Work Text:
“It would be best if you stay here,” Xenk said, adjusting the buckles on his armour. “Dassar seemed nervous when I spoke to him before. I think he would be most comfortable with just a paladin.”
“Sure, fine by me.” Edgin sighed, flopping onto the bed and leaning back against the pillows, crossing his still-booted feet on the covers. “Gives me a chance to relax, eat a big dinner, sink a few beers. Maybe seduce a total stranger.”
Xenk swallowed, stomach clenching hard.
Edgin's idle expression melted to laughter. “Don't worry, paladin, I was kidding. I'm not gonna invite someone up here when we're stuck sharing a room.”
“I appreciate that,” Xenk said, voice a fraction more faint than he intended.
“Yeah, I'll just caress my lute instead,” said Edgin, crossing his arms behind his head. “What time you gonna be back?”
“About two o'clock, I estimate,” Xenk said, making the calculations in his head. “Pellian said he insisted on speaking at a site outside the town, then had to be cajoled for several hours.”
Edgin snorted, waving one hand. “Well, Pellian was always a shit interrogator.”
“It is not an interrogation, Edgin.” Xenk's brows twitched to a frown. “Dassar contacted the Harpers of his own volition. He is voluntarily offering this information.”
Gaze steady, Edgin sat up. “But only to a paladin.”
“Yes. I'm sorry for the interruption,” murmured Xenk, flexing his fingers as he tugged his half-gloves into a better fit. “I know you're eager to reunite with the others.”
A small smile crept across Edgin's lips. “It's fine. They probably aren't partying it up, Laverton's not that exciting,” he said, then that smile deepened. “And someone's gotta look after you.”
Xenk raised an eyebrow. “I do not think a monk of Ilmater poses much danger.”
“Only to your bedtime,” chuckled Edgin, gesturing at Xenk. “Two o'clock? I thought you passed out at midnight.”
“I am more capable of working late than you are of waking up early,” Xenk said, aiming for a teasing tone, but with Edgin's eyes lingering on him that way his voice slipped to a sterner edge.
“Not gonna disagree,” laughed Edgin, still utterly breezy. “You got the other key? I'll probably still be up, but if that racket gets any louder I might not hear you knock.” He tapped two fingers in the air, pointing at the floor – pointing downstairs, to the tavern below, where some raucous night was getting started.
“I have the key,” Xenk assured him.
Edgin nodded. “Right, well,” he said, leaning back, eyes bright as he rested his head on his crossed arms again. “Good luck. Lemme know if the guy's just paranoid or if we gotta go kick some cultists in the ass.”
“I find a kick to the back of the knee is a more effective disablement,” said Xenk, and left Edgin chuckling as he departed for his rendezvous with Dassar.
*
“You weren't followed, were you?” muttered Dassar, wringing his hands, glancing through the grimy window at the moonlit alleyway beyond.
“I was not,” Xenk insisted, certain that his superior hearing would have alerted him to anyone even two streets away. His gaze swept across Dassar, inspecting his contact. “Are you well?” Since he'd last seen him three days ago, Dassar was a changed man. That meeting had been brief, but the difference was obvious – the monk had seemed tired then, but now his eyes were dull and sunken, his expression listless, his skin pale and clinging close to the bone.
Dassar loosed a wheezing sigh, wavering eyebrows half lifted. “It's getting worse. I –” His thin voice cracked, eyes darting to the window again.
“If you would prefer to speak outside the town again...” Xenk suggested, keeping his tone soft.
Dassar shook his head, the movement slight and strained. “I don't think I'm up to the journey,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over his face then perching on a dusty barrel. “It's that damned orb, I'm sure it is.”
A curl of worry coiled inside Xenk's chest. “An orb?”
Sighing again, more hoarse than before, Dassar looked up at him. Those drained eyes drifted over Xenk – over his polished armour, his blessed blade in its sheath, the tainted mark upon his forehead...
“I am no adherent of evil,” Xenk whispered, low and sure.
Dassar cracked a smile, a sliver of amusement on his dry lips. “Many clerics of my order have found welcome in Thay. Ilmater knows the people there are suffering.” He paused, tongue flicking out, barely wetting his lips. “Anyway, the Harpers vouched for you.”
Xenk nodded slowly. “Then if you do not wish to travel, perhaps we can discuss your difficulty.”
Inhaling slowly, Dassar shifted slightly on the barrel. For a moment, Xenk wished he'd brought Edgin after all – not simply for support, or the pleasure he derived from his presence, but because the bard was far better at subtle conversation than he was – then Dassar sagged, fingers gripping the rim of the barrel.
“I suppose I don't have much to lose now,” Dassar muttered, with a quiet certainty. “It doesn't matter if Morellion finds out. That new orb of his has –” He paused, inhaling a shuddering breath. “I knew something was wrong with it. Not immediately, I'll admit. For the first few weeks it seemed harmless – blessed even. He called it the Orb of Sweet Denial. Encouraged us to surrender our suffering to it, the way we do to Ilmater. And the orb drank it up. Those first ceremonies – they were a deep experience, like the touch of Ilmater himself.” Dassar almost smiled, then it flickered away. “But Morellion began to encourage us to restrain ourselves – eat a little less, sleep a little less, store up an edge of self-denial so we'd have just a bit more suffering to give. He promised its power would bless the needy with even greater succour in return.” Knuckles blanching, Dassar gripped the barrel. “I do not know his plan, whether he is lying or simply deceived, but that orb is dangerous. The more we offered, the more it took. I began to see my brothers fade around me. The effect on some was slight, but on others...”
“Others were like you?” croaked Xenk, cold suspicion settling in his stomach, solidifying with every ominous word.
“I had to get out of there,” Dassar whispered, nodding. “When I contacted the Harpers, I was expecting to remain – to sneak in an agent as a passing cleric from another temple, give them an opening to investigate. But you'll have to go without me.” He exhaled a rattling breath. “You have to destroy the orb.”
Xenk swallowed, stomach tight. He stepped forward. “My companion and I will do everything within our power.”
Dassar wrinkled his nose, prying himself from the barrel. Gait wobbling slightly, he shuffled over to a crate and delved inside. “A companion? If you take my old robe too, you may both go. I fear you will need all the help you can get.” Clutching two plain grey robes in his arms, Dassar straightened up as he crossed back to Xenk, expression solemn. “Wear the hoods up, they all do now. The password is meadowherb.” As Xenk accepted the folded robes, Dassar dug into his pocket. “Here's a map. Don't take it in with you. If Morellion suspects at all...”
