Chapter Text
It was early in the morning when Copia made his way down to the shore. The sun was only just beginning to rise, and it cast a soft, muted light across the silver surface of the lake. Papa Emeritus III stood up to his waist in the water, watching the sunrise with his back to the abbey. The bundle of ceremonial tools that Copia carried with him in preparation for that afternoon’s baptism weighed heavy in his arms as he took in the outline of the Third’s body, dark against the rising sun.
“Papa?” he inquired when he reached the sand. “You’re early.”
The Third turned to Copia, casting his pale eye upon him. His black hair was haloed in light, and the sight of it took Copia’s breath away.
“I’m not,” he replied, reaching out with one hand to beckon Copia toward him. “I’ve always been here.”
Copia placed his bundle in the sand and stepped out into the icy water. His cassock dragged heavily behind him as he went to meet the Third.
“I don’t understand,” he said as they came together in the shallows, enveloped in the silence of dawn.
“There is no early, or late, or was, or will be,” the Third whispered, cradling Copia’s face in his hands so gently that Copia could barely feel him. Their lips brushed, and a deep, heavy ache blossomed in Copia’s heart.
“Why won’t you kiss me?” he murmured, chasing the Third’s lips with his breath. “I want you to.”
“I already have,” the Third murmured.
And then, with a wrenching shudder, Copia woke up.
Soaked in a cold sweat and hard in his pants, he groaned and squinted out into his room. It was still dark outside, and the day’s ceremony was many hours away. He rubbed at his eyes and considered working out a quick orgasm before going back to sleep but thought better of it. There truly was no sleep for the wicked, he thought, and there was always more work to be done. But he could give himself another moment before acknowledging the day.
When he closed his eyes, he could still see Papa standing in the shimmering lake like a fallen star—his eyes full of fire and his touch as cold as marble.
-
Later, as Copia observed the ritual from the grassy bank, the dream still puzzled him. It felt important in a way he did not understand, and any symbolic meaning it carried continued to elude him. He watched Papa Emeritus III, dressed in an expensive black suit, lay another initiate under the surface of the lake. She came up gasping and heaving, her nipples showing through her translucent gown. Papa guided her back to shore, where a pair of sisters helped her out of the water. They draped her in a towel and led her away while the next initiate was summoned. The ritual continued in this way for almost an hour, with the Third never once seeming to grow tired or cold, despite being soaked to the bone.
The Third remained above such earthly weaknesses, perfect and regal as he was. He needed no papal robes, no thurible, no chalice. In a simple black suit, and his mask of death, he could be mistaken for no other but Papa.
An old, familiar beast growled inside Copia. The most intimate of his personal sins. Envy.
It was the rat that squirmed inside his chest, gnawing at his bones and clawing at his heart—inflaming it, paining him. He coveted that visage—the bone-white cheeks and black lips—and everything it meant. One day, he knew, it would be his. One day. No matter the cost.
He’d done so much already, sinking his claws into flesh and stone as he fought like a tomcat for every scrap of power, every crumb of praise, and every symbol of recognition. His pale left eye was his crowning achievement, indisputable proof of his worth. He had paid a heavy price for it, of course, but there could be no gain without sacrifice.
The nightmares still woke him every now and then, and in the suffocating darkness of his chambers the sweat running down his throat smelled of blood. That night had been but a little taste of death, and his bone-white iris marked him out among the dark lord’s chosen few. He walked with one foot in the grave, now—he walked with ghosts.
“Cardinal—a word?”
Copia turned toward the Third, stiffly concealing his surprise. The ceremony had concluded, and Copia had been elsewhere. “Yes, Papa? Do you need me for something?”
The congregation had begun to disperse back toward the abbey and the Third was dripping from his labors. He brushed his wet bangs to the side, only for them to fall back in front of his eyes. Framed by that raven-black hair, his gaze was more piercing than ever.
“I saw you watching me as I baptized the initiates,” he said breezily. “You seemed keener than you usually are, it made me wonder what you were thinking about.” The Third pulled his leather gloves off by the fingertips as he spoke, wringing the water from them. Copia swallowed nervously.
“Merely how commanding of a presence you made. Those initiates were in, ah, good hands,” he said, mentally cursing himself as soon as the words left his mouth. What was that? Stupid!
The Third smirked at him, handing his gloves off to a passing ghoul before beginning to unbutton his jacket. “Don’t lie to your Papa, cardinal. It is unbecoming.” He paused, looking Copia over, as if searching for something. “You came to us from the secular world, did you not? Who performed your baptism?”
