Page 32 of The Lost Art of Seducing a Mage Warrior

It was only as they arrived at the kitchen that Perian realized that was where Brannal had led him. He raised an eyebrow.

“If your stomach was the first thing you thought about in that shield, you clearly need nourishment,” Brannal told him.

Perian laughed and didn’t object, although his stomach wasn’t thefirstthing he’d thought about. Accordingly, once the food was ordered and they’d made it back to Brannal’s rooms, Perian threw himself at Brannal, pleased to be caught instinctively. Perian twined arms and legs around him and kissed him hard. Brannal leaned into the kiss and returned it full measure.

“Thank you for protecting me,” Perian murmured. “That was actually my first thought, followed by, ‘wow, he’s overreacting.’”

Brannal snorted out a laugh and glanced down at his clothing. “And was this payback?”

Perian had actually forgotten the mud that he’d now smeared all over Brannal. But he was not one to miss an obvious opportunity.

“Oh, look,” he said in the most badly-innocent voice he could manage. “We both need to get cleaned up. In the interest of efficiency, I think we should do it together.”

Brannal rolled his eyes, but there was definitely a smile lurking at the corner of his mouth. He set Perian down, but only so he could divest Perian of his clothes with an excellent attention to detail. When he went to start on his own clothes, Perian covered his hand.

“Allow me,” he offered, grinning. “We should see if I remember where all of the weaponry is, shouldn’t we?”

Brannal looked a little bemused, but he made no objection. Perian started with unbuckling the sword belt and carefully setting it aside. The first dagger was attached to the sword belt, so that was out of the way. Arm bracers and pauldrons were next, and Perian had to fiddle with the buckles and ties, but he finally got them—and another dagger—off. Brannal’s breathing had deepened, his eyes going a near-black that told Perian he was enjoying this.

Next were the laces of the thick leather vest, which might not have required brushing against Brannal’s sides quite as much as Perian did. Once that was finally off—along with two daggers—then it was the padded tunic. Perian dragged his fingers over Brannal’s shirt-covered chest shamelessly. He bit back a smile as he watched that broad chest rise and fall faster.

There was a final dagger beneath the tunic. Perian made a very thorough inspection all round the man, running his fingers along his still-clothed body as though he needed to feel out the daggers rather than see them.

“We’d better get those boots off,” Perian murmured.

Brannal sat down in the nearest chair—one of the ones near the fire—and Perian knelt between Brannal’s legs so he could unlace and tug off the boots, taking the last dagger—he was pretty sure it was the last one—with the boots as he went. He pulled off the socks next, fingers running over the warm skin as he did so. Brannal shivered.

Perian sat up on his knees between the other man’s legs and listened to Brannal’s unsteady breath as he reached for the other man’s belt, ignoring the rather rigid protuberance below it because it was much more fun to tease. He unbuckled the belt and pulled it away with a hiss of leather.

He rose to his feet, still crowded close to the other man, and held out his hand. “Up.”

Brannal stood. They were standing practically nose to nose, and Perian reached for the hem of his shirt.

“Let’s get this off,” he instructed.

Brannal helpfully twisted a bit to the side and leaned down a little as he raised his arms so Perian could pull the shirt off.

Perian spent a moment just staring in admiration. Brannal was now clad just in his trousers, with only the small earth talisman bag against his magnificent bare chest. Perian hadn’t been entirely certain muscles could actually grow like this apart from in people’s imaginations.

Brannal was a sight to behold.

“You’re so very handsome,” Perian told him.

“So are you,” he said as he reached for Perian.

He clucked his tongue. “Ah, ah, ah. You’re still wearing clothing.”

He stepped into Brannal’s space once more and reached for his trousers, popping the buttons and then ever-so-slowly pulling them down over his hips, dragging his underclothes down as well, skimming them over the thick muscles of his thighs, moving down with them until they were bunched at his feet, and Perian was kneeling there. Brannal’s breaths had grown a little unsteadier. Perian looked up through his lashes.

“Step.”

For a moment, it seemed like Brannal couldn’t comprehend the word, and then he obediently raised his feet one at a time so Perian could pull the cloth away. Now Brannal and Perian were both completely naked and very obviously aroused.

Brannal tugged Perian up and leaned in for a kiss, but Perian pulled away.

“I recall someone complaining about dirt,” he said. “We’d better get clean.”

“I don’t—”

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