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Bree is nervous. It’s a feeling she knows well, obviously, but tonight feels different. It is different, she assures herself. It’s like you are going to be meeting them both again, for the first time.
She has to sit down at that thought.
A steadying breath, and she mentally goes over what she has arranged: Lark promised her he’d bring them all the way back up to Sel’s room, since no one knows how their bodies will react to the removal of the Kingsmage Oath. It’s been sunk deep into their bones for nine years— Bree shudders as she wonders how it could possibly be unwound from bodies that have been growing this whole time. Oaths have always felt viscerally distasteful to her. It’s a good thing this one is going to be unmade. They both deserve to choose what their relationship will be now, and in the future. That’s what tonight is about, she tells herself. Choice, agency, and for her, hope.
She looks around. Sel’s bed is made and candles are lit. She arranged throw pillows and piled blankets on the floor for seating, with some plates and wine glasses borrowed from the kitchen downstairs. She ordered what is probably going to be too much Chinese food, but teenage boys always seem to exceed expectations in that regard. There’s some red wine Sar was only too happy to grab for her from the cellar when she’d asked, and a few bottles of mineral water, plus a bucket of ice complete with a pair of those silly little ice tongs.
She had even begged a ride to the supermarket this afternoon with Greer to get a cake. Once they’d been able to pull out of her what the cake was for, they’d taken it upon themselves to flirt shamelessly with the bakery worker and gotten it personalized, gratis. So now she has a cake hidden in the closet that says CONGRATS, YOUR EMOTIONS ARE ENTIRELY YOUR OWN! in deep blue icing, with the Legendborn symbol behind a red circle with a diagonal line slashed through. She hopes it will be as funny to them as she intends it to be.
Do I need anything else? She hums, turning around in place, letting her eyes pass over the circular walls of the tower room slowly, going over everything a third time. She stops. Fishes her phone out of her pocket to check the time. The food will be here soon, and then the boys should arrive soon after. She grabs the cooler she found in the kitchen and heads out to go wait for the delivery downstairs. Bree is extra pleased with herself for finding the big insulated bag; the food will stay hot and it should keep the smell of spice and peanut oil contained, for Sel’s sake. She smiles, closing and locking the door behind her.
~~~
After all that worry, Bree falls asleep with her head in Nick’s lap almost directly after they finish eating. Sel and Nick are talking about something inconsequential, when he feels Bree shift a bit, mumbling nonsense into his pants leg.
“So,” drawls Sel.
“Some kung pao and one glass of wine in this girl and—” Nick makes a collapsing gesture with one hand, letting it fall on the curve of her waist.
“We should probably put her to bed.”
“Yeah. We should also try to get her to brush her teeth and put her scarf on, or she’ll be cranky when she wakes up.” They both look at her sleep-softened features for a moment before moving in tandem.
Sel carries her to the adjoining bathroom and sets her down gently on her feet while Nick puts toothpaste on her brush and puts the toilet seat down so she can sit if she wants to. Sel wakes her with soft words and eyelid kisses; she grabs the proffered toothbrush and sits down, leaning against Nick’s hip as she brushes, eyes closed. The boys both realize at the same time that Nick can’t leave the bathroom, so Sel stays too, leaning against the edge of the claw foot tub. He looks down at their feet and winds one of his through each of theirs as they all breathe together to the swishy sounds of Bree finishing up, the sound echoey and distorted in the tiled bathroom.
She taps his thigh with one hand. “Ffggh gutttuh geddup, Shel.” He releases her leg, keeping his foot where it is, partially wedged under Nick’s, while she spits and rinses. Together they guide her out of the dark bathroom and over to the bed.
Sel retrieves her scarf from under a pillow while Nick wonders what to do with the bra Bree hands him after taking it off in that magical way girls do, without removing the soft, worn t-shirt she had been wearing over it. Sel sighs and takes it from him, putting it in the drawer he’d cleared out for her a few weeks ago.
She snuggles up without a word as they tuck her in, lips parting as if she’s already back in the same deep sleep she was in when it was Nick’s lap instead of a pillow.
