Chapter Fifteen

MASSIVE LIVE OAKS, dripping with Spanish moss, cast down dappled sunshine on the groomed rows below. The whirring of fall insects creates a pleasant, steady drone that muffles distant sound, making the archery range feel more secluded. There’s a faint, cool crispness to the air, especially under the shade of the trees.

The mossy oaks give each shooting lane the illusion of privacy. Ravi walks past several groups of game-hunters and hipsters, all engaged in archery or axe-throwing parties, before he finds Nate’s lane.

“There he is,” Nate calls out with a grin, hopping down from a picnic table. “Fancy meeting you here.” He’s dressed for movement in a workout tee and olive drab cargos. A colorful hint of tattooed knotwork peeks past the hem of one short sleeve. No doubt early November in Georgia is practically shorts season for him, whereas Ravi in his long-sleeve merino sweater is on the verge of needing another layer.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to dig around the armory at the Atlanta branch for a normal, non-enchanted bow.” Ravi unzips the bag and removes some equipment, setting a quiver of arrows on the picnic table next to Nate’s sleek carbon bow.

“You’re pretty much right on time. No worries, man.” Nate glances around for onlookers and steps closer, on the verge of platonic distance. In the dappled sunlight his eyes are an arresting shade of cornflower blue. “Missed you.”

Warmth curls in Ravi’s stomach and spreads slowly outward. “Good thing we’re here to work on your aim.”

“Funny guy. Well, go easy on me. I haven’t picked up a bow in a while.”

“Then let’s start with you showing me what you remember.” Ravi steps to the side to allow Nate room to work.

Nate picks up his equipment and straps on the wrist guard. “Yeah, not like you standing there is going to give me performance anxiety at all.”

“I can look away, but that kind of defeats the purpose of having this refresher course.”

Nate shakes out both arms, loosening up. “My idea of a refresher was brushing up on mythological archers earlier today. Probably not super helpful, huh?”

“You never know. Like what, Robin Hood?”

“Though Robin Hood is a fictional character in folklore, he’s likely a conflation of several real people of the era. I teach a unit on cynosuric folk heroes wherein Robin Hood features heavily.” He tests the draw before readying his posture. “I was more interested in mythological figures. Skadi, Artemis, Agilaz, aaand I’m going to stop before I launch into a lecture.” Nate’s neck goes a little pink. “Lots of archer heroes in Indian literature, aren’t there?”

Ravi watches Nate’s stance with a critical eye. “Tons. Our histories and epics are full of them. Sri Ram, Arjuna, Pradyumna. It’s one of the traditional weapons I was taught early on after basic footwork. Bow and arrow, sword and shield, spear. Stuff like that.”

“So cool.” Nate nocks an arrow and takes a shot. It barely misses the printed target, just off the largest ring into the blank space. Nice power though, the arrow lodging deeply into the straw. “Eh, well. Coulda been worse, right?”

Nate looks really good with a bow in his hands. The way his features firm with concentration, the play of his muscular arms as he draws back… Ravi shakes off the distraction and hooks his sunglasses over his collar. “Good start. There are a couple of things… Can I show you?”

“Absolutely.”

Ravi slides up behind Nate. “Okay. Start upright. Feet ninety degrees to the target. Yeah, perfect.” He slides a hand down Nate’s arm, from the edge of the knotwork tattoo on the taut rise of his bicep all the way down to his bare wrist. “Your grip is already good. Very important, a good grip.”

The flush on Nate’s neck deepens. “You’re making this suggestive on purpose.”

Ravi tsks, as if mortally offended. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Doc. This is how the pros do it. Next is finger position.”

Dropping the bow to his side, Nate laughs out loud. “Dude, c’mon.”

Ravi has to bite down hard to keep from laughing. He guides Nate’s arms back up to nock the arrow. “All right, draw back.” He backs off, giving Nate space. As the bowstring bends, Ravi sets a hand between Nate’s shoulder blades and gently corrects, “Don’t use your biceps. Pull with your back.”

Nate nods, adjusting easily.

“There you go,” Ravi breathes, and steps away to watch. He looks good, solid. “Maintain your position after you fire. Don’t fall out of stance until you see your arrow hit.”

The arrow flies true and lands with a satisfying thunk into the heart of the bullseye. A perfect shot.

“Nice,” Ravi says with a nod.

“Holy shit.” Nate stares at the target, then swings around. “Holy shit! You’re a really good teacher.”

Coming from a professor, that hits harder. Ravi shakes his head, ears warm. “Doubtful. You’re a natural. You just needed a reminder. Like riding a bike.”

Wide-eyed, Nate turns back at the bullseye. “Must be a fluke. I’m gonna go again.” He’s clearly taken Ravi’s direction to heart. His position is good, elbow dropped, sighting down the shaft with focused intent.

