Chapter 8: Attraction

"So," Aesind says the moment the bedroom door is shut. He gives Archimedes a bright smile. "What do you think?"

Archimedes seats himself on the small couch in front of the fireplace. A warm fire crackles in the hearth already. Unnecessary with the weather warming steadily, perhaps, but Archimedes's people run cold. Most aren't bothered by it, but Archimedes himself has little tolerance for weather outside the height of summer. Aesind ensured the fire was lit earlier so that its heat now fills the room to appropriately summery levels.

While unlacing his travel boots, Archimedes says, "About?"

Aesind rolls his eyes. He crosses the room and flops down on the couch beside Archimedes. The landing barely jostles the bigger man as he pulls both boots off and sets them aside.

"Mr. Symmonet," Aesind says, leaning into Archimedes's side. The godkin puts an arm around him to tug him closer. "What do you think of him?"

Archimedes hums, watching the flames dance while he thinks. Aesind takes the opportunity to admire him. It really has been too long since he last got to be alone with him. Too many long weeks of distant correspondence. Handwriting can only convey so much. When Archimedes turns fond gray eyes his way, he feels himself melt just like in the foyer.

After the scare with Mister Littel earlier, it took all afternoon to get Archimedes to relax. Having Emrys around to bounce off of made things significantly easier. Nothing distracts quite like good banter, and Emrys is among the best for bantering with. Archimedes is almost back to his usual self, though it's obvious that everything is still weighing on him.

There are ways of relieving such stress. Aesind is proficient in most of them.

"His family is well-known for their trade, and they're well-regarded throughout the region," Archimedes says eventually. "His ideas were articulate and concise. He was the perfect guest." He picks up one of Aesind's hands to fiddle with his fingers. "That he's won Ash over speaks volumes to his character."

"Yes, but what do you think of him?" Aesind presses, letting Archimedes bend and flex his fingers gently.

"I think he's a kind man with a good sense of humor and a good head on his shoulders."

"And?"

Archimedes raises an eyebrow. "And what?"

Aesind groans, "Come on, you know what I mean."

"I'm afraid I don't."

The amused twinkle in his eye gives him away. Archimedes knows exactly what he's getting at, he just wants to make Aesind say it aloud and clearly. Typical.

"I mean," Aesind says, absolutely not whining, "did you like him?"

"Oh, yes. As I've said, he's strikes me as a good person."

Now Aesind really does whine. He pokes Archimedes in the side even though he knows it'll get no response. "That isn't what I meant, and you know it."

Archimedes sets his cheek on top of Aesind's head, no doubt staring off into the distance. His only movement is around Aesind's fingers, stroking down the digits and curling them at the tips.

"How does he compare?" Archimedes asks quietly.

"To this bunch?" Aesind scoffs. "Leagues above. Obviously, when you consider the way Littel acted earlier."

"I mean in general, overall."

"Also leagues." Aesind can't help but smile, picturing Emrys's nervous but sweet smile at tea. "He's easy to be around. It's a shame he isn't..."

"Mm."

"Could he be?" Aesind strains his eyes upwards, trying to see Archimedes's expression, but it isn't possible in this position. "I know he hasn't been put forward by his clan, but..."

"You like him."

Heat prickles along the back of Aesind's neck. The little crush he's been nurturing for the past few weeks (and ignoring for many more before that) has been almost constantly on his mind. Even injured and lying half-comatose in bed, Emrys had been exceedingly handsome. Now that he's upright and conscious, it's more obvious than ever that he's not just good to look at -- he's good. Kind, generous, funny, charming. Calm, understanding. Eager to listen and learn.

"I do," Aesind admits in a low voice.

There's a pause. Aesind lets Archimedes think in silence. Technically, it's ultimately his decision, no matter how he takes Aesind's opinions into account.

They've gone through countless suitors. Many of the factions sending gentlemen their way blame Aesind for it. His pickiness is obvious. He isn't exactly shy about it; even at parties and other various social events, Aesind will tell people who ask what his problems with the offered suitors are. They're arrogant, uncaring, disinterested, uninteresting, and sometimes downright rude.

Many of their suitors assume, on arriving, that Aesind will be their greatest obstacle. And while he does pose some difficulty, there have been a handful of gentlemen who have charmed him. Handsome, kindly people who aren't coming only to obtain power, prestige, or children with perfect pedigree. Gentlemen worthy of the word who are interested in building a life with someone else and who want love, not just a political advantage.