Nick is still looking down fondly at Bree when he realizes Sel is moving things around on the floor behind him, putting the dishes and leftover food in the insulated bag. His brain kicks back into gear and he goes to open the windows so the takeout smell can dissipate faster. It’s a mild night and the sound of cicadas soon adds another texture to the evening air. He feels buzzy and energized even without the fresh breeze though; definitely not sleepy.
He turns to ask the other boy how he’s feeling, and is met with a refilled glass of water being pressed into his hand. “Thanks,” he murmurs, taking a swallow and allowing himself to be led back to the floor pillows and blankets that is their little makeshift seating area.
“I am wide awake,” says Sel, stretching out both arms and tenting long fingers on the floor as he leans towards Nick. Nick feels his vision tunnel when hit with the full weight of Sel’s gaze, Sel’s whole body oriented towards him. Just when Nick becomes aware of his pounding heart, Sel breaks their eye contact, shrugs each of his shoulders in succession, and snaps his head quickly to each side, the wet sound of joints popping both jarring and familiar. Pressure of another kind quietly lessens in the room.
“Me too,” says Nick. There’s a pause. He lays down to feel himself breathing against something solid, and looks up at the rafters, gaze settling on the center of the ceiling that is the highest point of the tower room. It’s much bigger than Nick’s room downstairs, but then Nick has only ever needed to sleep down there a handful of times over the years. Sel moved in here and made it his own as soon as he turned sixteen, eager to be out from under Lord Davis’s watch, at least in some respects. The dark wood paneling, Sel’s altar, his overstuffed bookshelf and violin— the drama of the high peaked ceilings even— are just so perfectly him, so comforting and known.
Nick rolls over towards him, reaching out a hand. “I wonder why I’m feeling so… connected… to you tonight,” he says, surprising himself by giving voice to a thought that had only just begun simmering somewhere in his mind, “when ostensibly we are less linked now than we have been in a decade.”
Sel doesn’t answer right away, but he frowns thoughtfully and reaches out his fingers to trace gentle swirls on Nick’s open palm and forearm, almost mirroring the tattooed pattern on his own arms. “I am not sure. I do feel like the ceremony changed things between us, but it could not erase the scaffolding that had built up around the Oath.” Seeing confusion in Nick’s face, Sel continues, “I mean, we both know the Oath wasn’t just the sharing of extreme emotions felt during battle. My entire life was oriented to keep you safe.” His words are gentle, meant to remind Nick, not to chide. It wasn’t a choice for either of them, after all. He curls Nick’s fingers together into a ball and covers his hand with Sel’s own. “I no longer need to shield you from harm, but the ways in which I am tuned into you cannot be turned off.”
Nick pulls his fist back and holds both hands between his knees. “I’m sorry about that. I wish somehow you could have that part of your brain back.”
“Diplomatic of you,” Sel says wryly.
“It’s the truth, Sel.” Nick rolls onto his back again as he says this, knowing that Sel will react to his name, but not feeling ready for eye contact.
Sel inhales, then pauses before moving around to lean his chin onto Nick’s bent knees, looking straight at him. “None of us has come out of this war unscathed.” He squeezes Nick’s knees as Zhao’s name hangs in the air between them, unsaid. “If this is the only long-term consequence from my time as your Kingsmage, I should count myself lucky.”
“Now who’s diplomatic?”
“No, just giving perspective. To go back to your original question, I felt the severing of our bond in my body, but also in how I mentally… brace myself I guess? I’ve existed on a spectrum of more or less apt to feel your mortal fear for almost a decade, and the possibility never truly went away until,” he glances at the clock over his desk, “three hours ago.”
“So… a lack of dread?”
“Yeah. It feels more… joyful than I’m used to.” He sounds unsure if this is the right word. Nick smiles. Selwyn is always specific with his language. It’s funny to see his gears grind when trying to find the right word for an unequivocally positive emotion. “It’s almost like I have more room to breathe because x amount of my attention is no longer calculating how quickly I can get to wherever you are moment to moment.”
“We’ve been together for the whole of the last three hours though.”
“No, you went to your room to get clothes and use the bathroom when we got back to the Lodge.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Trust me, it’s different.”
“I believe you.”
A beat passes between them, during which Nick swallows dryly. Of course Sel notices this and finds the glass of water. Bastard, thinks Nick.