He’d suspected Nate would take well to the bow. Practically built for archery. He looks…very good. Ravi swallows.

Thunk. The arrow hits again in the center, a whisper away from the last.

“Whaaaat,” Nate hisses in a forceful whisper. “No way!”

Ravi can’t help but grin. “Nice shot. Like I said, a natural.”

Nate keeps looking back and forth between the target and Ravi. “See, among normal people, this would be an unreal accomplishment. Jumping around, cheering, getting silly with it. Figures that martial prowess is just another day at the office for you.”

“I said nice shot.”

Nate laughs, then fully faces the target with his hands proudly akimbo. “I know shooting at a moving target is a whole other ballpark, but this feels pretty great. I’ll keep practicing.” He slides the bow crosswise over his chest and bumps shoulders with Ravi. “Okay then, tough guy, let’s see what you got. Show me how the pros do it.”

Ravi rolls his eyes and gathers up his longbow, eschewing the quiver in favor of tossing a few arrows point-down into the ground in front of him. “Literally haven’t fired a bow since I was sixteen, so don’t get your hopes up.” He limbers up his shoulders, rocks his neck side to side, and squares up.

Ravi sights down the arrow on an inhale. His archery tutor had been a leathery, rawboned woman from one of the Nagaland tribes. Instinctively, he straightens his posture at the phantom memory of her hooking a bow around his ankle to correct his stance. You are not the eyes and arms that direct the arrow, she would harp. You are the arrow, the breeze that guides it, the target the arrow seeks. Dhyana, child. Fix your mind solely on your goal.

He empties his lungs and fires.

The arrow misses the mark completely, landing halfway to the fletching into the blank space off the outer ring; a much poorer shot than Nate’s first had been. Ravi grunts, his neck burning as he draws back another arrow. His second shot is even worse, nearly off the straw entirely.

“Are you trying to make me look good? My ego can handle it if you split my arrow in half or something badass like that, you know.”

Ravi drops his arms, glaring at the target. Even this, he can’t do right. His throat feels tight.

Nate’s gaze sharpens. He steps a bit closer, posture going aggressively casual. “Hey, my guy, you know what’s coming, right? The great North American question! So: how are you?” He flashes his boundless, easy grin.

Several heartbeats pass before Ravi can muster up an answer. “I’m…I’m not fine.”

Nate’s eyes widen for a split second. “Okay. Okay. You wanna sit and talk, maybe?” He motions toward the picnic table.

Ravi stares at the table. Then tosses the longbow onto the grass and sits.

Nate sits across from him, chin propped in his hand, and gives Ravi an encouraging smile. “So, what’s up?”

“I saw Cayenne again.”

Nate’s mouth twists up like he’s taken a bite of a whole lemon. “What did they want this time?”

“Actually,” Ravi says, strained, “I arranged the meeting.”

Nate presses his lips together. “Okay. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. I’m not trying to pry. But can I ask why?”

Ravi looks down, tracing the grain of the table with a nail. “I drugged them, trapped them, and then tried to wipe their memory with that dark magic ring we confiscated from the black marketeer. It…didn’t work out.”

Nate stares.

Ravi takes some long, even breaths, bracing himself for castigation. For judgement. For whatever is coming next. He deserves it.

Nate rests his hand atop Ravi’s. “I’m so sorry, Ravi.”

“You’re… Why?”

Nate strokes the back of Ravi’s knuckles lightly with his thumb. “You loved them. When you care for someone, that doesn’t just go away. Even when they hurt you.” His touch tightens into a squeeze, the warmth solid and grounding. “I’m sorry you went through that. Are you okay?”

“Don’t be sorry for me!” A sudden spike of anger fizzles and dies just as quickly as it flares. “I was going to do this terrible… I almost did it. I was so close.”

“But you didn’t,” Nate says firmly, still holding Ravi’s hand. “And if you had, it would have been to protect others. You’re a good person, Ravi.”

“I’m… Fuck.” Ravi pulls his arm back to cradle his forehead in both hands. “You must be so sick of this. Of me always being such a wreck.”

“Don’t do that. You’re not a wreck. You’re going through an unbelievable amount of pressure. You’re human.”

Ravi swallows thickly, eyes locked on the wooden table. “You don’t think…you don’t think I’m broken?”

A pause. Nate’s voice drops into a low scrape. “Did they tell you that?”

Ravi doesn’t answer, and Nate inhales and exhales steadily for a full ten seconds.

“Ravi.” Ravi doesn’t look up until Nate takes both his hands in his own, enfolding them like a bird in a nest. “You’re not broken. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. You’re kintsugi.”

“I’m what?”