Xenk studied the ink scrawled upon the paper. It was not elegant, but conveyed the information still. “I will remember it.” He'd always found it easy to recall what he saw, more than the average person.
Dassar sighed, a sound of hesitant hope. “May Ilmater bless you, paladin. I trust that you will save my brothers.”
“If I can, I will,” promised Xenk, clutching the grey robes tight. “Whatever the purpose of this orb.”
*
Half worry, half resolve, a weight had settled in Xenk's stomach by the time he returned to the inn, far earlier than scheduled. The racket from earlier had already bubbled to its maximum intensity, the tavern filled with laughter and joyful screeching, a crowd dancing to several songs played on competing fiddles.
A frown twitching in his forehead, the storm of noise almost overwhelming his ears, Xenk headed straight for the stairs – but two of the celebrants bumped into him, spinning through their polka.
“Sorry!” chuckled the woman, eyes bright, her sleeves tied with yellow ribbons – the symbol in these parts for family wishing luck to a newly wedded couple.
Xenk muttered some vague politeness and hurried past her, seeking the safety of his room. On the quieter landing, he loosed a strained sigh, bracing himself against the wall for a moment. He was glad for the happiness of others, but the noise was intense for his sensitive ears. Even now the jaunty tune jangled in his skull, the laughter and rhythmic thumps of the dance pounding in the floorboards, and somewhere he even caught the whisper of blissful gasps – perhaps the blessed couple consummating their bond –
Clenching his jaw, Xenk dug in his pocket for the key, almost scrabbling at the lock before flinging the door open –
His heart squeezed tight, eyes wide. On the bed lay Edgin, breeches pulled down, back arched and cheeks flushed as he clutched at his hard cock. Little gasps tumbled out as he tugged at that thick shaft, pleasure heavy in the air.
Those blue eyes faded from pleasure to horror as they focused upon Xenk.
“Shit,” squeaked Edgin, snatching at the covers beside him, pulling them over his groin. “You said two o'clock!”
“I'm sorry,” choked Xenk, already turning away, already pulling the door closed. “I – I will let you finish.”
If Edgin gave any reply, the solid wood and the roaring cheers from below swallowed it up. Shuddering, Xenk leaned back against the door, shutting his eyes. But the image lingered there, vibrant as before, bright as the blush on Edgin's cheeks. Oh, gods.
Filling his lungs with a long inhale, Xenk staggered back downstairs, weaving his way through the mass to the bar. He hunched into the corner seat, haunted eyes meeting the gaze of the barkeep. Around him the cacophony continued, but it seemed duller, distant now – ears half deaf to it with his eyes still full of that shocking, forbidden sight.
“You look like you could use a drink,” said the barkeep, raising his voice against the noise, smiling as he polished a tankard.
“I have just seen my worst temptation,” croaked Xenk, burying his head in his hands, elbows digging into the sticky bartop.
“Maybe not a drink then,” said the barkeep, half chuckling, “in case you end up giving in.”
Xenk swallowed, a chill squeezing his ribs. Gods, he could not –
And yet the sight of Edgin was seared in his memory, every detail vivid. The yearning in those parted lips, soft gasps spilling out. The flush of need upon those cheeks, raw and deep. The frantic motion of his hand, sweeping over every inch of that hard shaft –
“Do you have some juice?” asked Xenk, feeling a little faint.
“If that's what you want, paladin.”
Xenk made a vague noise of assent, and soon a cup of cool apple juice arrived before him. Hand trembling slightly, he sipped at it, praying the liquid would wash away that forbidden fantasy. But refreshing though it was, the juice did nothing to dilute the memory of Edgin lost in ecstasy.
He finished the juice, then gave Edgin a little longer, tapping the cup on the bartop as his thoughts jumbled inside his head. This was – How were they going to –
The barkeep offered Xenk a second juice, but he shook his head. The wedding party had danced two reels since he stumbled into the tavern. He had no idea how long it took Edgin to pleasure himself – if he had even attempted it, after that interruption – but that was surely long enough.
For a moment, Xenk considered asking for a shot of brandy after all, but he tossed a few coppers on the bar and steeled himself as he made his way back upstairs.
*
He knocked this time, opening the door only halfway, enough that the wood still shielded the bed.
“You can come in,” called Edgin, clear but unsteady. “I'm... dressed.”
Xenk pushed the door open and sidled in. He met Edgin's eyes for a moment – Edgin's cock, hard and flushed – then averted his gaze to be very interested in the lantern on the table.
Edgin cleared his throat. “I'm sorry about that. I wasn't expecting you back yet.”
Xenk rested a hand on those grey robes, still folded and tucked into his belt. “It took less time than I expected. Dassar was... more forthcoming. It seems matters have become urgent.”
“Yeah?” The covers rustled and mattress creaked as Edgin sat up. “We're gonna go kick cultist ass then?” Edgin chuckled, but it was hollow.
Xenk braced himself and attempted a look over at Edgin. “It seems that way. If you are willing.”
“Yeah, of course,” said Edgin, sincere and soft. That wasn't alarming in itself – Edgin could be earnest on occasion, when he wasn't playing the bard – but there was a slight hesitance to the tone, a slight downturn in his brows.
“You do not need to be ashamed,” Xenk insisted, shifting a little. “It is a natural urge. To... tend to it is normal.”
Edgin's mouth curved into a grin, a fraction fragile, but mostly genuine. “But maybe not when sharing a room.”
“Not with a paladin,” Xenk said, urging his mouth to a playful smile.
Edgin cackled, and the tension in the air cracked a little. “At least you're required to forgive me.”
“You may be assured, my moral lectures will remain on other failings,” said Xenk, trying to maintain the tease, to keep things easy. Yes, he would forgive that – if he'd thought it needed forgiving at all.
Forgetting was another matter.
Edgin chuckled, grin still curving his lips, and Xenk tried not to think about that sweet mouth parted in bliss. “If we've got a quest, I'm sure you'll have plenty of time for those. So, what was up? What's Dasser's deal?”
