Chapter 1: ONE
Notes:
happy birthday to me pookie, @CoffeeDrip. 😊❤️
hope y’all love this!! 🫶
Chapter Text
Kaladin wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up here.
Bridge Four had dragged him out for drinks… or more accurately, Lopen had come pounding on his door with his cheerful insistence. He’d waved a hand in Kaladin’s face and declared, “It’s time you left your room. You have to come. It’s basically Bridge Four protocol.”
Adolin, of course, had agreed with Lopen before Kaladin could even say no, and then spent the next ten minutes practically begging him.
That had been harder to resist.
And now… here he was. Sitting stiffly at a long table in one of the open-air taverns in Urithiru. The din of people and clinking cups all around him, the scent of alcohol thick in the air.
Bridge Four laughed and passed around drinks and stories.
Adolin sat beside him, relaxed, smiling, sipping something golden in color. The prince’s arm brushed his whenever he shifted, and Kaladin was overly aware of it.
They were telling stories now. Love stories.
Rock, all warm affection, spoke about how he’d met his wife, “She made me stew,” he said, “The very first time. That is how I knew.”
Lopen was recounting his long list of flirtations, exaggerating most of them, Kaladin assumed, “And then there was this Herdazian girl,” he was saying, grinning like he’d just won a fight, “She said I had the eyes of a poet and the body of a soldier. Obviously, she wanted to kiss me.”
“Did she?” Teft asked, raising a brow.
“Well, no,” Lopen said, unfazed, “But she thought about it, and that’s what counts.”
They all laughed.
Kaladin forced a smile, but his stomach was tight. He didn’t have anything to add. Not that he wanted to. It wasn’t like he cared about that kind of thing.
He’d never dated anyone. Never kissed anyone. Never held someone’s hand under the table, pressed his forehead to someone else’s, or whispered promises he didn’t fully believe just because it felt right in the moment.
He hadn’t had time for things like that, not with the constant chaos of his life. And even if he had… well. He wasn’t the type for it. He wasn’t soft like that. He wasn’t good at those kinds of things.
He wasn’t… anything.
And it wasn’t as if there had ever been someone who made him want that. Not really. He’d never had a crush. Never looked at someone and felt his heart do that ridiculous skip people talked about. He’d never seen someone and thought, I want to hold them. I want them to hold me.
It just wasn’t how he worked. He was focused. Broken. Too occupied with surviving to notice feelings like that.
He’d told himself that often enough, so it had to be true.
Right?
He shifted in his seat, staring at his drink without drinking it, fingers tapping the rim of the cup like it might offer him an escape.
His friends were still laughing, their voices warm and familiar, the comfort of found family. He was happy for them. He was. He didn’t want what they had. He didn’t need it. He was fine like this. Lonely sometimes, sure. But fine.
He felt Syl land lightly on his shoulder. She leaned over like she was watching the others with him, tiny arms folded. She didn’t say anything, but when he glanced at her, she was looking at him with a knowing sort of tilt to her head. Eyes narrowed. Mischievous.
What? he thought at her, frowning.
She just smirked and swung her legs like she was terribly entertained, “You keep telling yourself that,” she murmured, “But I know you.”
Kaladin blinked at her, confused, What are you talking about?
Her grin widened, and she said nothing else.
He scowled and turned back to the table, but the words from earlier kept echoing in his head. All the things his friends had said about love and feelings and how they’d known.
Then, he heard someone approach the table.
He didn’t look up at first. It wasn’t uncommon, people came by to greet Bridge Four all the time these days. They were heroes now, somehow. Symbols.
But then the person stopped, right in front of him.
He raised his eyes, confused.
It was a woman. Darkeyed, dressed in a neatly fitted tunic and trousers, hair tied up with a simple ribbon. She looked maybe a few years younger than him, confident but clearly nervous, her hands fidgeting at her sides. Her cheeks were tinged red. She met his gaze for only a second before glancing down and biting her lip.
“Hi,” she said, “Sorry to interrupt. I just…” She laughed a little, shaking her head, “I normally don’t do this. I swear I don’t. But I saw you here and—I couldn’t just… not say anything.”
Kaladin blinked. Was she talking to someone else?
No one else had moved. Everyone at the table had gone still, silent, watching. Even Lopen.
“I just wanted to say… you’re a real inspiration,” she said, voice trembling a bit now, “Truly. You saved so many people. You saved me. I mean, you don’t know that, but—you’re a hero. And you’re also… um,” She ducked her head, “You’re also very handsome.”
Kaladin’s brain broke.
Handsome?
Wait. No. That couldn’t be. She couldn’t mean him. That didn’t make any sense.
There were other people at this table.
Adolin Kholin was literally sitting right there, glowing like a painting come to life, smiling in his charming way like he didn’t even have to try. He had that casual sort of beauty people noticed from across rooms. He looked designed.
Kaladin was…
Well, he didn’t know what he was. But nothing like actual handsome men—like Adolin.
She wasn’t talking to him.
Except she was still looking at him.
She cleared her throat, “So, I was wondering if maybe… if you’d be open to going on a date sometime?”
Kaladin’s heart leapt into his throat. Words abandoned him completely.
A date?
This wasn’t supposed to happen. This kind of thing didn’t happen to people like him. Women didn’t walk up and say those kinds of things, they didn’t call him handsome and mean it, didn’t look nervous and hopeful and blush in his presence. That was something other men lived through. Men who knew what to say. Men who weren’t broken down to the bone.
He looked to his friends in desperation.
Lopen’s jaw was slack. Skar was elbowing him, hard. Rock was giving him two enormous thumbs up.