“It’s a Japanese custom I talk about in class. Sometimes when pottery breaks, instead of throwing it away, the cracks are sealed with gold. Then the piece is repaired without obscuring its history. The break makes the piece even more beautiful than it was before; just another chapter in its story.” Nate’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You’ve been knocked down so many times, Ravi, and you keep getting up. I’ve never seen anything like it. I keep telling you, it’s inspiring. You’re a revelation, my guy.”

Ravi stares at Nate for a long moment. “I really like you,” he accuses.

“That’s…good?”

“It’s not,” Ravi insists, fingers entwining through Nate’s. “I should be more guarded than ever. After… I should be distrustful of everyone, keeping my head down and not…not holding hands in a park, and you just make it…” He glances away with a huff. “I should be terrified of trying to be with anyone else, but you’re just… You make it so easy. You’re like armor-piercing rounds. You cut right through my defenses.”

Both dimples make an appearance, framing Nate’s smile. “Wow. I’ve had better compliments, but not many.”

“You’re just so…so perfect, it’s—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Nate protests, holding up his hands. “I am far from perfect, Ravi.”

Ravi rolls his eyes and holds up a fist, extending a finger with each subsequent point. “Dreamboat professor. Supportive family. Emotionally healthy. Natural archer.” He pauses before adding a new one on his thumb. “Great in bed.”

Nate snorts, palming the back of his neck. “I mean, you’re a badass ninja warrior and I’m a bookish nerd with glamour muscles, so if we’re talking about perfection, here…”

“That’s ridiculous. First of all, none of my training was ninja related.”

“But you’re so light on your feet.”

“That’s just…agility and stealth training.”

“Do you hear yourself? How is that not ninja-related?”

“This conversation has gotten completely away from me.” As he stretches out his legs under the table, Ravi’s foot knocks something with the clink of ceramic.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, I was going to surprise you with this later as a thank-you-for-the-archery-lesson present, but…” Nate reaches under the table to pull up a small cactus in a colorful planter. He unceremoniously hands it to Ravi.

“This…” Ravi squints. “A sand dollar cactus?”

“I’m impressed! You know your cacti.”

“Yeah, some guy keeps giving the things to me, so I’ve had to brush up on my botany.” It’s a very handsome little cactus. Ravi admires it, turning the planter. “She looks like a Chloe,” he decides; one of his favorite video game characters of Indian heritage.

Saying nothing, Nate gazes at him with a faint, distant smile.

“What?” Self-conscious, Ravi puts Chloe down.

Nate pillows his cheek in his palm, voice going a little dreamy. “I’m just having a hard time believing that you’re the same stone-faced guy I first met. Wondering how I ever kept my hands off you. You’re something else, sunshine.”

Somewhere behind Ravi’s breastbone, embers kick up into a warm, flickering glow.

“Feeling better?” Nate asks softly.

Incredibly, he does. Somehow Nate keeps chasing away all of Ravi’s shadows, leaving him light and unbound. He shakes his head in disbelief. “How do you do that?”

“Just the power of heart, my guy,” Nate laughs, standing up and retrieving Ravi’s bow. “I gotta do something useful in this crew of superheroes besides getting all the coffee orders right. Now, c’mon.” He offers the bow with a wink. “Show me some ninja moves.”

After that, Ravi’s aim shows marked improvement, causing Nate to whoop congratulations and work through his own quiver in a near-perfect run. Continuing for a while, they work up a light sweat until the sun lowers enough for Nate to suggest that it might be too dark to safely continue practicing.

“Too dark, huh?” It’s barely late afternoon.

“Yup. Definitely. Might accidentally shoot our feet. Better not risk it.” Nate grins as he leans a hip against the picnic table. “We should probably go back to my place.”

In the interest of safety, Ravi agrees.

*

NATE KISSES HIM as if he’s trying to condense a whole lifetime of missed make-out sessions into the space of an hour. Every time they part for air, Nate murmurs some sweet little snippet of admiration before pressing into another eternal, devouring kiss.

“You are so unbelievably hot,” Nate gasps, each syllable an open-mouthed caress to Ravi’s bared throat. Ravi squirms a little against the overstuffed sofa cushions, flustered and fighting the instinct to hide his face. “Just look at these lithe muscles.” Nate lands a playful nip to the meat of Ravi’s shoulder. “Like a panther or something. So strong.”

Ravi goes still.

Nate immediately pulls back. “Something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s not—”

Ravi’s breath catches. He’s tired of being strong. Of being resilient. Tired of being praised for how well he takes a hit. For once, he wants to trust someone and not regret it later.

Maybe this time he can.

He’s not even sure what he’s going to say until the words start coming, halting and tripping as they go. “Would it…would it be okay if I wasn’t? Strong. For a little while.”

Nate’s searching gaze strips right through skin, as if he could read the words printed on Ravi’s innermost heart.

