Chapter 254 - 252: Ingrained In His Memory.

Chapter 254: Chapter 252: Ingrained In His Memory.

"Really, Xena?" Gurdet remarks flatly, "Snacking just before dinner? Honestly, you’ll spoil your appetite."

​His daughter defiantly pops another one in her mouth.

Gurdet just rolls his eyes at yet another classic example of his failings as a father.

​"What are you even eating?" he remarks dryly, already having decided he wants no part of it as his stomach has been feeling quite unsettled since lunch.

Perhaps he’s coming down with something.

​"Honeycakes," she replies, voice fully of unbridled joy and her smile as sickly sweet as the treats themselves, and Gurdet wrinkles his nose in distaste.

He never could fathom how she could stand the things. His wife had loved them, though, so he’d stomached them, for a time.

"They’re from Loac."

​Gurdet pauses, midway through reaching for another goblet of wine.

Ever since his little discussion with his daughter earlier in the day he’d found himself rather restless.

He could be mistaken, obviously, but that was far more far-fetched than the alternative.

All these years he’s never had to worry about something so frivolous as his daughter developing anything remotely resembling a crush ; not when she rejects any suitor practically on sight, yet now that she’s actually starting to show the symptoms, well , it hardly bears thinking about.

​And now this .

​"Excuse me?"

​Perhaps he’s misheard.

​"He and Khobi have been in the kitchen today," she expands, although that raises far more questions than it answers, and the smile she’s wearing is full of warmth.

"And Loac sent some honeycakes just for me. Wasn’t that sweet of him??"

​It’s not often that Gurdet is baffled. In fact he prides himself on it.

​But this information leaves him baffled .

​What in the world is going on in his castle?

​...

They don’t talk about it. Not that Khobi would ever bring up what he’d seen; not in a million goddamned years, because while it’s certainly not the first time he’s caught Loac in some iteration of fucking –and unfortunately he doubts it’ll be the last –but it’s the first time he hadn’t just turned turned and walked off the moment he’d realised what was going on.

And that’s concerning, to say the least.

​But just because they don’t talk about it doesn’t mean Khobi doesn’t think about it.

​In fact, it becomes difficult not to think about. Especially when he’s alone in bed late at night with nothing but his thoughts and his sexual frustration teetering on the brink of unbearable.

It’s not like he doesn’t touch himself when the need strikes; he’s only human after all and the urge takes him as often as any other man, but now that his mind isn’t quite so consumed with plans of escape, more and more often he’s finding himself steadily falling victim to the same cravings that so afflict those his age.

​He’s sure if he asked, someone would know someone who would know someone who might be able to...help him out, so to speak.

But there’s no one in the castle he’s prepared to ask such a thing.

Not even Binny, who he’s pretty sure has already seen him at his absolute worst.

​He curses himself for missing his chance that night on the plains.

T here had been an offer there in those gleaming eyes, he’s sure of it.

And on those nights when he’s alone and tension knots fierce and insistent in his belly, he wonders what might have happened if he’d met that stranger in the shadows; what it might’ve been like to kiss him and be kissed by him, and if he liked to fuck or be fucked.

​And if every now and then, in the heat of the moment, there’s a different face that flashes behind his eyes, well.

​"Ah, fuck ," Khobi curses, hissing as a blade whips across his knuckles.

Even through his gloves it smarts, and the sudden pain almost makes him fumble his sword.

Loac withdraws, looking annoyed.

​"Hey, what are you doing spacing out?" he complains, tapping his blade impatiently, like he can’t believe he got through Khobi’s guard so easily. Khobi can’t believe it either.

It’s impossible that Loac knows what he’s thinking, yet he’s suddenly paranoid that he somehow does.

​It’s been days already, and it’s getting to be a problem.

As evidenced by the throbbing in his knuckles.

In fact, i t’s the third time in as many days that Loac’s caught him absolutely slacking, and that’s three times more than Khobi’s happy with.

Mistakes happen and guards slip, but nothing like this; not to him at least.

​It’s just that Khobi now knows what Loac looks like when he comes.

​Which, as it turns out, is not an easy thing to put from his mind, let alone forget.

Especially with the way Loac’s eyes burn at him the way they do when they fight; that vivid, intoxicating blue.

They were already dangerously hypnotic but now when their sparks catch on Khobi’s skin, they don’t just sear; they pierce, and send him right back to the shadows of that corridor where that heat that had coiled within him, deep and low and gnawing.

​He’d looked so fucking hot.

​(Still kind of does.)

​Which is entirely the problem.

It’s not as if Loac’s even doing anything in particular to catch him out, it’s just happening, and that makes it so much worse.

Even now he’s just standing there, dark eyes glimmering as he waits for Khobi to finish berating himself, and when he runs a gloved hand back through his hair, it’s surprisingly difficult to tear his eyes away.

​"...You done?" Loac drawls, eyebrow raised and Khobi shakes his head to clear it.

He’s certainly not going to let Loac think, even for a moment, that these stupid little lapses in concentration means there’s a gap forming between them.

So he steadiest his grip, clears his mind, and rushes for him; making sure that with his first strike Loac knows he means business.

Loac still wins today, but at least Khobi doesn’t make any more rookie errors.

He still forfeits some of his lunch as per their arrangement, and when Loac slings an arm around his shoulders and Khobi finds himself inappropriately focused on the shape and weight of his body pressing against him, a little of his self-respect.

He doesn’t lean into him, exactly, but he doesn’t throw him off, either.

Mostly because Loac always seems to take that as an invitation to body him harder, and that’s the last thing Khobi wants.

​(At least, that’s what he tells himself.)

​So he deals with it, rolling his eyes and jostling him back, and pretending his goddamned heart out that it isn’t even a little bit fun.