“Yes, of course.” Alun didn’t know where to look or what more to say. It wasn’t for him to dictate what Val or anyone else in this household ate. It had been silly pride that his buns weren’t finished to his liking that had caused him to speak without thinking. That had gotten him into more trouble than he cared to think about. He was nothing and his feelings were of no consequence in this world. Forgetting that was a dangerous thing.
“I should finish the rest, though.” He didn’t move to do so, however, his mind a muddle from Craig’s proximity and touch. It was hard to think with him there. Alun both wanted those fingers to stay curled around his arm and longed to shake off the touch. Being in the presence of this human confused him.
Craig smiled and let go of Alun to put the tray on the counter. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Alun almost laughed out loud at the idea that such a virile, commanding man should act like a kitchen slut. No, that wasn’t right. No one here called anyone that slur for cooking and cleaning. It was hard to stifle the way he’d been forced to think and talk, even of his own derogation. But Emil cooked, and he was a fierce warrior. Somehow, though, the idea of Craig putting on an apron and helping him ice buns seemed inappropriate. Alun would much rather serve him—and not because he felt he had to. He wanted to, which was just one more confusing thing to ponder.
Turning away, he said, “No, thank you. There’s nothing much to it.” The timer for the second batch went off in another oven. The kitchen had an astounding four to use. He hurried to put the buns in his hands onto the first tray, in order to fetch the newly-finished ones. He put their tray next to the ones he’d previously baked, careful not to look at Craig. The man was too much of a distraction.
“Would you like some coffee?” The question came to him in a flash and he was pleased that he’d thought to start a pot for the early risers.
“Sounds wonderful. I can get it. Thanks.”
“No, let me.” His boldness made his cheeks heat. “You’re a guest, like.”
Craig moved to lean against the kitchen’s island. “If it’s no trouble…”
“None at all,” he was quick to assure the man and went to fill a mug. “How do you take it?” Although he’d never been permitted to have any at the castle, he’d learned that coffee was a personal drink with lots of choices about how it could be altered, not so different from tea.
“Black is fine. No sugar, either. I’m a simple guy,” Craig added with another grin.
Uncomfortable with so much pleasantry being thrown in his direction, Alun busied himself with picking up the carafe. “Well, that’s easy.” He was also perversely disappointed that he couldn’t do more to make the man happy. “Here you are.”
As he passed the mug over, the backs of his fingers brushed those of Craig’s. The brief touch caused a little spark of awareness and he was surprised by the warmth. He’d grown used to being touched by cold beings.
“Thanks.” Once again, Craig gave him a broad smile that reached his eyes. It seemed to be the man’s default expression. He was almost like Annika in that respect—naturally joyful. Except this was an adult, not a child, and even with the misery he must see every day, he’d still not lost that appealing quality. It made for a nice change from the grimness that now pervaded the home, a small oasis that lifted Alun’s spirits—not that Alun dared do more than glance in his direction.
“I could use a hit of caffeine,” Val said from across the dining counter on the other side of the kitchen.
Alun startled at the sudden request. “Yes, of course.” He started to turn away from Craig, but the man caught him gently by the arm and kept him in place.
“Get your own damn coffee, Mr. T. Alun’s not your slave.” Craig winked and took a sip of his own drink.
Unsure of what to say or how to react, Alun fell back on his usual passiveness, allowing Craig to hold him, even as he fretted over Val being forced to get his own coffee. The grip around his arm loosened and morphed into a kind of stroking, a reassurance without words. Alun stopped worrying about Val and began to wonder how he would find the strength to move away from this unexpected attention. He searched for some hint of menace or even demand, and finding none, he decided to leave it to Craig to decide what would happen next.
Doing so wasn’t new to him. He’d never been in control of his life, going from a dutiful son who had left his beloved schoolroom to head for the mines, to an enslaved whore for an alien monster. This, however, was the first time in which he felt no resentment. He trusted this man to have his best interests in mind, although the why of it eluded him. After all that he’d been through, this kind of assertive behavior should scare him to death.
The situation resolved itself in the form of Damien, who literally jumped into it by taking the last few steps of the staircase with a leap. He landed with a thud that was nothing like the almost-silent entry of his alien lover moments before, and he bobbled a moment before straightening with a look on his face that telegraphed his obvious glee.
“Man, I love my new superpowers.”
Willem walked over and gave him the kind of passionate kiss that always called up some unnamed longing in Alun. “Easy, baby. You aren’t invincible. I don’t want you breaking a leg during your transformation.”
“You worry too much.” Damien rolled his eyes in a form of disrespect that made Alun cringe. He still expected such an act to end in a severe blow.
Craig gave Alun’s arm a gentle squeeze before releasing it. “Don’t worry. It’s just banter between lovers.”
Surprised that the man had read him so well, Alun gave him a grateful smile before stepping away. The proximity was becoming uncomfortable now, especially as others were joining them.
“Hey, Alun, thanks for the prep.” Damien sauntered into the kitchen area with the confidence of someone who knew he belonged there. “And you made buns… Awesome.”
The gratitude made him even more uneasy. “They still need icing.”
Damien nodded. “Sounds good… And while you’re doing that, I’ll fix you an omelet.”
Alun widened his eyes with alarm. “Oh, no, I had some toast already. There are warriors who need feeding first. And Mackie’s coming,” he added as the pregnant changeling lumbered down the stairs with his hand on his lower back. Alun winced inside with sympathy. He knew how hard it was to carry a baby inside a body that had not been readily designed for it. Unlike the alien who’d impregnated Alun, however, Val strode to help the human who was pregnant with his son.
Damien shook his head, commanding Alun’s attention once more. “It takes no time at all to make one with all this prep done. No one will wait for long. So, what do you like in yours?”
Alun was at a loss, considering that what he ate had never been a choice and he hadn’t gotten used to the idea of making such decisions. He instinctively looked to Craig, who was watching over the rim of his mug. He felt stupid needing help with such a simple question.
“How about a little of everything?” Craig suggested. Alun found himself nodding before turning his attention to his buns, which was where it belonged.
“Everything it is,” Damien replied.