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Olruggio was still getting used to the sound of birds upon waking.
Even when they had been children, running off into the cool dark of the night, there had been nothing but the breeze through the tall grass, the bubbling of a brook, their labored breaths. Nothing like this.
Olruggio shifted, sitting up to blink blearily at the empty stone of his new room. Outside, the sun was still golden enough to mean that it was early, slanting across the shining wood floor.
This, of course, like many things in Olruggio’s life, had been Qifrey’s idea.
He had known about his desire to take the fifth exam, the soft look in his eye when he thought of an atelier of his own one day, the way his hands would move when outlining a lesson he would teach one day in the future, Olly, I’m just getting a head start on preparing.
Olruggio often thought looking at Qifrey was like looking at the sun, so perhaps he couldn’t be blamed for barely hearing the question regarding a watchful eye when he said yes. He honestly didn’t even know if he was truly being asked outright, but he could remember the brilliant smile that spread across Qifrey’s face as he reached out and clutched his hands.
“Oh, Olly, that’s wonderful! I’ll let the council know our plans right away. I’m sure Beldaruit will put in a good word for us both.” He had rushed off then, leaving a half-dazed Olruggio staring after him.
The memory of that smile settled hot and deep in his stomach though, and he had lost many a night of sleep dwelling on it before dwelling on why he was dwelling on it to begin with. It was frustrating. Sometimes it led to strange dreams only remembered in shapes and shades of Qifrey’s smile, his neck, his hands.
If he was being truthful, it was neither confusing nor surprising to Olruggio, as this odd restlessness had haunted him for some time now, but his friend’s wish for a quiet, isolated atelier was.
He knew that despite his peace with his past, a part of Qifrey still hated the Hall. The looks and whispers never quite went away, and he would be lying if he didn’t notice the slump to Qifrey’s shoulders.
His friend had grown up and out of dark, shimmering corridors of their youth, but this—
There was a knock on his door, quick and gentle. “Olly, if you’re awake, I made some tea and toast with jam. You may be sleeping, but if you’re not, I’d love to share it with you. A housewarming, of sorts.”
Olruggio sat up fully, clearing his throat and ignoring the flush that warmed his face. “Yeah, I’m up, I’ll be down in a bit.” His voice was gruffer than usual, and he winced.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, no, just something in my throat, I guess.”
“Hmm,” came the gentle hum from behind his door, warm with a hidden laugh, “well, I’ll leave you to tidy yourself up. But don’t take too long, I know you’re picky about buttering your bread.”
“What’s the point if it’s cold?” Olruggio muttered to himself, and Qifrey didn’t try to hide his soft laugh this time. It echoed along with his retreating footsteps as he stayed true to his word, and Olruggio fought to urge to smother his embarrassment in his blankets and never leave.
This. This was something else entirely.
–
The days stretched long as they settled into their atelier, and the feeling grew worse.
More and more, Olruggio found himself lost in thought, eyes lingering too long over the curve of Qifrey’s shoulder as it rounded into his covered collarbone and dipped out of sight beneath his cloak. On one truly torturous occasion, Qifrey had leaned forward, his gentle enthusiasm ever pulling him closer to whatever Olruggio was busy with that day, and the space between his chest and his cloak had widened to the point of near obscenity. Olruggio found himself stepping away and out of the room, cheeks scorched and flustered.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Qifrey like this before. They had grown up together, living in and out of each other’s pockets. By the gods, they had even slept in each other’s beds! Olruggio was making a fool of himself, and it was humiliating.
Perhaps it was their newfound proximity. Before they had the wide stretch of the Hall to keep them apart, curfew and expectation leaving them to their own rooms and studies.
But now, the thought of Qifrey beckoned through the scant doors and walls between them. Olruggio in his room, Olruggio in the kitchen, Olruggio laid out against their new chair in the shared living space, pretending to read while his eyes tracked the silhouette of his friend as he organized his books on their shelves.
No matter where Olruggio was, Qifrey was always there, even if it wasn’t in person. His very presence had seeped into the wood and stone of their home in such a short amount of time. Qifrey was everywhere. Olruggio couldn’t escape him.
And they were alone.
True privacy was rare in the Hall, and now Olruggio didn’t know what to do with the overabundance of it. He was fond of the countryside Qifrey had chosen for their atelier, loved the changing of the light and the clouds and the cold that grew ever less biting in the evenings. He preferred the quiet, but in lieu of the steady hum of the Hall, Qifrey only seemed to grow louder.
Gone were the daily distractions and in its place was the image of Qifrey running inside, caught off guard by a late spring storm, face red with exertion, breath heavy in his heaving chest, clothes soaked and clinging.
It had come out of nowhere, and Olruggio had been pacing the hall when the door finally swung open. His first thought was concern, rushing to his friend’s side, though careful not to crowd him. Qifrey’s aversion to water had gotten much better through the years but this was surely too much. Before he could utter a word, Qifrey had tipped his head back against the door with a gentle thud, the length of his body stretching long as he turned to him with a huffed laugh.
“Olly, it’s raining,” he had said.
It was sweet. It was simple. It was so damaging to Olruggio that he immediately turned and fled for his room.
