Ale tasted awful—it hit his tongue like a fist. How humans and dezmek drank it regularly was beyond Mirthal, but Tracou wanted him to drink so he did his best. It had to be a horrible, dreadful, terrible idea. But... Tracou had held his hand when he had asked. Mirthal would do anything Tracou asked if he held his hand while asking. Of that he was certain.
Over the course of some forced chit-chat, Tracou and Pendaer managed to finish four cups of ale while Mirthal had barely made it halfway through a second. Because Mirthal had never had alcohol before, he felt the effects of it much easier than he might have otherwise. Tracou, being rather small, had fallen prey to the effects of alcohol as well. His cheeks and nose had turned red, which was cute. He was so cute that it hurt to look at him.
He also was leaning against him and holding his hand again. These two things happening at once made him feel better than the alcohol. His heart bubbled pleasantly in his chest and, despite the way he was doing something outrageously taboo for an Elven Prince, Mirthal relaxed.
"Are you tired?" Mirthal asked Tracou. Leaning against someone else was something one did when they were tired, right? It was nice, regardless.
"No. Why? Do you not want me against you?"
Mirthal shook his head. "No, I do."
"Your highness, you can't encourage this behavior," Pendaer said, butting into the conversation.
"I can and I will," Mirthal announced. But, shortly after this declaration, he frowned. "Maybe you're right..."
Even though Mirthal liked having Tracou so close to him, he shouldn't. They were both men. Sure, Tracou didn't love Serpouhi (thank heavens), but the core problem remained. What Mirthal felt towards Tracou was warped somehow. Two men couldn't be perfect halves—it didn't make sense. Something inside him had become misaligned and he didn't know how to fix it, but he could at least not inflict his problem on someone else.
And yet, he found himself indulging in Tracou. He let him hold his hand, let him rest up against him. His attempts to dodge Tracou hurt them both, but he had to try harder. He couldn't let this happen if he could avoid it—only by his avoidance could he do something good. Maybe if he tried to focus more on women he could stop this.
Back in his palace, he had stumbled upon a collection of ink paintings depicting naked women. Those images had captivated him. A normal reaction, surely. But now, the idea of seeing Tracou nude thrilled him just as much, if not more. Tracou would smile at him, stepping out of a pool of his discarded clothes, moving closer to him...
No! He couldn't think about that—not now, not ever!
"Of course I'm right," Pendaer huffed.
"Wait! Why?" Tracou squeezed Mirthal's hand, making Mirthal's heart skip a beat. "Why would he be right?"
"Because I know best!"
Tracou glowered at him. "Shut up, Pendaer!"
How could he explain why? That would reveal too much to Tracou.
With a light grunt, Tracou forced himself into Mirthal's lap, straddling his thighs, and placed both hands on Mirthal's face. Mirthal's entire body stiffened, his face frozen.
Tracou was on top of him! What should he do?! He should recoil or get him off, but he didn't want to. Did Tracou realize what he was doing? They had been close before, but not this close. Not with Tracou's soft legs on him.
"Why would he be right?" Tracou demanded
Mirthal blinked at him, struggling to get a grip on himself.
"Dezmek!" Pendaer squawked. "Get off of him this instant!"
"Make me," Tracou replied like a true adult.
And so Pendaer did. He grabbed Tracou around the middle and pulled him into his lap instead. Tracou now sat side saddle on Pendaer, absolutely flabbergasted by this turn of events. Pleased with himself, Pendaer nodded to Mirthal as if to say that he had taken care of the problem. Unlike Tracou, who was flushed only in certain places, Pendaer's entire face glowed red.
Something ugly surged in Mirthal's chest. How dare Pendaer of all people force Tracou into his lap. How dare he even touch him! It was one thing to lose Tracou to a woman, that was the way of things, but the idea that Pendaer might have Tracou instead brought him to a boil. Pendaer, who had nothing but bad things to say about Tracou. Pendaer, who had hurt Tracou. Pendaer, who was below him!
"Let go of me!" Tracou cried once the shock wore off. He tried to get out of Pendaer's grip, but the elf held him firm.
"Would you stop squirming?!"
"Unhand me!"
"I won't! Someone has to protect the prince's chastity from a dezmek harlot like yourself."
"Harlot?! You can't call me that in my own home! Get out! Go sleep in a barn for all I care!"
"Make me!"
"Pendaer," Mirthal said, the word like a felled tree hitting the ground. "Let go of him."
The sound of Mirthal's voice made Pendaer flinch. Seconds ticked by as the two elves eyed each other, but Pendaer had no choice. He let go of Tracou. Mirthal then pulled Tracou back towards him. Once he was safely in his lap, Mirthal loosened his grip on him so he could position himself as he pleased.