“What about you, Nicholas? How do you feel without the Kingsmage bond?” Sel asks as Nick pushes himself up to sit and accepts the water. He drinks some and turns the glass around in his hand long enough that it becomes obvious how much he was hoping not to have to reciprocate on this topic.
“I don’t know what to say,” he hedges.
“Your experience is necessarily going to be—”
“I don’t feel much different, to be honest,” he says quietly, cutting Sel off. “I felt the physical sensation you talked about, like an electric crackling in my bones, fairly unpleasant. But then after that was over, I feel the same. I never thought about the bloodlust very often if I could help it anyway, and peacetime recently has made that even easier.
If anything, it’s like a veil has been lifted but—“ he stops suddenly, reddening, but looks Sel full in the face. “I think I am feeling differently towards you because we have been different together lately, not because of the absence of the Oath tonight.”
There’s a short pause as they both consider the implication of these words.
Then, Nick lets out a breath at the same time as Sel says, “I want to kiss you.”
Embarrassingly, Nick sputters on his exhale and has to take another gulp of water. When the liquid and the air have come to an agreement in his throat, he puts the glass down and says, “I think I need a minute.” Then, seeing the hurt on Sel’s face, he clarifies, “That’s not a no. It’s a— I need a minute. I didn’t know that— what I said before— was true, until I said it, I don’t think. I’ll— I’ll be right back.” He touches the center of Sel’s chest, willing him to understand, and ducks into the bathroom, his pulse pounding loudly in his ears.
Nick knows that there’s really no way to hide anything from Sel about how his body is responding to the various revelations of the past few minutes. Still, he forces himself to concentrate on his breathing as he washes his hands.
As he leaves, Sel goes into the bathroom, and once Nick has changed into soft old sleep clothes, Sel opens the door so Nick can also brush his teeth.
He finishes a few moments before Sel does, and when he leaves the en-suite, he stops short, a decision made.
Sel raises an eyebrow when he sees Nick standing outside the bathroom, and he slowly flips the light switch and shuts the door, waiting for Nick to say something.
“I do— want to kiss you. I—“
Sel covers Nick’s awkwardly gesturing hands with his own hot, strong fingers. “Then kiss me.”
It’s a challenge, and they both know it. Sel doesn’t move any further, but he seems to be spinning from the inside, making him look bright and expansive in the dim candlelight, the reverse of the tunneling vision Nick had experienced earlier.
Nick moves his hands to Sel’s hips and steers him into the wall. Brings his face closer to the other boy’s and leans their foreheads together, closing his eyes to inhale Sel’s air before softly bringing their lips together.
Neither boy moves once they begin their kiss. Time seems to hang suspended. Gradually Nick realizes over the rushing in his ears that it’s Sel who has stopped moving, waiting, hands hovering over Nick’s shoulders. Nick turns his head minutely, opens his mouth, and the dam breaks. Sel pulls Nick closer and holds him tightly as they deepen the kiss, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Nick’s eyes flutter and then close again, his lips meeting Sel’s urgency with his own even as his breath vanishes and his head swims.
After breaking their initial kiss, Sel brings his hands up to Nick’s jaw, and he’s surprised to find that they are shaking. His words come out in a rush. “I spent so many years not allowing myself to touch you unless it was in service to my Oath. As if it could shatter if I acknowledged my own needs.” They kiss again, tasting of mint and heat.
Nick presses Sel’s hips further into the wall and is rewarded with a soft groan in his mouth. He smiles and runs his hands up the sides of Sel’s body, savoring both the fluttering reactions he’s feeling under his fingers and the hardness growing against his thigh.
“I want to know what you need right now.” Nick demands, surprising himself.
“I need—“ Sel is never at a loss for words, but here he pauses and wets his lips, “want— more of you.” Nick nods and Sel pulls his shirt off, immediately bringing his mouth to the lower curve of Nick’s collarbone, hungrily licking his way towards the pulse point at the base of his throat. Nick quivers at this, his knees beginning to show signs of not being able to do their job for much longer. He can feel Sel smile against his chest in response.
The impact of their difference in body temperature is so much stronger without his shirt on, Nick muses thickly. He shakes his head to clear it, like a dog, and then uses his hands to angle Sel’s face up towards his, suddenly finding them kissing again instead of saying what he meant to say. Sel’s hair is in his hands, soft and fine, so slippery that for a moment Nick imagines they are both weightless underwater. “I think I need to not be standing soon,” he finally manages, weakly.