Slipping the grey robes free, Xenk stepped closer, clinging to a professional tone. “The Father of his temple has acquired an orb. I fear it may be draining the monks of their lifeforce.” For a moment, the flickers of Edgin's naked groin ceded to a flash of Dasser's face, drawn and grim. “Whether the Revered Father is innocent or purposeful, I do not know, but Dasser has given us the tools to move among them, seek out the orb, and destroy it. Or at least remove it from Morellion's grip.”
“Hence the robes,” said Edgin, gesturing at them.
“Indeed,” said Xenk, carefully setting them on the chair, and plucked the paper from his belt too. “And a map of the temple and its environs.”
Edgin held out a hand, then squinted at the diagram. “Huh. That's, what, about a day's ride away?” he ventured, calm and practical, the earlier discomfort now nothing but a whisper.
“About that,” agreed Xenk, loitering there, glad their friendship was mended – even if his own mind still roiled with the gasps and blushes of the man it took such willpower to resist.
“So we could be there tomorrow evening,” Edgin said, eyes earnest and brows raised, as he handed the map back, “if we get up early.”
“Then we should sleep now,” said Xenk, folding the paper again, “if we can.”
Edgin snorted, leaning back on the bed. “As if you ever have trouble with that.”
Xenk swallowed, fingers hesitating on the buckle of his chestplate. It was a fond jest, said in earnest – because Edgin did not know, could not guess – no, Edgin had no suspicion that Xenk might struggle tonight, mind still thrumming with every obscene detail of –
Smiling a little softer, Edgin wriggled under the covers, settling himself on the mattress – facing away from Xenk, perhaps a deliberate choice to offer him some privacy.
Heart skittering, Xenk set about unbuckling his armour, carefully laying each piece in a pile, stripping down till he was dressed in nothing but his shirt and breeches, just as Edgin was. The bard was still lying there, calm and casual, the air about him relaxed. Swallowing again, Xenk lifted the covers and slipped into the other side of the bed.
“Night, Xenk,” said Edgin, perfectly friendly.
“Goodnight,” Xenk replied, half a croak, head sinking into the silken pillow as he closed his eyes.
He'd dreaded sharing a bed with Edgin as it was. With that busy wedding, there had been just a single room unclaimed, and with no other option he hadn't protested the matter. But the worry had lingered in him – not because he feared something happening, for he knew Edgin had no interest, and he would never make his own approach – but he feared the burden of his own thoughts, the inescapable awareness of Edgin beside him, of his thrumming proximity, the solid warmth of his body.
But the reality was worse, for now his mind was full not just with the simple nearness of the man, but some raw knowledge of his body – an accidental discovery of his shape, vibrant in his mind, and Xenk could not forget that the cock which he'd seen was still there, right beside him, soft now but still an obscene and intimate fact. The ache which he often felt in Edgin's presence, the ache he always pressed down ruthlessly, bloomed in his chest again.
Shivering through a breath, Xenk squeezed his eyes tighter, and forced his thoughts to march through the list of his holy vows, clinging to their familiarity, their purpose, the soothing rote of his duty.
Despite Edgin's jest, it was a while before Xenk drifted to sleep.
*
To his credit, Edgin needed only two nudges to the shoulder, stretching and sighing from his bed far earlier than his habit. Though the fog of sleep lingered in his blue eyes, Edgin's mouth settled on a warm smile as he retrieved his boots and jacket, and Xenk was grateful for it – grateful as they traipsed down to the littered tavern, as they ploughed through a solid breakfast, as he wrestled down the tendrils of last night's mistake that continually tried to creep into his mind.
Usually Edgin would chat through breakfast, burbling at Xenk whether he replied or not, but the bard was quiet today – though not because that shame had returned, simply because even his eloquent tongue would not rouse for another few hours.
They fetched the grey robes, fetched their horses from next door, leaving most of their belongings in the safety of the inn room. They'd paid for a week in advance and, though Xenk's hand twitched without the promise of his sword in reach, the items that could reveal their true identities were better stored than carried with them.
Departing in the pale sunlight of the early morn, the town gates were still quiet as they settled onto the road. Above them, the open expanse of sky was a weak blue, wispy clouds scudding towards the horizon at the behest of some budding breeze. Its whistle nipped at Xenk's sensitive ears, its slight chill a ghost across his cheeks, abandoning them only to slip among the branches of the orchard to the east – perhaps the origin of Xenk's apple juice, though this year's crop was still only a dusting of pink blossom among the green.
On the west side, a patchwork of fields clustered along the road. Today's bluster was unusual, for the spring so far had mostly been kind, giving Xenk and Edgin fair roads on their way to Pennybridge, Laverton, and then to Haddiwell – and urging the various crops into eager growth, filling the fields with rows of burgeoning life.
By the time the road had curved to the northeast, and the gentle hills divided by hedgerows had ceded to lush forest, Edgin had woken up enough to grin at Xenk and stretch in his saddle.
“Almost makes getting up early worth it, eh?” Edgin said, gesturing at the array of beeches and birches, their verdant crowns dotted with swelling buds.
“I am certainly glad of it,” muttered Xenk, tearing his gaze from that handsome face, for the constant procession of new scenes and wonders made a good distraction from the thoughts that nibbled at his mind.
Or at least some distraction, if not a wholly effective one. The same talent, honed over the decades but mostly inborn, which kept Dassar's map fresh in his mind also clung to the sight of Edgin stretched on that bed – returned to the image, again and again, conjuring up the soft curve of his lips as he panted, the yearning arch of his spine, the frantic grip on that desperate flesh –
“Perhaps we might urge the horses on a little,” Xenk begged.
“Alright, paladin,” Edgin huffed fondly, “we're not gonna save the world before lunch.” But he flicked his reins, his eager stallion increasing its pace, Xenk's dutiful gelding following suit.
They took that lunch in a dappled hollow, letting the horses refresh themselves from the stream that bubbled through the gully. Fully awake now, Edgin chuckled and chatted away – rambling to Xenk about the taste of fish, the best fabric for jerkins, and the new song he might write – before lobbing his spent apple over his shoulder and fetching a fresh one for his stallion. Never a great conversationalist, Xenk contributed what he could, even as his eyes drifted over Edgin's face and saw the ghost of other expressions there.
