed by it, too.

​"...What do you want me to be doing?" Loac murmurs huskily, voice reverberating off his skin and sending a deep, visceral shudder down Khobi’s spine.

The arousal pulsating in his gut spikes, and something in the air shifts and sparks as Loac dips in towards him.

Pulse racing, Khobi’s eyelids sink to half mast even as he presses back into the stone behind him.

If he thought it was warm in here before, now it’s positively scorching.

​"...Well, Khobi ?" Loac whispers, the tip of his nose ghosting against the skin of Khobi’s cheek.

It burns, and before he can stop himself Khobi’s chin starts to tilt, aching for him to close the last shred of space between them.

​"... Loac. "

​The name falls from his lips like a prayer.

​And then just like that, Loac’s mouth is on his; rough and starving, and Khobi damn near forgets how to breathe.

He presses him against the wall of the bath with his body, undoing him with the heat of his tongue and his hands curling around his back and into his hair.

And Khobi snaps, reaching for him just as desperately, dragging him close and kissing him back; open mouthed and hungry as months of agonising sexual frustration finally spill free.

​Yes.

​Loac groans into his mouth and yanks at his hair so he can press his lips into his throat.

Khobi gasps under his touch, blood burning and lust coiling within him like a living, breathing, wild thing, and his body throbs as he arches up into him, begging for more.

​His body feels as good as it looks.

​Better, even.

​And it’s not enough.

​It’s not nearly enough.

​Khobi wants it on him. Or under him, he doesn’t care; all he knows right now is that he wants Loac’s skin pressed flush against his, and aches for it like he’s never ached for anyone before.

​Water goes spilling every which way as Loac suddenly urges him out of the water and onto the hot stone floor, mouth descending down to his chest and then lower, sucking rivulets off his skin and leaving hot trails wherever he touches.

Khobi shudders, naked and exposed and chest heaving as Loac’s fingers drift up his thighs and then down again; thumbs pressing in to guide them apart for him.