Chapter 372: Dreams.

Chapter 372: Chapter 372: Dreams.

It’s different that night.

​"C’mere."

​Tonight, as soon as they’ve eaten and the guards have closed the door behind them, Loac drags him into his lap right there on his chair.

It’s really too small for both of them but like this with his arms looped around Loac’s neck and his legs spread either side of his body he’s got the perfect leverage to grind up on him while Loac sets his mouth on his throat.

​Tonight, Loac undresses him slow; plucking open his shirt button by button until there’s enough of his chest laid bare that he can catch his nipples between his teeth.

And when he’s got him hard and gasping, he hooks both hands up under his thighs, and no amount of dissuasion attempts on Khobi’s part keeps him from hoisting him clean off his feet and carrying him to the bed to lay him out and touch him over his clothes until he’s ready to come in his pants.

​(It’s...disconcerting. Khobi’s a big guy, and he’s not used to just being picked up and moved . But fuck if it wasn’t hot.)

​Tonight, Loac takes his time with him; spending so much time down between Khobi’s legs working him to absolute pieces that by the time he gets around to pinning his wrists into the bed and kissing down his neck --no teeth, no tongue, just lips --Khobi’s already such a quivering mess that he shudders.

And when he finally gets to fucking him he takes him nice and slow so that Khobi can feel each undulation of his hips as they rock up into him; can feel his body opening to receive him as the pleasure mounts.

Khobi’s never come untouched; doesn’t know if he even can, and the rhythmic, deep drag of his cock inside him edges him steadily closer to the brink with every thrust; almost too much but not quite enough to send him tumbling over.

​" Loac ," Khobi breathes against his cheek, voice ragged in the hoarse, desperate way it gets when he’s close.

He’s been wound around Loac like this before; his arms and legs curled around his body and his body clenched tight around his cock, but there’s a raw intensity behind the way their bodies move together tonight that feels different from how it usually is. " Touch me ."

​"I know," Loac whispers back, already moving a hand between them to reach for Khobi’s cock; hard and leaking.

His forehead’s drenched in sweat, pressed tight into the crook of Khobi’s neck. "Come for me –"

​" Fuck ," Khobi gasps, eyes clenching tight as his body quakes; his cock throbbing and streaking Loac’s hand as the pressure building within him finally bursts its banks.

And Loac groans, hauling him tight against him and hips pressing in deep as Khobi’s body convulses; swallowing him up and drawing him in deeper.

​" Loac – " The moan comes out soundless; the weight of his orgasm stealing what’s left of the air in his lungs and leaving none for anything else.

And as white flashes behind his eyes and all his bones begin to melt from his body, on a whisper so low that Khobi, in his blissed-out state has to wonder if he’s imagining it, he hears something different, too.

​"... Frost. "

...

Some nights, Khobi dreams of Scargga.

​This time he’s in the woods just beyond the castle, and he knows immediately that it’s a dream because he’s on horseback with his hands loosely tangled in the reins resting in his lap, and he doesn’t know how to ride a horse.

A quick glance at his surroundings tells him that he’s not too far off, and it can’t be too late in the day as there’s sun piercing through the high forest canopy and casting dappled shadows all around.

​There’s no snow.

​It’s spring , he thinks, breathing deeply and letting the deep evergreen scent of the mountains fill his lungs; too fresh for summer and laced with an afterthought of the flowers that grow on the mountainside.

He remembers this place; knows this path so well from running it as a child that he could find his way in the dark, and at this time of year the grasses lining it grow long and green, marking the way to the castle beyond.

​It’s so peaceful out here.

​The horse slows as the forest floor grows uneven, placidly picking its way up the winding mountain path.

In the distance, Khobi hears running water, and knows that when they round the next bend he’ll catch his first glimpse of the castle.

​This too, is just as he remembers; a fortress taller than it was wide set into the side of the mountain, built of rough-hewn stone and wood as if carved from the mountain itself, and framed on all sides and above and below by the wild.

There’s still snow clinging to the highest peaks; remnants of a winter gone by.

​Home , Khobi can’t help but sigh to himself as he passes through the outer arches denoting the city limits, I’m home.

