Page 29 of The Warrior and the Monk

"It's pretty," Wilder murmured, his voice soft in the peaceful stillness of the woods.

Anders’s gaze swept over the forest, taking in its beauty. He seemed to be savoring the moment, just as Wilder was. He turned to Wilder, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he pointed to the ground. His head tilted slightly, his eyes questioning.Sit?His gesture was clear, an offer of rest, a break from their walk.

Wilder smiled and nodded, appreciating the pause. "Yes, let’s."

Anders’s face broke into a smile as he crouched down, his movements fluid and natural. They settled on the ground, finding a patch of soft moss to sit on. Anders reached into his pack and pulled out the food they’d brought along for the journey—a simple but satisfying meal of bread, butter, and sausages. Wilder could smell the richness of the pork as Andershanded him a piece, and his mouth watered. It had been a long time since he’d had red meat—only when he’d been sick at the monastery had he been allowed it, and even then, it had never tasted quite like this. The sausage was savory, spiced with wild garlic and thyme, and the buttery bread melted in his mouth.

The food was rich, the flavors bold and comforting, and Wilder, perhaps a little too caught up in the deliciousness, found himself wiping his fingers on his pants, then sucking them clean without thinking. The grease left on his fingers made the taste linger, and he relished it, his mind briefly drifting from the world around him. The pigs here must be well-fed, he thought, with so much acorn and mast growing in the forest.

It was only when he glanced up at Anders, catching him staring with wide eyes and his mouth slightly open, that Wilder realized how rude he must have looked. His face turned crimson with embarrassment. He mumbled, "Forgive me," and reached to wipe his hands on the grass, feeling awkward under Anders's intense gaze.

But Anders’s reaction was not what Wilder expected. Instead of the amusement or reprimand Wilder had feared, Anders grabbed his wrist gently, a firm yet tender touch. His eyes were steady, and there was a strange intensity in them. Then, Anders did something that Wilder had never expected.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Anders brought Wilder's fingers to his lips, his gaze never leaving Wilder's face. Wilder’s breath caught in his throat, his heart skipping a beat. Anders kissed his fingers softly, then, with surprising boldness, he popped them into his mouth. Wilder froze, his mind blanking as Anders sucked his fingers clean, his tongue tracing the length of Wilder’s skin with careful attention. The heat of Anders’s mouth was enough to make Wilder’s pulse race, and he could feel his body reacting before he even realized what was happening.

The sensation was unlike anything Wilder had ever felt. He couldn’t focus on anything except the warmth of Anders’s mouth, the softness of his tongue, the way Anders seemed to savor the taste of him. It was a slow, deliberate act, and Wilder felt every moment of it like a spark running through him, setting his blood alight. His heart pounded, and his body reacted in ways he wasn’t prepared for. He shifted uneasily, his breeches suddenly uncomfortably tight, his thoughts scattering in a rush of heat and arousal.

"Anders," he murmured, his voice shaky, his chest tightening with a strange mixture of desire and embarrassment. He didn’t know what he was feeling or how to handle it, but Anders’s gaze was still locked on him, and it was so intense that it made his entire body tremble.

Anders didn’t break his gaze, his eyes practically devouring Wilder, but there was something else there, too. Something deeper. He continued to lick Wilder’s fingers, the sound of it filling the space between them. Wilder couldn’t help but flush deeper, his face burning with the heat of it all. His body was responding to Anders in ways that felt new and overwhelming, and yet it felt right.Too right.

Wilder couldn’t look Anders in the eye anymore. His knees were suddenly shaky, and he moved to kneel, his gaze dropping to the ground in an attempt to steady himself. That was when he noticed the undeniable evidence of Anders’s arousal, the bulge in his trousers, unmistakable. His pulse quickened even more. He couldn’t do this. Not here. Not in the open, where anyone could walk by and see them.

"Wait, Anders," Wilder said, his voice trembling slightly. "Could we—could we not here?" The words barely made it past his lips, but he knew they were necessary. He didn’t want to be seen—not yet, not in such a way. "I... I’d rather be closer to the longhouse, at least."

Anders’s expression softened immediately, and Wilder was surprised by how gentle his reaction was. He didn’t seem disappointed, or angry, or frustrated. Instead, Anders just gave him a small smile, a quiet understanding in his eyes. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a cloth, wiping Wilder’s fingers clean with slow, deliberate movements.

Still feeling embarrassed, Wilder muttered, "I’m sorry."

But Anders just shook his head, his eyes full of warmth.No need to apologize,he seemed to say.It’s fine.

With that, Anders helped Wilder to his feet, his hand resting on Wilder’s back, a steadying presence. And as they stood there together, in the heart of the forest, something between them shifted. It was subtle, but it was there—something unspoken but understood. They were partners, equals, and whatever came next, they would face it together. Wilder smiled, his heart still racing, but now, with more than just desire—it was something more. The forest was still there, dense and dark, but Wilder felt lighter, somehow. Ready for whatever was ahead.

And so, hand in hand, they continued onward. The longhouse was waiting for them, and so was everything that lay beyond it.

???

He heard the river before he saw it. The quiet burbling of the water, the sound of fish splashing below the surface. Wilder walked a little faster, eager to see the longhouse once more.

"Oh!" Wilder grabbed Anders's sleeve and let out a breath of wonder.

The land hadn't changed. It was still a beautiful view, with sun shining down on the lush foliage and the sparkling river. But the house— The first time Wilder had seen it he'd sighed in disappointment at the sad sight of it. Large and emptyand in desperate need of repairs, with the yard overgrown with weeds.

Now it looked completely different. In the time that Wilder had been gone, Anders had obviously been laboring over it. The roof had been freshly thatched with dried straw and rushes. The walls had been fixed. And the longhouse was the same exact size, Wilder knew, but still, it just seemed—cozier. The garden flourished. It looked as though Anders had weeded it and watered the plants just that morning. All the animals milled about, the goats, the cows, and the sheep grazing on the grass, the chickens pecking at the dirt for bugs and worms, and Avery watching over them in her imperious way.

This was what Anders had wanted all along. A home, and Wilder here by his side to share it with him.

"It's just as you told me," Wilder said. "You've been taking great care of everything while I was gone."

Anders looked bashful. He squeezed Wilder's hand and simply—stared at him, as though waiting for something.

Wilder stared back, puzzled, and then exclaimed, "Ah!"

Did he want to continue what they'd started in the forest? Anders had been so eager then. Even if it was only because Wilder had been uncomfortable with being amorous so out in the open, it still had to have stung at least a little bit, to be rejected like that. He was waiting for Wilder to make the next move.

Taking a deep breath, Wilder led Anders closer to the river. Once they were standing by the water's edge, he said, "We should—bathe. It was a long walk, after all."

Anders's brow furrowed. Then, a moment later, he realized Wilder's meaning, because he enthusiastically nodded and just as enthusiastically—and rather clumsily—pulled his tunic over his head and then kicked off his boots. Wilder chuckled to himself as he undressed, setting his new satchel andbouquet carefully on the ground, neatly folding his tunic and breeches and setting them beside his own boots before wading into the river. The water was chillier than last time, but it was refreshing all the same.

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