He had barely been coherent as he latched the door behind him and tore at the ties of his skirts. Hissing as he took himself in hand, it was over before it could even begin. He spilled over as he bit down on his arm, struggling to keep quiet.
Olruggio had been so ashamed that he kept to his rooms all night, ignoring the quiet knocks at his door as his stomach churned. Sleep was fitful, and when hunger finally pulled him from his bed the next morning, he was still exhausted.
To his surprise, Qifrey had been awake when he arrived downstairs. He was bundled in an old blanket from their childhood at the kitchen table, staring down at a steaming cup of tea, not drinking.
Olruggio slowed to a stop at the foot of stairs. “Too early for you to be up, I think.”
Qifrey blinked, his only indication that Olruggio had surprised him, before turning to give him a tired smile. “I could say the same for you.”
“Nah, haven’t gone to bed yet actually,” he lied. “I had a deadline move up. Got the notice while you were out yesterday.”
Qifrey had looked at him for a long moment. Olruggio tried not to squirm under his gaze.
“I see,” he finally said, and Olruggio had fought the urge to slump in relief. “Come sit. Would you like some tea?”
“Please,” he said, settling in at the table.
“I picked some fresh leaves from the mountainside. The plants were so lovely, I hadn’t even noticed the clouds rolling in,” Qifrey sighed as he set down another steaming mug. Olruggio took a sip, humming his appreciation at the warm spiced flavor.
“Good?”
“Yeah. It’ll be great for fall.”
Qifrey had beamed at him. “My thoughts exactly. How about some breakfast? You skipped dinner last night, you must be hungry.”
“Not too early?” Olruggio raised an eyebrow. The tease was gentle. The real question went unasked between them.
Qifrey’s fingers brushed his hand as he moved towards the wooden stretch of counter. “Never too early for you.”
–
Because such things were inevitable, everything came to a head on an early summer evening.
The humidity was unseasonably unbearable, the air was sticky even for the late hour, and Olruggio found himself sprawled in their living room chair, shirt pulled loose over his chest.
Qifrey had pulled him from the cool dark of his room, asking for feedback on his new lesson plans. They were set to have a new apprentice move in the following week, a young girl with a glare that even impressed Olruggio. She would be their first, and Qifrey was beside himself with excitement.
It was a familiar scene by this point. He was pacing the length of the room, gesturing in a way he did rarely. The heat didn’t seem to faze him, though he had discarded his robes, leaving only his turtleneck and skirts. The last bits of evening light poured through the window behind him, pulling his form into sharp relief.
He was talking, but Olruggio could barely make out the words.
There was no reason for him to feel so intensely towards Qifrey’s favored turtleneck, the way it both clung to and hid the lean body beneath. He felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of his throat, and he swallowed hard.
It felt unfair. It was cruel. Surely Qifrey had to know–
“Olruggio?”
“Huh?” The full name was never a good sign. Had he missed something? “Sorry, I was…” The words died in his mouth at Qifrey’s heavy gaze.
“You were staring.”
“Yeah…I guess so. Sorry about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck when Qifrey remained silent, “Can you, uh, repeat that last bit? I promise the fundamentals sounded strong, and maybe you can incorporate bringing her to that wand shop you’ve been visiting–”
Qifrey stepped toward him and pushed his hand through Olruggio’s hair, cutting him off. His face was unreadable. “Is the heat getting to you, Olly?”
“What?”
Qifrey looked away then. “Is it…me?”
Olruggio was helpless to answer. “Yes.”
Qifrey flinched and stepped back. Olruggio quickly stood to follow, catching his hand in his own. “Wait! Please! It’s–difficult to explain.”
He didn’t move away, but Olruggio could see the tension in his friend’s face. “Try, if you can.”
“Well, sometimes you are…” Olruggio struggled to find the words, “just…you, and nothing’s changed, I swear! Nothing’s different, but suddenly I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. My thoughts are scattered, my own hands idle with lack of purpose. Instead, they…I…” he blushed, unable to finish the thought.
Qifrey frowned at him. “Am I truly so bothersome that I drive you to madness? You flee rooms when I enter then act as if nothing is wrong. My dearest friend, what have I done to make you act so unlike yourself–”
Olruggio kissed him. He felt Qifrey gasp against him before melting into his arms, kissing him in return.
Once they broke apart for air, Olruggio could only see the flush of his cheeks, his glasses knocked askew on his nose.
“This,” he whispered. “This is what you do to me, Qifrey.”
“Olly,” Qifrey arched into him, arms winding around his neck. “Take me to bed. Please.”
Olruggio could never refuse him.
–
They somehow stumbled their way into Qifrey’s rooms, falling straight into the quilted sheets of his bed. By then, Olruggio’s shirt had been thrown off along the way, and he was shaking at the feeling of Qifrey’s hands running over his skin with such need.
“Qifrey–can I–”
“Yes, Olly, yes.”
Olruggio pulled back only as much as he needed to, loosening the ties of his skirts and letting them fall to the floor with his leggings. Naked now, he set to work on Qifrey’s own clothes. Together, they managed to pull off Qifrey’s skirts, sending them tumbling to the ground with Olruggio’s. He paused for a moment, taking in the length of Qifrey’s turtleneck and how the straps wrapped around his thighs.