Predictably, Sel chuckles at this. “Well, we either wake up Bree or…” he gestures back at the floor.
“I don’t want to wake Bree. Not that— I love Bree— I just—“
Sel nods. “Tonight has been about us already and she knows that. Wants this for us, if that’s not crass to state aloud.”
“I don’t think so,” says Nick, with as much dignity as one can while staving off a wall slide. Sel licks up the line of his neck to under his ear. “Oh my god you want me to fall down don’t you?” He groans, feeling soft nips along the edge of the cartilage. “Of course you do, why did I even ask?”
Sel is already holding some of Nick’s body weight, but he takes on the rest and brings them both over to the floor pillows before Nick has time to generate another thought. He’s not moving Merlin fast though, it’s more like Nick's brain is moving slower than usual.
He feels Sel’s lips on his just for a moment, and then they are gone. Nick opens his eyes to see Sel looking at him in wonder. “What,” he says self-consciously, feeling himself redden.
“Just— enjoying this,” says Sel, picking up Nick's hand with both of his own, kissing the center of his palm, and then wrist. His eyes are the same color as the candlelight and his smile is somehow even brighter.
Nick catches Sel’s face in his hand and watches him close his eyes and lean into it. His dark lashes look like velvet, hair wildly tousled. Sel has always looked beautiful— even during awkward stages, infuriatingly— but the experience of touching him now feels like using a photographer’s zoom lense, allowing the known landscape of a friend to become the as-yet-unexplored terrain of his beloved.
Sel opens his eyes and leans forward. “I’m going to kiss you now.” He does, hot and sweet and fierce. “And then I’m going to take the rest of your clothes off and keep kissing you until you tell me to stop.”
Nick nods as if in a daze but has nothing to say in return for a moment until: “Wait!” Sel freezes. “You still have all of your clothes on,” he blurts.
Sel grins with fangs. “That is very easy to remedy.” In a moment they are both naked and pressed together on the floor pillows in between soft blankets. Nick silently thanks Bree’s foresight before getting lost in sensation for an endless number of minutes, Sel’s body searing into his own wherever they touch.
Nick’s mouth feels bruised, he realizes once Sel begins kissing his way across Nick’s cheekbone to his ear. I guess this is what kissing boys is like? He thinks. But also Sel is— oh god— and then there are no more thoughts. Sel’s tongue and teeth on his ear make his eyes roll back and his body arch involuntarily off the floor. The corresponding purr in Sel’s throat goes straight to his cock.
Sel has rolled on top of him now and his long, lithe form is unyielding on top of Nick as he kisses and nips on the other side of Nick’s throat and shoulder. “I know we are naked, but I’m going to need you to tell me you want me to touch you—“
“I do want you to touch me.” He shivers, feeling Sel’s hand sliding down the side of him, over ribs and oblique muscles and sensitive skin. “I want you to touch me so much, but I think I might combust if you do.”
“Are you willing to risk it?” Sel asks soberly, before cracking a grin that turns wicked as he wraps his hand around Nick’s length, clearly savoring whatever unhinged expression his face is making.
Then they are kissing again, and everything in Nick’s body is all bright light against closed eyelids, sweat slicking their fingers’ path over taut fluttering muscle, arms holding bodies together, legs drawing each other closer. And hands– oh fuck.
The experience of touching Sel intimately, of using the familiar rhythms and movements that exist below conscious thought, but brand new in this context– is near hallucinogenic. Heat coming off of Sel seems to burn away Nick’s fear as they hurtle together towards the infinite.
He fists Sel’s hair as he kisses his mouth bruisingly, distantly understanding that he can't hurt the other boy, and relishing this. His tongue catches on one of Sel’s sharp canines and he moans, their pace increasing.
The boundaries between the two of them have been blurred before, with force and sweat and heightened emotions even, but nothing like this. As his body begins the wind up towards orgasm, Nick opens his eyes to see Sel’s eyes on his face already. “I want to see you come, says Nick fervently. Sel’s eyes darken at this. “Let go for me, Sel.”