Stomachs filled and horses rejuvenated, they returned to the road, and to the passing theatre of the changing landscape. They crossed a rushing river in the mid afternoon, hooves clopping on the stone bridge, and skirted Nimfield as the sun began to ebb – their clue that the temple was approaching.
Xenk gripped his reins tighter, forcing his wandering thoughts down into his gut, grasping instead for the determination this task required.
*
“Do not worry,” Xenk said, stroking his mount's nose with soothing motion, “we will complete our quest quickly.” He could have wrapped his words in magic, made sure their horses truly understood, but he did not want to use up a spell when, in truth, he did not quite know what awaited them.
Edgin chuckled at him, giving his own horse a less eloquent pat, and then they shuffled those plain grey robes over their heads – inspecting and approving each other before they slipped from the moonlit clearing, leaving their mounts to enjoy some hours or days of wild and fresh grass.
Tugging the hood over his forehead, Xenk led the way, his darkvision steering them more easily to their destination – though even Edgin could hardly miss the stone wall looming in the night, the worn blocks limned by gentle silver.
Xenk jangled the bell by the gate – this was not a stealth mission – but it was several minutes before a hatch thunked open in the heavy wood.
“Meadowherb,” Xenk declared, with every ounce of paladin authority.
The hatch swished closed and the door swung open. “Welcome, brothers,” said a figure, slightly shorter than him, also wreathed in grey robe and hood. “Evening worship is just about to begin.”
Xenk glanced at Edgin – his handsome face shrouded in the shadow of the grey fabric, even from Xenk's keen eyes – and followed the figure inside.
A short dirt path led them to the main door, equally sturdy but less forbidding, and then a straight corridor took them deeper – their boots thumping on the cold flagstones, echoing air barely warmed by the flickering candles. Xenk remembered the layout from Dassar's map, and almost turned left before their guide signalled – but the man was not looking back.
Did not look back at all, in fact, even as they slipped into a chapel, already lined with more grey hooded figures, standing solemnly before the arrayed benches. There were a number of gaps. Xenk strode in and claimed one, Edgin beside him, and wondered if there were more gaps than there used to be. But the atmosphere was reverent, almost cosy, a greater number of candles here casting their warm glow upon the stone walls.
At the front, behind a plain altar – empty, draped only in a grey cloth – stood the one figure with his hood down. Alert green eyes peered from beneath thick brows, a bushy beard puffing from his chin, rounded ears peeking from his neat hair. That must be Morellion.
Xenk resisted the urge to adjust his hood, glad of its concealment. A dab of powder or a spell from Simon could hide his mark, but they had neither – and that tattoo would reveal them to be more than unknown clerics.
“Welcome, brothers,” said Morellion, raising his arms in greeting. “I give thanks again to Ilmater that we are here to share this hour, that in this hour we have suffering to share.”
“Thanks be to Ilmater,” murmured the assembly, low and earnest. Xenk glanced across the rows ahead of him. So far, he saw nothing to alarm him, only the ritual of well-worn ceremony.
Slow and solemn, Morellion reached behind his back – and produced an orb, a dark crystal polished to a sphere, crackles of light dancing in its depths.
Maybe it was Dassar's warning still ringing in his ears, but the sight set a prickle on the back of Xenk's neck.
“Let us again surrender our burdens to the Orb of Sweet Denial,” continued Morellion, voice strong and clear in the vaulted chapel, “for we are blessed by its power, and in turn our blessing shall give succour to those we serve.”
If Morellion harboured cruel designs, he was a good actor. Perhaps there was something a little ominous in the words, but Ilmater was the god of suffering – not the one who bestowed it, but the one who eased it. And as a paladin, willingly bound by the strictest vows, Xenk knew that laymen often assumed restraint and repression to be the same thing.
“Feel the orb's balm upon you, brothers,” urged Morellion, lifting the sphere up high, jagged light jolting inside it. “Surrender your burdens.”
Xenk almost flinched as something tugged at his soul. He wasn't sure if resisting would alert Morellion, but after seeing Dassar's sunken and hollow face he could not allow the magic to grip him. His sensitive hearing caught Edgin's sharp inhale beside him, keen eyes noted the slight tensing of his limbs as Edgin resisted the orb's pull too – but Morellion did not look their way, simply continued with his ritual.
“Yes, my brothers,” said Morellion, hushed and awed. “Lay all that you have denied yourselves upon Ilmater's altar. Let your restraint become an offering, a bounty that others may taste in your stead.”
A faint disapproval curled in Edgin's throat, so quiet only Xenk could hear. His chest tightened slightly. Edgin had never understood that sacrifice was part of duty.
The orb fizzed and sizzled, lightning twitching within, till it flared blared and then calmed.
“Thank you, brothers,” murmured Morellion, lowering the polished sphere. “And thanks be to Ilmater, for the gift of this orb.”
“Thanks be to Ilmater,” muttered the crowd, perhaps slightly more strained than before.
Xenk swallowed, wondering where this orb had come from – wondering what Morellion's intentions were. Even were they innocent, clearly harm was occurring here.
Shoes shuffled on the smooth stone as the congregation turned and began to filter out. Edgin sticking close beside him, Xenk slipped into their ranks, just one more plain robe among many. Nobody questioned them, nor even spoke, a silent procession snaking out of the chapel and along the corridor, deeper into the cloister.
The monk ahead of him stumbled – Xenk's quick hands steadying him, shoring up his weight as the man almost tumbled to the flagstones – and the movement dislodged the stranger's hood. “Thank you, brother,” the monk muttered, voice hoarse, dark eyes sunk deep, brown skin stretched over the jutting cheekbones.
Shock jolted through Xenk's chest as the man tugged his hood back up again, gait uneven as they continued forward.
The group marched through a small door to a long, low room, dotted with lanterns that cast a soft glow across the rows of plain cot beds, each with a thin blanket. The figures in front of them each strode towards one of those beds, Xenk and Edgin lingering in the aisle, till one hooded form muttered, “Take any empty bed, brothers,” as he passed.
Edgin gazed at Xenk, raised brows just barely visible under the close wrap of that hood, and even then only with Xenk's darkvision.
Xenk gave the slightest shrug and selected one of the cots. Now they were here, they had to blend in, so they might as well sleep. With this many monks together, there'd be no way to sneak out and snatch the orb – but perhaps morning would provide an opportunity.
