“My, but he‘s a hefty stunnin’ lad, isn‘t ‘e?”
Aloth‘s hazy eyes sharpen and grow wide with horror, fingers going tense around Edér‘s arms. “Iselmyr,” he begins breathlessly, but Edér‘s grin is not unkind.
“She joining us?” he teases. Aloth doesn‘t find it particularly funny.
“I certainly hope not,” he says promptly, winding his long arms over the breadth of Edér‘s shoulders. The beds in Brighthollow are a grand leap from lying on the cold hard ground atop Edér‘s cloak. It is a rare and fortunate moment indeed when their esteemed Watcher sees fit to leave them to their own devices within the Keep. Aloth is determined not to let himself get in the way of making the most of it.
“It‘s kinda flattering,” Edér admits, a calloused palm wandering under Aloth‘s robes. “Havin‘ two of you in there who‘re pretty keen on me.”
“And there are times I suspect you like her more than me,” Aloth says waspishly. The way his hands furrow through Edér‘s hair belies his tone, though, and Edér can‘t help but lay a few slow kisses on his primly set mouth.
“Sure, I like her,” he says against the curve of Aloth‘s chin. “I like you. All of you.”
“If you‘re trying to charm me, it won‘t work.”
Edér laughs, and his whole body moves to attention when Aloth‘s fingers rake over his scalp and down the back of his neck. “‘Course not.”
“That would be my area of expertise.”
Another kiss finds its way to the tip of Aloth’s nose. “Ain‘t arguin' with you.” But even that earns him a disgruntled little harrumph.
“I don‘t want to be humored,” Aloth insists, nails drifting down Edér’s neck to his bare chest to his stomach, taut under his touch. It‘s a dirty move, and Edér loves him for pulling it. “I want you to prove me wrong.”
Edér lowers himself onto Aloth just to watch his face flush a brilliant shade of red because he can pull dirty moves, too. Aloth’s muffled whine brings a smile to his lips.
“Then allow me to oblige you.”