As the sun fell early that evening and the hall took on the shapes given it by the flames in the firepit, Morien found he was having trouble concentrating on any of the talk around him.
He’d agreed to a…a what? A mentorship? An apprenticeship? Neither sounded right, and Safir certainly would laugh at both.
Still, he’d agreed to have Safir teach him the ways of pleasure. And he hadn’t just agreed—he’d suggested it himself.
The thought gave him a small moment of panic. What had he been thinking? Had he been thinking at all? Could he back out? Pretend he’d never said anything so silly? Perhaps he simply wouldn’t go to the bedchamber tonight, perhaps he’d go to the stable as he’d threatened to do last night…
Threat wasn’t really the word, though, and a quick glance at Safir confirmed something else. That glance was met with the man’s own dark, mischievous gaze, which said he knew precisely what Morien was thinking, and not showing up was not going to get him out of their arrangement.
He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.
Fine. He’d made a rash decision at a moment of relief. He’d been sure Safir was going to announce that he knew Morien was a shifter—knew that he was the magpie who’d been visiting him for months—and when it turned out to be about his virginity, he’d grasped at that as a drowning man might a rope.
Yes, he was a virgin.
Yes, he could use a bit of tutelage.
And yes, Safir would be the perfect tutor.
So why were his hands trembling so much he could scarcely hold his ale cup level?
Courage.
The thought came to him in the voice of his mother, low and raspy. It was the last thing she had said to him before he’d left the place of his birth. He wondered if she would say the same to him now, when his journey ahead was a matter of steps, not continents and oceans. And for something that most adults he’d ever met took part in without thinking.
Of course, most people he’d met weren’t shifters, so his tight grip on his virginity might be excused. If his seed spilled inside another person, they would become a magpie shifter too.
But the fact remained, he’d proposed this thing, and night was deepening, and Gawain was standing and pulling Palahmed to follow him, and soon Morien would have no excuse.
He stood. “I’m tired.”
At first, no one seemed to have heard him, and he felt foolish for saying anything. But then Arthur bade him a good night, and Bedwyr nodded as well, and Safir smiled, damn him, and now he needed to move his feet or look stupid.
He walked. Nearly ran. Nearly bolted like a frightened deer straight out the door and across the pastures into the forest beyond.
But he didn’t. Instead, he made a short detour to the latrine, emptied his nervous bladder in the sort of messy, intermittent sprays of piss even Gally had learned not to execute, and then he made his way to the bedchamber.
It was dark and empty. Relief washed over him until he realized Safir was only waiting so as to not be too obvious. Or something. Discretion didn’t seem high among the man’s priorities. Morien took the opportunity to light the brazier. Then he stripped to the waist and washed at the stand in the corner, shivering at the bumps the cold cloth raised on his skin in the still-cool chamber. Unsure what this first night might entail, he just tried to wipe away the day’s mild dust and sweat. Hanging the cloth neatly on its spindle, he turned for the bed—
—and jumped to see Safir just inside the door. “Oh.”
Safir smiled and pushed off the wooden post. “Believe I’ll do the same. Too bad there’s no one here to heat the water for us, eh?”
With that, he crossed to the washstand, plucked the damp cloth from its place, dunked it into the basin, and began to wash his neck.
Morien crawled swiftly into bed and pulled the blanket to his shoulders. The bedding was cool and made him shiver again. Then Safir peeled his own shirt over his head, snagging Morien’s attention. A moment later, Safir had toed off his boots and stripped off his trousers, and Morien couldn’t drag his eyes away.
One of his guilty secrets: he’d seen Safir naked before. On more than one of his magpie visits, he’d found the man in a state of undress. Safir usually stayed in the brothel, and he didn’t seem overly modest anyway, but this was wholly different. As a magpie, Morien’s sight had a wide focus suited for taking in an entire landscape as he flew. If he wanted to look only at Safir, he had to close one eye.
Not so now. Now he was free to stare with both eyes, and the depth it gave to the picture took his breath away.
Light from the hearth danced over Safir’s skin, throwing his shadow on the wall and defining the lines of his body almost aggressively. Here is his back, it said. Here, his slender arms and legs. Here are his arse cheeks and the dark cleft between them, and here as he turns, are the flat, tight muscles along the side of his belly. And here, still in shadow, his cock.
