Chapter 416: On Fire.

Chapter 416: Chapter 416: On Fire.

He’s leaves the sentence hanging on a shrug, but from the way Khobi falters in his stride just briefly, he doesn’t need to elaborate.

It’s probably the first time he’s ever actually brought it up; the fact that one of these days they’re gonna be married. Soon, even. They don’t talk about that sort of thing.

​Khobi’s never wanted to marry him, after all. That’s no big secret. From the very start he’d been clear about that.

​"Right," Khobi states after a beat, and while he’s got a reputation for quite plainly wearing his thoughts on his face for all the world to see, for once his expression is unreadable.

​"...You don’t have to come," Loac mutters dismissively, and even though sitting through dinner with his uncle analysing his every interaction with Khobi in the seat next to him sounds like some kind of fresh torture, he finds himself feeling oddly disappointed, "I’ll just tell Xena –"

​"Do I have to dress up?" Khobi interrupts, like he hasn’t even heard, "...Like, wear something... fancy or whatever?" He says the word with such obvious disgust that Loac can’t help but snicker.

​"What you wear normally is fine."

​Binny must have finally broken through to him because Khobi gives him a look and a skeptical, "Yeah, I’m gonna check that with Bongo."

​(Loac likes that he says that like he’ll come.)

​It’s hard to resist getting in Khobi’s way at the best of times, but today there’s a crowd in the kitchen and Loac’s already self-conscious enough that everyone can tell what’s going on in his head and his heart that he doesn’t quite trust himself not to give it all away.

And while Khobi clearly doesn’t trust this new, well-behaved Loac sitting across from him –always keeps half an eye trained on him like he’s expecting an ambush at any moment –the good behaviour pays off when the first batch comes off the fire and he gets an unsolicited sample slid across to him.

​He’s not sure what it is but it’s tasty , and there’s a telling flicker in Khobi’s eyes when he lets out an appreciative but perhaps somewhat exaggerated moan.

​It has the desired effect.

​"... I’m not done yet ," Khobi warns, even as Loac’s expression begins to curl into a sly smirk.

And while he says that, the furtive glances across the bench that Loac’s been hoping for start coming for him more often; eyes burning low, then lingering.

Loac can’t quite resist the urge to lick his lips, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s out of his seat and prowling around the bench towards him.

Expression more expectant now than wary, Khobi eyes his approach, and when Loac sidles up behind him; leaning deliberately close, his breath hitches and his fingers curl in on themselves where they’ve settled on the bench.

​Definitely expectant.

​Ah, if only there weren’t so many people around.

​"How much longer?" Loac murmurs into the nape of his neck, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt hanging loose around his hips.

He’s not sure whether he wants to pull him flush against his body or bend him over the bench, but by some miracle he resists the urge to do either.

​"You’re impatient today," Khobi whispers back huskily, doing the job for him and lightly pressing his ass back into Loac’s waiting hips.

It’s funny how he says that like Loac’s not impatient for him every day. As it is, it takes every ounce of his willpower not to sink his teeth into the crook of his neck and drag him away from prying eyes this instant.

​"...Can you blame me?" Loac finds himself snickering, and Khobi’s throat bobs as he swallows thickly.

​Too easy .

​Khobi never learns.

​It’s the perfect opportunity to steal a second helping, and without missing a beat Loac snaps one up and then retreats to a safe distance before Khobi can smack him again.

Turns out there’s a really nice spot right by the hearth that offers great unobstructed views of both his face and his ass, and since he’s already learned that the kitchen is the one place that Khobi won’t be rushed, he settles in to do just that.

Because there’s a lot there to admire; his long legs, thick arms, gorgeous back. The resolute clench to his jaw.

The coexistence of razor focus and molten steel in his eyes.

The beginnings of an erection from the time spent with Loac’s breath on his neck.

Everything about him, really.

​But Khobi hit the nail on the head; he is feeling impatient today, so despite the magnetic spell his shape has over him every second feels like it stretches on for an eternity.

And it wouldn’t be so bad if Khobi didn’t keep giving him these looks –these sly, scorching, sidelong glances –like he’s taking his sweet time on fucking purpose.

​Making him wait.

​" L-Loac ?"

​Dimly, Loac realises that there’s someone talking to him. Annoyed that his ogling has been so rudely interrupted, Loac tears his gaze away from the feast before him to turn on the servant hovering anxiously beside him.

​"L-Loac?" Tobo’s voice comes out even more hysterical than it usually is.

​" What ?" he demands hotly, then feels a little bad when Tobo immediately cowers.

​"...I’m sorry Loac, b-but your sleeve is on fire."

​That explains the burning smell .

​Hurriedly, Loac yanks his arm away from where in his distraction the edge of his sleeve has come just a little too close to some live embers.

On fire was probably a dramatic way of putting it –if anything it’s just smoking , and only takes a couple of good slaps to keep it from catching alight.

How he hadn’t noticed the smell he’s not sure, and once he’s confirmed that he’s not about to actually catch fire, he looks up to find a bunch of servants staring at him.

​A lot of servants, actually.

​He’s never realised quite how piercing their eyes were.

​" What ?" he demands vehemently, feeling an uncomfortable warmth start to spread across his face.

They abruptly scatter, and he gets in trouble with Khobi for scaring them.

​So apparently, the servants know too.