“Of course, it is, sunshine. I got you.” He cups Ravi’s chin and pulls him into a sweet, rich kiss that goes on and on until Ravi forgets anything else exists beyond lips and breath. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Nate murmurs in a low, confident croon while he slides a hand up into Ravi’s hair. “We’re going to take a shower. And while we’re in there, I’m going to lick you open and get you ready to take my cock.”

Ravi gasps sharply, heartbeat stuttering.

Nate knots his fingers just hard enough to be on the right side of painful. “I’m going to take my time. Make a buffet out of you until your legs give out. Then I’m gonna carry you to my bed, and I’m going to fuck you until you come while I’m still buried inside you.” He licks a long stripe up Ravi’s throat and chuckles. “Your pulse is just racing. That for me, babe?”

All his words have dried up like a puddle in deepest summer. Ravi swallows.

Nate’s grin grows wider, his eyes so glazed with simmering arousal they look like polished lapis. His grip on Ravi’s hair gentles, bringing their foreheads to touch. “You wanna be a good boy for me, sunshine?”

A bullseye bolt strikes through Ravi with perfect aim, the shaft quivering with impact. His dick is already so hard against Nate’s thigh that it aches.

“Use your words, Ravi.” Nate’s eyes dance as he patiently waits.

“Yes,” Ravi whispers, muscles going hot and lax as molten honey.

Nate smiles so broadly his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Wanna take care of you,” Nate murmurs, swooping in to suck Ravi’s lower lip between his teeth. Ravi twitches at the unexpected bite, mind quickly emptying of any thoughts more complex than this and yes and more.

In the shower, Ravi can barely keep his balance even before Nate turns him to the wall to press him against the tiles. “Stay just like that,” Nate murmurs in his ear, then tongues his way down Ravi’s spine, tracing each vertebra with the barest hint of teeth. Ravi shivers, the cascade of hot water doing nothing to stop the rise of gooseflesh, and does as he’s told.

When Nate sinks to his knees, he gives an appreciative little groan that sends Ravi’s heartbeat into high gear. He lets himself be positioned, lets Nate pull back his hips, and braces his forearms against the wall, dimly aware that he’s quivering with anticipation.

The first ghost of Nate’s breath threatens to undo him already. Ravi scrabbles fingernails against tile as if grasping for the last scraps of his self-control. At the hot, slick drag of Nate’s tongue, Ravi stops breathing entirely.

Nate drops a sharp bite to Ravi’s cheek, jumpstarting his lungs back up again. “That’s it,” Nate murmurs, “I want you nice and relaxed.” A broad lick sends Ravi up onto his toes, stars bursting behind his eyelids. Mindlessly he presses back, body yielding, giving all his weight to the wall.

“Yeah, doing good, babe.” Then, holding Ravi tight, Nate really sets to work.

Head buried in the crook of his elbow, Ravi can’t gather enough oxygen, half out of his head from the slick, hot pleasure of it. His desire is already at its peak, lightheaded with the speed of his arousal, and Nate’s barely gotten started. Thumbs slotted into the grooves of Ravi’s hipbones as if they were carved to fit there, Nate sets an undulating rhythm that knocks the air out of Ravi as soon as he can get any down his throat. He tries not to melt into a useless puddle at the bottom of the tub.

Then Nate groans, his stubble dragging, reverberations carried by lips and tongue, and the last vestiges of Ravi’s composure utterly shatters.

“Otha,” he pants, a vulgarity his tutors would have been shocked he picked up. His cock aches, begging for attention, but he ignores it in favor of pushing back and pleading for more.

“Sorry, babe, I don’t speak that,” Nate chuckles. “Do you need me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare,” Ravi hisses, wanting nothing more than to get that clever mouth back where it had been taking him apart. The tiles echo the words back at him oddly, and he realizes he’s spoken entirely in a jumble of Tamil and Hindi. “Fuck.”

Nate laughs low and warm against Ravi’s skin. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

A few intense minutes later, Nate turns the water off and gives Ravi a quick head-to-toe rubdown with an oversized towel. “Give me a second to brush my teeth. Then I’ll get you to bed, gorgeous.”

Ravi catches a glimpse of himself in the steam-edged mirror, hair a damp, disordered mess, eyes impossibly dark. He already looks like he’s been tumbled for hours, thighs visibly trembling like he’d fall over without the shower tiles to lean against. He’s not sure he wouldn’t.

Next thing he knows, Nate presses into a demanding, minty embrace as he nibbles a line from the corner of Ravi’s mouth to the cut of his jaw. “Mm. That was fun. Hop up. Legs around my waist.”

True to his word, he carries Ravi from the bathroom to his bed, using his larger size and glamour muscles to full advantage. He lays Ravi down on the covers with care, as if he were precious cargo, easing into a sweet, unhurried kiss. Ravi squirms, in no mood to take it slow. He grinds up against Nate, a note of pure impatience escaping his throat.