Morien tore his gaze away, but the tease of a shape was burned on his mind. Not as large as his own—his few ventures into his father’s formal baths and the reactions of the men there had told him he was built somewhat differently from most men in Cymru. On a grander scale, one of them had exclaimed, causing the others to laugh. But the shape of Safir’s cock was there in his mind as he stared now at the beams overhead. Soft yet but probably a handful, if encouraged.
As if the man needed encouragement.
Across the chamber, Safir chuckled, and the sound slipped right under Morien’s skin. He shivered again.
“Cold?”
“No.”
For a moment, the only sounds were of water splashing. Then, “Nervous?”
The question took him off guard. It was very forward. And very accurate. He decided to meet it boldly. “Yes.”
Safir finished washing without saying more. He stirred the fire, causing the flames to jump higher, and then slid into bed. His gaze felt like a second fire on the side of Morien’s face. “Why are you nervous?”
His voice was soft, and when Morien turned to look at him, he seemed genuinely curious. “Because this is new.”
“You must try new things all the time.”
He didn’t, really.
“You help Medraut and Galahad try new things, do you not?”
“Yes.”
“What do you say to them if they hesitate?”
“They don’t hesitate.”
Safir smiled. “No, I suppose not. Lads are fearless. Gwen’s are, anyway. In fact, I suspect they’re that way because of you.”
“Me?”
“Because they know you won’t let them get hurt. No more than necessary.”
Safir’s eyes danced in the light of the fire. Morien couldn’t tell if he was being teased or not.
“I’m going to ask you to do something you may not want to do,” Safir said. “You may hesitate.”
So soon? What had he gotten himself into? He swallowed hard. Courage. “What is it?”
“Trust me. If this is going to work, if you want me to teach you, you need to trust me.”
Trust him. This man, who seemed as fickle and carefree and slippery as they came. Yesterday, this morning, even an hour ago, Morien might have laughed in his face.
And yet…
There was something about the way Safir was looking at him, something in the tone of his voice, that was very different from his usual self. It felt warm. Coaxing. Almost…safe. He wasn’t even touching Morien, though they shared a bed and lay but a couple hands’ breadth apart. He was asking for trust and waiting until Morien granted it.
This wasn’t at all what he’d expected.
But also, he was no longer trembling. Not with nerves.
“I trust you,” he said.
Safir inhaled deeply and smiled. “How difficult was that?”
“Somewhat.”
The man laughed out loud, and it rang off the walls.
But he didn’t seem to be laughing at Morien, not entirely, and Morien felt his own lips curl up too. A breath of a laugh escaped his chest.
“Ah. That sounds good. This is supposed to be fun, you know. Not something to stew over. Not something deadly serious. It’s natural. And hopefully, it will feel good.”
That sounded promising.
“Have you ever touched anyone before? Intimately?”
“No.”
“May I touch you?”
“I told you to.”
“No, you asked me to teach you. But there are many, many variations, and some of them you won’t like. Believe it or not, there are things I don’t like.” At Morien’s dubious look, he chuckled. “Not many, but a few. So, may I?” His graceful fingers hovered at Morien’s shoulder.
“Yes.”
Safir touched him, and the contact sent a ripple across his skin. The man’s fingers were warm, his touch light. Not limiting himself to Morien’s shoulder, he skimmed his fingers down his arm, then back up and across his chest. He realized then that Safir was using the same sort of touch as when he’d stroked Morien’s feathers. Careful. Respectful. His cock stirred.
“How does that feel?”
“Good.”
“Yes?” Safir’s touch broadened until his palm smoothed over Morien’s skin as well. The gentle warmth seemed to soak into his bones, and his body relaxed into the bed. “Good,” Safir said, his voice hushed. He looked up to meet Morien’s eyes. “Would you like to touch me?”
Morien brought a hand from under the blanket and touched Safir’s wrist. The hair there was soft, and on his forearm too. The muscle in Safir’s upper arm was bunched in a knot, but his skin there was smooth. A vein stood out under his skin; Morien traced it with a fingertip, following its soft ridge up to the man’s armpit, where it disappeared. From there, Safir’s chest drew his eye.
