As Jurao had guessed, Feyl was already hard at work. Since they’d intended to be out later than usual, he’d told his valet there was no need to wait up – which was largely why he was unsurprised to find the man here.

“Good evening,” he called out, announcing their entrance.

His best friend didn’t seem to hear – but that was not unusual when Feyl was at the forge.

“Oh,” Braelin said softly, “That’s a different look.”

That caught Feyl’s ear – but he only glanced over with a snort before returning his attention to his work, “Ah, yes, Dad’s little book club was tonight. Didn’t realize that was the one Goyl was in.”

“Dad?” Braelin asked.

Jurao led the way to an adjacent forge, pulling over two stools, “Ierge is Feyl’s father.”

“One of the three, at least,” Feyl added lightly, eyes glued to the piece he was hammering on the anvil, “Only non-noble – wasn’t supposed to know about him, Jurao can explain.”

Jurao snorted in amusement – he always enjoyed seeing his best friend at work and relaxed enough to be curt without calculating it beforehand. He obliged, “One of Feyl’s noble fathers slept with Ierge with the hope that his child would gain some of the man’s coloration – their family takes pride in being similar to Maenscul in appearance. Had Ierge not seen Feyl in here by chance one day, neither would have been aware of the other.”

“Ah,” Braelin was smiling as well – seeming equally amused by the valet’s difference in demeanor, “Nobles can be an odd bunch – but I see the resemblance.”

For a time, they both sat and watched, Petal ranging about the smithy while keeping its tendrils to itself. Feyl was focused solely on his project – as Braelin had observed, he had dressed appropriately for the work; a rough tunic tied at the waist with a rope belt and short pants, a stark contrast to his usual short, colorful tunics. Though most noticeable was his hair – usually left free and falling down to the base of his spine – being safely braided and wrapped into a bun at the nape of his neck.

When Feyl reached a stopping point, he set his project aside and grabbed a rag to wipe his hands before walking over with a wry smile, “So, how was the club? I know you can’t tell me the other members, but it’s about romance books, right? Dad let that one slip once or twice.”

“Human romance books specifically,” Braelin said, “It was… interesting.”

Feyl chuckled, “Oh, I’m sure – how do they match up to the real thing, by the way?”

“Very different,” Jurao nodded, “Though it was pointed out that is likely due to Braelin and I’s lack of interest in general.”

“Well, romance never made much sense to me either,” Feyl shrugged, “The sex bits, though…”

“A lot of it still feels exaggerated,” Braelin sighed, “Oh, I had a question.”

“Oh?” Feyl asked.

Jurao was also curious, given the current subject.

“Do people actually…” Braelin seemed to consider how to phrase his question, “Kiss with… their tongues?”

Feyl snorted – then failed to hold back a bout of laughter.

“Are you two serious?”

They both turned, watching as Ierge entered the smithy using his crutches. He had a prosthetic fitting for when he was working at the forge but mostly used the crutches for walking.

“You two!” Feyl struggled to master himself, wiping at the corner of one eye with his wrist, “You two,” he laughed again, “You fucked before trying kissing with tongue… ?”

“Oh, are there steps,” Jurao asked.

“It’s not like there’s a fucking rule book,” Ierge replied, walking past them to take a look at Feyl’s work, “More just… how it usually progresses, you know? Levels of intensity.”

“That makes sense,” Braelin said, “I just… assumed that was a figure of speech.”

“For what?” Feyl asked, then looked over his shoulder, “I was trying my hand at that Asalban-style rapier.”

“I can see that,” his father replied, testing its weight, “The weight’s off – too light. Width stays the same to the point.”

“At that length?” Feyl’s brows furrowed, and he stepped over, “It’ll be heavy as shit.”

“It’s a thrusting weapon,” Ierge replied, “You’re supposed to stand mostly still using it.”

“He’s so little for that much weight, though,” his son snorted, taking the failed version back – then turned, “No offense to your brother, Braelin.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Malson’s worked hard to wield the rapier effectively,” Braelin replied, “Since the pirate in his favorite adventure story from when we were kids used one. It’s not a weapon common to the Reaches, though – Dad brought in a tutor from… well, she used to live in the Empire, but didn’t consider herself an Imperial. Never thought to ask her about it.”

“Rapiers being a weapon common to both the Empire and Asalban is intriguing,” Jurao observed.

“Oh, a lot of pirates defect from the Imperial Navy,” Braelin replied, “Since a lot of sailors are forced to join.”

“His rapier is even heavier, though,” Ierge remarked, “Being demon steel. You know the hevir method, don’t you?”

“Wanted to get the blade style right before going hevir,” Feyl replied, “The Asalban style was broader than Imperial, yeah?”

“More of a cutting edge,” Ierge nodded in agreement, “Like a hybrid between an Imperial rapier and a cutlass – s’why it’s shorter, too. You know how the Imperial style’s sharpened edge only starts halfway down the blade?”

“It’s like a whole damn party in here.”

They all once again looked over to see Nevve enter the smithy with a yawn. As head of the civil smithy, her quarters were nearby – it was quite possible she had heard the sounds of conversation and come to investigate.

“I heard Feyl working after we’d finished attending an event,” Jurao explained.

“Mm-hm,” his aunt smiled, “And what’ve you two got your heads over?”

“Asalban style rapier,” Feyl said.