“Your father, of course,” Copia said, ears burning with embarrassment.
“Ah, of course,” said the Third, pursing his lips. “We’re not so far apart in age, after all. Yet the roads we’ve walked to reach this place have been vastly different, no?”
Copia only dipped his head in acknowledgement, his confusion deepening. What was the Third getting at? Was he being mocked? Papa could have a cruel streak, after all.
“You have walked a most singular path, Papa. I would not presume to know it.”
“Ha!” The Third tossed his suit jacket to the ground with a laugh, as if he did not know or care about the garment’s value. “Modesty does not become you, Cardinal. There ought to be no virtues among the clergy, after all,” the Third chastised, a mischievous glint in his green eye.
“My apologies,” said Copia with a shallow bow, which prompted another laugh from the Third.
“Ah, I think perhaps I’ve toyed with you enough. You’re so stiff, I think you might snap if you bowed any lower!”
Copia frowned, his confusion returning.
“Papa?”
The Third threw his arm around Copia’s shoulders, the wet fabric of his sleeve cold as ice against the back of the cardinal’s neck. His heart skipped a beat at the sensation, and then Papa’s warm breath was against his cheek.
“I know what you were thinking about while you watched me during the ritual,” the Third whispered against his ear. “You want me.”
“I—” Copia choked out, eyes wide.
“You want to push me down and fuck me,” he hissed, his lips brushing the shell of Copia’s ear. “Or perhaps you’d rather it was I who did the fucking, and you the one on your back. You can’t hide from me. I can smell how much you want it.” The Third pressed his nose into the side of Copia’s throat, inhaling the musky scent of his sweat through the collar of his cassock.
“Papa…” Copia shuddered, desire coiling hot and fast in his belly. And then it was over. The Third pulled back, and only the heavy dampness on his collar and the sharp stab of desire remained.
“Come to my quarters tonight and we can discuss this further. Don’t keep me waiting,” the Third said, before turning away and up the road to the abbey. Copia was left standing by the shore, shivering in the afternoon sun with a maelstrom inside his mind and a lick of flame in his belly.
-
That night, Copia found himself standing in the hall outside the Third’s chambers. There was no one present to witness his hesitation, but the threat of a stray glance and the inevitable gossip nipped at his heels. It was incomprehensible, in a way, that any of this could even be happening. Papa had barely even acknowledged his existence before today, and now he was propositioning him? It had to be a test of some kind, or a cruel joke, and Copia didn’t know if complying with Papa’s request meant victory or failure.
Papa hadn’t been wrong, at least. Copia did have lustful thoughts about him, among his myriad power fantasies. The thought of Papa on his knees with Copia’s cock down his throat never failed to get him hard. And then there was the strange dream from the previous night, still haunting the edges of his mind like a badly botched exorcism. The meaning of it eluded him, but the feeling it had evoked in him remained, and it was that strange ache that drew him forward.
After another moment’s hesitation, he knocked softly at the door. When Papa came to greet him, he wore only a pair of tight black trousers. His bare chest was well-muscled, and soft with fine black hair as dark and beautiful as the hair on his head. Copia swallowed, quickly closing the door behind him as Papa beckoned him into his room. At once, Copia had the feeling that he was entering the den of a predatory animal.
“I was beginning to fear you wouldn’t come,” Papa said slyly, leaning back against the edge of his opulent bed. “Which would have been a shame, since I would very much like to come tonight.”
“I—uh—” Copia struggled for an appropriate response.
“Oh, cardinal, have I made you flustered? Such innocence from a member of my own clergy! It’s very unbecoming.”
“Forgive me, Papa, I just…” he trailed off, drinking in the sight of the Third lounging against the edge of the rich purple sheets, “…never expected this.”
The Third’s playful expression dropped a little, and he looked at Copia with a familiar, calculating intensity.
“You expected all your fantasies to remain in your own mind, hmm? Just like everyone else’s? I know the whole ministry wants to fuck me, but only a few get the privilege, after all.” He smirked, and Copia’s hand twitched.
The surety in his words and his smile, the knowledge of the power he wielded over those beneath him, and the will to use it for his own gain—these reminded Copia of whose bedroom he stood in. The man with everything he desired. The man he wanted to be. Envy boiled up inside him, expunging fear. There could be no more fear. He’d left it behind long ago, dripping red on the altar bed as his world split in two.