It was covered in thick, dark curls that stood out against his pale skin. They had a gloss to them that shone in the firelight, and brushed softly at him when he slipped his fingers into their tangle. He could feel Safir’s heartbeat through his fingertips, slow and steady. Calm.
Didn’t seem fair.
“Why do you wear a peach pit around your neck?” Safir asked.
“Because I like peaches.”
“I enjoy a tasty pheasant now and then, but I don’t wear its carcass on a cord.”
He considered lying, but instead heard himself say, “I’m waiting.”
“For?”
“For a man who can give me an orchard.”
Safir was silent for a long moment, during which he blinked only once. Then he said, “Have you ever kissed anyone?”
Many people, but not like this. “No.”
“Kiss me then.”
All his muscles went rigid again. “I don’t… I don’t know how.”
Safir began rubbing his chest. “That’s all right. How do you kiss a friend? Show me. Pretend I’m a friend you haven’t seen in a while.”
The man could surely feel Morien’s heart pounding in his chest. Courage! Courage! cried the voice inside him, forceful as a crow’s now. Quickly, he pecked a kiss on Safir’s cheek. It mostly landed on his beard, leaving Morien’s lips prickling. He licked at the sensation.
“Perfect. Now, just a little more slowly.”
He studied Safir’s cheek. Leaning close, eyes firmly trained on his target, he pressed a light kiss on his skin before leaning back again. To his surprise, Safir’s eyes were closed. “Was that wrong?”
Safir shook his head and opened his eyes. “Not at all. Now here.” He tapped a spot nearer his mouth.
Morien kissed it.
Safir tapped another spot, closer still to his lips, and as Morien’s heart kicked around his chest, he kissed there too.
Slowly, Safir’s finger moved to his lips. They looked smooth under his mustache and, for once, not smiling. Waiting.
Tap, tap.
Morien felt frozen. “Close your eyes.”
His voice surprised him. Safir too, by the way his eyes widened instead. But then he closed them, and one corner of his mouth curled just slightly. Didn’t seem mocking, though. Only game, as if he were along for a lark. Morien leaned close and set his lips to Safir’s.
They were as smooth as they’d looked, and warm. Safir’s mustache tickled his lips, so he pressed harder. Nothing further happened, so after a moment Morien lifted himself away.
Safir’s eyes came open slowly. “What do you think?”
What did he think? “It was a kiss.”
Safir smiled. “It was.”
“Wasn’t how other people kiss, though. With their mouths open.”
“You’ve noticed that, eh?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t be bothered by it. A kiss can be whatever you want it to be. Friendly. Passionate. Curious.”
“Curious?”
Safir’s teeth shone in the dancing light. “Curious kisses are some of the best. Curiosity suits learning, don’t you think? May I show you?”
He found, with a sudden rush, he wanted that very much. “Yes.”
Safir rose on an elbow. “Let’s say I’m curious about the shape of your lips. I might kiss like this.” He leaned close and brushed his lips over Morien’s. Only, he didn’t just brush them. He traced Morien’s lower lip from one side to the other. Then he did the same to his upper lip. As soon as he pulled away, Morien drew his own lips into his mouth and pressed them together.
Before he could decide what he thought, Safir was leaning close again. “Perhaps I’m curious about why your lips want to hide. So I might kiss you like this.” He began to place small kisses all around Morien’s lips, pressing and brushing until Morien released them. When he did, Safir kissed them lightly but lingering a little. Rewarding them, maybe.
“I have to admit, I’ve been curious about something else for a time. And that’s how your lips might taste. And so I would kiss them like so.”
The next thing Morien knew, Safir’s tongue was gliding across his lips, warm and wet.
His hands clenched into fists as bumps rose all over his skin, even under the blanket. That’s not kissing, he wanted to say. That’s licking. But he couldn’t make himself open his mouth to say it.
If he opened his mouth, Safir might stop.
He stopped anyway. But he didn’t move away. “How was that?”
“Strange.”
Safir grinned. “I suppose it would be the firs—”
Morien raised his chin and licked Safir’s lips.
Safir stared at him.
Morien stared back.
