Page 64 of The Lost Art of Finding Where You Belong

Brannal captured Perian’s lips with his own, and Perian sank into the kiss, into the taste he had missed for a week, the unique heat and warmth and smell of the man that he probably still couldn’t describe fully to Nisal, but he’d try to catalog it better. Later.

When Brannal broke the kiss, Perian’s lips moved to his jaw, his neck, all the skin he could reach, still kissing, still smelling, still loving that he could touch. His heart was singing. He was vaguely aware of Brannal saying goodbye to Molun and Arvus, and he knew he should do the same, but that would mean taking his lipsoffBrannal, and he didn’t think he could do that right now.

He didn’t even realize they were moving until he found himself laid down on a bed that didn’t have Molun and Arvus in it. He made grabbing hands at Brannal who was still standing—why was he standing and not in bed with Perian?—but then Brannal started to strip, and although it was hard to be patient, Perian could try to be for that kind of reward. With hungry eyes, he watched in the dim light of a half-shielded lamp as the other man lost his weapons and then his clothes, hands fumbling a little in their hurry.

Then Brannal stepped forward, and in one smooth motion, pulled Perian’s sleep trousers down and off so they were both naked. And then he crawled onto the bed and settled himself on top of Perian.Yes, yes, yes!It was everything Perian wanted. Well, almost everything.

He wrapped his arms around Brannal, trying to press even closer, wondering if there was a way to fuse them together so they would always be connected, so nothing could ever separate them again. Brannal kissed him, tongue delving into his mouth, and Perian returned the kiss, relaxing into delicious sensations, the build of pleasure even better than the one with Molun and Arvus.

There was something about Brannal that called out to Perian, something that made him settle immediately—and vibrate with excitement, even if it didn’t make sense that he could do both those things at once.

Brannal’s hands were roaming over every inch of Perian’s body, up and down his chest, his arms—

Brannal pulled abruptly out of the kiss. “What’s this?”

He sounded alarmed, and Perian realized he’d found the bandages. Fire and water.

“It’s fine. It’s totally fine, I promise.” A bit desperately, Perian said, “I will tell you all about it, I swear. But could it please,pleasebe in the morning? I need you so much rightnow.”

Brannal hesitated, and Perian could practically see the man teetering between switching to overprotective mode or not. And then he leaned in and kissed Perian once more, and Perian practically melted with relief. Brannal’s hands slid gently over the bandage on his arm and continued on their exploration, and Perian wassoglad he’d not gotten more injured.

They were both achingly hard, rutting against one another and clinging, skin on skin, but Perian wanted more. Brannal’s hands dipped lower still, and then he was fingering Perian open. He squirmed into the touch, babbling about how much he wanted it, how much he needed Brannal, and then finally, finally—it had been forever, hadn’t it?—Brannal pushed inside him, filling him up.

Perian could breathe again, could take a full breath that he hadn’t quite been able to take the whole time Brannal was gone.

Brannal stared down at him, eyes so dark they looked black, glittering with heat and need. Perian gazed back, trying to convey his own emotions even as he sought to memorize every single thing about this man.

Because every second was precious, a reminder of how good it was to be back together and to have Brannal filling Perian up and looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

Perian wasn’t sure how long they lay there, just gazing at one another, neither of them moving except for their synchronized breathing, Brannal buried deep inside him. It was a strange moment, the connection taut between them but not urgent, like being perfectly balanced on a precipice.

And then, finally, Brannal began to move, and there was the slide of skin on skin, the feeling of being filled again and again and again, pleasure ratcheting up with each thrust, skin heating, sweat sliding, the grip of Brannal’s fingers biting into his hips, Perian’s cock trapped between them.

Brannal leaned down and kissed him again, and Perian scrabbled for every bit of skin he could find. Their tongues tangled, and his hands slid up and down Brannal’s broad back, tracing over those lovely muscles he’d missed so much.

The tension built higher and higher, pleasure arcing between them like a living thing, a storm that grew and grew…

Brannal buried himself inside of Perian like he was coming home, and Perian cried out as he came, spurting between them, overwhelmed and fulfilled.

Brannal collapsed on top of him, and Perian made an “oomph” of sound, but he loved the warm, heavy weight. He tried to wrap his arms around Brannal, to hold on to his sweaty back, but it was hard to make his rubbery-feeling limbs cooperate.

“I must be crushing you,” Brannal mumbled after a moment, starting to push himself up.

Perian tightened his grip as best he could. “Stay, stay. Just like this,” he begged. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

For a moment, the tension remained in Brannal’s limbs, but then he relaxed back into Perian, all heavy lassitude once more, and Perian sighed with contentment.

If he could only bottle up this feeling, keep it with him always, he would be happy forever.

Perian woke to a feeling of warm weight on top of him, and a feeling of such deep contentment that he just basked in it for a moment before he rememberedwhyhe felt so good. Brannal was back, and he was still on top of him, and it was the best wake-up ever.

He drew in a deep breath, amused when he noted that underlying the perfect smell that was permeating their bed once again, there was also the musky smell of horse. Brannal had clearly come straight in last night and hadn’t bothered to get cleaned up. It was totally worth it. Perian would put up with the smell of horse in his bed every day if it meant he got Brannal, warm and heavy and vital, pressed against him and flooding his veins with that feeling of contentment.

Perian ran his hands up and down Brannal’s back.

A voice rumbled, “That feels nice.”

Oh, Perian hadn’t meant to wake him, but now that he had…

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