Davrin offered a wispy smile, like amusement wanted out, but a fit of nerves would not let it. So unusual in a man who had made a life's practice of arguing with monarchs on behalf of his own king. A man who would soon be practically a king himself. "I told her we weren't lovers, because so many things made it impossible, but that I'd always wished that wasn't true."
Cimar's head spun with all the revelations striking him. Somehow, fighting the lindworm was seeming like the simplest, easiest part of his week. All the shattered pieces in his chest started to slowly, tentatively draw back together. "You did? I mean, you do? Whatever, come here." He reached out, snagged Davrin's tunic in both hands, and reeled him in close and kissed the bloody fool even as Davrin gasped his name in surprise.
It took only a moment for Davrin to catch up and meet him full measure. His arms, far stronger than Cimar would have expected, wrapped firmly around Cimar's waist and lifted him slightly, so they were more of a level in height. That made Cimar's grip awkward, so he gladly shifted to sink his hands into Davrin's hair, which was even softer than it had always looked.
His mouth was soft too, warm and still flavored of their dinner, but the kiss itself was ardent, focused, sending delicate shivers down Cimar's spine as he imagined all the other delightful things that mouth and tongue could do.
When they finally drew apart, he was panting. He stared as Davrin slowly let him slide down so his feet were on the floor again. "How long have you…"
Davrin's smile was bittersweet. "I said always, and I meant it. There just constantly seemed to be obstacles that could not be overcome, bridges that could not be crossed."
"Yes, speaking of obstacles, I am still very much married, and that will not look good for you," Cimar replied. He'd given up caring a long time ago how it made him look, but he wouldn't have his besmirched reputation harming Davrin.
"Korena said she would see that taken care of, and made it quite clear I was to take care of the rest." He curled a finger beneath Cimar's chin, tilting his head up just that bit farther, and mercy of the Goddess, Cimar would never survive if Davrin was now going to make a habit of looking at him like that.
He licked his lip, enjoying far too much the effect that had, the strangled noise Davrin made. "Then get on with it, my lord, and take care of the rest." He grinned. "Unless, of course, the diplomat in you requires more dithering."
Davrin grabbed hold and shuffled him toward the bed, moving so fast that, forced to stumble backward, Cimar would have fallen if not for Davrin's secure grip. Then he was sprawled awkwardly on the bed, legs dangling over the edge, completely uncaring as all his attention focused on Davrin. "Diplomats never dither. We simply know when and how to take our time."
Cimar groaned, fit to burst as that hot promise coursed through him, better even than the rush of flame when he was a dragon. "I admit I had hopes and ambitions upon my return, but I also confess I did not think I would enjoy such rousing success." He sat up and set to work on his clothes, resenting all the layers required to endure the bitter cold.
As they both finished undressing, leaving their clothes in heaps they'd likely regret later, Davrin climbed into the bed and drew the curtains, cocooning them in darkness, but also warmth. Firelight slipped through cracks in the curtains, just enough for him to see by as Davrin settled between his thighs. Cimar shuddered, nearly undone right then and there. "I like having you there, my lord. Or should I say, my prince?"
"I'd rather hear something far more possessive," Davrin replied, and took his mouth in a kiss that left their first one in the dust, tasting every corner and crevice of his mouth, sucking on his tongue, biting at his lips until they were pleasantly sore and swollen from all the attention.
Shifting away from Cimar's mouth, Davrin put his own to work on the rest of Cimar, starting at his jaw and working his way slowly—agonizingly slowly—down his body, alternating between lips and teeth and tongue, leaving a trail of kisses, licks, and teasing nips that Cimar would feel whenever he closed his eyes or simply let his mind wander.
Every time he tried to do some touching of his own, all he got for his efforts were his hands pushed back to the bedding, until he gave up and did as told, more than happy to be at Davrin's mercy if that was what he desired.
Davrin bit sharply at one hip, right above bone, making Cimar gasp and arch, a weakness even he hadn't known was there to exploit. Soft chuckles filled their private little world, and Davrin did it again, forcing Cimar to slap a hand over his mouth lest he make a noise that the guards in the hall would hear all too clearly.
By the time Davrin's teeth grazed along the inner skin of his thighs, he was gasping and pleading and taking the Goddess's name quite vigorously in vain. When Davrin's mouth finally, finally dropped over his cock, Cimar didn't know whether to sob or scream, and wound up doing some utterly ridiculous combination of the two that he had to muffle with a pillow.
The bastard had not been lying about taking his time; Cimar didn't know whether to kiss him for it later or kill him.
Deft fingers toyed with his sack, stroking and gently tugging, rolling his balls in a way equal parts amazing and agonizing. All the while Davrin sucked at his cock, taking him deep, into his throat, tongue working the underside, cheeks hollowed. His jaw must have been aching by that point, but he only continued on. Releasing Cimar's sack, Davrin reached further back with his free hand and teased at Cimar's hole, pressing a fingertip in the barest bit, and that was the last that Cimar could take. The hitching of his breath was all the warning he could manage before he gripped Davrin's beautiful, mussed hair and spilled down his throat, ragged cries filling the air, Cimar far too overtaken to remember to muffle them this time. Well, the guards would have something other than the lindworm to talk about, for better or worse.
Chest heaving, he collapsed fully on the bed, sweaty and overheated and more enthralled than ever with the beautiful man still braced above him. Sweat gleamed on Davrin's skin in the bare bits of light that reached them, and his mouth was a mess of spittle and come, his hair a hopeless tangle as it spilled over his shoulders. Cimar had never seen a more beautiful sight. He reached up and tugged Davrin down, kissed him deeply, groaning at the taste of himself in Davrin's mouth, shivers running through him despite the fact he was far too wrung out to do much of anything the rest of the night.
Although there was definitely one thing he had the energy for, though the details he'd leave up to Davrin. To his lover. Cimar wanted to laugh, the joy was so consuming. Drawing back, biting playfully at Davrin's well-used lips, he said, "I'm starting to suspect your diplomatic methods, my prince."
"I've had offers," Davrin said, and Cimar could all but feel him rolling his eyes. "None appealed enough to drag myself into the mess such methods cause."
"What about my offers? Would you find those appealing?"
Davrin bit at his throat, right below his collarbone, and Cimar could feel how much he already appealed from the hard cock pressing against him, leaving warm, sticky trails on his skin. "Perhaps."
"You want my mouth or my ass?" Cimar asked, the words coming out a touch breathlessly. That got him a positively delightful noise, like Davrin was so desperately overcome, everything jumbled together into a wordless heap wholly unlike a man whose life was built around using his words with more skill than most.