Still swathed in his grey robe, as all the others were, Xenk wriggled under the blanket, pulling it tight around him. Between the spring's swelling warmth and the heat of so many men lodging together, he wasn't cold, even under that thin fabric. He suspected winter might be a greater trial. But these beds looked somewhat makeshift – perhaps only installed in the weeks since Morellion proclaimed his orb.
The Revered Father was nowhere to be seen. Whether he had his own private room or had simply stayed to hide – or caress – his treasured orb, he hadn't followed the crowd. Xenk frowned slightly, hoping the man didn't keep that sphere with him at all hours.
Settling into the next bed beside him, Edgin flashed Xenk a smile, secretive and reassuring. Xenk smiled in return. He would rather acquire the orb without a fight, and his enchanted blade was back at the inn, but if it came to it he could win out with his fists alone. Something Ilmater might approve of.
As Edgin closed his eyes, snuggling into the cot, Xenk did the same. A hush had fallen over the dormitory, rustling with the soft rush of sighs and aching groans. Gods, if every monk here looked like that man - like Dassar –
Xenk swallowed. He could do nothing till morning, and when morning came he must be rested. He curled further into the thin blanket, seeking the calm inside himself. But in the darkness, his mind drifted to the previous night – to sharing a bed with Edgin, to his preoccupation then –
No, no, he must sleep. He must. He must...
*
The bustle of the monks woke him. Stretching, sitting upright, Xenk savoured the vigour in his bones – vigour he did not see reflected in the shuffle of the men around him, still studiously robed and hooded.
One figure shared out some stale bread, pressing a dry husk into Xenk's hands. He chewed it solemnly, wondering how much of this routine was new. Edgin grimaced as he ate his, and Xenk offered a look of gentle reassurance. If they were lucky, they would not need to remain here long.
Wordlessly, one by one the monks slipped out of the dorm, leaving the strangers to their own devices. Perhaps, assumed to be fellow Ilmatari, they were also assumed to have their own established duties. Well, they did, but the monks weren't to know the truth of their quest – at least, not yet.
Xenk gestured to Edgin, the bard studying him as Xenk led the way into the design of corridors. Dassar's map was still clear in his head, and though there had been no helpful label saying evil orb stored here Xenk had a few ideas of where to search. But he'd start in the last place they'd seen it – in the chapel. Maybe Morellion kept it there, ready for his ceremonies.
The corridors were empty, leaving Xenk's quick senses little to focus on. As Edgin strode along beside him, his thoughts slipped again to that image – to Edgin obscenely exposed, innocently open, the most intimate part of him displayed in all its –
Oh, gods. An ache burned in Xenk and he swallowed hard, hoping his own cock would not rise in sympathy, or at least that the loose grey robes would cover any evidence. He did not wish Edgin to see – not out of shame, for he attached none to such things, even if he did not partake in the fleeting pleasures of the flesh – but because it may suggest intentions he did not have. Or intentions he did not wish to act upon, at least, for he could not deny the attraction there.
Xenk increased his pace, sharp ears straining for the echo of footsteps, quickly glancing around before he dipped into the chapel, Edgin slipping in after him.
“Where d'you think he keeps it?” muttered Edgin, calm and practical, quietly shutting the door behind them.
“I will check the altar,” murmured Xenk, striding down the aisle.
The plain altar was still empty. A frown twitching in his forehead, Xenk flicked up the grey cloth draped over it, hoping – but no, underneath was a simple table, four sturdy legs surrounding a blank rectangle of stone floor, and nothing more. He released the fabric, frown deepening, as he glanced around the chapel. “Spread out. We must check everywhere.”
Edgin nodded, handsome face entirely focused, all his bardic mischief replaced by that old Harper spirit. He made for the last row of benches, running his hands underneath, as Xenk did the same to the front one. There was not much everywhere to check – the chapel humble, as most temples to Ilmater were, containing not much more than that altar, those benches, the melted clusters of candles in their sconces.
Xenk and Edgin met in the middle row, still empty handed.
“It's gotta be somewhere else,” sighed Edgin, half a huff. “Where next?”
“The door in the west transept leads to a small room which may –” Xenk halted, some nearby footfall reaching his ears. “Someone is coming. Quick, we must conceal ourselves.” Though the chapel was open, he doubted their presence would pass unremarked, and remarks began they might lead to uncomfortable places.
“Where?!” grunted Edgin, blue eyes sharp beneath his hood as he gestured around. The low benches would do nothing to hide a man.
The footsteps thumped closer, purpose in every echo.
Xenk groaned, staring around. “Here,” he said, grabbing Edgin, bundling him along – pulling him close as a hand rattled on the doorknob, rolling them both into that gap under the altar – tugging the fabric smooth as those shoes stepped into the chapel.
Ears straining, eyes staring at the grey cloth, muscles tensing in the small space illuminated by the soft daylight filtering through the fabric, Xenk held his breath as he prayed against discovery – slow regret seeping into him as he realised, in his haste, what he had done.
He and Edgin were hidden under the altar, yes. Fully concealed, yes. But the space was barely big enough for one man to lie upon the floor – and, in tugging Edgin after him, Xenk had pulled the bard on top of him. Oh, gods. As if the man's body had not been trial enough these last days. Those blue eyes stared into his, only inches away, a sheepish grin upon that tempting mouth. And Edgin's chest was pressed to his, legs tangled up together, hands making some vague attempt to brace himself.
Xenk was very glad then that his cock had done little more than twitch at those forbidden reminiscences, at those memories of Edgin –
No, no, he must not think of that. Not with the man lying on him – not with those footsteps proceeding up the aisle, towards the altar that concealed them – for if their presence had been questionable before, it was inexplicable now, and they must not be discovered –
Xenk's heart sank as the chapel door opened again, and more shoes shuffled in.
“Good morning, brothers,” said Morellion's voice. He was the figure near the altar. Oh, gods. “Yes, take your places. Thank you, thank you. You did well last night. So much suffering for the orb.”
Edgin raised his eyebrows, head turning a fraction, as the rustling in the chapel peaked and settled.
Xenk squeezed Edgin's biceps in warning. Surely the chapel now was lined with monks again. This must be morning worship. They had to hope their presence would not be missed – nor discovered.