Nevve snorted, walking over, “Yeah, they hadn’t caught on when I was studying there – so what’s wrong with it?”

“Weight’s off,” Ierge replied.

Nevve took the blade and tested for herself, “Thrusting blade, then?”

Ierge scoffed, “Guess that’s Mesescima stock for you…”

“Please,” Nevve rolled her eyes, “Don’t give them credit for my hard work. Testing before doing a hevir style?”

“That was the idea,” Feyl said, “Any word on dragonic ores?”

“Them and fae are en route,” Nevve replied, “You do better work with fae materials.”

“I think he could handle dragonic,” Feyl said, taking back his failed test with a sigh, “Oh, which reminds me.”

The valet retrieved a leather wrap strip, bringing it over to Braelin, “Had this worked up - should help with the blade heating problem your brother has.”

“Mudeel leather,” Jurao asked, looking over his partner’s shoulder.

“Exactly,” Feyl said, “They’re fish that live in hot springs – even the ones too hot for demons to relax in.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” Braelin said, looking over the wrapping.

“One way of handling it,” Ierge snorted, “But the cutting edge thing.”

“Oh, right,” Feyl stepped back over, “You said something about Imperial rapiers only having the edge start halfway down the blade.”

“Right,” Ierge nodded, “The Asalban kind doesn’t – it’s full-edged.”

As the three smiths continued into the more technical side of the weapons, Braelin leaned into Jurao’s side and said, “I think I’m ready to retire.”

Jurao nodded, getting to his feet. They bid the other three good night, though the trio hardly seemed to notice.

“Feyl looked a lot more comfortable blacksmithing,” Braelin observed when they reached their quarters, snorting as Petal went right to its basin, “He always seems so tense.”

“Yes,” Jurao agreed, “I’m glad he has more time for it now.”

“Have you ever considered trying it, by the way,” his partner asked, then clarified, “Kissing with tongue.”

Jurao felt that increasingly familiar feeling of mind-fuzzing as his tail swayed a bit behind him.

Braelin noticed the motion and chuckled as he surprised the King by reaching out and lightly grabbing the limb, “Maybe it’s odd to say, but… your tail is very cute.”

Jurao felt his face heating in surprise as he asked, “It is.”

His partner nodded, pulling it closer to himself so he could experimentally run his fingers through the trail of fur on the top side of it, “It’s very expressive – I… like seeing you react to me like that.”

Braelin’s own face was dusted pink with blush, and his eyes were shyly on his partner’s tail as he smiled gently.

Jurao had to take a moment before saying, “Tail touching is considered an intimate act. It feels nice – you touching mine.”

The human looked up at that, then away as his blush deepened, “Ah – probably still should have asked first.”

The King hummed, then added, “I wouldn’t be opposed to trying if you want to.”

Braelin was still idly finger combing the fur on Jurao’s tail, then nodded before reluctantly releasing the appendage, “Perhaps after we change for bed.”

Jurao nodded, still feeling a pleasant tingle down his tail as they both went to do so.

Once they’d both changed and gotten into bed, Braelin elected to straddle Jurao’s torso – and the positioning made the King’s stomach do a little flop as it reminded him of when they’d had sex.

“Ready?” Braelin asked, cupping his partner’s face in his hands.

Jurao nodded, resting a hand on the human’s lower back as he leaned up into the kiss. It felt awkward from uncertainty – like the first time they’d tried the activity.

Braelin experimentally licked at the King’s mouth, and Jurao, of course, obliged him. His partner was cautious – while demon teeth were not razor sharp, they were pointed.

Human tongues are very short, Jurao thought, before cautiously sliding his own tongue past his partner’s. He instinctively moved one of his smaller hands to the nape of Braelin’s neck.

His gardener made a small noise of surprise but leaned his weight more into the King in encouragement.

Jurao thought the entire sensation was… odd. The feel of Braelin’s blunt teeth, the soft wetness of his mouth, and the prickly brush of his facial hair just felt… strange. But…

There was a certain kind of rhythm to it – one that the King felt he was falling into the longer they went on.

They stopped when Braelin suddenly pushed back to sit up, panting.

“Sorry,” Jurao said, “Did I… hurt you.”

“No,” his partner chuckled, wiping at his mouth, “Just… your tongue is so big, I was having trouble breathing.”

“Ah,” the King said, “My apologies.”

He was feeling… tingly – and now he was able to put name to this sensation as arousal as well. He hadn’t realized it could be experienced in different ways – but then, platonic pleasure and pain could be felt in different ways, so why not arousal?

With his larger hands having moved to his partner’s thighs to support him, the fabric of his sleep tunic laid in a way that made it apparent the human was experiencing the same feeling.

Jurao considered before lifting his partner up enough to rearrange his own sleep robe.

“Hm?” Braelin asked, hands on the King’s shoulders to support himself with the shift. Then he gasped in surprise Jurao shifted so that his half-hardened cock laid against his partner’s slightly moistened genital slit and said, “Ah.”

Braelin rocked his hips into Jurao as they kissed again – though neither of them seemed to be inclined to continue with tongues. Jurao everted slowly, his own cock wrapping around his partner’s hard length as the human picked up his pace.

Jurao was still letting his much smaller partner do the moving – so it was Braelin pulling back once more that caused another pause.

“There was something else I was considering trying,” Braelin said.