“And I am to be one of these privileged few?” asked Copia, meeting the Third’s penetrating gaze. “Bold of you to assume I want the same thing as everyone else.”
“Am I wrong?” The Third asked, cocking his head to the side and exposing the long column of his neck. “Do you not want to know me in the most carnal, intimate of ways? Not interested in men, perhaps? I can accept my mistakes with grace, but something tells me I wasn’t mistaken. If you didn’t want this, why are you here?”
“Perhaps I wanted to make you recognize your mistake. You stand so tall, a little humility might suit you,” Copia snapped.
The Third grinned wolfishly, white teeth flashing against his painted lips.
“The rat shows his claws! I must say, Cardinal, I did not think you bold enough to say such brazen things to me. Perhaps I have misjudged you.”
“Misjudged me? How so?” Copia asked, eyes narrowed, gaze level with the Third’s. His heart was rising in his chest, trembling with the thrill of his recklessness.
“I admit, I never took much notice of you in the past, Cardinal. You are one of many among the clergy, after all. Neither unique, nor exalted. You fade into the tableau—or, you once did. It was during your Trial of Sight that I first saw something special in you. Not many even attempt it, knowing the risks, but you did. I was there, do you remember?”
“It’s… hazy,” Copia admitted, struggling to keep the memories of that night from flooding his senses.
“I wanted to see what would happen. That was the first time you surprised me. You hardly made a sound, although your right eye wept when the left was removed.”
“I would rather not discuss it,” Copia said stiffly, struggling against a wave of suffocating apprehension.
“Ah, it disturbs you to speak of it, my apologies,” Terzo said quickly, at once straightening from his reclined position. “I did not mean to upset you, truly. That was not my intention when I summoned you.”
“No matter,” lied Copia, his heart still pounding in his chest. Terzo’s demeanor had changed again. Instead of calculating and predatory, he looked concerned. Was he always like this in private? His moods seemed to shift like the tides, a cycle of eb and flow that Copia was struggling to keep his head above. He felt dizzy, breathless, hot.
“What I meant to say is that you were blessed by our Lord,” the Third continued, relaxing once again. “You have his interest, and now you have mine. Your work tirelessly, and the clergy you oversee respect and admire you. Do not think that your work at the ministry has gone unnoticed.”
“Ah, well, thank you, Papa,” Copia stammered. “Your words mean a great deal.” The Third smiled widely.
“But that notice goes both ways, doesn’t it? When I felt your eyes upon me during the ritual today, unwavering, penetrating—I felt naked beneath them. The way you watched me with the Pale Eye—the one that sees the truth of things—it turned me on,” he said, rolling his hips up from the bed with a half-lidded stare.
Copia felt his ears grow hot as he drank in the sight of the Third, poised sensually against his amethyst bed and offering himself to Copia.
“Well? What say you, cardinal? Do you want to fuck me?”
“I do,” Copia admitted, belly tightening as the Third smirked at him again.
“Then come over here and touch me. Leave your robes on the floor, you won’t be needing them.”
“As you wish, Papa,” said Copia, hoping that the Third couldn’t hear the tremor in his voice. He made his way to the bed as he disrobed, stripping down into trousers and a fitted white undershirt. The Third watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, spreading his legs apart in a clear invitation. Cautiously, Copia closed the distance between them to stand between the Third’s parted thighs. His breath quickened, and before he could think better of it, he reached out to cup the Third’s face in his hands and lean in for a kiss.
The Third’s lips had the sweet-bitter taste of makeup, but they were soft and wet. The sensory reality of the situation sent a rush of blood to Copia’s cock. When he finally pulled back to gauge the Third’s reaction, he saw that his eyes were crinkled with amusement. Copia found that he liked the way they shone when the Third laughed.
“What a gentleman, you are, cardinal,” the Third teased, slinging an arm over Copia’s shoulders. “Come on, let yourself go a little, I won’t bite—unless you want to me to.”
Copia dipped down for another kiss, longer and deeper this time. He wanted to taste the Third’s tongue. He leaned down against him, pressing their hips together with a spark and pushing the Third down so that he lay flat on his back on the bed.
The Third groaned, biting his lower lip as he rocked his hips up into Copia. Pressed together as they were, Copia could feel how hard the Third already was in his pants. The heat of him radiated outward, and Copia instinctively ground his cock down against the Third’s. Even through both their clothes, he could feel the throb of it and, oh, he wanted to see it, to taste it.