“Easy, sunshine, I got you.” After a quick supply stop at the nightstand, Nate looks down at Ravi writhing and wanton on his bed, and his Adam’s apple bobs hard. “Christ. Wish you could see what I see right now.”

He pushes Ravi’s thighs wide and settles between them. He glides both palms over Ravi in wide sweeping arcs, all the way from knees to collarbone, then skating across shoulders to trail down to the tips of Ravi’s fingers. Instead of a ravenous, all-consuming burn, a scorching thing quick to flare out, Nate’s touch is the steady, sustaining heat of sunlight, incandescent and enduring. Under his hands Ravi feels like a new-grown thing, a green shoot in fresh-tilled earth, unfurling up into golden light.

“How did I get so lucky?” Nate breathes, eyes locked on Ravi’s. “You’re so beautiful, and I don’t just mean your looks. I’ve never wanted anyone this much.”

The onslaught of open admiration is far too much to bear. Face burning, Ravi growls, throwing his head back into the pillows. “You don’t have to—you don’t need to say that, you can just…”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” Nate pushes a slick, seeking hand past Ravi’s balls. “Why not? You like it, don’t you?”

Ravi exhales shakily, chest heaving. He digs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I like it too much.”

“No such thing. You’re just going to have to get used to being lavished with praise,” Nate teases, even as he rolls on a condom and hikes Ravi’s leg up over his forearm.

“You going to talk, or are you going to fuck me?” Ravi’s eyes nearly cross as Nate rubs his slick cock against him in a purposeful tease, his want rapidly turning into need.

“Guess I’ll have to do both. What a hardship.” Nate grins, and presses into Ravi with a slow, steady push. “Jesus,” he mutters when Ravi takes him to the hilt, eyes fluttering shut.

Ravi sighs in relief, the welcome stretch bringing a sheen of sweat to his skin and a shiver to his limbs, and then it’s good; so good that he gasps, pulse racing so fast he can feel it thrumming at the base of his tongue. He takes two healthy handfuls of Nate’s round ass to draw him closer, and distantly realizes he’s muttering something—babbling, really—all of Ravi’s languages shaking around like dice in a cup and whatever comes tumbling out is a random, polyglot mess.

Nate presses his forehead to Ravi’s, his breath coming hot and fast. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You okay?”

A feeling too big to name drums against Ravi’s ribcage, a fierce greedy thing. All he wants is more; the sweet-salt taste of Nate’s skin, the bright earthen scent of his soap still clinging to flushed skin, the soothing spill of his voice. Ravi wants more of him everywhere, wants to be brimming full with Nate lighting up his veins.

“Yes,” is the best translation he can muster, the single syllable an artless growl into the heat of Nate’s mouth. He wraps a leg around Nate’s waist, taking him deeper, moving their bodies in tandem.

The way Nate smiles while kissing him might be his new favorite thing.

“You’re pulling the sheets off the bed, babe.”

It’s more observation than chastisement, so Ravi ignores him and keeps grabbing, his hands everywhere, mussing the covers, Nate’s hair. Every thrust sends a new shock of pleasure shuddering through him, a relentless onslaught heightened by the sweet croon of Nate’s voice in his ear; that’s it, babe, you feel so good, is that what you needed? Ravi kicks his heels into the mattress, digs them into the small of Nate’s back, grinding down to wantonly fuck himself on Nate’s cock, wild with abandon.

“Fucking hell, Ravi.” Nate tries to hold on, keeping Ravi from writhing clear out of the bed. He leans back on his haunches, panting heavily. Ravi reaches out with a desperate keen as they separate, empty and wanting. “Just a sec, don’t worry, sunshine.” Tucking his arms under Ravi’s thighs, Nate heaves him up and over with a grunt, flipping Ravi onto his hands and knees.

Ravi’s head spins. He gathers great fistfuls of sheets when Nate eases back inside to start fucking him in earnest, working up a rhythm that shocks the breath out of him on every deep drive. Nate pulls his hips back hard enough to make his teeth rattle, moans Ravi’s name, and it’s perfect.

Ravi twists around, snapping up on his knees to yank Nate by his hair into a fierce, biting kiss.

Nate gasps into it, “Christ, you’re flexible.”

“Martial arts,” Ravi rasps, grinning.

Nate breathes out in a tremulous rush, butting his temple against Ravi’s. “I love your smile,” he murmurs hot in Ravi’s ear, then wraps strong arms around his middle to bear him down flat onto the mattress, his cock landing each stroke right where it sends fireworks shooting up Ravi’s spine to explode in colorful bursts behind his eyes. “You feel incredible, babe. Gonna come for me?”

