Chapter 297 - 295: Drifting Back.

Chapter 297: Chapter 295: Drifting Back.

"I thought you were supervising him," he says flatly to the two servants hovering to either side of their prince.

One is Binny, who has already proven to somehow be the worst supervisor in the world despite his all-seeing eyes, and the other has flour spilled up one side of his face and is looking quite horrified at both the mess and the fact that Binny seems to find it so funny.

​" I’m sorry, Khobi !" he trills, and bows so deeply and with such haste that he almost smacks his head on the bench, "I really thought he had it this time–"

​"Relax, Niro," Binny snickers, waving away his panic, "He’s not actually mad at you –"

​" No , I’m mad at you ," Khobi tells him flatly, but it’s a lie and they both know it. Binny’s not generous enough to not call him out for it, either.

​" Sure you are."

​Maybe this had been a bad idea after all. The few experiences Khobi has had of working in the kitchen with Loac have been less than seamless at best and downright impossible at worst, but with the quantities Khobi’s been planning, he’d needed the extra set of hands and didn’t want to trouble the servants.

Except that there’s now currently two of them sitting right across the bench just merrily watching the chaos unfold instead of trying to do a damn thing to stop it.

​" Look ," he starts, because it’s not like Loac’s gonna miss out on getting some even if he doesn’t help. It’d be pretty shit if he handed out snacks and then deliberately skipped him, and he’s not an asshole like that. "You really don’t have to–"

​" No ," Loac growls back, flour all over his hands and the bench and poor Sakurai; teeth gritted and brow furrowed and tone as petulant as a kid convinced he can tie his own shoes, when he clearly, absolutely can’t , " I got it ."

​"...Right," Khobi deadpans as he turns back to tend to the meat, unconvinced.

​By some small miracle it all comes together without turning the kitchen into a warzone, and by the time the meat is cooling there is in fact, a dough waiting for him.

​"Hey, it actually looks pretty good," Khobi remarks, not without surprise. He transfers the heavy pot to the bench and in an impressive display of restraint (or heavens forbid; personal growth) Loac doesn’t immediately try to eat anything straight off the fire.

Khobi gives the dough a light stab with the tip of a finger and it bounces back just the way it should. Loac shoots him a look, equally surprised, and the quiet way his lips curl up at the edges throws Khobi for quite the loop.

​"Yeah?" He looks pleased. And not in the smug, shit-eating way he usually does. This feels softer ; a face Khobi’s not sure he was meant to see.

​Oddly speechless, Khobi just nods. And then Loac ruins it –because of course he ruins it –by turning to the two servants who have been eyeballing him with trepidation this entire endeavour and gives them an emphatic, " Told you ."

​Binny shrugs in concession. The other practically jumps out of his skin.

​"Hey, don’t spook him," Khobi complains. The guy is a fantastic cook himself and has helped him out in the kitchen more times than he can count, but it had taken ages to get him to warm to him, and even now he’s still a bit twitchy.

He doesn’t need Loac scaring him off. Good help is hard to find, as evidenced by today’s fresh disaster.

​"Eh, Niro’s always been like that," Loac snorts dryly, slinging himself down into the seat next to Binny and gesturing for a drink, presumably as a reward for a job well done.

Although really, he’s done half a job, and there’s no knowing just how well it’s done until it’s finished cooking.

Khobi had been surprised to find that he knows a number of the servants by name, but he supposes it makes sense given how much time he has evidently spent pilfering food over the years.

Which is apparently a bad habit he’s had since he was a kid, if Montrel is to be believed.

​(Khobi believes him.)

Two mugs rapidly materialise on the bench between them, and while it’s clear that one of them is meant for him, Khobi can’t quite bring himself to take it.

​Not with Loac sitting across from him. Not even surrounded as they are.

​Not after last time.

​He’s not sure he trusts himself. (It’s not a feeling he likes.)

​The marks are starting to fade, but the memories remain; always loitering around the edges of his consciousness waiting for his focus to drift.

It’s concerningly easy to flash back to that night; to the heat of Loac’s body and the overwhelming pleasure he’d ignited in Khobi’s body, and more than once in recent nights a familiar heat has started to set in when his mind wanders, and he’s had to wrest his libido back under control before it gets to the point of aching.

Especially with Loac asleep in the bed with him.

​It’s getting harder.

​Sometimes, on the nights Loac’s gone, he fails, and he winds up tangled up in his sheets with his hand on his cock; memories warping to fantasy and Loac’s voice in his mind whispering him to orgasm.

Even before that night he’d been craving release; aching for someone to completely lose himself in, and now that Loac’s given him a taste of what heights of pleasure a night with him might hold, he’s been hungering for more.

​Not with him, though. That’s what he’d promised himself.

​Guy’s an asshole, and Khobi’s no one’s fucking plaything.

​( But it would be so good , a little voice likes whispers from within him where it lurks deep and low. And for all Khobi’s arguments for why he shouldn’t , there’s just no real answer to that.)

​He wishes he could just put it from his mind; shut away that part of the night as if it had never happened.