Rion pressed his eye to the slammed door – Phillip was but an insignificant blot – and he turned, eyes flaring with excitement, and his heart pounded.
“I thought he would never leave us be!” he cried.
In two strides, Rion had crossed the floor and pulled Yakinos into a kiss. The man squirmed to begin with, before he had unbuttoned the constraining three shirt-buttons at his neck and fastened his hands around Rion’s shoulders. With a leg still angled across his desk, Yakinos must have been in a little pain. No more than the usual anyway. His frosted breath was sweet with berries. A good choice.
With his free hand, and only after of the previous practice, Rion swept the desk of its dozen papers and various microcosms. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a glass smashed. They may have both had an education in Warfare, but right now that landed as the last thing on Rion’s mind. Battle-plans could go to hell.
Between the patterns of Yakinos’ lips lapping over his in wet waves, Rion said, “I am guessing that you did not have to be in the living room ten minutes ago.”
“An hour later than…this, I said.”
“Good.” He arched an eyebrow at the same time as his elbow, though they never saw either movement, for both pairs of eyes tightened on each subsequent impact. When Rion opened his eyes, he fixed them on the other pair – two gems worth more than money.
Rion leant forward and stretched his leg up the other man’s worn jeans as he pushed Yakinos onto the less-cluttered desk. Their bodies curved together in the downward fall; arms groped backs for support where none was even needed. Rion gasped and grinned as a dozen new thoughts came to him in wonderful, luscious bursts of pain.
Only then did his lover’s expression mutate from strength to some fallen glance.
“Rion, no,” Yakinos said at the edge of his breath, “we cannot do this now. Not with you brother –”
“And Phillip bothers me so much?”
Yakinos attempted a shrug, his body heavy under Rion’s. Their chests rose and fell in unison. As they should.
“I only meant… Will he go penetrating further for answers now?”
Rion raised an eyebrow, but it appeared that the suggestion had been purely coincidently. Something inside of him sagged. On the other hand, something on the outside of him further pounded.
Rion cursed his lover’s insidious charm. Yakinos didn’t know exactly how lucky he was.
He threw his arms above Rion’s head. His crystal eyes flared. “For Apollo! If you had only listened to me!”
“You blame me for Phillip’s questions. He may be my brother, but in no way is he my responsibility.
“The Archer-Apollo sacristy –”
Rion could not take much of it. In agony with shame and lust, he pinned Yakinos to the desk. “Do be quiet!” Hands caressed jutting shoulder bone and the thin veil of his shirt. White did not suit the beast.
“No,” wind-swept still, Yakinos tore one hand away from Rion’s grip. As he tended his fringe again, a frown flexed over the classed features. “You spited me for a reason. You judged me and challenged me in front of your brother simply to wind me up. Is that not so?” He cleared his throat, voice dissolving to vocal silence once more. “Sometimes I wonder if this is not simply a game to you, to level me off against others, but to leave me begging for your touch.”
Rion felt his adam’s apple bob restrictively. As if he didn’t trust his own voice! He stared into Yakinos’ eyes. A fat lock cut across one eye and Rion scooped it away.
They panted together. “I don’t want excuses.”
Rion could have hit him! “What do you want?” He kept his hands flat on Yakinos’ clavicle. The boy didn’t struggle.
“I want to understand, Orion, why you push for a fight every time. Tell me.”
Rion closed his eyes. Like a vase filling with water, chills ran up his body – and back down, hovering where they caused the most attention. Why did Hicky have to be so distracting, with his childish eyes and toned chest?
The moan floated into his ear, “please.”
Words slipped from Rion’s lips before he stopped their descent. What chance would he have had? “I require that control. I – I promise you I’m not playing a game.”
Yakinos tried to shake his head, but they connected at too many points. Rion had his knee rested up against the desk, finding it the most comfortable position. When once, in fury, they had been half a metre apart, now desire’s hypnotism held a magnet between them both.
Rion flushed. He hated turning pink, but he couldn’t stop himself. The fire uncoiled, alive; and all parts were tingling.
It didn’t matter again. He had forgotten that fighting made him soar in bliss – but that, beyond fighting, the bliss remained. Rion threw himself down onto Yakinos and their lips connected again, two sides pulsing as one creation.
“I love you,” Rion said when he could breathe again.
It was as if someone had set a flame into Hicky’s eyes. He beamed an idiot smirk, but his body told something more. Head back, he slid into position.
“I love you, too.”
Rion closed his eyes again. He surprised himself by not being sick of the same movements, running over and over against themselves. Instead, the strange peace came; when his lips brushed Yakinos’ this time, he took the warmth and changed the position of his hands, ready.
“Rion. Hey, Rion, stop.”
Rion pulled away. He widened his eyes when he noticed both his hands at Yakinos’ collar shaking. “What now?”
“I want to make sure Phillip won’t –”
“Oh, enough with my brother!” Rion cried.
“Okay,” Yakinos murmured. The pain spread clearly across his youthful features now. “As long as I can trust you that we will not leave him suspecting us of treason of the body. I have no time to waste.”
“Well,” Rion traced curl to curl along the boy’s forehead, “not whilst I am in control.”