Archimedes's displeasure is quieter. In truth, he's significantly more difficult to impress than Aesind could ever be. Aesind simply bears the blame easier. It wouldn't do for Archimedes to face any more pressure than he already does, and he certainly can't lower his standards for any reason. Archimedes should be cautious while he can afford it.

Taking the brunt of criticism is Aesind's forte, anyways, and he doesn't mind it one bit. Hell, he even enjoys playing the gatekeeper sometimes. It's a taste of social power he lacked for most of his life, and sometimes, when it's aimed the right way, it's so, so sweet.

The thoughts of people who barely know Aesind's name don't matter in the end. The only opinion that really matters is Archimedes's.

And perhaps Emrys's.

If Archimedes found anything to criticize about Emrys during tea, Aesind couldn't tell. Archimedes has his tells, of course, and his laundry list of requirements and disqualifications means that Aesind can guess at potential issues as they arise. He knows Archimedes's type well. Sometimes, it's obvious that someone won't be to his liking, even if Aesind does end up liking them.

Physical appearance means little to Archimedes, but he still has things that he appreciates. A pretty smile, a muscular physique, interesting eyes. While Emrys's eyes are a simple brown, they are very nice, and he fits everything else Archimedes typically enjoys. More stringent are his requirements for personality -- intelligence, wit, generosity, kindness, compassion, thoughtfulness, honesty. The way they treat the staff, the way they speak to Aesind, the way they carry themselves, and the worldview they hold are infinitely more important than any measure of beauty.

Plain-spoken and respectful, Emrys fits just about everything Archimedes looks for. There's no way of knowing some of the more intimate details until later, but Aesind can find those out himself and report back.

If Archimedes agrees, that is.

"He feels safe," Aesind murmurs into the quiet. He can tell by the way Archimedes stiffens that his comment hits the mark. "He saw the scars on my hands and didn't say anything. He didn't even stare. Just looked at them, took note, and then continued on with the conversation."

Archimedes sighs. He adjusts on top of Aesind's head so that his mouth is pressed into auburn hair.

"I want to get to know him better first," Archimedes says, almost inaudible. "It isn't that I don't trust your judgment, but..."

"No, I understand." After all, the last time he took a leap Aesind recommended, it went poorly. Even with the hesitation, though, Aesind feels his heart lift. "You mean you'll consider it?"

"As much as I plan on considering anyone," Archimedes replies. He's still quiet, but the sullen note in his voice is gone, and Aesind breathes a silent sigh of relief. "I won't discount your suggestion. After all, he is..."

"He's what?"

Archimedes clears his throat, straightening so that he's no longer lying atop Aesind's head. He looks firmly away from Aesind, who catches the darkening red along the crest of his ears peeking out from his golden hair.

"He's what, sweetheart?" Aesind asks again. A teasing grin spreads across his face. "Hm? What is he?"

If Archimedes doesn't say it, he will. And the godkin knows it, by the petulant groan that bubbles out of his throat.

"He's..." Archimedes casts his eyes to the ceiling, fighting hard against the blush glowing on his fair skin. "Well, he's... He's very handsome. That's all."

"Ah," Aesind says, walking his fingers up Archimedes's torso. "Handsome. Yes, that he is. The shoulders, the hands, the smile, the eyes."

"The voice," Archimedes mutters under his breath.

Aesind's brows shoot up. It makes his smarmy grin even smarmier. "His voice? That's a new one for you."

The look Archimedes gives Aesind is dry as the Wastes. It warns against picking on him, but Aesind is long past heeding warnings like that. Still, Archimedes has only just returned. There will be plenty of time to tease him in the coming days.

"I suppose I can't blame you," Aesind says, fiddling with the edge of Archimedes's collar. "The man is hot as the eighth layer. You know I'm a sucker for a sultry baritone." He pauses, lips pursing. "I wonder if he can sing."

"I'm sure you can find out," Archimedes replies. He sighs again, and a serious veil drapes over his expression. It turns his calm gray gaze to a fine point where it affixes to the flickering fireplace. "How has it been?"