He does, closing his eyes, body trembling and collapsing in Nick’s arms until the hot pulse of his cum brings Nick over the edge with him. They lay together, wrung out and wet, boneless arms and legs, breathing evening out slowly.
Nick turns his head to kiss Sel’s neck. When gentle pecks don't work to rouse him, he adds a bit of tongue. Sel shivers, and Nick brings his arms up to hold the other boy, turning them both and pulling back to see his face.
The planes of Sel’s face are thrown into sharp relief by the candle light, but his eyes glow a burnished gold all their own. His disheveled hair with the small black curls sticking to his neck and temples, nevertheless looks perfect. He's a work of art; a marble statue come to life.
He smiles almost shyly and leans forward, shadows pooling in the hollow of his clavicle. “Be right back,” he murmurs against Nick’s cheek, eyelashes catching briefly on stubble, and then he’s gone, the air around Nick immediately cooler. As promised, in no time at all he is back with a warm, damp washcloth to clean them, and then they assemble blankets and pillows to sleep on, folding themselves back together wordlessly.
After a few minutes where all Nick hears is the soft thu-thump of Sel’s heartbeat, Sel snorts out a soft laugh and Nick pulls his head back to see what's funny.
“Do you remember how I used to call you ci bach when we were younger?”
“Of course. I hated it. I’m not sure you can be a blonde kid who was going to be as tall as I am now and not have every other asshole compare you to a golden retriever.”
“Oh, fy nghi bach!”
“Cau dy geg!”
“Eto dyma ni, yn ein cwtch,” Sel smirks.
“Dw i’n tybied fod ti’n gywir.”
“Rhab fwya o’r amser.”
Nick rolls his eyes at this.
“Good night, fy nghi bach,” Sel rumbles low in his chest, and kisses the top of Nick’s head.
~~~
Bree watches coffee slowly drip into the pot. She makes sure the carafe is set up correctly and then grabs a jar from the dish drainer, fills it with tap water, and gulps it down. Once she’s drunk most of it, she pauses to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, leaning against the sink to look out into the backyard.
The upside of falling asleep embarrassingly early is that waking up before the rest of the inhabitants of the Lodge affords one not only some blessed peace and quiet, but the best light coming through the expansive kitchen windows. It filters through the thick forest before coming in and bouncing off the stainless and quartz around her, making everything glow.
Bree imagines that she can feel the water she just drank trickle through her body and into cells parched by sleep, salt, and wine. It feels glorious. She swallows the rest and neatly drops the jar into the glass recycling.
As she sets a breakfast tray with three mugs, cream and sugar, plates, and various other necessities, she grins thinking about the sight that had greeted her when she’d woken up fifteen minutes ago.
At first she’d wondered at being the large bed’s sole occupant, but once she sat up to see that Nick and Sel had made themselves comfortable on the floor with all the pillows and blankets— and even the Grogu stuffie that had been her sole personal contribution to the room’s decor so far— she felt her chest heat with pride, and not a small amount of relief.
They’d been wrapped together, with Nick’s head tucked against Sel’s bare chest and Sel’s head on Grogu. The way Sel’s arm was flung over Nick’s back made the eagle owl on his back look like it was riding an updraft. Nick’s brow had been furrowed in sleep, as it often was she’d noticed. Bree’s own brow crinkles thinking about it now.
She queries to herself again, as she has a few times before, why jealousy had never been one of the myriad of emotions to bubble up in her since these two gorgeous idiots had come into her life. There’s no reasoning when it comes to emotions, she knows, but she thinks it must be something about how the boys’ relationship to each other had been healing steadily, in its own way, since they had all been reunited. She had been worried that their Oath being broken would halt that somehow, but she needn’t have, it seems. She grins again, thinking about how soft and tender they had looked in their cuddle pile, then resumes her task with alacrity, eager to be back up there with them.
She checks the coffee pot and pulls the carafe out, screwing the top on and placing it in the center of the breakfast tray. Stepping back, she wrinkles her nose, then adds some fruit from the large bowl on the counter. I can at least pretend we aren’t just going to be eating cake for breakfast, she thinks as she shuffles things around on the tray. Satisfied, she picks it up and backs out of the room, doors swinging behind her as she walks down the silent hall to the elevator.