Copia dug is fingers into the sheets and climbed up onto the bed so that he had Terzo under him completely. Consumed by the searing ache of his arousal and the liquid pleasure running down his spine with every thrust, he continued to rut against the man beneath him.
“Haa, ahh,” Terzo panted, his hands beginning to wander towards Copia’s ass. “Not that I don’t appreciate a good rut, but right now I really—” he grabbed Copia’s waist, “—really, want to suck you off.”
Before he could fully process those words, Copia felt himself being rolled over on the bed so that he lay on his back with the Third crouched above him. His tousled hair fell down around his head and framed his shining eyes, and Copia felt lust sink its claws deep into the root of him.
With the smirk of a predator, Terzo leaned down to press a kiss to his navel, where his undershirt had ridden up to expose his lower belly. Copia gasped, stomach tensing as the Third licked a wet stripe against his skin.
“Shirt off,” he commanded, plucking at the thin fabric. Copia hurriedly complied, shimmying out of the undergarment like a snake shedding its skin. Once it was off, the Third returned to kissing him. He spread his large hand up Copia’s stomach to rest over his heart, fingers running playfully through the hair on his chest. The Third began to trail his licks and kisses lower, leaving Copia trembling with desire and his cock almost painfully hard in his far-too-tight pants.
The Third slid down off the side of the bed and hooked his fingers into the waistband of Copia’s pants. He leaned forward, tugging at the fly with teeth and brushing his lips against the tented fabric. Copia could almost feel their softness against his flesh, and he groaned.
“Please,” he whispered. The Third grinned slyly at him.
“Patience, cardinal,” he chastised, opening the fly of Copia’s pants, and tugging them off, along with his underwear. Now completely nude and lying on his back on the bed with the Third between his legs, Copia’s erection stood fully between his parted thighs. He shivered as the Third leaned in, breath ghosting over the head as he opened his mouth.
“Papa!” Copia cried as the Third’s hot mouth enveloped him. He swallowed him slowly, swirling his tongue over the head of Copia’s cock before hollowing his cheeks and drawing him in deeper. As he took in more of Copia’s length, he began to bob his head, dragging his velvety lips up and down the shaft. He was incredible at sucking cock, and Copia wondered fleetingly how much practice he’d had, and on whom.
Far too soon, the Third pulled off him with a pop, licking his lips and looking down at Copia with those mismatched, arresting eyes.
“Please, we’re about to have anal sex, call me Terzo,” he said.
“Terzo,” Copia choked out, held hostage by the thought of the Third fucking him on his luxurious bed until they both came.
“You’ve got it already,” said Terzo, smiling, before he swallowed Copia’s cock again. This time he took it down to the root, pressing his nose to Copia’s pubic hair and fluttering his eyes closed, as if having Copia’s cock in his throat was an experience of pure euphoria.
Copia panted, propping himself up on his elbows so he could more easily watch his cock slide in and out of Terzo’s painted lips. It was a power trip unlike any other he’d experienced, to have Papa Emeritus sucking his cock and acting like he was grateful for it, like there wasn’t anything he’d rather be doing. It was almost enough to make him come, but he knew that this wasn’t where tonight ended, and he wanted to see how far this tryst would go.
Drool slid down Terzo’s chin as he pumped his lips around Copia’s cock, and out of the corner of his eye Copia noticed that Terzo had unbuttoned his own pants. The hand that wasn’t steadied on Copia’s hip was fisted around his cock, and he pumped himself slowly as he sucked Copia off. The sight was almost enough to make Copia come. He bit his tongue, willing himself not to spend in Terzo’s mouth.
“Ah, fuck, Terzo,” he gasped. “You have to stop, or I’ll finish.”
Reluctantly, Terzo slid off Copia’s cock, lips pink and swollen where the makeup had rubbed off. He panted for breath, eyes hooded and still fisting his own cock steadily. Then he bent down, and Copia was sure he was going to take him in his mouth again and that would be the end of him, but instead he rested his cheek against Copia’s thigh, catching his breath.
“Oh, caro,” Terzo sighed, pressing his nose into the joint of Copia’s inner thigh. “I want to watch my seed drip down your thighs.”
Copia’s breath caught in his throat, stifling a groan as he imagined Terzo coming hot and wet over his spread thighs.