A repeat question, one Aesind knew he would receive the moment he gave a glib answer during tea. Sensing Aesind directing the conversation away from it has just made him address it directly. Discomfort lodges between Aesind's ribs.

"Still the same," he says, frowning. He lays his head against Archimedes's chest. "Three more reports of minor attacks since you left. All of it's been dealt with, and there were no losses, but... I'm worried. I've been looking into solutions and possible causes like we talked about, and I think I have a couple leads on what to look for. We can talk about that more tomorrow." His mouth stretches into a grimace. "And there's more."

"More?" Archimedes's shrewd gaze swivels downward again. Blond brows bunch together. "What do you mean, more?"

"On the suitor front. This batch have been..." Aesind pauses, chewing on his words. He needs to put this delicately. "Suspicious, I think, would be a good word for it. Littel's behavior this afternoon isn't so surprising, all things considered."

Archimedes turns toward Aesind, giving his full attention. It's usually a heady rush, undiminished even after all these years of being together, to have that all-knowing gray stare on him and him alone. He's come undone beneath it more times than he can count. Now, though, Aesind squirms uncomfortably. Renewed concern filters into Archimedes's expression, pinching at the corners of his mouth and eyes.

"What happened?" Archimedes asks tightly.

"Nothing happened," Aesind rushes to assure him. He squeezes the now-still digits of Archimedes's hand where they've frozen around his. "I'm fine, none of them have tried anything. It's just..." Aesind's mouth twists to the side as he puts the words in the right order. "I'm not sure. Something isn't quite right. It's as though they've received different orders from their leadership this time. They don't talk to me like the others have. And they haven't had fits like Littel before."

Archimedes repeats, "Different orders..." A gleam of fear arrives deep in his eyes. "You don't mean..."

"I don't know. I don't want to leap to conclusions." Aesind runs his thumb over Archimedes's trembling knuckles. "There hasn't been anything too overt, and they haven't been any more aggressive or rude than usual. Mostly socially inept or clueless. But... I don't know, there's a tension that they don't usually show. As though they're trying to make a point that I'm missing badly, over and over again."

"Hm." He thinks for several long seconds, eyes darting back and forth as though running calculations or scanning visible information in his mind. "It's possible there's a new rumor going around that we aren't aware of. We'll be a bit more cautious and pay attention to any odd behavior."

"I've already got Ash on watch. They haven't found anything of importance."

"Is that why you introduced them to Emrys?" Archimedes asks, affixing Aesind with another piercing look. "To spy on him?"

Aesind squirms again. "Not... not really. Not explicitly, anyways. When I talked to Ash about him, right after I brought him outside the first time, they told me plenty about what he's like when he's alone. Reserved, serious, courteous. A nice guy, you know? A real one." He glances toward the glowing hearth. "I needed to keep him out of the way while I investigated the oddness of these suitors. Ash agreed, so I brought him out into the garden, and now they appear to have become friends."

"I see." Archimedes considers for a moment, then says, "He may be a good ally to have."

Aesind's brow creases. "What do you mean?"

"Emrys is a monster hunter," Archimedes says slowly as the idea comes into shape. "His family specializes in precisely the sort of troubles we've been having with the ghouls. And as heir to his mother's position, he's been trained in more than just combat. He must be at least a passable diplomat, a strategic thinker, and a fair judge of character."

"He seems to be all of those things," Aesind agrees, nodding along. The idea coalesces in his mind at the same time Archimedes's eyes flash with the brilliance of a plan. "Emrys could help find out the source of the odd behavior, and he could help us resolve the ghoul problem."

"My thoughts exactly. And," Archimedes adds with a fragile little smile as he squeezes Aesind's hand, "he would be able to protect you when I'm away. Just in case."

"Aw, sweetheart," Aesind murmurs, leaning in to brush his nose against Archimedes's. "You know I can take care of myself."

"Yes, I know. But it makes me feel better to know that you're not all alone." Archimedes's smile twitches a touch wider. "That doesn't mean I'm agreeing to let him court us."

"Ah, but it means you at least sort of like him," Aesind says, laughing lightly.

"As much as I ever like anyone I've just met."

Aesind doesn't bother arguing against that particular lie. It isn't often that Archimedes shows interest in someone. The last thing Aesind wants to do is scare him off from pursuing Emrys.

Instead, he tips all the way forward to press his smile to Archimedes's. Into the kiss, he murmurs, "I missed you."

