“Because she’s Greta.” Illium finished off his bun, drank some water. “Anyway, couple months after the dead-frog stare, my Tower apartment’s air-conditioning gets upgraded. No one else’s. Just mine. Moral of the story is: be nice to the admins.”
Aodhan chuckled, his shoulders brushing Illium’s as they sat side by side. “You’re all wet.” Reaching out, he ruffled Illium’s hair.
It should’ve felt friendly, joking, but their eyes met, and it was . . .
Aodhan dropped his hand, and they both stared into the fire, but they didn’t move apart. And when Illium picked up a protein bar and offered it to Aodhan, the other man took it, and they talked about different things. About the journey to come, about what might be happening with Jinhai, about Suyin.
To occupy his hands and calm the odd sensations in his body, he played unthinkingly with the small metal disk that he carried always. When he yawned a few minutes later, his eyes beginning to close, Aodhan said, “Sleep, Blue.”
He then walked over to grab a bedroll, spread it out by the fire. “Should be warm enough for you—no snow predicted tonight.”
Illium knew he was right, but he fought the grit in his eyes to get to his feet. Shoving the disk that had once been a pendant into his pocket, he said, “Hey, Adi?”
Bedroll set up, Aodhan rose with the blanket in his arms. “No, I’m not going to tell you a bedtime story.”
Illium grinned—because this Aodhan? The funny one with a quiet wit? It was a private aspect of his best friend that he shared with a rare few. And it was a part of him that had been silent for a long and painful eon. “I wanted to say I’m sorry, too.”
It wasn’t hard to do that, to admit his mistake, when he knew his words—his understanding—would matter a great deal to Aodhan. “I did react badly that night in the Enclave.” He brushed his fingers over the heavy warmth of the other man’s wing. “I couldn’t see it then, but I do now, and I’m sorry.”
Aodhan looked at him for a long moment. Then, sliding his free hand around to the back of Illium’s neck, he tugged Illium close for a hug that melted Illium from tip to toe, no more chill in him. He slid his arms around Aodhan’s muscled body, allowed Aodhan to envelop him in his wings.
It felt right. All the way down to his very core.
“Apology accepted.” Soft words against his ear, a warm breath, as Aodhan ran one hand down his back.
Illium should’ve done the same . . . but he turned his face toward Aodhan’s neck, his lips a mere breath away from the stardust of Aodhan’s skin. Aodhan didn’t flinch, and affection, warmth, love, it morphed quietly into a thing that stirred butterflies in Illium’s abdomen and had Aodhan going motionless.
They broke apart, their breathing not quite even.
Aodhan swallowed. “You need sleep.” It came out rough.
“Yeah.” But he wasn’t about to leave this unfinished. If this past year had taught him anything, it was that he had to listen—and he had to speak. “Sh—” He cleared his throat. “Should I apologize again?” He was the one who’d altered the tenor of their embrace by turning his face into Aodhan’s neck in a way that wasn’t a thing of best friends.
A sudden panic had him rubbing his hands on his thighs. “We can make a deal to forget it.” It had nothing to do with the fact they were both male—angels were not like the majority of mortals. Their kind lived far too long to see sexuality as an inflexible construct. Angels knew that growth was infinite.
It might hold linear for some, split off into different dimensions for others.
No, his panic had to do with the fact his friendship with Aodhan was vital to an eternity lived in joy. “If you want, I can bleach my brain, no problem.”
Aodhan was starfire in the light from the flames, his smile a startled sunrise. “No,” he said. “Don’t apologize and don’t forget.” Then he cupped the back of Illium’s neck again in a way that was so familiar and so welcome, and pressed his cheek to Illium’s . . . before bending his head and pressing a kiss to the curve of Illium’s neck.
A shiver rocked Illium’s body, his hands clutching at Aodhan’s hips. Everything inside him felt curled up tight, on the verge of flying apart.
Rubbing his cheek against Illium’s, Aodhan squeezed his nape. “You’re so tired, Blue.” Then he stepped back, brushing his knuckles over the line of Illium’s jaw. “Rest. We’ll figure this out later.”