But Silas eased out, saying “Lie still,” in a deep, rough voice. “I’m going to paint your skin.”
Darien heard the susurrus of hand on cock, Silas’s breath rasping, the creak of the bed and the rustle of the sheet. Then Silas groaned long and low, and damp heat splashed across Darien’s ass and back and neck and— hair? For no good reason, he began laughing into the pillow with pleasure, with joy, in some kind of spiral of happiness at how ridiculous it was to love the idea that Silas had jizzed in his hair. “I am so fucking crazy about you,” he managed between breaths.
“Really?”
“Well, yeah. I’m going to need a shower and I’m happy.”
Silas chuckled and stretched out half over him, kissing his shoulder. “You definitely need a shower.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“You don’t mind?”
Darien squirmed around enough to be able to look at Silas from a few inches away. “Not even slightly.”
“You were pretty tired.”
“Yeah. Still am. Still not sorry.” He managed to free a hand and trailed his fingertips over Silas’s hip. “You blew my mind. Being fucked has never felt like that before.”
Silas smiled crookedly. “I won’t mind doing that again sometime.”
Darien’s thoughts drifted as his body lay there in a puddle of sated limp noodleness. “Tomorrow’s gonna be a real adventure. How rad is it to realize we’re going to dive into a spell no one else in the world has ever used? Other than Coldwell and Norlington, I guess.”
Silas’s weight suddenly vanished off Darien’s back, jolting him alert. “You probably shouldn’t shower. It’d wash off all that lotion. I’ll get a washcloth.”
Darien was left lying in the suddenly-cool air, as Silas strode off to the bathroom. What did I say? He ran his words back in his head. Well, shit. Of course Silas doesn’t think that spell down there is rad. That was stupid. It’s an adventure to me, but a betrayal to him.
Darien wondered if Silas needed to talk about how he felt. Surely, bottling his reactions up with “And I’m damned unhappy about that” just meant Silas would stew about it silently in his head. Maybe he needed a little encouragement.
He waited until Silas had come back, cleaned up after himself from Darien’s ass to his hair, and even added more of Granny Abels’ wonderful soothing cream to Darien’s hips and groin, not saying anything. In fact, he kept right on waiting as Silas cleaned himself up as well and put on a pair of pajama pants before getting into the bed at Darien’s back. Darien didn’t resist being pulled in as the small spoon. Sometimes it was easier to say the hard stuff when you weren’t looking anyone in the eye.
Once he had Silas warm at his back, with a long arm across his waist, Darien murmured, “How much did it bother you, finding that hidden spell?”
Sure enough, Silas went rigid, a much more reliable tell than his mutter of, “Not that much.”
“Uh huh.” Darien pushed back enough to feel Silas’s hip against his wonderfully achy ass. “Old Norlington left you the house in his will and never said one word about ‘Oh, keep an eye on that transfer portal I bricked up in the basement’— I’d be pretty pissed off.”
“I’m not… pleased. Not least because now, when we really could use information, there’s nothing there in my head.” Silas’s legs shifted like he was restless, and his voice went tight. “Norlington could’ve said something, left me a letter, put some kind of clue aside to be found. But it’s Coldwell I’m really angry with.”
Darien hummed wordlessly, hoping it came across as encouragement.
“That transfer was hard. Don’t get me wrong, I agreed to everything. Letting him into my mind was supposed to give me a reservoir of magical knowledge to fall back on when I encountered the dangerously unexpected. But there’s not much more unexpected than a portal in my cellar. And Coldwell knew that. And he still left me high and dry.” Silas pulled away from Darien.
Darien rolled over to look at him, trying to see his expression in the dimness. “Could Norlington have created the gate after Coldwell’s death?”
Silas shook his head sharply against the pillows. “I felt my mentor’s magic in it.”
“Oh.” Darien couldn’t argue with that.
“The transfer was—” Silas cleared his throat, squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and tried again. “For the transfer, I had to take a potion to suppress my own magic, because part of being a necromancer is a power that keeps spirits, even my own master’s almost-ghost, from moving in. I had to take it over and over, and each time, I was left…”
Vulnerable? Unprotected? Darien’s throat ached.
“…open to Coldwell. He chose what to show me. He strolled into my head—” Silas coughed again hoarsely. “—and sat down and thought about some magical technique or rune structure he wanted me to know. He’d work through it mentally, while I shared that experience. But sometimes he’d lose his focus. He was old, and dying, and he’d start remembering his past, or worrying about his fate, and I shared that too.”
“That sounds—” Darien discarded the word “creepy” and went with “—intense.”
“Very. And then my dad died, right in the middle of that process.” Dampness sheened Silas’s eyes although his voice stayed steady. “I had to go home, I wanted to, but I couldn’t stay long. And there you were, and I was distracted and not thinking straight, and I messed you up too.”
Darien laid a hand against the stubbled angle of Silas’s jaw. “You know I don’t hold a grudge.”
“The transfer was all supposed to be worth it, because Coldwell said he’d give me every advantage he could, and I trusted him. Implicitly. And now I know he lied.” Silas’s voice caught on the word. He added with an obvious effort at his usual dry tone, “At least by omission.”
There was nothing Darien could come up with to say that felt right. Comfort would sound hollow, and Darien ranting against those old men who’d abused Silas’s trust probably wouldn’t make Silas feel better. So he brushed a kiss on Silas’s cheek, and another against his neck. Silas gathered him close, and Darien tucked his head under Silas’s chin. They breathed together and the tension in Silas’s body gradually eased.
As Darien hovered on the edge of sleep, he heard Silas murmur, “You’re right, though. That portal’s going to be a hell of an adventure.”
***
Silas eyed his motley crew of explorers setting up in the portal room. Everyone from Pip on up to Mrs. Vaughn seemed to be vibrating. In most cases with excitement, although in his case it was probably the three cups of morning coffee, after a night with uneasy dreams and too little sleep. Well, maybe from a little excitement too.
They’d spent hours putting together the packs that he, Jasper, and Darien wore. Half of that time had gone into debating what they’d need most, between food, clothing, tools, weapons, and spellcraft materials. Grim had insisted they bring the potion Granny Abels had given Darien, despite the breakable quality of the small bottle. Since Silas had never once regretted trusting Grim, the flask was now rolled in Darien’s clean undershorts and carefully stowed in his pack.