“Nathaniel—”

Nate moans again, more desperately, his thrusts going rough and demanding and exquisite. “Fuck, Ravi, so fucking good, that’s it, such a good boy for me—”

And Ravi is completely, utterly gone, the blazing thread of ecstasy wound so tightly around him it can only snap, and he’s in freefall, coming against the sheets so hard his vision blurs. Full-throated, he cries out his pleasure with words he’s not sure are any recognizable language at all. He clenches tight, needing to drag Nate over that blinding precipice with him, to join him in that ecstatic headlong tumble.

Nate follows a spare second later, the press of his teeth to Ravi’s shoulder drawing forth aftershocks nearly as intense as the climax itself. Ravi would be happy to buck into it, if he weren’t a pliant, boneless mess, Nate’s praise still buzzing through him in a soft electric hum.

It takes a full minute just to catch their breath.

“Wow,” Nate says into Ravi’s skin, trembling. “Any more enthusiastic and I’ll be dead.”

Ravi manages an inquiring noise, limp as a noodle.

Nate gusts a breathless laugh. “Don’t worry about it. How you doin’?”

“I’m…this is English?” Ravi’s only half-joking.

Nate drags Ravi’s earlobe through his teeth. “That’s English, you got it, gorgeous.”

“Then I’m doing pretty good,” Ravi rumbles in exhausted amusement. He throbs pleasantly, and stretches out his toes, luxuriating in the afterglow while he basks under the warmth of Nate’s weight.

“Very good,” Nate husks into his ear. “S’just what I wanted. Such a good boy.” He nuzzles Ravi’s neck, stroking damp hair out of his eyes.

Goose bumps prickle up all over Ravi’s arms. He presses his forehead into the strewn covers, hiding his burning face. After a few blissful minutes, Nate rolls upright with a series of lingering kisses to Ravi’s spine and a regretful sigh. One eye open, Ravi watches as Nate tosses the condom and stretches to his full height, absurdly long with his arms outstretched. Ravi could climb him like a tree.

“Be right back. Gonna clean up, get a new comforter. Get you some water?”

Ravi couldn’t care less about cleaning up. He wants Nate back in bed, craves the closeness of his skin, the enticing warmth of him. He snakes out an arm and holds Nate by the wrist.

“I’ll just be a minute, babe. Half that.”

With a grunt of protest, Ravi hooks the back of Nate’s knee and tightens his grip on his wrist, deftly yanking Nate off his feet and tumbling him back into bed. Nate bounces with a surprised yelp. He laughs as Ravi crawls over him to sprawl across his tattooed chest, pinning him in place.

“That’s cheating,” Nate chuckles, nevertheless giving up and accepting his lot as an illustrated human pillow. “No fair using your superior ninja tactics.”

Ravi pushes his face into the center of Nate’s chest, where his scent is thickest. He feels a little drunk. Must be endorphins. “S’not ninja tactics, it’s Krav Maga.”

“That’s just Jewish ninjas.”

Ravi can’t remember the last time he laughed like this, so loud and long that his cheeks hurt. “You’re…completely ridiculous.” He rolls onto his back, head fitting neatly into the hollow below Nate’s clavicle as they drape into a comfortable tangle of limbs.

Ravi is almost about to drop off when Nate says, “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

Nate caresses Ravi’s arm, tracing a few scars. “What are all these big changes you’re going to make? With The Trust, I mean. You said at the diner you were going to make changes, when you get more say over things. I know you’re gonna fix things, naturally, but I’ve never heard any specifics.”

Surprised, Ravi twists to meet Nate’s eyes. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah, my guy, you said you have big plans. And, you know, you don’t have to tell me, it’s not really my business. It’s just, I have a hard time seeing it the way you do. I wanna… I want to see it from your perspective. But if you don’t want to tell me, that’s—”

“No, I…want to.” Ravi bites down on a little smile. “No one’s ever asked me, before. Harry did, sort of, but that was more focused on…well.”

“Your kids and stuff?”

Ravi breathes out, idly tracing the line of a tattoo down Nate’s flank. “Yeah. That’s a lot of it, the changes. About the Chosen. How things will be different for them from here on out. But The Trust itself is…a bigger question.” Ravi takes a moment to marshal his thoughts. “You ever been in a jungle?”

“Uh, like a real jungle? I did a trek in Costa Rica once. A guided tour thing. Soooo, no.”

“Okay. So, in some South Asian forests, you can be in the middle of nowhere, and suddenly step onto an ancient road you didn’t know was there, hidden under moss and tree roots. Leftover from some ruined city or something. Only a few stones sticking up out of the undergrowth, but you know that somewhere under your feet, there’s a trail to follow. It’s…it’s been a lot like that.”

Nate twines his fingers through Ravi’s, listening with obvious interest.

Ravi chews his lip for a moment. “I’m not sure where to start, it’s all kind of…” He waves a hand in the air as if trying to herd the uncooperative ideas into a sensible formation. “Bits and pieces.”