“Huh.”
Qifrey, who had always known him so well, better than himself at times, only smiled. “I promise, it’s easier than it looks.”
A simple unfastening later, and Qifrey was spread out before him. The flush from earlier had crept down his pale chest, and Olruggio followed it lower with a gentle hand.
“Qifrey,” his voice was rougher than normal, barely recognizable even to his own ears, “I want to taste you.”
Qifrey nodded once, twice, then a third time before shifting onto his elbows and spreading his legs.
Olruggio could barely think when confronted with the hot, hard reality of him, but took pride in Qifrey’s shout as he took him into his mouth.
He was already wet, leaking salt against his tongue as he slid further down. Qifrey jerked beneath him, but Olruggio was quick to place an arm over his hips, lest he choke. Curious, he pulled back up, sucking gently as he did so, and Qifrey threaded a hand in his hair, tugging hard.
“Olly, p-please, wait–”
Olruggio pulled off quickly, halfway stuttering through an apology before Qifrey sat up and kissed him quiet.
“Olly, shush, you did nothing wrong. You were so good, almost too much so. I had to stop you because I wanted to keep going. I want more.”
“Anything,” Olruggio breathed,” anything you want.”
“Inside. My dear Olruggio, I want you inside me.”
“Gods, Qifrey. Yes, but–how? I don’t–”
“It’s okay,” Qifrey gave him one last kiss before pushing him to the bed. “Just watch.”
Qifrey leaned over to his bedside drawer, pulling out a slim bottle of some sort of oil. Olruggio could only stare as he poured some over his fingers then almost choked on his own tongue as Qifrey spread his legs even further than before, running his wet fingers over his hole.
“I always thought of you when I did this to myself. You have such lovely hands, Olly, so capable, so kind.” QIfrey tilted his head back with a sigh as he slid into himself.
Time meant nothing with the way Qifrey worked himself. First one finger, then two, then three, each accompanied with a moan and a twist of his hips. Olruggio was gripping the sheets so tight they might have torn.
After an eternity, Qifrey slid his hand free and reclined back against his pillows. He was flushed with exertion, hair mussed and damp with sweat. His glasses had fallen off at some point and were gone. He was the most beautiful thing Olruggio had ever seen.
“Olly. Come here.”
Olruggio shuffled towards him, in awe of the way his thighs parted to hold him so close. He marveled at their smooth warmth as Qifrey reached down between them, giving him a few pumps of his hand, wetting him further with the leftover oil.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Olruggio said, and gasped as Qifrey finally pulled him closer and into himself.
It never would have lasted. Qifrey was impossibly hot and tight around him, and with every thrust of Olruggio’s hips, he would cry out. Olruggio felt consumed, every part of him surrounded by Qifrey, so dearly held by his arms and legs clinging to him as they moved together.
Olruggio was so close, but he needed to please Qifrey first. The room pitched into darkness as the very last of the light faded behind the hills, and everything fell away from Olruggio except the overwhelming desire to make Qifrey feel good. To make him feel loved.
He sped up, leaning closer to kiss up the side of Qifrey’s lovely neck all the way to his ear. “Qifrey–gods, Qifrey, you must know how–how much I–I–”
Qifrey arched up into his arms, body tensing, fingers digging into his back–
“I love you.”
–And then shattered beneath him, shaking and crying as he spilled between them, panting as Olruggio worked him through it.
Olruggio was almost there himself. He was gasping wetly into the curve of Qifrey’s neck, hips stuttering as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm him. He felt a gentle hand run through his hair, an echo of themselves in the living room earlier, a million lifetimes away, and there was a whisper against his ear.
“Oh, Olly, I love you so much. I’m so loved by you. Show me. Show me how much you love me.”
Olruggio came with a shout, biting down as Qifrey let out a delighted noise, rubbing over his back until he found the courtesy to pull out and collapse at his side. Qifrey immediately rolled up onto one elbow next to him. He was smiling, relaxed in a way Olruggio had never seen before. Even in the darkness, the blue of his eye gleamed.
“You’re beautiful,” Olruggio said, unthinking.
“You’ve always been too kind to me,” Qifrey said, but his smile widened all the same.
Olruggio’s eyes traced down his body, wincing when he saw the bruise forming on his pale neck. “I’m sorry about, ah,” he gestured towards the marks, embarrassed, “all that. Yeah.”
Qifrey’s expression turned wicked. “Don’t be. I was unaware of the depths of your passion, Olruggio.”
Olruggio groaned, and Qifrey laughed, a lovely, bell-like thing, before curling up next to him.
“Maybe you were just hungry. I know how you get when you haven’t eaten in a while.”
“Qifrey.”
“Hush, you’re too easy to tease. But in truth, I fear you have quite worn me out, I might not be up to cooking dinner for us tonight. Would you be fine managing for yourself?”
He gave Olruggio a wobbly smile, and Olruggio could only pull him closer, pressing a soft kiss against his brow.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything.”