It was maddening. It was the seventh night since their encounter at The Maskerade and every time Temple didn’t directly focus on something, his thoughts wandered to the memory of the Watcher’s strong body, the heat on Temple’s skin when he spilt his seed, and the sight of his big hand firmly wrapped around Temple’s cock.

He had been fighting the thoughts and the dreams ever since Gilbert left the brothel.

It was only supposed to be that one time. Then they could move on because Temple had never had a second fuck with anyone. He couldn’t even really justify classifying this as ‘a fuck’. It had felt so completely different from anything he’d ever experienced before. The embrace afterwards had shifted something. The warmth he’d seen in Gilbert’s eyes…

He bit his lip under the mask, so he didn’t huff audibly in frustration. Staying stealthy with a raging hard-on and your thoughts on a handsome man’s firm body and kind eyes wasn’t a feat he was professional enough to handle at the moment. And he hated himself for it.

He normally spent at least four or five hours each night on exercise, making sure he continually knew the city’s nooks and crannies, that his body stayed strong and agile, and that his footsteps remained silent. The disciplined exercises were the only reason he had escaped Merchant Irene’s guards the night Gilbert had found him; because he was capable of seeking refuge on higher ground, knew where to find purchase, and knew which roofs and gangplanks could support his weight. He had also successfully deployed some stink bombs that had thrown the hounds off.

But if Gilbert hadn’t found him, he was quite sure he would eventually have been captured, even though his last conscious thought had been to hide in the garbage to mask his scent.

Now, however, because of Gilbert, he had spent the last seven nights looking for murderous writers of dubious temple-quotes – even though he dreaded finding any – and getting wise to the powers behind the Watcher palisades that might try to pin the murders on Gilbert or take his job from him. So far, Temple had added a few ugly pieces of evidence to his pile of blackmail material, just in case anyone would think to threaten Gilbert.

…And that fact, in and of itself, spoke volumes of his madness.

Then there was the name… The name Gilbert had kept repeating to test Temple’s reaction, which kept insinuating itself into his thoughts in the oiliest manner possible, like an ugly stain on his mind or the crater when a tooth was pulled and the tongue couldn’t stay away from it.

Rakkos. It echoed in his thoughts, and he pushed it away, suddenly terrified it would stay and become a cacophony that called forth the images. Of the young woman. Of the child’s hand, holding the knife…

Trembling at his core, Temple gave up. He was useless. He wouldn’t be any help to anyone. He needed… Needed…

He couldn’t finish the sentence in his thoughts, but his body reacted on his mind’s behalf. It quickly and quietly steered him in the direction of the nearest of his safe houses, a cold little flat where he kept supplies for emergencies. It didn’t matter. As long as he could wash, change, and get back on the street with the early risers in time to wait for Gilbert to leave the palisade…

It was madness, and he knew it. But the hope of seeing the Watcher again in a few hours quickened his step and made his heart beat faster. His thoughts stilled as he moved, and this time Temple didn’t question it.

*

When Gilbert saw movement in the dark mouth of an alleyway as he walked homeward, he cursed himself for a split second that he had let the last few days of peace get to him. No further madmen had turned themselves over after that glorious morning at the brothel and, although he fully expected the madness to start up again, there had not been this long of a break since Barlik had been captured.

But the man who stepped out of the shadow into the flickering light of a nearby street brazier was Temple, not a crazed painter. He was dressed as a civilian again, like he had been when they were at the brothel, and Gilbert instantly felt a stab of envy towards the cape that wrapped around his strong, slender shoulders. Temple looked at him with a hopeful gaze he was unable to hide, and Gilbert grinned at the raw reaction.

“You missed me too?” Gilbert asked and could have sworn Temple’s pale cheeks blushed slightly.

“I’ve been out looking for more painters,” he answered in an obvious attempt to misdirect.

Gilbert just nodded and couldn’t stop smiling. “Tell me more about it on the way?” he asked.

Temple finally smiled a little and looked away as he began walking, and they made their way towards Gilbert’s home.

“Why don’t you ever take the same way home?” Temple asked finally.

“Have you been–” Gilbert stopped himself from making it sound like an attack before he risked scaring the thief off. “Why did you follow me and not talk to me?” he finally settled for.

