Llomerryn Nights (Chapter 3/3)
Chapter Three
Llomerryn was more beautiful than he remembered.
The sand was white and seemed to sparkle like diamonds under the sun. The water a gorgeous, deep, crystalline blue, lapping at the sand and people’s toes. The town bustled with people, vibrant with color and laughter and cheerful voices shouting to one another. The Rivaini people were beautiful and welcoming, as warm as their shores. Whenever Fenris thought he’d seen everything, Sebastian grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him in the direction of something new.
They ate lunch at a small restaurant on the beach. Fenris made a face as Sebastian ate his fish, and he laughed, holding out his fork with a bit of fried cod speared on the end. Fenris swatted his hand away, making a gagging noise that was purely theatrical. “Get it away from me,” Fenris said, “Ugh, it smells.”
“Fresh fish doesn’t have a smell,” Sebastian said. “Only rotten fish.”
“Well it must be rotten, then,” Fenris said. “Because it stinks.”
Sebastian chuckled and shook his head, but he kept his fish to himself.
The beach was where they spent their time, walking along the shore, leaving footprints that were swiftly erased by the tide. Sebastian bumped his hip against him and knocked Fenris off of his feet. He could feel dull anger threatening until Sebastian helped him up, laughing and leaving a kiss on his nose and too beautiful for anger to linger.
“Aww,” Sebastian said. “You’re all wet now. I wonder what we should do about that.”
Fenris took his hand and led him to a bit of beach where no one lingered and sharp rocks obscured them. It was his turn to get Sebastian wet, pushing him down against the sand and climbing onto his hips.
“Let me show you,” Fenris purred. Sebastian smiled, and Fenris kissed his teeth.
***
On their third day, Fenris saw her.
Her eyes flashed gold, and there were freckles blooming on the bridge of her nose. When he looked at her, he saw freedom. It swelled as a trade wind at her hair, lifting it from her shoulders; she was everything he remembered. Beautiful and strong and passion and freedom. He wanted to go to Isabela, to tell her everything that had happened, to tell her that he’d never stopped wanting her, never stopped loving her; but she was gone when he looked back, disappearing into the throng of people gathered in the markets.
Sebastian gripped his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Fenris nodded. “Yeah, I just…” He let Sebastian fill his vision, let his face and his pretty blue eyes and his sweet, smiling mouth be the only things he could see. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
***
“Sweet thing,” she whispered against his ear. Her arms folded over his chest, and there was no untangling from her. Not that he wanted to be untangled. For five years he’d been away from her, and there was nothing he wanted more than the feel of her against him. He didn’t know how she’d found him, or how she’d gotten into his room - but he remembered how skilled she’d been, how she was able to sneak into places and disappear in the shadows. If she was freedom personified, she was also finesse.
“Isabela,” Fenris sighed. He melted against her, let her take the last bit of strength he had. He didn’t need it. She was there, and so was Sebastian.
Sebastian.
Maker, what a mess. He’d never intended to bungle things so terribly. They had both loved him through the worst of his life, through the darkness and blood and pain and terror. They had been patient and gentle and so damn good to him. He’d never wanted to hurt them, he’d never wanted to make either of them feel like he had no room in his heart for them. In truth, his heart welcomed them both, it ached and it swelled and it broke for both of them.
“I’ve missed you,” Isabela said. “You had a lot of nerve leaving me behind.”
“I’m sorr---“
She laughed, nuzzling her face against his neck. “I’m teasing you,” she said.
Isabela’s arms slipped from his chest, and he turned to her. He wanted to put distance between them, between their bodies and the memories he had of their time together, but he couldn’t. When he looked at her, she was the girl he remembered; and when she looked at him, he was the same boy he had been, trembling and uncertain and in desperate want of her.
He sighed when she kissed him, the breath moving over her tongue when she pushed into his mouth. Fenris wanted to love her without shame, he wanted to love Sebastian the same. He wanted to stop carrying so much guilt with him like an anchor on his heart.
“I can’t,” he said, against the full shape of her mouth. “I can’t do this.”
“Why’s that?” Sebastian asked, his voice close to Fenris’ ear, his hands steady on his hips. It seemed Isabela wasn’t the only one who possessed stealth and finesse. Fenris couldn’t speak around his heart, could make the words come without sounding choked and far too desperate.
“You don’t belong to me, Fenris,” Sebastian whispered. “Or to her. You belong to you.”
“So tell us what you want,” Isabela said against his throat.
He wanted to stop running. He wanted to stop being afraid to tear himself open, to be naked and vulnerable and exposed to the people who trusted themselves to him. He wanted to stop believing that freedom was a dream, that sweetness was a lie that had been told to him.
Fenris wanted to love and be loved.
“I want you,” Fenris whispered. “Both of you. I don’t want to be alone.”
They kissed him, Isabela’s lips at the hollow of his throat, Sebastian’s at his temple. They touched him in the darkness, their fingers warm and gentle and good. He sighed their names, a promise to the night that he would never leave them, that he would never call another shore his home.
