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Finding comfort in that, Patrick closed his eyes and fell fitfully asleep.
But he didn’t escape to the morning.
Pounding on his door pulled Patrick from a dead sleep. He staggered into the center of his room, his mind confused enough to mean he’d slept for hours.
The pounding started again, loud in the small room, but soft enough that it wouldn’t be loud out in the hall.
“Patrick, open the door.”
Patrick’s heart both sank and lifted and ended up ripping in his chest as he recognized Fal’ran’s deep voice in the murmured command. He didn’t want to, he thought to himself as he scrubbed the sleep from his eyes. It wasn’t morning yet. Things weren’t better. He was still so tired.
But he opened the door and there stood Fal’ran in the hall, a determined set to his jaw and his weight tipped forward onto the balls of his feet. Patrick braced his hand on the doorframe to bar the way into his room. “You shouldn’t be out. It’s past curfew.” Patrick didn’t know what time it was, but he was sure of that at least.
“So let me in before someone sees.” Fal’ran stepped into Patrick’s space and Patrick straightened his spine to hold his ground. He opened his mouth to tell Fal’ran to go back to his room but didn’t get the words out before Fal’ran put his hands on Patrick’s face and breathed over his lips. “Or is this your latest escape ploy?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Patrick tightened his grip on the doorframe even as he tilted his face up to brush his nose against Fal’ran’s.
“First, I’m too injured.” Fal’ran snaked a hand down Patrick’s face and up the arm he had extended across the doorway. “Then you have a confession to make.” He pried Patrick’s fingers loose. “Then we have target practice.” He wrapped his other hand around the back of Patrick’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. “Now it’s curfew.”
“What’s your point?” Patrick had an opening to fight Fal’ran off. At this distance, a knee to the groin would be devastating and too fast to block. Instead, he let Fal’ran walk him backward into his room. Excitement thrilled through him when the door slid closed, sealing them away into the privacy of Patrick’s bedroom.
“Have you finally run out of excuses, or do you have another trick up your sleeve to stop me from making you come again?” Fal’ran didn’t wait for an answer, taking advantage of Patrick’s sharp inhale and taking his mouth roughly.
Relief and desire hit Patrick so hard it hurt, as though Fal’ran had slammed an elbow into his chest. He grabbed the back of Fal’ran’s neck and fought back with his kiss, thrusting his tongue up against Fal’ran’s and nicking his lips with his canine. Back and forth they dueled, Fal’ran bringing all the aggression he’d arrived with, and Patrick filled with burning, furious frustration.
When Fal’ran caught Patrick’s lower lip between his teeth, Patrick flipped the grip Fal’ran had on his hand and twisted Fal’ran’s arm around. Fal’ran grunted with pain and Patrick used the opening to rip his face away and spin Fal’ran around.
“What changed your mind?” Patrick slammed Fal’ran’s chest into the wall and panted into his ear.
Fal’ran struggled for a second, two, three, before settling. He huffed a laugh and pressed his cheek against the wall to look over his shoulder. “The hell are you talking about? I’ve been wanting to make you come ever since you pinned me the first day you made us spar.”
Patrick shivered as he remembered that day, the confusion, the lust. “You didn’t act like it this afternoon. And you always fucking act like it.” He let out a shaky exhale. “But you stopped after I…told you.”
Fal’ran’s muscular arms slackened in Patrick’s grip. “I was trying to figure out what it meant.”
Did Patrick have to spell it out? He didn’t know how much more clearly he could say it, but he’d give it another shot. “It means no one’s ever touched me and I’ve never touched anyone else because no one’s ever wanted a weak little human—”
“I don’t believe you,” Fal’ran snapped over him. Patrick’s grip loosened with shock, but Fal’ran didn’t take advantage of the opening. “I think that’s what you’ve told yourself. Did anyone ever actually say that to you?”
“Yes.” One man had. And it had been enough.
“Well, fuck that person then.” Fal’ran tried to turn, but Patrick locked his knee against his, keeping him against the wall. “They were a blind, fucking idiot. But I think they were just one.”
Patrick let out a disbelieving bark of a laugh. “Do you think there’s some line of suitors I’m unaware of?”
“I think I told you I wanted you for weeks and you only laughed at me,” Fal’ran snapped, and Patrick wavered at the hurt in the younger man’s voice. He hated that. He’d never meant to—
This time, Fal’ran took advantage of his surprise to spin them. He seized Patrick and pressed his back into the wall.
“Until you didn’t.” Fal’ran fisted the front of Patrick’s shirt and nudged Patrick’s nose with his. He closed his eyes and inhaled in that way that seemed to breathe Patrick in. “I was trying to figure out what it meant that after decades of walling yourself off from everyone else, you let me in.”
Patrick closed his eyes, too overwhelmed by Fal’ran pressing against him and the rawness of his own emotions. He grabbed Fal’ran’s sides, grounding himself with the rhythm of Fal’ran’s rib cage expanding and contracting under his palms. “I…” He should look Fal’ran in the eye, he realized, and forced himself to meet that gorgeous burnt-orange gaze. “I care about you.”
Fuck, was that all he could say? He cared about a lot of people. Caring about people and loyalty to the Klah’Eel empire was all Patrick was. To say that he cared about Fal’ran didn’t come close to conveying the magnitude and—and—and tone of his feelings for the man.
“A lot,” he added uselessly. He clutched Fal’ran closer before he could pull away in the face of Patrick’s underwhelming confession.
Fal’ran chuckled and ran his hands up and down Patrick’s arms. “I know.” Instead of pulling away, he pressed closer, slipping his thigh between Patrick’s legs. “I’ve figured out it meant that much.”