“Close your eyes now and let your thoughts turn to Ilmater,” Morellion continued, grand and urging. “Let yourself rest in his presence as we savour our personal worship.”
Xenk swallowed in the silence that followed. The flagstones were hard against his back. But he could not move, could not readjust, had to bear the awkward pose he'd thrust them into in the mere moments they'd had to hide –
Above him, Edgin's mouth twitched. The bard tensed his arms, a tremble flickering through him. Xenk raised his own brows, in warning, in alarm, but –
Edgin slipped slightly, his body nudging Xenk – his torso pressing on Xenk's cock, by the gods – a faint rustle of fabric as they brushed together, and Xenk had to hope that his ears alone were sensitive enough –
Sorry, Edgin mouthed, blue eyes flaring wide.
But oh, Xenk's ears were not the only sensitive part of him. He swallowed as his nerves flared with sensation, veins rushing with awakening need. Shit. Oh, shit. Edgin's weight was pressing on his cock – resting there, not crushing, but enough to stir a flicker of pleasure. Enough to stir the blood, to send it pulsing to that flesh.
He tried to think of something, of anything. But the chapel was quiet. All he had was yesterday's memories – that raw image of Edgin, half stripped, his hard cock gripped within his fist –
No, no, fuck, no. Xenk forced down those thoughts, forced down a whimper. But it was too late. Spurred by that obscene memory, by that pressure on his flesh, his own cock began to swell – hardening, thickening, nudging up at Edgin –
To his credit, the sheepish grin that wavered across Edgin's lips was entirely free of blame, of shame, of horror. But there was a certain... surprise there.
Xenk pursed his lips in a silent apology. Oh, gods, please let this service be a short one. The damage was done, but the trial need not be prolonged – though his cock was throbbing against Edgin's touch, begging for the man's body, begging for greater pressure –
“Thank you, brothers,” said Morellion, and Xenk almost whimpered in relief. “Ilmater favours your sacrifice, as he favours all who suffer.”
Xenk clung to Edgin's biceps, hoping Ilmater would bless his current suffering. Gods, if Edgin guessed that he – but perhaps he would not, for it was believable that his response was merely biological, merely an empty reply to physical touch –
“Go in peace as you go to your duties,” declared Morellion.
Edgin's blue eyes gazed down at him, wide but kind, and a little hope flared in Xenk. He may still escape this, may still –
“And remember,” said Morellion, as the shuffling of feet resumed, “be careful in your habits, in your consumption. The more you restrain yourselves, the more you are blessed, the more your dutiful suffering will sustain others.”
Xenk's heartbeat pounded in his chest, pulse still feeding blood to his cock. Fuck, he could never give in to it – never would give in to it, for he had his own duty – but he ached with the warmth and pressure of Edgin's body against him, against the most sensitive, most intimate part of him.
The choir of footsteps faded, even those last ones – even Morellion's – the chapel door clicking shut behind them –
With a groan, Xenk shoved the pair of them out from beneath the altar.
Edgin offered a soft grin as they dusted themselves down, eyes gentle and voice warm as he asked, “You alright?”
Xenk cleared his throat. His cock still strained at his groin, and he glanced down in fear that his robes would betray it. Oh, gods. Yes, the fabric was tented there. But it wasn't as if Edgin did not already know – “I am better now. We should, ah, resume the search.”
“Yeah,” Edgin murmured, wide eyes surveying him.
Xenk swallowed, turning towards that other door, Edgin trotting after him.
“You know,” Edgin said, almost conversational, “I'm half surprised to know you can. I always thought you just... didn't.”
Xenk did not dare to look at him, his eyes still too readily remembering that sight at the inn –
“I am capable,” Xenk muttered, stomach tightening. “That doesn't mean I do.”
Edgin sighed. “Well, I guessed not. It's a paladin thing, right? Not because of your... curse?”
There was something so earnest about the question that Xenk found himself answering. “Yes, a paladin thing. I have a duty, and I cannot be distracted from it.”
Edgin snorted as they paused by the transept door. “You really can't.”
Xenk shivered; Edgin did not know that he – he could not give in, but oh, he could certainly be distracted.
“Vow of chastity, eh?” continued Edgin, half grinning again as he rifled under his robes, pulling out his lockpicks. In the scramble from the altar, his hood had fallen to his shoulders. “Explains a lot.”
Xenk frowned, a quiver rolling across his chest. “That does not explain anything.”
“No?” Edgin said, dropping to his knees – oh, gods – and setting to work on the lock. “Because I've literally never seen you flirt with anyone. Barely even seem to notice when people flirt with you.”
“I have not made that specific vow,” Xenk said, throat tight. “But in the service of my other vows, I must exercise restraint.”
“Restraint,” repeated Edgin, the word sharp as his disapproval of Morellion.
“It is different,” insisted Xenk, wishing his cock wasn't aching quite so hard. “I do not suffer for holding myself back.”
“Oh, so you really aren't interested,” Edgin replied idly, prodding his picks into the hole. “See, that does explain why you've never responded to my flir–”
Xenk's heart squeezed in his chest. Was Edgin saying –
But Edgin cleared his throat, and the door popped open. “Come on, then,” he muttered, clambering to his feet.
Xenk followed him inside, cock still straining against his robes.
The small room beyond was plain too, but it was lined with a number of cupboards. In wordless agreement – either to ignore the tension in the air, or simply in favour of their quest – both men set about rifling through them, each taking one side and progressing around it, cupboard doors clunking, until –
“Here,” croaked Xenk, eyes falling on that orb. Alone, lying on a shelf, it did not seem quite so ominous. But that strange energy still crackled within it.
Slow and careful, he reached out and picked it up. As it touched his skin, the magic touched him too, and his vision swayed – and he felt a whisper in his soul, not like the tug of before – not a pleading, not a request – but a greeting, almost. An offering. An explanation, skittering across his thoughts.
Sweet Denial, yes. That was its name. That concept of restraint, so familiar to him. How many years – how many decades – had he denied himself? How much had he refused in the name of his duty? Perhaps it was not quite the way Morellion had phrased it, but this was it, this was the concept – here, compressed in magic, was sacred self-denial. This was the blessing of restraint, the elevation of duty, and all the glory and goodness in such a choice. Oh, it was –
Xenk almost sighed.