“That’s okay,” Nate says, threading his leg through Ravi’s. “I start a lot of lesson plans like that. I sit down and type out a bunch of amorphous ideas, then restructure them later.”

“Yeah? Okay.” Ravi sweeps a hand through the rat’s nest of his hair, but trying to get it in some semblance of order is a lost cause he quickly gives up on. “The occult black market is a concern. The Trust always struggled to stay ahead of it. But after seeing some of what Guinto had on offer, and knowing Cayenne still has a bunch of Bhagavati artifacts out there…I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

“Gonna shut it down?”

He looks sidelong at Nate and a smirk tugs the corner of Ravi’s mouth into a brief, crooked slant. “Nope. I’m going to run it.”

“Huh?”

Ravi lets his grin widen. “There’s always going to be a black market, that’s unavoidable. In a few spots around the globe, Trust presence is basically nonexistent, and that’s always where the darkest magic stuff ends up going to auction, where the really dangerous brokers are. Hotbeds of criminal gangs who use supernatural means to gain wealth and power. So, I’ve been thinking: what if a really nasty gang shows up in one of these spots and takes over? Or even better, two or three gangs? And they form an uneasy truce to make the place a safe haven from Trust interference, encouraging the majority of the world’s illicit occult trade to go through them?”

Jaw agape, Nate sits up, dislodging Ravi. “Are you saying you’re going to set up puppet crime gangs to regulate the flow of black-market goods?”

“Yeah.” Ravi settles back into the tangled mess of bedding. He stretches, relishing his body’s faint, languid soreness. He’s glad for it, wanting to keep a reminder of Nate with him even when they’re apart. “That way we can snap up the worst of the worst and know who in the underworld has the less dangerous stuff we let slip through. Assuming I can find suitable agents. Good at deep cover.” His smile fades as he’s struck with sudden apprehension at how Nate will take the idea. Maybe it’s too manipulative, too underhanded. “What do you think?”

“Are you kidding? That’s the coolest shit I have ever heard. I think it’s brilliant.”

Ravi ducks his head, ears warming. “It’s just sound strategy.”

“Ha! Just some shadowy cabal of secret undercover Leonardo DiCaprios infiltrating the magical black market. No big deal. Jesus Christ, I am so on board with this, dude.” Nate flops back down on his side next to Ravi, beaming. “Can’t wait to hear what else you got.”

Ravi tries not to glow with pleasure. “The only reason Cayenne was so easily able to steal a whole mess of dangerous artifacts is because the old families hoard them. I want to make sure that the irredeemably dangerous items get destroyed, and the useful ones get allocated to agents for use in the field. Could save a lot of lives. That’s going to have to be a whole process with tons of checks and balances. But there’s no point keeping magic items out of the wrong hands if we aren’t the right hands.”

“System of checks and balances, also good stuff, though somewhat less exciting than the whole undercover gangster thing.”

“They can’t all be hits.”

Nate’s radiant grin warms Ravi from toe to tip. “I dunno, man, I’d say you’re two for two so far. I’m going to have to blow you after all this exposition.”

“W…what?”

“Yeah, turns out when a hot guy says a bunch of smart, competent things, the nearest himbo has to step up and deliver fellatio. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.” Nate pairs a helpless shrug with a wicked grin. “Keep talking.”

Had Ravi been talking? “I… You’re…very distracting.”

“My bad.”

“‘Himbo’ is a new one for me.”

“Eh, it’s like a buff hot guy who’s nice, but not too bright.”

“But you’re…”

“It’s tongue-in-cheek, speaking of fellatio.” Nate grins and winks. “Where were we? Right. I can’t imagine any bigwigs will be jazzed to give up their good magic shit.”

It takes considerable effort to drag his attention away from Nate’s mouth and back to the topic at hand. “Yeah. That’s…gonna be the tricky part. Anything involving the consortium. High-level stuff I don’t have intel for. I know more than most because of my mom, but…yeah. Not enough.” He sighs. “The problem is that most of the families aren’t directly involved in the work anymore. They’ve relied on the Chosen to challenge supernatural threats. Every generation, fewer and fewer Trust kids go into fieldwork, or even intelligence. So now there’s this big divide between the people who keep the secrets and make the decisions, and the people who are affected by them. Those of us fighting the fight.”

“So, li’l Callum Harbridge is an anomaly?”

“Very much so. The Harbridges are more active than most. Their firstborn, Eleanor, died a few years ago in the line of duty in Nepal to a horde of kawa cha.”

“Damn. Skeleton cannibal monsters. That’s rough.”