“Wouldn’t you have followed me if you could?”

“No,” Gilbert stated and stopped in his tracks. He looked up and down the street, blessedly dark and deserted in the hour before dawn, and slowly reached out to put his arm around Temple’s waist. “I wouldn’t have kept my distance,” he said, wondering if there would be resistance, but Temple just relaxed into the embrace with his whole body, arms around him, biting Gilbert’s lip as a playful test before he kissed him fiercely, a low hum of pleasure in his throat.

It felt like coming home after a long, painful absence. Like a sense of safety that was restored. The wait had been nearly endless, and every single time he wasn’t buried under heaps of work, Gilbert’s mind had happily skipped to burning hot memories of Temple’s supple body, his narrow hips, lean muscles, and perfect backside. The miracle of watching him sweaty and pleading just before his climax, controlling his movements with a firm grip on his magnificent cock… the look of otherworldly pleasure on his face had been almost too much to bear, and Gilbert’s entire being longed to experience that intimacy, that closeness again. The kiss was like a blessing, promising it.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He heard Temple’s soft sigh as they both slowly came back to reality in the dirty alley.

“Come home with me. Fast?” Gilbert whispered, smiling.

“As if you could keep up, Watcher…” Temple gave a big, easy smile and leaned back a bit in the embrace.

Gilbert looked at him, stunned. It was the first true, relaxed, happy smile the Magpie King had given him, and he felt immensely proud of himself for having earned it. He knew he was grinning from ear to ear, and he had to steal a kiss and taste Temple’s lips before he ran off. It was a smiling kiss and they both laughed softly to end it.

“Are you saying I’m slow?” Gilbert asked, for clarification.

“Not at all,” Temple dismissed with emphasis. “I’m saying you don’t know the city well enough.”

“That’s even worse!” Gilbert grinned and pinched Temple’s backside, making him laugh.

“Well, it’ll be true until you prove me wrong,” he stated.

“Fine. I will race you there. But no magic allowed.”

“Very well,” Temple said, pressing into the embrace. “And when I win, you will bend me over that chair you slept in and fuck me hard and fast this time,” he whispered, breath hot on Gilbert’s ear.

Gilbert gasped. “Agreed. But when I win, you will lie naked on my bed and accept what’s coming to you without moving until I tell you to.”

“Agreed,” Temple whispered breathlessly. And then they stepped away from each other, hands still clasping for a few seconds until, as by unspoken agreement, they both let go and sprinted down the street.

*

In the breathless moments after their release, they simply slumped over in bed, clinging to each other, gasping for breath. When they slowly came to, sweaty and sticky, feeling the joy of their closeness, skin to skin, a tired, breathless, smiling kiss followed. Gilbert drew Temple as close as he could come and felt the man’s lean, strong arms around him too. He reached out to draw the blanket over them both, and then they stayed like that for a while, calming down, heart to heart, until Temple finally stirred.

Gilbert had a feeling the Magpie was forcing himself to move and tried to catch his gaze in the morning light, streaming in through the window neither of them had bothered to curtain when they came in earlier, panting and horny and desperate to touch each other.

Temple, however, seemed to consciously avoid his gaze as he scooped up his undershorts from the floor and pulled them on, back turned.

Gilbert’s heart suddenly thundered for another reason than lust or happiness. This felt like a turning point, and he was afraid to do it wrong and push Temple away. Very slowly, he sat up in bed and held out a hand, palm up. “I won’t stop you if you prefer to leave, but I was hoping you would stay. I’m still not done with you. And I think it’s the same the other way around. Or am I wrong?” he asked, careful to pose it as an actual question. Temple wasn’t used to company, that was glaringly obvious by now. Any attempt to hold him back would likely meet with resistance.

Temple slowly turned around, and the hostility Gilbert had halfway expected was absent. He was puzzled and uncertain, but not spooked. “Why?” he just asked.

Gilbert smiled, surprised when Temple tentatively reached out and took his hand. “Because I was hoping to wake up with you. I was hoping to see you eat. At least some dinner before you leave, if not breakfast tomorrow.” He slowly closed his hand around Temple’s, letting his thumb gently caress the inside of his wrist.