​It’s a thought that fills his chest with warmth. Not the blazing, wild kind he’s used to –something much softer, much more placid; like how the wind feels on his cheeks on a summer’s day, but inside him instead of all around.

​He wants to see more. And while he has no idea how to ride a horse, this is a dream, so on they go.

​On clear days you can hear the waterfalls in the distance, but despite the sky being a startling, almost familiar clear blue, he can’t hear them today. Instead, there’s a charming kind of chaos in the streets; children laughing as they stray from their parents and duck around horses and trouble street vendors.

Khobi remembers being one of them. It must be a market day; they were always loud and busy, and as his horse meanders through the streets towards the castle he glances over some of the stalls.

There are goods of all sorts; knives, clothes, armour, and foods of all kinds. It all smells delicious, but he gets the sense that he’s got elsewhere to be, so doesn’t stop.

​The castle is calling; looming up staunch and proud against the mountainside, and when Khobi glances up with a hand raised to block out the sun, he finds himself drawn to one particular window in particular.

He can picture the view from that room perfectly; knows the shape the mountains make from that height and how at this time of year the forest looks like a green, shifting sea when the wind blows.

​Huh .

There’s someone standing in the window but at this distance it’s impossible to discern just who it is.

​Strange .

​Why would there be someone in his room?

​As dreams are want to do, it changes, and suddenly he’s no longer gazing up at the castle from horseback, but inside, idly wandering through the halls.

Grinning to himself, Khobi drags his fingers along the familiar stone as he walks. He knows it’s just stone –or rather, a memory of stone –but it’s his, and it’s home, and that’s all that matters.

​It would be nice to take his time; to walk each hall a hundred times over, whenever he pauses to drink in the expanse stretching out beyond, something in his subconscious mind tugs at him and urges him onwards, and he continues on.

It’s different in summer; where in winter the world is entirely white, now it’s green as far as the eye can see, with mountains rising from the landscape all around like little islands amidst a green sky.

​His childhood room is smaller than he remembers it. And while maybe that could be attributed to him being bigger, something’s different.

And it takes him a moment because it’s only slight, but eventually his gaze settles on the bed set to one side; much bigger than the one he had as a child, and with the sheets thrown back like it’s recently been slept in.

​(That doesn’t feel right. It’s hard to explain it, but Khobi gets the sense that he’s been away a while.)

​Confused, Khobi doesn’t hear the barely-there footsteps ghosting up behind him, and only remembers the figure in the window when a pair of arms come up around him and curl around his waist, dragging him back against the warm shape of another body.

​And then there’s a voice brushing against his ear –deep and rich, and familiar in all the ways it shouldn’t be –and Khobi’s eyes widen.

​" You’re back early ."

​Not again.

​"...Did you miss me or somethin’?" Loac hums into the nape of his neck, goosebumps rising in the wake of the smile ghosting upon Khobi’s skin.

And then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his grip on him tightens, drawing him in close so that he can press his lips into his throat. It takes everything Khobi has not to melt into his arms.

​"What are you doing here?" he breathes, chest tightening and eyes sinking closed as Loac starts to scatter kisses along his neck and up his jaw, and really anywhere he can get his lips on.

​"Was having a nap," Loac murmurs, nipping at his ear and starting to work at the buttons of Khobi’s shirt, and there’s a suggestive lilt to the way his voice dips when he adds, "But I’m awake now."

​That’s not what he meant.

​Why is he here again?

​In Scargga.

​In his room.

As if sensing that something’s not quite right, Loac’s hands abruptly still.

​"Hmm, not feelin’ it, huh?" he hums, nosing at the nape of Khobi’s neck and making his skin prickle then abruptly pulling back to add, "Let’s get some food, then. I’m hungry."

​Then he smacks him on the ass.

​Khobi jolts, gaping at him, but when Loac looks back at him from the doorway he doesn’t seem to think he’s done anything strange, and his eyes are softer than Khobi’s ever seen.

​"...I missed you, Frost."

​...

​Sometimes Khobi remembers his dreams.

​Not this one.