“Again,” Safir said. “Slowly. Then tell me what you taste.”
Morien reached up, setting a hand to Safir’s head to keep him in place. Soft, his fingertips said of Safir’s hair, and then Morien drew his tongue slowly along the man’s lower lip. He tried to discern a flavor but couldn’t. He licked across Safir’s upper lip next, but it only felt soft. With the tip of his tongue, he reached behind Safir’s lip, then along his teeth because they felt smooth, like ivory, and then he reached a little farther, a little deeper—
Safir’s tongue touched his, and he jerked back.
His heart thunked away in his chest…but he wasn’t frightened. He was, he realized, excited. Before Safir could say anything, Morien closed the distance between their lips and reached for his tongue again. Safir met him, sliding his tongue across Morien’s, curling and twisting, and there—
“Ale,” he said. “You taste of ale.”
Safir laughed in a soft huff. “As do you. And you taste of Morien.”
Of himself? “What do I taste like?”
Safir shrugged. “Can’t describe it, really. Just you. Uniquely you.”
Curious, Morien kissed Safir again, searching for a similarly unique flavor. Safir helped, letting his jaw drop and offering up his tongue again, and something was there—something tantalizingly out of reach. Just as Morien had given up and was pulling away, he caught it.
“What is it?”
He closed his eyes and rolled his tongue, trying to match the note to something he could name. “It’s almost…like honey, only…lighter.” Small, curling white and yellow flowers flashed across his memory, and he opened his eyes. “Honeysuckle.”
Safir’s eyebrows rose. “I do like to sip at them, in season.”
So did Gally. He’d been the one to show Morien how to pull the delicate little stalk back through the flower to produce a drop of nectar. “Those vines are bare now. It must just be you.”
“Must be.”
Morien watched the words form on Safir’s lips and then leaned back in to taste them again. When he did, Safir groaned, a sound that made Morien’s cock grow heavy. Made him groan too, perhaps, because Safir made another sound, an encouraging one. His hand slid down Morien’s chest to his belly, where it rubbed circles as they kissed. Just circles, circles, like a leaf in the eddy of a stream, and Morien began to feel as if he floated like that leaf. Safir’s lips were soft and warm and his tongue wet and undemanding, and Morien thought he might be able to do this kissing thing for a good long time…
…until Safir’s touch drifted over the front of Morien’s breeches. The contact made him gasp and his cock jump. Jerking away from Safir, Morien grabbed his wrist.
They stared at each other for a moment. Morien’s heart knocked about his ribs as if he had a rabbit trapped inside his chest, and yet Safir looked serene.
Of course he was serene—he did this sort of thing all the time. What was it to him to reach for a man’s cock?
But that couldn’t happen between them. If Safir got Morien’s seed on his fingers, and then was tempted to lick them, which seemed likely—
“Too soon?”
“Yes.” No! Not too soon. What was he saying—it mustn’t ever happen.
Safir drew his hand back and set it to Morien’s chest again. The rabbit still hopped about, but Safir showed no sign of noticing. “I’ll keep it to myself, shall I?”
“I think I should sleep.”
Safir looked at him intently for a moment but then nodded. Morien rolled onto his back and got as comfortable as he could, which was a challenge because Safir still lay on his side, watching him. Trying to ignore the force of that gaze, Morien closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Slowly, his rabbity heart settled down.
“Morien.”
Another deep breath. “Yes?”
Every fiber in his body came to attention as the mattress dipped and Safir leaned close. His heat warmed Morien’s entire body on that side. Something brushed his ear lightly, sending a shiver down to his exposed toes.
“I enjoyed kissing you very much,” Safir murmured, his voice little more than breath over Morien’s cheek. “You’re rather good at it, though. I suspect it wasn’t your first time.”
Morien turned his head in surprise. “It was. I’ve never—”
Safir’s lips met his, silencing his protest.
Shouldn’t he feel affronted? It was difficult when Safir’s touch was so gentle. Hoping for one more taste of honeysuckle, he opened his mouth, reached with his tongue, but he caught only a little swipe of Safir’s lip before the man pulled away and settled in beside him.
“No slipping away, now,” Safir said, and then closed his eyes and went to sleep.