Bare Your Teeth, Wicked Ones

25. There, Then Gone

William

Sleep often ended abruptly by the shouting of a sergeant, the scuffling of feet, or the fright of a nightmare. Today, his eyes opened of their own accord, vision blurring and body lax in foreign comfort. Overtaken by bliss, William swore he saw home, his own bedroom where the sun cut in through the open window and books towered along the bedside table. Then he blinked and found himself enveloped by fuchsia light emanating from hovering flames in Nicholas' tent. The sheets coiled around his legs. He sat up, perturbed by the empty bed, then discovering the owner seated at his desk.

"And here I thought you to be an early riser," Nicholas teased over a steaming cup. "You often departed prior to sunrise during our previous engagements."

"You should have woken me up." William cleared his throat. "I have work to attend to."

"I was trying to be sweet by letting you acquire the sleep you so sorely needed."

"Don't feign sweetness. It's unsettling."

Nicholas cut across the room in record speed. He clutched William's ankles and yanked him towards the edge of the bed where Nicholas settled himself between his legs. The bed shifted beneath his weight as he leaned forward, pressing their bodies firmly together. "Alright, if you wish me to be rough with you, then I will be."

"Can you not wait until tonight? I have patients to attend to and sergeants do not like late medics."

"Your sergeant may find themselves a little forgetful this morning." Nicholas devoured William's neck, all hungry marks growing more eager. "They will forget all about your late nature, or perhaps I'll make them forget that you didn't show up at all."

Excitement tickled William's gut and he stifled a smile. "You wish to keep me here all day? How voracious is your appetite?"

"You're about to find out."

William lost himself to Nicholas' touch, his hungry mouth claiming him and his hands forcing their way past the barrier of his shirt. Clawed fingers ran up his shivering skin as their hips danced together as if they had never separated. He couldn't comprehend how the pleasure only escalated, how every evening he wanted more. No touch could quench his thirst and he was forever eager to tug at Nicholas' pants, to dispose of them and to fall into a collective ecstasy. Though the pleasure between them came to an end when a stranger stepped into the tent.

Nicholas' expression fell, twisting into a moment of terror so unlike him that William's breath caught. The fae separated himself expeditiously, standing tall and straight. Nicholas clutched at his loose pants, keeping them around his hips as his head bowed and he muttered, "Father, what are you doing here?"

Lord Laurent Darkmoon carried the arctic winds themselves, through the mere brush of his gaze to his calculated movements. Every step he took sent a wave of fear through William's veins. He didn't have the carefree expression of his son, though they shared the same dark hair and oval shape of their eyes. Laurent's, however, were gray as new storm clouds and his hair fell in waves over his thin shoulders.

"Get rid of your plaything, Nicholas," Laurent demanded.

"Leave," Nicholas ordered without offering William a glance, although he suspected that was for the best. If the typically joking fae stood so still and spoke so urgently, then Laurent had done worse than Nicholas ever shared.

William's hands clenched into fists. He couldn't explain the sudden anger or the sorrow when Nicholas cast him a pleading stare. The strangest urge overtook him, one where he wished to reach out, to take Nicholas' hand and comb his fingers through that wild hair, asking him what had gone wrong and what he could do to make it better. The feelings swelled, whipping up a storm that shouldn't be there. That William had to set aside because this was madness.