"You've said that already," Archimedes replies on a knowing chuckle.

"Yes," Aesind says, fluttering his lashes. He presses that much closer into his beloved's side. "But I missed you, sweetheart. It's such a big bed to sleep in all by myself, you know."

"Poor thing," the godkin murmurs, stroking along the underside of Aesind's jaw with his knuckles. "Did your collection not keep you company?"

Aesind bites at his lip. "Nothing compares to the real thing. You know that."

"Oh, yes. I know." Archimedes's voice falls further to a sensual whisper. "My own touch pales in comparison to yours. I missed you terribly, my love."

There's no way he would've had the time or attention to spare -- or been in the mood to touch himself. Still, the admission sends chills along Aesind's skin.

"We're back together again," Aesind says, slipping his fingertips between the buttoned halves of Archimedes's shirt. "That's all that matters."

"Shall we make up for lost time?"

Aesind pouts. "You're not going to drag it out forever, are you?"

A knowing smile tugs at the corners of Archimedes's mouth. He thumbs at Aesind's pouting bottom lip, giving a pleased hum when Aesind lets him pull his mouth open slightly.

"No," he says, shifting to fit his hands under Aesind's legs and back. "No, I'm not."

Archimedes pulls Aesind across his lap with ease. Aesind folds into Archimedes's arms naturally, his waist fitting perfectly in the cradle of Archimedes's elbow. Long fingers smooth up the outside of his thigh as he cups Archimedes's handsome face in both hands for an adoring kiss.

It always feels so different when Archimedes has been away for a long stretch. It goes beyond simply making up for lost time. Two pieces of the same whole slot back together in succession. Aesind feels each edge click distinctly inside himself with every touch they trade. There has never been anywhere else he's felt like this but in Archimedes's arms.

"I love you," Aesind whispers against Archimedes's lips.

Cool fingertips slip beneath the loosened waist of Aesind's trousers as Archimedes murmurs back, "And I love you, my treasure."

Aesind gasps as those clever fingers delve right past the thin barrier of his underwear. As promised, Archimedes isn't dragging things out -- on the contrary, he's skipping what Aesind would consider Archimedes's favorite parts. Delicious dread sinks in as Aesind realizes he's being treated to a night of overstimulating pleasure instead of patience-testing denial.

It's difficult to complain when it is what he asked for.

Soft as feathers, Archimedes drags his touch down the center of Aesind's damp slit. He hums, pleased, as he draws back upwards teasingly through the gathering moisture there.

"Let me hear you sing, my love," he prods as Aesind chokes back a pleading noise. "I've missed the sound of your voice."

"Looking to wake the house, are you?" Aesind teases, cutting off with another sharp gasp. "Fuck, sweetheart."

"If I must," Archimedes says with a little smile. He tucks Aesind's stiffening clit between two knuckles and gives another gradual pull. "If it's a condition of hearing you, I'll wake the heavens. Would that please you, love?"

It's all Archimedes has ever wanted -- to please Aesind, to give Aesind what he wants, to provide what Aesind needs, to make Aesind happy. The power in it goes straight to Aesind's head, addling his thoughts and tying his tongue into knots.

"Yes," Aesind says, breath hitching. "Ngh, A-Archimedes..."

"There is little I love more than my name on your lips, my treasure," Archimedes murmurs. His voice is gentle and calm, as though he isn't taking Aesind apart with just a pair of fingers. "I missed you so much. There were nights I would imagine I could hear you calling out for me."

"I w... fuck," Aesind swears harshly, voice going taut and leaping an octave as Archimedes collects a dollop of slick moisture from Aesind's dripping cunt to make his strokes smoother. "Was. I was, I was."

"Of course, you were."

Aesind whines, high and nasal, at the back of his throat. He tucks his face into the crook of Archimedes's neck, mouthing at his skin to disguise the fact that he's hiding a flush. His whole body is trembling. His thighs tense and relax as he fights to stay in control. Unfortunately, Aesind wasn't lying when he said nothing compares to the real thing -- low-quality masturbation is often worse than going entirely without for Aesind.

Even hiding, Aesind can hear the smile in Archimedes's voice as he asks, "Are you going to cum so soon, love? Did you need my touch this badly?"