Then Temple abruptly sputtered a laugh, which took him by surprise. “See me eat? How exactly do you think I’ll do it?”

Gilbert grinned and tried to pull him gently towards him, a small, subtle movement, and was surprised again when Temple gradually allowed himself to be pulled back to the bed, sitting down. “I have no idea,” Gilbert admitted. “So far, I don’t even know if you can eat.”

“If I stay…” Temple faltered, and small twin lines appeared between his dark brows. He slowly followed when Gilbert dragged him closer until he was lounging across his chest. “What are we supposed to do until dinner? We can’t fuck all the time.”

“We could… have a conversation?”

Temple looked at him blankly, and Gilbert was not sure how to deal with it. Had Temple never had a single moment of pillow-talk? Not a single lover who wanted him to stay? Who wanted to feel his lean body close and enjoy the sight of his expressive face and explore his strange, exciting, challenging mannerisms that were so thoroughly his own? Had nobody wanted to fight for it to get to know him better?

“A conversation?” Gilbert repeated. “I could ask you things or tell you things about me. You could ask about me if there was anything you wanted to know. Or we could just talk about… our favourite memories, books, our opinion on… I don’t know, soft cheese?” he shrugged, daunted by the half-panicked, half-clueless look in the thief’s eyes.

Fortunately, the soft cheese made Temple chuckle as Gilbert had hoped, and he put his arms around his lean form and turned in bed, inelegantly dragging the thief with him. Temple stayed in bed next to him, staring into his eyes directly, as if trying to crack a difficult code or solve a puzzle that utterly escaped him.

“Why do you want to see me eat?” Temple finally asked, clearly trying to understand.

“I imagine it’s quite erotic. The thought of you… sustaining yourself? Maybe I just want to see you suck something.” He shrugged, and they both simultaneously burst out laughing.

Temple kissed him while shimmying out of his undershorts again and then got under the blanket with him. Gilbert smiled, deeply satisfied with the situation.

“What’s that face you are making?” Temple asked with a smile.

“Smug pride, mostly,” Gilbert explained.

“At what?”

“Everything. But also that you just smiled at me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more gratifying.”

*

When Temple awoke, there was a brief moment of panic sweeping through his chest in a cold wave. He thought he’d just heard a metallic screech and the echo of it lingered in his mind. He didn’t know where he was. But then he did. Because he’d had this exact experience once before. Only this time, he remembered how he had gotten here, running and jumping and exerting himself to get here as fast as he could to get naked with the Watcher.

Gloriously naked. His body was already miles ahead of him and ready for Gilbert to touch him, but Gilbert wasn’t there. Slowly, Temple looked around the neat bedroom, listening for sounds in the well-kept flat where everything had its exact place, except in the kitchen. It was twilight outside, and the place was swathed in bluish half-light.

From the kitchen, he heard a steady, rhythmic breath and a faint bubbling petering out.

Frowning in puzzlement, Temple slowly pushed the blanket aside and got up, stepping on the worn, wooden floor planks close to the wall, so they wouldn’t creak and give him away. Quickly and soundlessly, he made his way to the corridor where he could peek around the doorframe into the kitchen.

A lamp was lit, casting a soft golden glow over the room. Gilbert, wearing only his undershorts, was on the floor near the stove, doing push-ups. Quick, precise, steady pushes, the muscles of his arms and shoulders bulging with each dip of his strong body. A percolator had been taken off the heat on the stove; that was the screeching sound that had woken him. The scent of the tarbean tea reached Temple’s nostrils, and the sight of the Watcher quickened his entire body and educated him on the benefits of staying the night.

Gilbert still didn’t appear to have noticed him, so he took a few moments more to enjoy the sight of the muscles of his back, shifting deliciously as he dipped and rose. Temple felt a big smile spread on his face and stepped back into the narrow hall a couple of steps, to let the floorboards creak. Gilbert froze mid-push and looked at him, a naughty, enticing, and beautiful smile spreading instantly on his face when Temple leaned on the doorframe, not bothering to hide his naked arousal.

“Thank the gods,” Gilbert said, still smiling, but with an awed tone in his voice. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I think I see what you mean about staying for breakfast,” Temple said, a smug grin on his face.