it'll be fine

Nereo didn’t want to be the Commander tonight. That was obvious.

So, Woljif suggested the tavern, and with an admirable display of boldness, my place after?

Like stepping off a cliff’s edge, you just had to do the damn thing, and hope for a soft landing (and Nereo was all soft landings). There was really no reason to be nervous, yet Woljif’s stomach was in knots and his heart was making a fuss in his chest. It felt strange at all to term this a ‘first date’ when they’d already bypassed so many of the typical steps of courtship, and seen each other through tremulous lows and eclipsing highs.

The Half Measure didn’t have private tables, anyway, just a space in the very back under the staircase, which Woljif had bribed the tavern keeper to clear up and shove under a curtain. And the front room was so loud—it’d really come back to life in the months since they’d returned—they were scarcely noticed as they entered through the kitchen. Nereo ordered a bottle of some expensive liquor, then sent Fye off with instructions not to allow any interruptions.

And he’d smiled at Woljif, his gold fang catching the light.

“All good, actually,” he said. “I know we’ve all been thrown into things so suddenly since coming back. But I feel…” He paused, thinking carefully about his words. “Optimistic.”

“That’s a relief,” Woljif said slowly. “I keep thinkin’ you seem kinda tired since we got back.”

“Oh, exhausted,” Nereo replied. “Seems everyone needs something, and none of it can be simple.”

“This is what happens when you’re the guy with all the answers,” Woljif sighed. “I keep tellin’ ya to delegate! What’s the point in bein’ in charge if you can’t shove things off on someone?”

“Can’t delegate everything,” he laughed. “I fear you vastly overestimate my options in that regard.”

A heavy set of footsteps fell across the stairs above them, making them both pause.

“Anyway,” he beckoned Woljif closer once the interruption had subsided, “having all the answers isn’t all bad. I got you a gift.”

“Hm?” Woljif looked up, immediately interested, the butterflies in his stomach doing a celebratory lap. “Hold on, I didn’t get you nothin’, chief. Didn’t say we were doin’ gifts!”

“I think it’s a gift for both of us,” Nereo said cryptically. “Hold out your hand. Close your eyes.”

He didn’t have to say it twice. Woljif grinned broadly, then stretched out across the table’s surface, elbows on the wood, and palms upturned. He shut his eyes and waited, and when a small item was deposited in his hand, he recognized the smooth polish and shape of a ring before he even saw it.

“Holy shit.”

Woljif laughed, slipping it onto a finger immediately, turning it here and there to examine it in the warm torchlight. It was a gold signet ring, bearing the Commander’s emblem. As to its purpose, he could only guess, in half-formed stammering shock.

“Chief, what-? Is this-? Why-? Are you-?”

“Will you let me explain?” Nereo asked, laughing at his reaction. “It’s my seal! It’s so you can visit me without any of the castle staff turning you away, asking you to make an appointment or to explain why you’re even there. You can go anywhere, Woljif,” he said, and, with a satisfied smile, took Woljif’s hand in his own. “Don’t lose it.”

“Never! Nereo, this is the best!”

Woljif beamed at their linked hands, noting Nereo’s own matching ring. He didn’t dare think…

It felt tremendously significant. He added in a quiet whisper, “Now all of Drezen is mine…”

“Not quite,” Nereo said, pleased his gift was well received. “You can’t give orders or make decisions, you can just come up to my quarters anytime.”

“Well, you’re sort of like the mayor ‘round here, so-”

“Not true.”

“King, then. The big shot-”

“I had to convince three of my advisors to even allow this.”

“Really? This is so ritzy!” Woljif continued, giddy and impressed. “Shit. I’m gonna need to tidy my image. I need to get a top hat.”

“What? Why?”

“And a cane. Damn. I love this, chief. Really. You had to run it by the council?”

Nereo fixed him with an appraising look. He nodded, then he brought their hands near, pressing a kiss to the back of Woljif’s.

They’d kissed before, many times. But that simple gesture sent a shiver through Woljif’s back, straight to the tip of his tail.

Because, more importantly, if he was giving Woljif full access to the fortress, and standing by it, defending that decision to everyone! Who wouldn’t melt? Had he really earned this level of trust?

“You sure know how to charm a guy,” Woljif said, all his energy somehow stilled with his hand in Nereo’s. He felt calm, even as his heart and mind raced, and oh, his thoughts were bookin’. Nereo trusted him. He’d told him as much, many times, but words were cheap; actions were what got Woljif going.

“Well, I want people to treat you right,” Nereo said. He slid his thumb back and forth, gently rubbing at Woljif’s knuckles, over the skin he’d just kissed. “Last time you stopped by, the guards tried to send you off like you were a random visitor, and not my personal guest. I didn’t like that.”

“Yeah, these new folks that came in while we were gone are a pain… but, still. All this, for my sake!” Woljif laughed haphazardly.

“Not just your sake,” Nereo said, softly. “It’s… it’s good for me, also, Woljif. Having you near is good for me.”

Woljif let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head. “I can’t tell ya how glad I am to hear it. ‘Cause, I mean, you’re entirely too good for me, chief. Really, you are.” The admission came out plain, as if he were stating an obvious fact, and he looked at Nereo squarely as he said it. “Everyone can see it. I sure can. But to tell the truth… if you don’t mind, then I don’t mind, ‘cause,” he grinned roguishly, “I’ve been a thief my whole life. Takin’ stuff that ain’t meant for me comes easy. Make no mistake. It’s more’n I deserve. Thank you.”

Nereo smiled at him, in a way that made Woljif feel like every piece of him, good and bad, was being regarded and met with endless benevolence. Finally he leaned towards him conspiratorially.

“But what if this is meant for you, Woljif?” he asked, voice scarcely above a whisper, low and deep. “What if… it’s already yours? What if you don’t have to work for it? What if you don’t even have to ask?”

Woljif leaned over the table, and grabbed him by the collar of his doublet, and drew him into a kiss.

Nereo met him with a little sigh of relief or want or Woljif didn’t know what, only that, finally, that gold fang dragged against his lower lip, a sharp tug that he’d dreamed of for longer than he’d care to admit. Nereo, showing him in every way that he could have this, that he was worthy, was a pleasure he’d never tire of gorging himself on.

He kissed him, ‘til he felt breathless. He didn’t want to pull away. The hard edge of the table dug into his abdomen, but he scarcely felt it. He felt heady and warm. The sounds of the tavern’s revelry faded to nothing, blood rushing loud in his ears. Impossible to think that the tavern existed behind that thin curtain; it may as well have been on another plane.

Then he felt, beneath the table, the soft sweep of Nereo’s tail over his thighs, sending sparks over his skin, even through the leather. He looped his own tail around its length, felt his stomach clench with want, and with not enough.

Another heavy sound of footsteps running down the stairs above them. Woljif broke away with a startled laugh.