Chapter 337: The Dream.

Chapter 337: Chapter 337: The Dream.

He’d wanted to kiss him. And for a second there, he’d been stupid enough to think that Khobi was going to let him.

​In his dream he had. And more.

​In his dream, Khobi had gotten on his knees for him right there on the stone floor of the bathroom, red eyes glazed with lust and mouth wet and hungry on his cock as he’d taken him into his throat. And then, when Loac had been on the cusp of spilling across his face and on his tongue, he’d pulled away and licked his lips and then risen to his feet again to take his face in both hands and kissed him the way he’d kissed him that night at the tavern; desperate beyond measure, like Loac’s lungs held the very air he needed to breathe.

​What are you waiting for ? He’d whispered against his lips, the way he’d whispered them that night, with red eyes burning for him as he’d looped his arms around his neck and pulled him close; waiting. Expectant. As impatient for Loac to take him as Loac was to have him. Hurry up and fuck me .

​And because it was Loac’s dream, with a hand in his hair and teeth on his nape, he’d given him everything he wanted; holding him flush and tight and taking him deep and rough and urgent against the bathroom wall, and Khobi had choked out his name when he came and Loac had whispered his.

​But it was just a dream. And when Loac had woken to find Khobi sleeping peacefully beside him, well, the pressure in his gut had been too heavy to ignore. And trying to relieve it in someone else hadn’t done any fucking good. As he’d expected. He’s tried that already, and it never works. All it does it make the pounding ache in his belly hungrier. Because they don’t feel like him. They don’t sound like him; they don’t say his name the same as him. They don’t fill Loac with the same desperation, and as much as he looks for it none of them spark the same throbbing heat, or the same ravenous hunger within him. And no matter who he’s got under him there’s only one face that brings him any sense of release.

​He wants Khobi .

​And at the moment he can’t even have him in the way Khobi lets him. Curse those stupid guards of Rogard’s old man, and curse Khobi for letting them smack him around so bad he’s been banned from the sparring ring.

​Dammit , he can’t help but think, kicking up a clod of dirt as he paces in the ring. And like it’s been doing, since long before he noticed it was, his eyes drift once more towards Khobi. Although drift implies a measure of aimlessness, and there’s never been anything so mundane as aimless about the way Loac’s gaze finds its way to Khobi.

​(It gravitates .

​He gravitates.)

​For once, he’s not looking at him, and that’s annoying.

​Instead, he’s looking off towards the distance –like Loac’s caught him doing twice now from their bedroom window; the shutters wide open and letting in the cold –in the direction that he knows the mountains lie. And in the moments before he realises that Loac’s there, he’ll have that look on his face again; that same, downcast look he’d been wearing when he’d realised he wasn’t allowed to go out into town with the soldiers. The one that makes Loac’s chest feel tight.

​(He doesn’t like that look. Or the way it makes him feel, for that matter.)

​He’s wearing it again, now.

​It makes Loac’s stomach hurt.

​And then his face, for some reason.

​A heavy ooh goes whooshing up from the crowd, and Loac realises dimly that the pain in his jaw is unrelated to the one in his chest.

​Someone’s just hit him in the face.

​" Oh shit ," Binny cusses, immediately dancing back and looking alarmed to find his knuckles red. Tasting iron, Loac reflexively reaches up to press a hand to his mouth. It comes away dark. "Are you okay? I really thought you’d dodge that."

​"M’fine," Loac grimaces, spitting out of glob of blood as the soldiers clap –and probably a little too loudly –for the guy who’s managed to land a clean hit on their damn near untouchable prince.

​" Nice shot Binny !"

​"That’s what you get for being distracted, Loac!" Rogard cackles gleefully, and Loac sends him a withering look as he turns his attention back to Binny because, "I wasn’t distracted ."

​" Right ," Binny deadpans, juggling his sword between his hands like it’s hot and then shaking his right to take some of the sting away, "...I just...totally landed a clean hit on you for no reason."

​"...That’s what happened," he states flatly. Binny doesn’t look convinced, but he takes a pace back and sets himself ready to defend. And Loac means to focus on the fight, really he does, but he can’t help the way his eyes flit back to Khobi, perched precariously on the fence hooting for Binny, just to make sure he’s watching.

​And while his eyes are back where they should be, the memory of the forlorn way he’s been staring off towards the distant mountains lingers in the back of Loac’s mind, and it tastes sour .

​Binny hits him in the gut this time.

...

"...You know, I’m starting to think my horse might just like you more than me," Montrel remarks offhandedly, as he watches the princess reach out towards his horse with a sugar cube in hand.

The fourth sugar cube, too, by his count. If the grooms caught him sneaking her so many they’d chew him out, but evidently there are some perks to being a princess.

"She has impeccable taste, then," the princess laughs lightly, and giggles as the horse sucks the sugar right out of her hand and then starts nuzzling into her, looking for more.

Montrel would scold her for being greedy but the princess never seems to mind.

She was the one who bought the sugar cubes along today in the first place –snuck them out in a handkerchief while her father wasn’t looking, apparently –and she’d looked so pleased about it, too.

"Hmm, I dunno about that ," Montrel muses aloud, absent-mindedly stroking the mare’s neck, "Coz she seems to like Khobi and Loac too, for some reason. I think she just likes treats."

"Ah, you really are a lady after my own heart, aren’t you?" the princess titters, and as he watches her nattering away to his horse like it’s the most normal thing in the world Montrel feels a warm sensation slowly start to creep over him.

It makes him feel oddly light, and it’s only when she turns to look at him and breaks out into a light blush that he realises that he’s just been staring at her with a dumb grin plastered across his face.

Like an absolute creep.

He doesn’t look away though and she doesn’t, either.