"You're making a mistake, your highness! All of the queen's efforts will be wasted if you—!"
"I don't want to hear it, Pendaer. Get out."
The words were so heavy that they created a nearly physical wall between the two elves. Shoulders hunched, Pendaer got up off the couch. He gave Mirthal and Tracou one last look, alternating between mortified and furious, before he slunk out of the room.
Hearing the door click shut allowed Mirthal to release his fury. Mirthal sighed, resting back on the bench. Tracou took this as a sign to straddle him again, leaning his upper body against him. His head rested on Mirthal's shoulder.
It was nice. There was nothing quite like the feeling of Tracou so close to him. It made his heart speed up, but it was comforting in a way he had never felt before. The only thing similar to it was when he would carry Tracou around. That had been something he had felt by himself, or so it seemed to him at the time. But Tracou had initiated this. Surely he had to feel something—he wouldn't do this otherwise. Right?
"Mirthal?" Tracou asked, his voice soft and warm. "Will you hold me?"
Swallowing audibly, Mirthal looped his arms around Tracou's middle. This made Tracou let out a pleased hum.
"Mirthal?"
"Hm?"
Tracou pulled back to look Mirthal in the eyes. "Why have you been so distant lately?"
"Oh..." Mirthal gave him an embarrassed smile. "I realized something."
"Like what?"
"Don't make me tell you, Tracou. You might hate me..."
There was a pause. Tracou's eyes searched Mirthal's, his pupils wide in the dim lighting he created in the room to help the elves feel comfortable.
"I won't hate you. You know, I like being around you. I even... well, I like waking up with you close to me. I should hate it, right?" Tracou asked, grinning. "I should be angry when I wake up and your stupid leg is over both of mine, but I'm not. So you can tell me because I won't hate you. I would never hate you."
That was strange reasoning, but Mirthal was both tipsy enough and hopeful enough to take it. Still, he couldn't just say it straight out. He had to be careful.
"Do you want to get married, Tracou?"
"No," was his immediate and flat response. "I told you that already."
True. He had told him that. It hadn't been anything more than baffling at the time, but maybe Mirthal understood it, now.
"I've decided that I don't want to get married, either."
Tracou hesitated, biting his lower lip. "And?"
"And... that's because..." Mirthal winced. "There's something wrong with me."
Sympathy filled Tracou's eyes. "Oh, Mirthal..."
"Tracou," Mirthal breathed, imploring. If he could understand without making Mirthal say it... But he couldn't. If he could, Tracou would know his feelings already.
"Men marry women. Only men and women can have children. But, Tracou, I..."
Emotion swelled within his chest and shot into his throat, tangling there, blocking his breath. He hadn't been able to speak about this with anyone, so for the past week so it had been stewing inside of him. Putting words to these thoughts was miserable, shameful. He was broken. He was defective. Even if Tracou didn't hate him for it, maybe the most he could give him was pity.
But.
But maybe Tracou understood. He didn't want to get married, either. He was sitting on his lap.
Hope and longing sprouted in the pit of his stomach and eased their way up through his chest and into his throat, allowing him to breathe again.
Tracou waited patiently through all this, everything focused on Mirthal.
"I've decided I don't want to get married, Tracou," Mirthal said, voice growing more confident with each word. "I want... to be close to you. Only you."
A shudder went through Tracou. He stroked Mirthal's hair, blinking hard.
"If there's something wrong with you, Mirthal, the same thing is wrong with me."
It took a few moments for the meaning of those words to truly hit Mirthal. He stared at Tracou, eyebrows slowly lifting up toward his hairline.
"Really?" Mirthal asked, voice hushed.
"I've never been interested in women, not like that. But almost everyone else is. I thought you wouldn't want a man..."
A reasonable assumption to make—Mirthal had thought the same about Tracou.
"I was so sure that you thought I was a helpless child," Tracou said with a forced laugh. "But you don't... Right?"
"Of course not!" Tracou, a child! How absurd. A child could never have appeared before him in the blind dark of the Frosted Castle's dungeon.
"Without you, I could have died in Winlea. Or even been robbed in Shalen. Plus, well, you're beautiful, Tracou."
"You've called me cute before, but isn't beautiful too much? I'm still a man."
"You're a beautiful one," Mirthal said with a grin.
"You're the worst."
They had returned to familiar territory. He relaxed some, pleased that he could use teasing Tracou to say things that would have been difficult in all other circumstances.
"What about me?"
"You?" Tracou huffed. "You're handsome, of course."
"Of course?"