Aesind shakes his head, but his gasping breaths give him away. A particularly good tug has his spine arching, sparks flying in all directions.

"It's alright." Archimedes's words wrap around Aesind's mind like a thick blanket. "Don't be ashamed, my love, you're so adorable like this. It's been so long. Remind me how it feels to have you cum in my arms."

The world narrows to Archimedes alone -- his touch, his voice, his presence. Aesind muffles a sharp cry into Archimedes's shoulder as the tension in his body snaps loose. His hips jerk unevenly into the fingers still stroking so steadily at his cock, riding wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure until nothing else exists.

"Beautiful, absolutely perfect."

"F-fuck," Aesind gasps as he slumps against Archimedes.

"Spread your legs," Archimedes urges sweetly. He doesn't bother pushing at Aesind's thighs; he knows this order will be obeyed without thought.

Aesind's left foot hits the floor, spreading him wide for the fingers still touching, stroking, teasing beneath the fabric of his trousers. It's too much and not enough, sensitive as he is. He feels himself twitch and flinch away as Archimedes's fingertips drift from his clit down his slit and to his fluttering hole.

"Oh, I did miss you," Archimedes groans, soft and reverent as he slips his long, cool middle finger into Aesind's slick heat. "The dreams I would have about you, my love, you would not believe."

"I, mm, I might," Aesind moans, squeezing instinctively around him. "I might believe it. A-ahn-nnnn --"

Archimedes curls his finger again, and Aesind feels his entire cunt throb with it. He rocks just enough for Aesind to really feel it, hips and thighs tensing and twitching to get it deeper, harder, more.

"An-nother, Archimedes, another," he says, words breaking around the plea.

"Of course," Archimedes replies. His voice is rough with desire, but his tone stays level and calm, almost unaffected. "Whatever you need, my love."

The second finger drags deliciously against silken walls, squishing more and more with each gradual thrust Archimedes offers. It's always so easy for Archimedes to work Aesind up like this. One good orgasm and two pulsing fingers and he's practically gushing. It makes him feel pathetic and needy in the best possible way.

Aesind tilts his hips upwards, chasing Archimedes's hand. Anyone else might tease him about it, pull away, or fumble to keep up. Archimedes simply knows. He knows what Aesind needs is deep, short thrusts. He knows Aesind wants the meat of his palm to grind against the stiff peak of his cock. He knows that whatever pace he sets, Aesind's body will naturally meet it, rhythm attuning to rhythm without thought.

Between the intimate awareness of being so utterly known and the weeks he's spent pent-up, Aesind finds himself dragged swiftly toward a second, more intense climax. Head thrown back, back arching, he grinds down onto Archimedes's hand with a broken, bitten-off plea.

"I know, my love," Archimedes says, encouraging as ever. "It isn't too much for you, you can manage it. Go on."

From afar, Aesind hears himself babbling as he gets closer to the edge. Begging, yes, but also praising Archimedes: "So good, oh, gods, so fucking good, good boy, just like that, please, fuck, please, please, yes, good, good fucking boy..."

On and on it goes, but every good and especially every good boy sets a ripple of shivers through Archimedes that Aesind feels in every corner of his body.

The peak approaches slow but inevitable. It builds until Aesind is squirming, trying to get closer and get away all at once. He groans, "Fuck, Archimedes, please, I want -- I need --"

"I know, love," Archimedes replies breathlessly. The hard curve of his cock presses against Aesind's hip with every move. "I need you, too. Cum for me, and I'll give us what we need."

There's no muffling the ragged moan that rips out of his chest as Aesind tips over the edge head-first. He feels those maddening fingers grinding away inside his tightening, pulsing cunt, drawing it out as long as possible.

"You're so beautiful," Archimedes says, already maneuvering Aesind out of his lap and onto his knees. "Hands on the armrest, love. I promised I wouldn't make you wait."

Aesind props himself up shakily, still shivering with aftershocks. Two orgasms that close together, he's a mess. The entire seat of his trousers is damp. He has little time to even be uncomfortable in them, though. As soon as he's bent over, ass in the air and arms folded over the couch's armrest, Archimedes is tugging them and his ruined underwear down to his knees.

"Beautiful," Archimedes praises again on a groan. His fingers graze up Aesind's twitching cunt. The sound he makes as Aesind whines at the overstimulating touch is a filthy, hungry sigh. "My treasure, my love, my Aesind."

