Page 63 of Honeythorn
“I’ll take them,” Jimmy, one of the young men working there, said.
“Have someone help you wash them,” Milan suggested. Jimmy nodded before setting off with them, hunched over so he could grab their collars, not even flinching when both dogs attempted to lick at his face.
Milan and Raphael took their outer layers and boots off, leaving them there before going upstairs. They said nothing as they paused outside their rooms, each one intending to go to their own for a bath. Raphael’s face was glowing with a light Milan had never seen before.
With shy smiles, they parted.
*****
There was a knock on Milan’s door after he had bathed and re-dressed, feeling exquisitely clean and warm.
“Come in.” Milan was unsurprised when it was Raphael who stepped inside. Milan smiled. “Hello.”
“Hello.” After a moment of hesitation, he closed the door behind him. “You are well? The cold did not get into your lungs?”
“I’m well. Even if it had, that bath would have cured me of all ills.”
Raphael smiled. “I’m glad.” He paused again.
Milan watched him curiously as Raphael looked at his shoes before suddenly staring at Milan resolutely.
“I wanted to…I don’t want to apologise, but I want to make sure that I was proper under the rain,” Raphael said with a strong, formal tone of voice. Milan stifled a laugh.
“It wasIwho kissedyou. Should I be the one checking if you are offended?”
“I’m not offended,” Raphael said quickly. “Quite…quite the contrary. I am glad.”
A giddy jump in his pulse had Milan almost rushing to his husband, but he managed to restrain himself. Raphael cleared his throat.
“I was wondering if you will allow me to court you,” he said, a flush rising to his cheeks.
Milan gaped. “Court me? But we are married.”
“Yes, but…I would like to know you, your mind, and to be sure that you are with me because you are willing, because…”
Milan sighed fondly. “I appreciate the thought, Husband, but is that not what we have been doing these past months? I feel that I have gotten to know you better and that I have revealed myself to you in turn. I feel…accepted by you. I hope you feel the same.”
“Yes. I…I am comfortable with you like I am with no other.”
“Then, Husband, will you let me kiss you again?” Milan felt a sudden flare in their bond like he hadn’t even under the rain—although perhaps he had been too distracted then. It was a rush of warmth and fondness, much more distinct and open than ever before. It took his breath away.
“Yes. You can kiss me.”
Milan’s soul was trembling, but his feet were sure as they took him towards Raphael. They stood for a moment, barely two centimetres between them, before Milan reached up, cupping Raphael’s face and kissing him.
This time, it was only warmth. A movement of soft lips like a rising tide and then Raphael’s large hands were pressing against the small of his back, beckoning him closer, pulling Milan up on his toes. Their bodies, now without fur to encumber, fit together intimately. Milan gasped, and Raphael’s tongue swept against his open mouth.
Milan made a broken little noise, parting his lips further, and then shivered uncontrollably at the slick heat, at the way Raphael clutched at him, every plane of his body against his. Milan shifted, and suddenly his thigh was pressing against the hardening bulge in Raphael’s breeches.
With a rough moan, Raphael pulled away. “Wait,” he said, and Milan stopped.
Raphael looked dazed and overwhelmed. Milan untangled his hands from Raphael’s hair and stepped away slightly, without leaving him.
“Sorry,” Raphael whispered.
Milan frowned, brushing the back of his fingers across Raphael’s cheek gently. “What for, Husband?”
There was a long pause. Raphael’s hands, still holding him tightly, did not seem to want Milan to go, so he stayed, and waited patiently for what Raphael had to say.
