Frost (m/m)

Chapter 8

In the midst of his tears and dizziness, he had barely heard the rushed, desperate words the king said over and over again, barely felt himself being lifted and curled in the naked man's lap.

When the tears dried and the panic gave away to anger, his waist was red and sore from the way Haomath's arms clung to him. His worried eyes were searching for a reason, looking around the room and then back to Henry, and he had felt something he never felt before. A deep, mysterious thing that uncurled from his chest like a newborn sparked to life. Henry felt a little better by it, a little comforted, and caressed the man's jaw in appreciation for something he didn't knew how to pronounce yet.

But saying "I'm okay now" over and over hadn't quieted the man down. Henry had to spend some time snuggled in his lap, being randomly kissed and randomly nodding off. His hair was petted and his back was rubbed, until he was allowed to rearranged under the covers again.

He had woken up a little out of it, eyes swollen, body naked and surface of his bed moving. It took a moment to realize it was Haomath moving from under him and leaving the bed. He dressed something he got from his trunk. It seemed like he was in a hurry, because he had peppered Henry's face with kisses and then stole a deep one that took his breath away, leaving Henry in need. Haomath seemed apologetic and kept murmuring sad words to his neck, hugging Henry's naked waist to his heavy covered torso. Henry had tentatively put his hands around the man's neck and shoulders, and ran his hands through the dark locks of hair, still sleepy and confused about his situation. It was weird how his body seemed to respond so easily to the man's caresses. Haomath shivered in his arms, and seemed thrilled about his accepting touch, sad words turning into fast, rough ones. Henry was not scared by it, he knew it meant he was happy.

Henry liked a lot of this. He liked the kisses, he liked the way Haomath took him yesterday. He liked that Haomath liked him. He liked that he belonged, somehow.

He did not liked being tricked.

It was dawning, but it wasn't obvious because the sky was dark grey. It seemed like the average sky for hull. Still, the trees and the mountains were starting to take shape in the horizon, and the cold light shone over his skin.

Getting out of the bed was hard, but after Haomath was gone, Henry knew what he had to do. Walking naked across the room, he was about to get dressed when a knock on the door came. He got a silken sheet from the bed and wrapped about himself, too frantic to do anything else.

"Come in." He knew it wasn't' Haomath because the man didn't knocked. He shouldn't. It was his room, after all.

It was Ligia who entered. He saw that she was carrying five bundles made of the same fragile cloth Henry had received his robe in as a gift in the first night. He walked up to them and, before she could say anything, clawed at the cloth until they all but dissolved in his hands and yes, five new robes going from red, blue and green. All beautiful and long robes. Hullians must not have been accustomed to robes because, much like the first one, they all had laces in the back where they could be untied. No matter. So beautiful. But gifts didn't appease him this time, he was hurt and hurting. He let them in the bed and caught a preacher's robe from his chest, ignoring Ligia.

"Oh, no Dali, you must choose one for today," she said unaware of his mood.

Henry eye's caught the robe he was given in his first night. He traced the golden lines, not in excitement and admiration anymore. In anger sadness and remorse. They were... He sighed. He couldn't lie to himself anymore. They were feminine. Slightly feminine. He picked it up, and made a mental note to set Haomath straight about these later.

"What is a 'dali'?" he asked Ligia as he dressed, and she froze a little.

"Well, it doesn't translate very well to the common, language, dali..." She stalled, folding and fussing around the sheets of the bed with unnecessary concentration.