The night sighed with him.
Llomerryn was more beautiful than he remembered.
The sand was white and seemed to sparkle like diamonds under the sun. The water a gorgeous, deep, crystalline blue, lapping at the sand and people’s toes. The town bustled with people, vibrant with color and laughter and cheerful voices shouting to one another. The Rivaini people were beautiful and welcoming, as warm as their shores. Whenever Fenris thought he’d seen everything, Sebastian grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him in the direction of something new.
They ate lunch at a small restaurant on the beach. Fenris made a face as Sebastian ate his fish, and he laughed, holding out his fork with a bit of fried cod speared on the end. Fenris swatted his hand away, making a gagging noise that was purely theatrical. “Get it away from me,” Fenris said, “Ugh, it smells.”
“Fresh fish doesn’t have a smell,” Sebastian said. “Only rotten fish.”
“Well it must be rotten, then,” Fenris said. “Because it stinks.”
Sebastian chuckled and shook his head, but he kept his fish to himself.
The beach was where they spent their time, walking along the shore, leaving footprints that were swiftly erased by the tide. Sebastian bumped his hip against him and knocked Fenris off of his feet. He could feel dull anger threatening until Sebastian helped him up, laughing and leaving a kiss on his nose and too beautiful for anger to linger.
“Aww,” Sebastian said. “You’re all wet now. I wonder what we should do about that.”
Fenris took his hand and led him to a bit of beach where no one lingered and sharp rocks obscured them. It was his turn to get Sebastian wet, pushing him down against the sand and climbing onto his hips.
“Let me show you,” Fenris purred. Sebastian smiled, and Fenris kissed his teeth.
***
On their third day, Fenris saw her.
Her eyes flashed gold, and there were freckles blooming on the bridge of her nose. When he looked at her, he saw freedom. It swelled as a trade wind at her hair, lifting it from her shoulders; she was everything he remembered. Beautiful and strong and passion and freedom. He wanted to go to Isabela, to tell her everything that had happened, to tell her that he’d never stopped wanting her, never stopped loving her; but she was gone when he looked back, disappearing into the throng of people gathered in the markets.
Sebastian gripped his shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Fenris nodded. “Yeah, I just…” He let Sebastian fill his vision, let his face and his pretty blue eyes and his sweet, smiling mouth be the only things he could see. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
***
“Sweet thing,” she whispered against his ear. Her arms folded over his chest, and there was no untangling from her. Not that he wanted to be untangled. For five years he’d been away from her, and there was nothing he wanted more than the feel of her against him. He didn’t know how she’d found him, or how she’d gotten into his room - but he remembered how skilled she’d been, how she was able to sneak into places and disappear in the shadows. If she was freedom personified, she was also finesse.
“Isabela,” Fenris sighed. He melted against her, let her take the last bit of strength he had. He didn’t need it. She was there, and so was Sebastian.
Sebastian.
Maker, what a mess. He’d never intended to bungle things so terribly. They had both loved him through the worst of his life, through the darkness and blood and pain and terror. They had been patient and gentle and so damn good to him. He’d never wanted to hurt them, he’d never wanted to make either of them feel like he had no room in his heart for them. In truth, his heart welcomed them both, it ached and it swelled and it broke for both of them.
“I’ve missed you,” Isabela said. “You had a lot of nerve leaving me behind.”
“I’m sorr---“
She laughed, nuzzling her face against his neck. “I’m teasing you,” she said.
Isabela’s arms slipped from his chest, and he turned to her. He wanted to put distance between them, between their bodies and the memories he had of their time together, but he couldn’t. When he looked at her, she was the girl he remembered; and when she looked at him, he was the same boy he had been, trembling and uncertain and in desperate want of her.
He sighed when she kissed him, the breath moving over her tongue when she pushed into his mouth. Fenris wanted to love her without shame, he wanted to love Sebastian the same. He wanted to stop carrying so much guilt with him like an anchor on his heart.
“I can’t,” he said, against the full shape of her mouth. “I can’t do this.”
“Why’s that?” Sebastian asked, his voice close to Fenris’ ear, his hands steady on his hips. It seemed Isabela wasn’t the only one who possessed stealth and finesse. Fenris couldn’t speak around his heart, could make the words come without sounding choked and far too desperate.
“You don’t belong to me, Fenris,” Sebastian whispered. “Or to her. You belong to you.”
“So tell us what you want,” Isabela said against his throat.
He wanted to stop running. He wanted to stop being afraid to tear himself open, to be naked and vulnerable and exposed to the people who trusted themselves to him. He wanted to stop believing that freedom was a dream, that sweetness was a lie that had been told to him.
Fenris wanted to love and be loved.
“I want you,” Fenris whispered. “Both of you. I don’t want to be alone.”
They kissed him, Isabela’s lips at the hollow of his throat, Sebastian’s at his temple. They touched him in the darkness, their fingers warm and gentle and good. He sighed their names, a promise to the night that he would never leave them, that he would never call another shore his home.
The night sighed with him.