“Xenk?” murmured Edgin, voice soft behind him.
This was – this was all his –
And yet, Morellion's words – perhaps – oh, gods, the way it whispered to him. Perhaps Morellion was not wrong. This orb was suffering incarnate. Blessed suffering. Restraint pushed to the edge, pushed beyond, restraint that hungered. Not a denial, after all, not a simple refusal. Not a denial, but a devouring. A destruction in rejecting one's own needs – food, sleep, pleasure – oh, gods, he ached with it – his cock ached – and a chasm in him yawned as horror bloomed in him. His duty served others, yes, and he could not regret that – would not regret that – but in that duty he had forgotten to serve himself – refused to serve himself – and for what? For what? For a sense that he served better for it? And yet – and yet, just as Dassar had shrivelled, perhaps –
Perhaps he also –
Xenk groaned, straightened, and threw the orb into the floor.
The crystal smashed, pieces skittering across the stone. An eerie moan echoed in the room. That flickering light swelled – hovered – split into beams, which rushed outwards – through the walls and away – perhaps away to the monks it had drained, he hoped –
“Xenk?” Edgin said again, more gently, resting a hand on his shoulder.
“Edgin,” croaked Xenk, stomach roiling, cock still aching at his groin, body and thoughts thrumming with the memory of the man. “We should go. Morellion may –”
“Yeah,” whispered Edgin, and that hand steered him out – into the chapel, into the corridor – their pace speeding from a walk to a hurry to a run – Xenk's heartbeat pounding in his ears, for they did not know what other magic Morellion might possess –
Heartbeat pounding with the ghost of that orb, of the realisation in him. Oh, gods. He had never sworn a vow of chastity. Why had he clung to such restraint? Why had he denied – now, now, at last he saw, his duty had never needed –
Xenk almost whimpered as he followed Edgin out of the temple.
*
They reunited with their horses, placidly munching on dewy grass, and scrambled out of those grey robes, shoving them back into the saddlebags. After the slight chill of yesterday, that breeze had faltered, and spring was rich across the landscape. The journey seemed faster too, though perhaps spurred by the urgency in Xenk's veins.
He kept glancing at Edgin, his chest tight, mind swirling with questions, thoughts on a precipice. Edgin had said – or nearly said – that he'd been flirting with him. Xenk had never paid attention, either lost in his own conversational struggles, or perhaps some sense of self-preservation. Because for all his willpower, for all his restraint – oh, gods – it was easier not to know that Edgin might – that Edgin also wanted –
But it would not have mattered, would it? Xenk clutched his reins tight, allowing himself – for a moment – to remember Edgin upon that bed. He had seen the man he desired, the man he – fuck, yes, he would admit it, it was more than some carnal interest, for it was not just his body that ached for Edgin but his heart also – he had seen the man he loved, face flushed in the depths of pleasure, and he had not marched in to claim him but turned around and walked away.
Yes, the discovery had been an accident, a mistake, but he had controlled himself. Denied his desire. Restrained himself. And thought himself dutiful for it.
Only now, now he – he was beginning to wonder if –
Edgin kept meeting his glances with a half smile, kind but curious. Or worried, perhaps – Xenk had never been much better at expressions than at conversation. Yes, worried, he thought. And yet with such a gentle air that Xenk's ache only increased –
And so when they stopped for lunch, urgency thrumming through Xenk's body, Edgin carefully leaned across and asked, “Are you alright?”
“I did not realise you were flirting with me,” Xenk said, too quick and too raw.
“Okay,” Edgin said slowly, those blue eyes lingering on him.
“Edgin, I have begun to realise,” Xenk croaked, rolling his uneaten chunk of bread against his palm, “that I may have been a fool. A great fool. For many years.”
“Well, I could've told you that,” teased Edgin, eyes bright and warm and so – and there was a truth to it also, for how many times had Edgin urged him – and how many times had Xenk refused, even a beer, a lie in, a dance to the tavern's bard –
How many times had Xenk restrained himself –
“It wasn't duty,” choked Xenk, his jumbled thoughts slipping out.
“Uh. It wasn't?” Edgin asked, confusion flickering across that handsome face –
That flush upon his cheeks, earnest and raw, a stolen discovery –
“I thought it was duty,” Xenk said, words spilling from his tongue. “And perhaps it was – I like to imagine I have helped a great number of people in my years – but you – oh, Edgin. Was it duty to refuse you? To deny myself those hours? What else were they in service of, in the dark of the night? Who was I serving then?”
Edgin tilted his head, suspicion creeping into those blue, blue eyes. “Who were you serving?”
Xenk choked on his breath and clutched at his own face. “Nobody. Edgin, I – Oh, gods –”
“Are you alright?” Edgin murmured again, softer, kinder, fonder. “You seem pretty agitated.”
A laugh burst from Xenk's mouth. Of course he was. After a century of never – After a day of reliving that memory – After the minutes pressed under that altar –
But he swallowed, reclaimed a little of his old restraint, because it served a true purpose here – because Edgin deserved a proper –
“Edgin,” he said, slowly, earnestly. “I never swore a vow of chastity. Not because I did not need one. But still, I restrained myself in the name of duty – and now that I understand, I wish you to understand – I...” Xenk paused, swallowed again, trembling before he took the plunge. “I do desire you, Edgin.”
Edgin's eyes widened – smile widened – and a laugh tumbled out, sweet and sincere. “You do? And you want to –”
“I have loved you,” Xenk continued, voice and body quivering, “for a very long time now, and I wish –”
Edgin stopped his words with a kiss, urgent lips pressing to his, then broke away to laugh again. “Fuck, Xenk, I thought my feelings were wasted.” There was such a fondness in his eyes now, such tenderness as he wrapped his arms close –
Xenk groaned and Edgin captured his mouth again, arching in, urging close –
Gasping, Edgin yanked back. “So you've never...”
“No,” whispered Xenk, resting his hand on Edgin's, savouring the warmth of it.
Edgin snorted, catching his hand. “Well, I'm not taking your virginity here. Not on some dusty hillside. Come on.”