“But I want your cock inside me more.” He kissed the side of Copia’s length, laving his tongue over it and looking up at Copia through dark lashes. With a surge of lust, Copia sat up and pulled Terzo in for a kiss, tasting himself on his tongue. With one hand in his black hair and one around his back, he rolled them so that Terzo lay sprawled on his back in the wine-dark sheets with Copia on top of him.
They continued to kiss roughly as Copia tugged Terzo’s pants off and tossed them aside—noses mashed together, teeth clacking, tongues sliding wetly against each other. Now with Terzo’s thighs bare and his flushed cock exposed, Copia reached down between them to stroke it, bringing a groan up from Terzo’s throat.
“Copia… fuck me,” Terzo whined, pushing his hand aside and arching up from the bed to press their bellies together. Copia fisted his hands in the sheets on either side of Terzo’s head, his wiry arms deceptively strong as he pulled himself away from the man beneath him.
“Do you have, ah—?”
“Table next to the bed,” Terzo said, nodding towards it. Copia shuffled over to the far side of the bed to snatch a pink vial from the side table. He uncapped it and coated his fingers with lubricant, resting his weight on his forearm as leaned over Terzo and reached down between them with his other hand. He stroked teasingly over Terzo’s cock as he felt his way lower, finally reaching his tight entrance and pressing the pad of a finger against it.
“Uhn, fuck,” Terzo groaned as Copia’s finger sank into him. His thighs parted, muscles tense and shuddering as Copia began to stroke inside him. He tossed his head to the side, biting his tongue when Copia pressed a second finger in and began to thrust them in and out. Sweat and rough handling had loosened Terzo’s neatly combed hair, and it cascaded around his head beautifully. Copia watched with rapt fascination as the thinning paint on his face revealed a blush high on his cheekbones. His eyes were closed, and his mouth hung open as he adjusted to the feeling of Copia’s touch inside him. He had never looked more unholy and divine, thought Copia.
After a few minutes of slicking his hand further and teasing Terzo open with his fingers, Copia thought he felt loose enough to be ready.
“Ah, those long fingers of yours feel so good inside me,” Terzo sighed, clenching around Copia’s fingers and drawing a shudder from him as he anticipated the feeling of that tight muscle around his cock. “You need to put your cock in me before I come like this.”
“Could I make you come like this, with just my fingers inside you?” Copia murmured, stroking along Terzo’s inner walls and pressing against that spot that made his cock leap and his belly tighten. Terzo craned his neck back, panting.
“Yes, ah—fuck! I could! Don’t tease me, caro,” he whined, glaring down at Copia through dark lashes.
“Of course not,” promised Copia, pressing a kiss to Terzo’s navel as he withdrew his hand and slicked his cock with the excess lubricant. With one hand, he grasped Terzo’s right thigh beneath the knee and pressed it up, and with the other he guided his cock to Terzo’s entrance. He could feel the heat of him as he pressed against it, shuddering as the wet muscle swallowed the head of his cock with little effort. Terzo gasped, leg twitching under Copia’s grip as the cardinal’s cock sank slowly inside him.
“Oh, fuck yes, ahhh,” Terzo sighed, his flushed cock drooling against his belly and his lashes fluttering with pleasure. He moaned like a harlot, thought Copia, and he wanted to hear more of it. Slowly, gauging Terzo’s reaction, he pulled out almost all the way, before sinking back in, building up a steady rhythm as Terzo continued to twitch and pant beneath him.
“Oh, cardinal, I can feel all of you,” he sighed, clenching around Copia’s cock. “I want you to hold me down and fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
Fuck, thought Copia, as he felt the last shreds of his self-control fall away. With a growl, he threw Terzo’s leg over his shoulder and then grasped the man’s wrists in his hands and pinned them to the bed beside his head. Terzo cried out, and the sound of it was sweeter to Copia’s ears than any music. He bent down to press his forehead against Terzo’s collar as he rolled his hips into him, shuddering with him as they drew pleasure from each other’s bodies.
It felt good to be in control—to have Papa, of all people, moaning and writhing under him. Power like this was more potent than any drug, and Copia felt positively dizzy with it. This was what he’d been fighting for, the power to bring the mighty to their knees, to make the most unholy of men cry out his name in desperation. He wanted the whole world to scream his name.
Copia bent down to drag his tongue through Terzo’s chest hair before wrapping his lips around one pert nipple and sucking on it. Terzo bucked up into him, drawing his cock in deeper as he gasped and struggled against Copia’s grip.
