Chapter 388: Why Does It?.

Chapter 388: Chapter 388: Why Does It?.

When Khobi gets back from his second bath of the evening Loac’s still lying sprawled across the bed where he left him, basking in the afterglow with his skin damp and glistening.

When he hears the bathroom door open he looks up though, propping himself up just enough to get an unabashed eyeful of Khobi in all his naked glory; fresh new marks visible on his hips and the insides of his thighs.

​Before Loac, no one had ever eaten his ass before. Never really had the time; never had a partner who’d been concerned with his pleasure over their own.

​Turns out he really, really likes it.

Loac’s tongue had worked sounds from him that he hadn’t known were in his vocal range.

And while Khobi’s only just come down from his most recent orgasm(s), just looking at him lying there; his cock coming back to life just at the sight of his naked form, makes him want to crawl on top of him and cage him to the bed and start things up all over again.

And from the inviting way Loac’s tongue traces the smug quirk of his lips as his eyes lazily rake down his body, he wouldn’t mind that in the slightest.

​But it’s getting late, and he’s feeling a little raw after how vigorously they’ve been going at it over the last few nights so he restrains himself for once –before it can get to the point of affecting his training.

If he ever has to skip because he’s literally been fucked too hard, he’d probably never be able to look Drogger in the eye again.

There’s always tomorrow, after all –they both know that –so when Khobi clambers into his side of the bed Loac just shrugs as if to say worth a shot , and rolls away to get himself cleaned off.

While he’s up he snuffs out the last of the candles and latches the shutters closed in case it rains.

Khobi probably could’ve done all that on his way back to bed, and he makes sure to let him know about it.

​Complaints aside he still does it, and it gives Khobi a chance to reach for the jar that Rogard gave him.

Whatever it is, the stuff works like a charm. He’s seriously gonna have to find out what exactly it is and where to get more when he needs it.

Loac hadn’t recognised it, and it doesn’t look like something he’ll just find laying about the castle, so he might just have to ask one of the soldiers to pick some up for him the next time they go into town.

He’s got the gold for it now, at least.

​His aunt and uncle would be so proud if they knew that the only things he’s spent his gold on were booze and sex.

The thought makes him snicker to himself. As tiny as his aunt was compared to the soldiers she kept company with, she’d been able to drink them all under the table.

Gods help any man who dared think otherwise.

He thinks again to the little note buried in his trunk. He reads it every morning. He also remembers the warning that Gurdet had imparted with it.

​The fewer who know, the better .

​"...Hey, Loac?" he hums distractedly, before he can think better of it.

He gets an equally distracted hum in response as the mattress dips for Loac’s weight and he gets himself settled for the night.

​"What?" he demands, more forcefully, when Khobi fails to offer any sort of follow up. "If you’re gonna ask me to open the windows again, you can just –"

​" –You were right, by the way."

​It’s difficult to explain why exactly he says it. Why he even says anything at all.

The more people who know that his uncle’s been found out in the wilderness, the more likely it is that that information will spread, and the more likely it is that his whereabouts will be discovered by his enemies.

Khobi knows the importance of keeping secrets safe, but for the first time he has both good news and people to share it with. Something that under different circumstances might have them down at a tavern that very night, toasting to his and his family’s health and drinking until they’re stupid.

​Something worth celebrating.

​He doesn’t think Loac would tell. He was the one who’d said in the first place that Gurdet was gonna keep his word, and he doesn’t even seem to like his uncle all that much.

​"’Course I was," Loac snorts, so self-assured that Khobi can’t help but roll his eyes, "...About what?"

​Khobi wets his lips, staring first up at the rafters, and then across into the clear, blue eyes of the man lying in bed next to him.

"...He found them. Just like you said he would." Expression dark with confusion, Loac’s brow creases like he has no idea what he’s talking about, only to then softens as he figures it out.

He doesn’t seem surprised, and why would he be? He’d been the one who’d reassured him in the first place.

​"...So they’re alive, huh?" His voice is quieter than Khobi expected.

​"Yeah," he whispers back with a small smile, red eyes twinkling in the darkness, and Loac’s blue twinkling back, "...They are."

​Loac’s lips quirk up, and creases appear in the corners of his eyes. "I’m glad."

​For some reason those words, or maybe the gentle way they’re said make Khobi’s pulse jump. Because what reason does he have to be glad? He’s never met them.

They’re not his family. They’re everything to Khobi, but they might as well be nothing to him.

​Yet he’s glad. For complete strangers.

​Gods, those eyes of his . Just made to be seen this close, by moonlight.

​"...So did he say where they were?" Loac inquires, breaking both the silence between them and the lock of their eyes, and there’s something hesitant to the way he adds, "...If they were safe?"

​"No," Khobi admits with a sigh, eyes dimmed by a flash of frustration as he sets his gaze back to the roof, "He...didn’t tell me much, really. Just that they were alive."

He shrugs even though it’s hard to know whether or not Loac sees it. Looking back, it’s really not much to go on. "They...might not even know I’m here."

He didn’t mean for it to come out sounding forlorn, but it must do for how serious Loac’s expression is as he reaches out across the bed towards him.

His hand stops short before it makes land though, coming down instead into the space right next to his; so close that the slightest twitch of Khobi’s pinky would brush against him.

​"... Hey . Khobi," he says, in that same, serious tone he’d used back then when he’d told him that his uncle would find them; like it was a simple truth. "They’ll be fine."

​And just like back then, Khobi believes him.

​"...I know."

​Khobi, again . Still just Khobi.

​It feels like something that shouldn’t bother him.

​...So why does it?