*
If Xenk thought the return journey had seemed fast before, it quickened then. Both of them kept catching each other's eyes, chuckling as their horses plowed ahead. They passed back through the wood, passed the fields, all of them warm and vibrant in the spring sun now – passed the orchard, entered the town –
They returned their horses to the stables, raced through the tavern, up the stairs, laughing together as they burst into the room. A hope, a happiness, an anticipation fizzed in Xenk's veins – the tingle sweeping down through him as Edgin reclaimed his mouth, deepening the kiss, wrapping him in his embrace.
And Xenk did not push away, did not deny himself, but grasped for the sensation – for the first time, welcomed it –
His cock was already aching by the time Edgin pried himself from the kiss, a grin upon those sweet lips. “You want to do this, then? Really want to do this?”
“I have had a long time to consider it,” murmured Xenk, heartbeat skittering. A long time. A long ride. A long century. “I desire this. I desire you. And I no longer see any reason not to – I no longer believe my duty means –”
Edgin chuckled, stealing another brief kiss. “I love you,” he muttered, eyes bright and earnest, as he reached to peel Xenk's shirt from him.
Xenk groaned and gave himself over to it, need flaring inside him. By the gods, how he had longed – after he had seen Edgin upon this very bed, how he had imagined – imagined wrapping his fingers around that cock, a little longer and thicker than his own, imagined the weight and heat of it against his palm as he –
But that was a fantasy, and this was real. “Edgin,” he moaned, pressing close, breeches still on – the fabric tented now, straining with his desire.
Laughter fond upon his lips, Edgin urged him back towards the bed, such mischief in his eyes, such obscene encouragement. The moment vibrated in Xenk's veins, desire barrelling through him, his cock already so hard – Gods, he wanted, he needed – he would have –
Edgin tumbled onto the mattress, pulling Xenk with him, chuckling. Xenk followed the movement, all his muscles tense, so alive with the moment now that it was finally here – need already white-hot in his veins –
Fuck, he ached for the man –
And as Xenk leaned over him, panting – as Edgin guided him there, those steady hands a sweet pressure against his chest – as the moment swelled with anticipation, with the promise of pleasure – as his own pleasure swelled in him, his straining cock pressing against the fabric with all the will to escape –
That pleasure snapped tight inside him, lancing out, and Xenk moaned as he came, cock untouched, bliss barrelling through him, taking him by surprise.
Edgin's eyes widened – one hand pressing over Xenk's thumping heart, one curling around the nape of his neck – guiding him through the intimate moment of pleasure. It roared through Xenk, stronger than he'd ever known, soul singing with the sweetness of it –
Gasping, Xenk sagged slightly, body spent as his peak ebbed.
“Fuck,” Edgin whispered, blue eyes intense. “That's so hot.”
Xenk had to chuckle, even as the damp sensation in his underwear became apparent. His untouched cock had spilled its seed into the fabric. Now that his need had thundered out of him, he felt a little boneless – a little warm and sweaty and sticky.
Edgin grinned up at him, tender and earnest, those steady hands urging him down for a kiss. Oh, his mouth was a pleasure all of its own, sliding across Xenk's lips, just the right level of firm, as tender as he'd always dreamed.
Xenk sighed into it, some strange glow spreading through him. He allowed Edgin to steer him down beside him, settling there, arching into that touch. After collecting his breath, savouring the sweep of Edgin's hands across his bare chest, the sweet brush of his lips, Xenk murmured, “May I touch you?”
Chuckling again, Edgin's grin widened, and he urged Xenk's hands towards his groin – towards the buttons of his breeches, prying them open, prying the fabric away – revealing the sight that had greeted Xenk that other night – only now it was not stolen, not some accident, but pure and chosen – an earnest exchange of feelings.
A groan rolled in Xenk's throat, raw with yearning. He hesitated, just a moment – but Edgin's blue eyes were wide and tender – and so he closed his fingers around that shaft –
Oh. Oh, it was so good he could have cried. After a century, after so long – Edgin's cock was thick and heavy against his palm, that hard flesh greeting him eagerly – and Xenk moaned deeply, his own pleasure spent but body still thrumming with this intimate touch.
“Go on,” murmured Edgin, breath raspy with need. “If you want to.”
Xenk groaned, louder, longer, and swept his hand up that shaft – oh, the warmth of it, the delicious weight of it – his fingers curled around that wonderful girth as he stroked down it again, the skin silky beneath his exploring touch –
Edgin sighed through a shiver, that blush pooling in his cheeks. Oh, gods, to see that – to have summoned it –
But Xenk wanted more, wanted everything now. Now that he had decided, had committed – had chosen Edgin –
Swallowing, trembling with the moment, Xenk settled into a rhythm, sliding his hand up and down Edgin's shaft – tugging at it, in some echo of what he'd seen – in that same place upon the same bed – and yet everything was different now, his heart no longer aching with need denied, but thrumming with that sweet connection – a new ache, a sweet yearning, warm with reciprocation –
Edgin gasped, air catching in his throat, blue eyes widen as Xenk worked him. His back arched, that beautiful sign, and Xenk could not help a grin as he rubbed at that shaft, as he claimed it, blessed it, savoured it – as his fingers learned the shape and heat and hardness of it – as Edgin learned the intimate brush of his touch, lavishing attention on that sensitive skin –
“Xenk,” Edgin whined, faint yet fierce with affection, and Xenk leaned in to kiss his cheek –
Leaned closer to pull on his shaft, to swipe over that blunt head, to tease each inch of that private flesh – to delight in the wavers he drew from Edgin's throat, to chuckle at the way he arched –
That pleasure was so raw, so intense upon his face, every handsome line and plane curving with the weight of it. Xenk revelled in it, revelled in the sharing of this, and his heart felt no regret. For there was nothing in this that his duty prevented, and nothing in this that prevented his duty. Only sweet bliss, a tender joining.
Edgin's mouth parted for a deeper gasp, and Xenk squeezed his cock, tugging on that hard shaft, aching to see Edgin's bliss –
With a cry, Edgin came, cock pulsing as his hand clutched Xenk's arm, as Xenk clutched that thick cock. There was a beauty to the sight, a purity, and Xenk's heart quivered.
In the afterglow, Xenk released him, smiling, and a slow grin spread across Edgin's face.
“Mmm,” Edgin rumbled, satisfaction rippling across his gorgeous face. “Amazing. Can't wait until I can return the favour.”
Xenk swallowed, then smiled wider, fondness thrumming in him. “You can. We have all the time in the world now.”