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Like, actually alone.
In private.
And I am awkward.
So fucking awkward. I don’t know what to do with myself and suddenly I am hyper aware of every cell in my body again. Everybreath I take. The tang in my mouth, a mixture of anxiety and my beer from lunch. This level of self-consciousness isn’t me.
Honestly, I swear to myself, this is dumb. I refuse to cave anymore to this insanity. I plaster my most charming smile on my face, the fake one I save for when I am really struggling, that has become like a second skin lately.
“This place is gorgeous, Caelan. Who did your wards? I can feel them, but they are fading.” I swagger past him, absolutely one hundred percent not inhaling a whiff of that wood and leather scent of him on the way.
As he comes up behind me, boots crunching on the icy pebble path, he bumps his shoulder into mine. The casual touch shouldn’t be hot. But it is, because it’shim, and a thrill runs down my spine. He is only a couple of inches taller than me, but he is broader, thicker. I kind of want him to throw me over his shoulder and… well, we aren’t thinking about that, are we?
“Uh, I have a witch friend who does them. You’re right though, it’s been a while.” We fall into step and follow the path to the cabin. I figure I’ll just grab my stuff out of the car later, maybe after I find out who this “witch friend” is.
“Witch friend, hey? Well, I can refresh them for you before we go. Wouldn’t want to have your land unprotected.” Caelan bobs his head beside me, scuffing his feet on the coir welcome mat as he unlocks the door.
“Sure, yeah. That’d be great.”
We enter the cabin and I make all the right noises as we do the social dance of taking off our muddy boots and shucking our thick winter coats and woollens.
Inside, the house really is beautiful, rustic and cosy, but with a few modern touches, making it obviously Caelan’s home. The entry opens up to a large living and dining room. From the front door I can see the kitchen tucked away and a short hallway obviously leading to bedrooms.
The lounge is big, with dark wooden floors covered in worn but inviting rugs, various tables covered in knickknacks and photos. And an impressive amount of used mugs. Caelan isn’t one for doing the dishes, apparently. An enormous fireplace dominates one wall, with a heavy wooden mantle filled with more mementos and stacks of firewood flanking the hearth.
Taking up the rest of the space are a couple of armchairs and a matching giant brown leather couch that looked extremely lived in and comfortable, which is convenient as that is where Caelan is shuffling me over to. I flop down and breathe out a sigh; it is just as comfortable as it looks, even if Caelan seems slightly distressed at seeing me sprawled out in his lounge. I smiled genuinely this time; it is obvious we are both hand-balling this awkward feeling between us. Now it is his turn.
And Gods, he looks adorable, that blush back on his cheeks, as he scrubs a hand through his hair. It has started to curl around the edge of his beanie and he is not improving the scruffy mess.
“Did you want a drink? I have coffee or tea or beer? I feel like this calls for another beer.” I laugh and nod, and he quickly ducks off to the kitchen to get our drinks. Peeking out from under his jeans, I can see the riotous mishmash of colours of his hand-knitted socks.
While he is gone, I take the opportunity to have a little snoop, picking up the photos on the side table closest to me. Some are old, a couple of generations back. Obviously Caelan’s great grandparents or earlier. The family genetics are strong.
Newer photos are more plentiful, obviously. And there are so many of Caelan. A ten-year-old Caelan on a red BMX, covered in dirt and muck, his grin taking up his whole face. Caelan with an older couple, obviously his grandparents, in front of a Christmas tree, a handful of school photos from various years.
Caelan comes back into the room, interrupting my snooping, with two bottles of beer and a tray of brownies, which he settles on the coffee table. He sits on the other side of the couch, just out of reach, and turns so his body is facing mine, twirling his bottle in his fingers.
“So,” he coughs, then laughs. “Fuck, why is this so strange now?” He scrubs a hand over his face, then scratches at his beard. And what I wouldn’t give to feel that beard against me. Anywhere in general, but a few places, quite specifically. Like between my thighs.
I have no actual ideawhyit is so awkward between us. Maybe because we had done all our stumbling getting to know you on the screen and now we don’tknow what to do with our bodies? I know what Iwantto do with my body and his, but does he feel the same? I know he was hard earlier when wealmostkissed, but maybe that was just friction? This second guessing isn’t me, and I don’t like it. It’s unnerving.
I settle further into the couch and stretch my arm across the back, my fingers ghosting so close to his shoulder, it would take nothing to reach out just a little further and actually touch him. But something stops me, and with an awkward jerk, I pull my hand back into my lap.
“I think…” I begin, peeling the label off my beer bottle, “I think there is risk now. Before, there was fantasy. Now it is what-ifs. Being here together… What if it doesn’t measure up? What if what we thought wasn’t real? But like, what if it does? Plus, I’ve gone and added the extra pressure of asking you to go into an enchanted forest to find my possibly lost brother. Like, no biggie.” And we are going with word vomit, apparently. Caelan’s green eyes meet mine as he places a hand on my knee. An electric shock shoots through my thigh right to my cock.
“Tor, you know that I’ll help you find your brother no matter what? I’m not going to leave you alone with this one.” His thumb is stroking my knee and I can’t even think, let alone breathe.
“Maybe we should just fuck and get it out of the way?” Why am I allowed to exist honestly?
But thankfully, or not, Caelan just laughs his big throaty laugh and shoves at my knee. “Enough of that, we have planning to do. This is not going to be easy. I can leave my truck at Black Stump Tavern, then we are on foot. It will be a cold trek through the Woods. I know some of the beings that live in the Woods, and I’m friendly with most.” Caelan pauses and looks at the fireplace, almost grimacing slightly before shaking his head. There is a story there, it seems. I can’t wait to find out. “But we’re going to need to organise offerings for some of the sprites we’ll have to pass. Plus food and water.” He eyes my fine knit jumper and expensive jeans. “And you need new clothes. Those jeans do great things for your ass, but they aren’t going to be any use where we’re heading.”
That is fine by me because all I heard is Caelan likes my ass. But just as quickly as the flush of his attention flutters through my belly, worry for my brother takesover again and after we drain our beers and polish off the brownies, we get to planning for the adventure ahead.
Caelan
Last night was oneof thehardestnights of my life. Literally and figuratively. I mean, Tor had beenright thereon my couch, wrapped in my blankets. And I had lain awake all night, decidedlynotsleeping, wondering why I didn’t just invite him to come and sleep with me. Not that we would have slept.
But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. He was right. We had connected so well over the past three months. What if it didn’t work out? What if it broke that connection we had made? What if… What if after all the men that he had slept with I just couldn’t measure up and he realised he could do a million times better than a half-breed wolf shifter outcast who lived a boring life on a boring homestead with his chickens and favourite cookie sheet?
