Chapter 313: Sexual Chemistry.

Chapter 313: Chapter 313: Sexual Chemistry.

And then he’d breathed his name.

​No. Not breathed.

​Loac .

​He’d fucking moaned it, and before Loac’s very eyes his expression had changed, curling into one of pleasure , and he’s realised with a flash of heat that what Khobi was experiencing was not a nightmare but a very different –much steamier –kind of dream.

​About him .

​Loac’s mouth had run dry, and his cock had gone from fast asleep to fucking throbbing in a matter of heartbeats.

And then with a gasp that would echo in Loac’s ears for days and nights after, he’d fucking arched off the bed; hands twisting in the sheets with Loac’s name spilling from his lips, and Loac had suddenly been desperate to know just what he’d been doing in that dream to make Khobi make that kind of face.

Was he fucking him? Eating him out? Did he have him against a wall or bent over or pinned to a bed?

​Whatever it was, Khobi must’ve liked it because his expression on his dreaming face had been one of ecstasy.

​Too agitated and impossibly aroused, he’d barely slept that night, and no amount of trying to drown himself in someone else had been enough to tear the images from his mind. He still thinks about it, sometimes.

​And then came that night. The one at the tavern.

​That night Loac had learned just how desperately and how completely he could want someone.

​He wasn’t supposed to even be there. There had never been any love lost between him and his uncle’s soldiers –Montrel especially so –what reason would they have to invite him, and what reason would he have to want to go? It had been something of an accident, even offering to sneak Khobi out in the first place.

The fact that he owed him a favour had just been a convenient excuse, when in reality the guy had looked so downright miserable about being left out that the words had just tumbled out of his mouth before he had the chance to think better of them.

​(And the way his face had lit up when he’d realised what he’d said, well...now that had been something. Something that Loac wouldn’t mind seeing again.)

​It was only once he was actually there in that shabby tavern, watching Khobi and Rogard so seamlessly slot into the scene that he’d found himself wondering what it might be like to stay.

Because while he’s well aware of what it is that soldiers get up to, even when they’re at the same tavern they’re all downstairs drinking together and he’s up in one of the rooms losing himself in a stranger.

​Then Montrel – of all people –had offered to buy him a drink.

​Once upon a time, he never would’ve thought to ask. And even if he had, Loac never would have accepted.

​He’s glad he did.

​It had been the most fun he’s had in years.

​(One drink, is what they’d agreed on. But they’re both soldiers, so they’d known. It’s never just one drink.)

​(He still doesn’t really like the guy, but Xena does and that has to count for something.)

​And it’s funny; in the time Loac’s known him, Khobi’s always had his back up about something –and maybe that’s in part his fault for provoking him –but that night he’d seemed so at ease , and whilst there had still been that brilliant, magnetic heat behind those red eyes, it had felt... different .

Not searing; just warm . Like they were friends or something; kind of... playful –borderline flirtatious ,even –in their back and forth when Loac needled him.

Because it never hurts to tease. And every now and then throughout the night, he’d caught Khobi looking his way from across the room.

​(He’d liked that a lot.)

​(He likes when Khobi’s eyes are on him.)

​And perhaps it’s because he’s grown so used to having his eyes only on him but when someone else had come along and stolen them away, well , that just hadn’t sat right with him.

It had nagged at him in a way he wasn’t accustomed to, and probably more than it should’ve, and when he’d talked about sneaking off into the night with them –someone that wasn’t him –something ugly had stirred within him, and the thought of those red eyes burning for someone else had tasted unimaginably sour.

​Except that then those eyes had burned for him, and Loac had learned the true meaning of desire.

​Because Khobi Frost was fierce and fire in all that he did, and fucking was apparently no exception, and the moment his mouth was on him, Loac had burned like he’d never burned and wanted like he’d never wanted in his life.

And from the urgent, hungry way Khobi had kissed him back, he’d wanted him just as desperately.

​He’s not sure why he kissed him. He doesn’t chase those who don’t want him – didn’t –and Khobi has always, right from the start, said he doesn’t, but when he’d seen him hovering in the doorway like that, face flushed and red eyes so deep and dark with the same hunger that had been haunting him, Loac had heard that wilderness calling, and been compelled to reach for it.

And before he knew what was happening, Khobi was reaching for him, too; kissing him, moaning for him, pressing up into him and sinking his tongue into his mouth like he’d been aching to taste Loac just just as badly as Loac had been aching to taste him.

And then when he’d pushed him down and started fucking grinding like he wanted to ride him, the lust that had ignited within Loac had been hotter and more ferocious than he could have even imagined, and he’d found himself wanting to drive him crazy and be driven crazy and make him come completely undone for him in every sense of the word.

​More than mere want, he’d needed to make Khobi writhe for him. Needed to hear him gasp out for him in ecstasy.

Needed to pin him to the bed and fuck him senseless and feel him straining against his skin as their bodies snapped tight; to mark him and be marked by him and do whatever he it is he does in Khobi’s dreams to make him make those faces and choke out his name the way he did.

And then, when they were both breathless and aching for release, he’d wanted to push him to climax, spill inside him and burn with him through the night until their bodies gave out.

​All these years Loac has been searching for a way to feel something , anything; only to be left feeling empty and cold.

And that night, something starving had stirred in the darkness, and it had wanted with all the wrath of a beast kept caged for too long.

​Shit, he didn’t even fuck Khobi that night and he’d been driven to the brink of madness.

On top of him like that, moving like that; eyes brimming with unchained desire, all for him.

​Hurry up and fuck me .

​That’s what he’d said. And Loac can’t forget the guttural, heady way he said it, nor the way his name had fallen from Khobi’s lips or the sounds of pleasure he’d made under his mouth and his body and his touch.

​No one’s ever said his name like that before. No one’s ever made him want them the way he’d wanted Khobi.

​No one .

​But despite his words, the expression Khobi had been wearing when he gazed up at him, flushed from his cheeks to his hips, had been foggy, and glazed.

​Drunk .

​Blind, blackout, out of his mind drunk . Too drunk. Way too drunk to be doing what they were doing --which of course he was; had to be, to be doing this with him --and definitely too drunk to mean what he was saying.

​So he’d left.

And to his relief come morning, Khobi hadn’t hated him.

He’d made it clear it never should’ve happened in the first place and that it wasn’t going to again, which Loac didn’t really get, because it had felt good, and he knows that Khobi had felt it too, and who kisses someone like that if they don’t want them, even a little? But at least he hadn’t hated that it had.

​(For some reason, he couldn’t handle it if Khobi hated him. Once upon a time that would have been just fine with that, but not now. Not with what he can do and what he can make him feel, both within the sparring ring and beyond it.)

​Suit yourself , is what Loac had said, because at the end of the day Khobi’s just one man in an endless string of women and men.

There’d be others. There’s always others.

​Except that the others had never been like that.

​That night had been nothing short of raw sexual chemistry ; plain and simple, and now that he’s had a taste, suddenly nothing else will do.