“I liked her,” Ravi says, wistful. “Good with a sword. We’d spar. She was a bit older than me or else she’d have been the obvious choice for my, uh, betrothed.” He clears his throat. “The Katarajus are always training, but almost never deign to become actual agents. One of the Eaton siblings does intel out of the Monterey branch, but apart from her and Callum, none of the younger generations of the leading families have any real idea what it’s like out there for Trust operatives.”

“You do, my guy. That divide doesn’t sound like a great formula for long-lasting success.”

“Yeah. The situation with the families is going to be…difficult. It would be even without this rogue faction stuff going on.”

“But the whole of the Trust was set up around your family, right? Don’t the Abhiramnews get some significant sway?”

“We do. But for eight years we’ve been subject to rumors that we’re not suitable to carry the legacy anymore. Longer back, really. When I wasn’t Chosen, a fair amount of people blamed my mom.”

For having a bastard, he doesn’t say.

“A fair amount of people are complete pricks,” Nate huffs, clearly hearing it anyway, squeezing Ravi’s shoulder. “Man, these other families sound like assholes.”

“There’s definitely some in there. But mostly decent people too. No family got to join without proving themselves worthy at some point.”

“So, how does a family join The Trust? Not in antiquity, but nowadays. Is there a sign-up sheet?”

“Thinking about adding the Corbins to the roster, Doc?”

“Oh God, no,” Nate blurts fervently, then tries to backpedal. “Not that it wouldn’t be, uh, an honor?”

Still smiling, Ravi waves a hand. “It’s okay, I get it. I wasn’t being serious.”

Nate relaxes. “Not sure we’d be a great fit anyway. I mean, yeah, my family’s going to love you, but I’m not super eager to have the whole ‘monsters are real’ talk with them just yet, you know?”

Ravi pushes up on his elbows to stare at Nate. “Wait. What did you say?”

Abruptly Nate freezes like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide. He runs a hand over his mouth, stubble rasping. Then he drops his shoulders with a sigh that straddles the line between resigned and determined.

“I said my family is going to love you.”

Ravi keeps staring.

“Look, I’m not saying…you know, now. But…someday?” He locks eyes with Ravi and takes a deep breath, hand fisting in the sheets. “I would like that. If you met them. A lot.”

Ravi cannot stop staring. “You…want me to meet your family?” That’s hard enough to wrap his head around, but the real question is, “You want your family to meet me?”

Nate’s nervous smile melts soft at the edges. “Well, of course, my guy, who wouldn’t want to meet you? And my family is pretty cool. My sisters can be a lot, but you’d like them. You’ll see.”

Of course, Nate says. As if meeting the family weren’t some outlandish, remarkable thing that Ravi had always assumed—had always known—was meant for other people. People who weren’t him.

He’d learned early in life not to think about his future. Planning was for battles, to survive the next fight. What good was it to imagine what could be when his future had been thoroughly mapped out, his fate already written before he’d even been born?

Ravi had done it anyway, of course. One more small, invisible rebellion; like developing his aptitude for guns, or the way he’d dress, or drinking coffee instead of tea, or sneaking off the family estate to get a taste of what it would be like to be someone else for a few hours.

In his younger years, Ravi had never planned for something like this, never even imagined someone like Nathaniel. His open optimism, his fearless honesty. Ravi’s younger self would have dismissed the idea as far too unrealistic.

Of course, my guy.

“Am I?” he says, barely a whisper, heart a hummingbird.

“Yeah, they’re easy to get along with. You’ll—”

“No, not that. Am I…am I your guy?”

Nate’s eyes go so wide that Ravi can see the whites all around the clear sky of his irises. A flush rises over his throat like the first blush of sunrise. Nate sucks in a breath before letting it out all in a rush.

“Asking the big questions today. Okay. Okay. I know this is new for you. Us.” He gestures between them evocatively, then swallows with an audible click. “But it’s not new for me. You need to know I’m not going to make any demands of you, Ravi. Ever. I like you a lot, but I’m your friend first. So, if this is just…convenient for you, just passing the time or whatever, I’ll respect that.” He licks his lips, though his gaze stays level. “But there’s more on offer, if you want it.”

Ravi looks at Nate. Really looks; at his apprehensive posture, the heavy pulse in his throat, the steel determination lying underneath the surface. The affable, amiable manner he wears is suddenly so obvious as another type of armor, just a different kind of wall than Ravi’s own, that he’s ashamed it took him this long to recognize it.

His own walls are a crumbling ruin around him. Taken down not by any siege attack or battering ram, but by the gentle erosion of friendship, kindness, and cactus.

“How long did you say is the average amount of time to get over a bad breakup? In that study you were talking about.”

A glimmer of hope sparks in Nate’s eyes, the whole of his face lighting up, so arrestingly beautiful that Ravi can’t bring himself to look away. “Three months and eleven days.”

Ravi offers a tentative smile, reaching out a hand. “Ask me again in a month.”