Our hands
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
Tigana (a novel by Guy Gavriel Kay)
Alessan bar Valentin/Baerd bar Saevar
Rating: adult
Two friends take comfort in each other.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the incredibly talented Guy Gavriel Kay, and I bow before him.
Please do not archive this story without asking me first. It's more than likely that I'll agree, but I want to know where my stories are.
This scene would take place at Rovigo's home, after the agreement to form a contraina association, so they're safe for the moment.
Thanks to Tinnean, who read this and insisted that I post it. Thanks, too, to Alex, who reminded me that I was going to write this.
*****
We'll be traveling tomorrow, and I should be sleeping, but I can't. Not yet. The third glass always goes down the hardest. Blue wine, wine of memory, of vows, and tonight, of desire. So long away from home, so very long, and all I have of home is him. Baerd. My friend, almost brother. Companion for so long now. Sometimes the only reason I smile.
"Alessan."
I turn to him, glad that tonight it's just us. Devin and Sandre have the room upstairs. I insisted. They've both been through enough to need sleep, and Baerd and I are used to wooden floors and blankets. Soon enough for the musician and the former ruler of Astibar to learn the hard ways of travel. And it gives me time with Baerd, which I need.
"What?"
He sits up, pulling the blanket with him. "I'm cold."
I smile. That was the excuse he used the first time we ended up sharing the same bed. Years ago now. "Come here."
I open my blanket, and he comes to me. There won't be any more words, I know that. We never say anything when we are together. It's not something we can speak of, not something we should do, but we are, and we always have. Even when we were training with Marius, who told us both enough to let us know he knew and approved. Is this another sin of the gods? Probably. But neither of us regret it. I don't, and if he did, he would stop. I know him well enough for that.
*We do with our hands what we cannot say.* A truth that comes to me at times, usually at night. Usually with him. My hands run over his chest as he shivers, then it's my turn to shiver when his hands go right for my hardness. Quiet, I remind myself. We're in someone else's house, and maybe we should wait until we can find a quiet moment somewhere else, but our company has grown. It was hard enough finding time away from Catriana, and now with Devin and Sandre it will be harder still. I still as I realize that this may be the last time for a while.
"Alessan," he whispers again, giving me more words, and his fingers stroke me. "Please, Alessan."
I bring myself back to him. I need what he's offering, and he needs what I can give him. The music only gives me so much. His warmth gives me so much more.
Slow and easy, we work each other, until his mouth finds my neck to bury his cry there. I hold mine in, but I know that I will let it out later, the next time I play, and I will keep my eyes away from his.
This is ours. No one we travel with now needs to know.
So much I have lost, and so much I need to do. Prince of Tigana, the land whose name will vanish forever in a generation if all goes as Brandin of Ygrath wishes it, but now all I am is Alessan, friend of Baerd, safe and warm, and that is enough.
The End
Posted 5/24/01
