Spearing the Dragon

TWELVE

All he felt in the darkness was skin on skin. Nothing separated them, his hands in his silky black hair as they kissed passionately, his body hot and aching, his legs tight around his slim hips. Loridian arched his spine as his partner's mouth ravaged his throat, releasing a moan he didn't try to control, not here.

Loridian woke in a foul mood. He went to shower, but couldn't stop thinking about when he'd held his friend in his arms, when that same friend brought him to an explosive orgasm he wasn't sure anyone had ever managed to do. He cut the shower short since it wasn't soothing him like usual. It only reminded him of what he couldn't have, what he ached for the last two nights. He'd stopped asking himself what was wrong with him.

The chime of his door drew Alvaen's attention, giving it a resigned look before putting his book aside. He tightened his robe around him and approached it, but he knew it could only be one person. No one visited him. The door slid open and his chancellor friend leaned against the threshold, looking tired, if not disagreeable. He saw other things in his eyes he decided to ignore.
"May I come inside?" he asked with difficulty. As usual, Alvaen found it difficult to deny such a polite request. He smelled alcohol on his breath but turned away from the door. In truth, he'd been expecting him before now. He went to the liquor cabinet to pour them drinks even though Loridian probably didn't need anymore.
The arms around his waist surprised him though they shouldn't have, considering who he'd just let into his room. He felt his husky breath on his neck before his friend pressed his face into his hair.
"Loridian, let go."
He groaned against him and Alvaen held the sides of the liquor cabinet, expecting him to start dry humping him any moment.
"I can't stop thinking about you and that damn shower...I'm not sleeping, and when I do, I just dream about being with you, being inside you, and even you being inside me..."
Alvaen's heart warmed at the words since no one had ever said such a thing to him. That didn't change the reality. He turned around, giving him a chastising look.
"You just want what you can't have."
"Is that it? Am I that pathetic?"
The lost look on his harsh, attractive features pulled on his heartstrings.
"It's not pathetic exactly, but not out of character."
Loridian's hands graduated to his hips and Alvaen tried not to let it bring him pleasure.
"I don't know how to stop wanting you, or thinking about you in the shower..." His strong hand touched his face, a gentle touch that surprised Alvaen, knowing his proclivities. His fingers brushed over his hair softly, nearly cutting through his self-control. With effort, he took his hand away from his face.
His longest friend turned and hastily left his rooms, Alvaen shutting his eyes on the tears that filled them easier than any of his kind would believe, a fact he'd hidden with savage passion since his youth.

Alvaen approached Lady Belzarac at the control table, where she streamed data about the location of the vessel they approached.
"You can't give an inch, can you?" she asked quietly and he looked down at the floor. "He looked like shit this morning, like a fucking Midgardian whose dog had died. I didn't need him distracted on this mission—"
"I can't be other than what I am," he said softly.
"We're approaching the vessel," she said in a snap. "I'll let you know if you're needed."
"I'm not leaving."
She turned to give him a dark look that would have made most shake in their boots. She raised an eyebrow.
"Defiance. Unexpected. I see what's got him all tied in knots."
He looked past her to the hologram.
"What do we know?"
"It's non-operational and I read no life signs."
"Is there debris from other ships in the area?"
She frowned back at the image.
"None. Strange."
"Could it be a trap?"
"I have to investigate," she said in a hard tone.
"Even if it puts this vessel at risk—"
She turned to give him an aggressive look.
"Now is not the time to grow a pair, Galdemort."
He looked away from her with expressionless features that hid more than anyone would believe. She made a frustrated sound, turning away, muttering about "the worst excuse for an elf..." Alvaen smiled down at the floor, knowing if she were truly angry, he would have woken up next week without a limb. We all have our parts to play.