The Burden of Breaking Hearts

Both-lover

Hernon laid in the orange glow of a fireplace, his chest rising and falling steadily. His eyes stayed closed and he remained unconscious. His hands were bound underneath him by rope; the metal shackles were left broken after the wave of magic Darion had sent through them. Hernon's cape was splayed around him on the ground, imitating a shadow.

The two men were in a motel room. Multiple beds lined the walls, but a mention of being on a mission for the royal family cleared a room up just for them in the matter of seconds.

Darion observed the man from a chair, his nails up to his mouth. He shouldn't have reacted the way he did; it was the first time anything like that had ever happened before. It had to be magic, there was simply no other explanation. Darion slid down next to Hernon with a grace gained from years of perfecting his movements. He looked up and down the man's still body, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. He opened his palms and hovered them over the other man, letting his magic reach out into his body; if Hernon was a weilder of magic, Darion would know soon. Not even a trace amount of magic made itself know during the search.

Impossible.

Darion had to look deeper, that's all. This time, he placed his hands directly on Hernon's body. The fire kept the chills at bay as he restarted his search. Darion let his fingers glide across Hernon's torso, each muscle firm yet soft to the touch. He searched his chest, discovering nothing, yet finding his hand lingering.

Darion flinched back, his hands still extended out. Somehow his magic was still taking effect while he was unconscious. He had the sudden urge to touch the man's face, so he did just that. His skin was prickly down where Darion's own shadow of a beard was. The eyelashes on the man were longer than usual and the eyebrows were kept neat. Darion couldn't stop himself from leaning forward, putting his face close to Hernon's.

Hernon's breath blew through his nose, brushing across Darion's face. Darion's eyes flicked down to the other man's lips. A tingle jumped across his own. His eyes traveled up to the eyelids closing him off from the pupils, the hand he placed on the cheek earlier still right where he had placed it.

The lids flew back, revealing brown--almost golden--eyes; the pupils flicking to Darion. Darion snapped back, moving from his knees to sitting on his butt with his knees bent.

"You're awake."

"Uh huh." Hernon pulled on his restraints, but they wouldn't loosen in the slightest. With a bit of difficulty, he pulled himself up to a sitting position. "So...what were you just doing there?"

"What?"

"You were rather," he began before stopping, searching for the word he wanted. "Close."

Darion kept a straight face as his stomach filled with butterflies--he'd never experienced such feelings around prisoners. He was going to get to the bottom of this if it was the last thing he'd do.

He decided to change the subject.

"Do you wield any magic?" Darion asked.

"What?"

"Magic, do you wield it?"

Hernon shifted a little, confused and uncomfortable. "You mean like you and palm readers and people like that?"  Darion almost rolled his eyes at the suggestion of him being like a palm reader; palm readers observed and nothing more. He nodded anyway. "Oh God, no. If I had magic, I'd be a hell of a lot richer."

"It doesn't make sense," Darion muttered to himself, getting up from the floor. He paced to the other side of the room and gazed out the window a bit, trying to make sense of the puzzle forming in his mind.