“Sathanas, fuck! Copiaaaa…” he groaned. “If you keep doing that, I’ll come. You could suck my soul out with that mouth.”
“Mmm,” hummed Copia, dragging his tongue over the wet nub before moving to the other nipple and giving it the same treatment. Terzo moaned, voice hitching as he squirmed under Copia.
Lucifer, he was more vocal in bed than Copia had ever dreamed. Every sound of pleasure pulled Copia deeper into a feverish want. He felt like a man possessed, as if Terzo were an incubus drawing out his life energy. Except, Copia had never felt more powerful and virile than he did right now, with his cock in Papa Emeritus III and his cries of need filling Copia’s ears.
With a grunt, Copia tipped over the edge. He thrust deep into Terzo, biting down on his pectoral as he came.
“Oh, oh, oh,” Terzo gasped, clawing at Copia’s back as a hot rush of seed filled him. He rocked his hips up against Copia, drawing another groan from the cardinal as he fucked his softening length into Terzo, now slick inside with Copia’s spend.
“Touch me,” Terzo begged, tightening around Copia’s now over-sensitive cock. Fumbling between them, Copia squeezed Terzo’s leaking cock and began to pump it. Terzo’s vocalizations continued to escalate until Copia pressed his thumb into the slit, and Terzo came. Come spurted over his hand and against their heaving bellies as they both fought to catch their breath.
Slowly, Copia pulled out of Terzo, watching with fascination as a mix of lube and come dripped slowly out of him. Terzo lay panting in the sheets, shimmering with sweat, his thighs and abdomen splattered with semen. The sight was almost enough to make Copia hard again. Terzo ran a hand through his damp hair and touched gingerly at the side of chest, where Copia had bitten him.
“Hmm, this will leave a mark,” he mused, not sounding terribly upset about it.
“I’m sorry,” Copia blurted out, mortified by the clearly visible mark he’d left on Terzo’s skin.
“Don’t be, it was very hot. To have brought out the animal in you, I would say, was the goal.” Terzo smiled lazily, dragging his fingers through the mess on his stomach. Now that he’d come, the fog of arousal had cleared somewhat from Copia’s mind, and he was suddenly aware of how sticky they both were. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he made to slide off the bed and over towards what appeared to be Terzo’s bathroom, but his leg tangled in the sheets and he fell gracelessly onto the floor instead.
“Are you alright?” Terzo asked, sounding more amused than concerned.
“Yes! Fine! Just fine!” Copia squeaked, scrambling up off the floor. “Just—ah, getting something to clean us off with.” He hurried over to the bathroom and snatched up the first towel he saw, wetting it in the sink before scurrying back to the bed. He climbed back into the sheets and knelt over Terzo, admiring the sight of him reclining against a wall of pillows, thoroughly fucked and looking rather smug about it.
“I haven’t been fucked like that in ages,” sighed Terzo as Copia cleaned his thighs and belly, watching him through heavy eyelids as he did so. Copia just hummed noncommittally, waiting to see where he was going. “Now that I’ve had a taste of you, cardinal, I don’t know if I’ll be satisfied with just that.”
“Are you proposing an arrangement—Terzo?” Copia asked, the nickname feeling unfamiliar and intimate on his tongue. Terzo laughed.
“You make sex sound like a business transaction! No, nothing so… formal. Just… stay a while with me, and, if you want, we could do this again.” He sounded almost hesitant, as if he were unsure if Copia would agree.
As if Copia could have ever said no to him.
“I’d like that,” Copia said hoarsely, clearing his throat with an embarrassed cough and tossing the cloth aside now that both of them were passably clean. Gingerly, Copia laid himself down beside Terzo, who pulled him into the pillows with a gentle huff, twining around him snugly. Copia shifted around until he was comfortable, feeling nervous and hot in all the places where their skin touched.
“Mmhmm, I like the way you smell,” Terzo murmured into his chest, his words slow and quiet as his breathing evened. Before long, he was asleep, pressed up tight against Copia with his lips slightly parted and his dark hair spread against the pillows. He seemed smaller, suddenly. Vulnerable.
A strange sensation twisted in Copia’s belly. Not quite fear, not quite grief, not quite lust. Copia didn’t know what to make of any of it. He was in uncharted waters, clinging to a raft in a storm—but Terzo was soft and warm against him, solid and alive. Grounding. A wave of exhaustion crashed over him then, heavy as the sea.
In the morning, something would be different. But in the night, he could let go—and dream.
-