The blunt head of Archimedes's cock presses against Aesind's over-sensitive hole. Aesind arches, body screaming in overwhelmed protest. It feels so good, it almost hurts. His mind can't even scrape together a coherent plea. All he manages is a choked moan, shifting backwards to encourage Archimedes to bury himself inside.

He has only a brief moment of hesitation. Aesind glances over his shoulder, eyes clouded with lust and affection, and gives his partner a reassuring (if addled) smile. A subtle tension releases from Archimedes's shoulders. He returns the smile, takes Aesind's hips in either hand, and slips gradually into Aesind's inviting cunt.

Aesind lets his head drop to the cushioned armrest beneath him with a loud moan. His eyes roll back as Archimedes swivels his hips in a tight circle, grinding deep and hard far beyond where his fingers can reach.

Archimedes sets a surprisingly quick pace. He prefers to go slow and take his time, savoring every reaction and lavishing Aesind with adoration at every step. His unusual impatience sets Aesind's insides on fire -- perhaps Archimedes wasn't exaggerating about his own hands not being enough. Godkin have superior stamina compared to mortal humans, but there's a dangerous twitching Aesind can feel that betrays Archimedes's desperation.

Perhaps he has been craving more. Perhaps his dreams left him hard and wanting in the middle of the night. Perhaps he's been as desperate for Aesind as Aesind has been for him.

The thought races hot and tingling through Aesind's veins. He moans again, louder, the sound breaking into segments with every jolting smack as Archimedes fucks into him -- fast, but not too rough.

"Just what you needed, hm?" Archimedes says, trying and failing to keep it together. His composure audibly falls apart as Aesind squeezes around him. He drapes himself over Aesind's back, holding the smaller man close around the waist and kissing at the back of his neck. "You feel so perfect, my love. Let me feel you cum one more time. One more, and then you can have a break. Can you give me one more?"

Aesind gives a broken moan as clever fingers return to his clit again. He takes several hitching breaths, then nods. Yes. Yes, he can manage one more.

"For -- for you," he says at a tight whisper, craning his neck to peer upwards at his beloved. "Please, sweetheart, please."

"Together, then," Archimedes groans beneath Aesind's ear. His quick breaths are hot against Aesind's skin. "Together, Aesind."

"A-always," Aesind promises through a moan.

One final tug, one deep thrust that scrapes along every sensitive point in Aesind's core, one aborted grunt from Archimedes as liquid heat floods Aesind's body --

His vision goes white, then dark. Every nerve blazes with feeling. Even Archimedes's hands stroking comforting circuits up and down his sides is just about too much. For a long minute, Aesind lets himself slump there beneath Archimedes, utterly spent. He's happy to simply bask in the sweet, high sensations still pulsing with every heartbeat.

Gradually, other sensations filter in. Aesind flexes his toes, groaning low at the ache in his feet as he realizes they've started cramping with how hard he curled them.

"Would you like help sitting up?" Archimedes asks softly.

Aesind nods. "Please."

They work together to get Aesind upright. Nothing hurts too badly; his back aches some, but it usually does when Aesind becomes so far gone he forgets to care about it. Aesind leans back into Archimedes, perching on his lap. Aesind's trousers and underwear still hug around his knees.

"Gods, that was good," Aesind sighs, grinning as he tips his head back against Archimedes's shoulder. "I needed that."

Archimedes's chuckle vibrates in Aesind's chest pleasantly. "I did, as well."

"That seemed quick for you."

"I did say I needed it," Archimedes says. He presses a kiss to Aesind's cheek. "And you know how watching you come undone makes me feel. But I promise to take my time for our next encounter."

Aesind groans, rolling his eyes even as he leans into another kiss. "Of course, you will." His faux-annoyance morphs into an adoring smile. "I love you."

"And I love you."

They melt together for a sweet kiss that fills in all the gaps between them.

Aesind wrinkles his nose. "I think my legs are numb."

"Allow me to carry you to bed, then," Archimedes says, already moving to scoop Aesind into his arms. "We wouldn't want you to fall."

"Oh, I already have," Aesind says with a grin. He slings both arms around Archimedes's shoulders as he's lifted into the air without so much as a grunt of effort. "I fall for you again every day."

"How lucky I am."

"Me, too."