"Yes. You have a strong jaw." Tracou paused to drag a finger along Mirthal's jawline. "You're tall, with wide shoulders... It's not fair." With a dramatic sigh, Tracou leaned against Mirthal again and moved his arms around Mirthal's shoulders. "You're already a prince. What gives you the right to be handsome, too?"
"I can't help it."
Somehow, beyond all likelihood, Tracou liked him! Even if Mirthal was broken, Tracou was the same way. Doubtless Pendaer would cry about it to him whenever he could. It would be even worse when they returned to the Elven Kingdom—his mother would not be happy to hear that he was involved with another man. But he could deal with it. It would be worth it to show Tracou his palace, to dote on him, to give him an entire closet's worth of Elvish silk.
Cool fingers brushed against Mirthal's cheek, bringing him back to reality. Tracou leaned in close to him, so close that he could feel his breath.
"Mirthal... kiss me."
Kissing. He looked at Tracou's lips, imagining how they might feel against his. But that would cement things. Kissing was what lovers did. Were they lovers? Would it be right for them to be lovers in the first place? Tracou seemed to reciprocate his feelings, which was extremely important and well received information. But lovers carried such weight and could cut off other possibilities for both of them.
Elven courtship, at least when it came to royalty or the nobility, had far more complexity than this. There were stages that he was supposed to go through, things he was supposed to do, but Tracou either didn't know or didn't care about that. The wedding today had been a small, almost bizarre affair where the bride and groom, after a lengthy preamble, had declared that they were married and that was that. No one had to come in and authenticate it. Maybe, for dezmek, becoming lovers was the same.
It didn't sit right with Mirthal. He wanted to go through the proper motions, do the proper things. So much of his time had been devoted to learning the right steps to all sorts of life events that he would have to go through. In theory, he should know exactly what to do. But now that he was faced with Tracou, whose lips hovered near his own, he could skip all that.
"Are you sure? We'll be lovers..."
"I'm sure." Tracou grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. "I want you to kiss me. No one else—only you."
Only him. Only him. Mirthal's eyes slid down to the back of Tracou's hand, the hand holding his, where his mark stood proudly on Tracou's skin.
Only him.
Mirthal leaned forward, easing his lips into Tracou's. Neither of them moved as they both took in what had just happened. They were kissing, they were lovers now. As Mirthal reeled from this, Tracou moved his lips experimentally. Mirthal reciprocated and placed a hand on Tracou's thigh. Normally this would be beyond unacceptable, but they were lovers. They could do more than this if they wanted. The contact surprised Tracou, who gasped.
His mouth was open.
On instinct, Mirthal parted his lips as well. He dragged his tongue along Tracou's lower lip, making him shudder and gasp again.
Getting a reaction out of Tracou pleased him immensely—Mirthal wanted more out of him. They were lovers, so it was okay. They might be doing something wrong, but they were doing it together.
All he could focus on was Tracou. His lips, his tongue, the way he sighed into his mouth, and the weight of him on his lap.
It was better than he could have imagined.
And yet, it wasn't enough.
They parted. Tracou shifted in his lap, staring at Mirthal like a snake that had caught sight of a mouse, with pupils so wide that the blue had been relegated to mere framing of the black. He leaned forward, trailing a line of kisses from the corner of Mirthal's mouth over to his ear.
Mirthal stiffened, bracing himself.
"Mirthal..." Tracou breathed against his ear, sending a wave of something down Mirthal's spine.
His back arched and he shuddered, his skin prickling. He tensed his body, trying to distract himself, but he couldn't. As long as Tracou sat on his lap, resting on his chest, his lips dangerously close to his ear... Mirthal swallowed, what meager spit he had managed only served to show how dry his throat had become.
He was hard.
If he didn't do something, Tracou would notice. Part of him wanted Tracou to notice and then... what? Would he be pleased? What if he wasn't? They couldn't— It was so soon! Tracou wasn't some harlot, not like Pendaer seemed to believe. No, Tracou wouldn't want to go farther than kissing. Not yet.
He tried to move away, but ended up grazing himself against Tracou's inner thigh. Tracou gasped against his ear, a sound that rippled through him and went straight to his cock. All Mirthal could do was grunt as he struggled to resist the pleasure that beckoned to him.
Pulling back from Mirthal's ear, Tracou leaned away from him, looking him over until his gaze settled on Mirthal's crotch.
"Let's... retire," he said, unable to tear his black eyes away.
Retire? To bed? So he had offended him. Holding back a sigh, Mirthal nodded.
Tracou got off of him. "I'll help you get out of those clothes..."
Oh.
Oh.
Heart racing, Mirthal followed Tracou into the lord's bedroom.