And Adolin—
Adolin was watching with a lopsided smirk and raised eyebrows, the universal expression for Well? What are you waiting for?
Syl appeared in the corner of Kaladin’s vision, hands on her hips, “Wow,” she whispered, “She likes you. Can you believe that? I mean, I can. I’ve been saying it. You’re finally catching up.”
He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He looked back at the woman.
Her eyes were wide and honest, braced for rejection but still hopeful. It would’ve been easier if she were arrogant, pushy, something he could push against. But she wasn’t. She was brave and vulnerable, doing something he’d never had the courage to do himself.
And he… didn’t want to go on a date.
Not with her.
She was lovely. Truly. Kind, and respectful, and brave enough to walk up to a war hero and ask for his time. But Kaladin felt no stir of anything. No thrill. No pull. Just panic, and the sharp realization that he didn’t want to try with someone he didn’t feel for.
Not when someone else was sitting beside him.
And yet—
And yet that someone beside him… wasn’t offering dates. Wasn’t saying he was handsome. Wasn’t putting his heart out there the way this woman was.
Kaladin’s mouth was dry, “I… I’m sorry,” he said, stumbling over the words, “I—thank you. That’s… really kind of you. But I’m not… interested.”
He flinched as he said it, wincing. It sounded harsher out loud than it had in his head. But what was he supposed to say? He didn’t know how to be gentle with this sort of thing. He didn’t know how to do any of this.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the reaction ripple across the table. Rock’s smile faded just a little. Lopen gave a soft, “Aww.”
Even Adolin’s smirk slipped, just for a second, replaced with something unreadable, almost disappointed. That hurt more than Kaladin wanted it to.
The woman blinked, her smile fading too, “Oh,” she said softly, “That’s… alright. Of course. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just—” She hesitated, then offered him a sad smile, “If you ever change your mind, I’ll be around.”
She turned and walked away, her back straight, but Kaladin could see the way her hands curled at her sides.
He let out a breath like he’d just run a sprint, then looked down at the table.
He didn’t want to see their faces. Didn’t want to read whatever was on Adolin’s: disappointment, confusion, pity. He wasn’t sure which would be worse.
His hands were clenched in his lap beneath the table, knuckles pale. The wood grain in front of him blurred as his thoughts spun.
He could still feel the weight of everyone’s eyes. The silence pressed in like a storm that hadn’t quite broken yet.
Syl floated down in front of him and hovered just above the table. She didn’t say anything right away, just looked up at him with wide, bright eyes, and something in them was softer than usual.
Like she knew exactly how he felt and didn’t want to make it worse.
That almost hurt more.
He looked away.
Teft was the first to speak, his voice quiet, measured, “You alright, lad?”
Kaladin nodded once, though it felt like a lie.
Then Lopen leaned in, voice unusually gentle, “You don’t have to tell us, gancho, but… why’d you say no? I mean—she was nice. Pretty, too. And respectful,” He scratched his head, “Didn’t seem like the pushy type.”
Skar added, “She even knew who you were. And still asked.”
“Yeah,” Drehy chimed in with a half-smile, “That’s saying something.”
Kaladin swallowed. The words were small things. Kind. Encouraging, even. They weren’t meant to hurt. But they still sat heavy in his chest, pressing on something he didn’t like to look at too closely.
“I just… wasn’t interested,” he muttered, “That’s all.”
Rock tilted his head, “You have been lonely. Maybe it would be good for you to… connect. With someone.”
Connect.
That word hit harder than he expected. He looked away again.
He had been lonely. For so long, it had become part of him, like another scar. He carried it the way he carried everything: quietly, without letting anyone see how deep it ran. He could stand on a battlefield, shield his men, save lives, scream into the storm, but this? This vulnerability, this softness? It made him feel like he was standing bare in front of a mirror.
Kaladin gave a short, humorless laugh, “It wouldn’t have worked anyway,” he said, eyes still fixed on the table, “I’ve never dated anyone before. Never done any of that. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
The silence that followed was different. Thicker. Surprise. Maybe confusion. Or pity.
He hated that.
Syl sat down cross-legged on the table, her tiny face full of something like sadness. But not for herself. For him. He didn’t know what to do with that look.
He kept talking. Maybe if he explained it, they’d understand. Maybe then it wouldn’t feel so shameful.
“I was too busy surviving,” he said, voice tightening, “Too busy trying to keep others alive. I didn’t have time for… for parties or dates or whatever normal people did. And by the time things settled—” He broke off, shaking his head, “It’s too late now. I don’t even know how to start. What would be the point? I’d just mess it up.”
There it was. The truth, raw and inelegant.
He felt it all clawing at him, the embarrassment, yes, but something else too. A grief he hadn’t acknowledged. Grief for all the things he never let himself want. All the milestones he missed while dragging himself through storms, watching others live lives he didn’t think he was allowed to have.
A part of him had always told himself it didn’t matter. That it wasn’t for him. That love was for people who hadn’t seen the things he’d seen. That touch was for people who weren’t weighed down by the screams of the dying. That kindness, affection, intimacy, those were luxuries, and he’d forfeited the right to them long ago.
But here it was now, held out to him in trembling hands. And he’d refused it. Not because he hated it, but because he didn’t know how to accept it.
He clenched his fists under the table again. His ears were hot.
“You can learn,” Syl said softly, “You’re allowed to. It’s not too late.”
Kaladin shook his head, barely a movement. He didn’t trust himself to answer. Not with everyone watching.
Bridge Four went quiet again, not judgmental, but contemplative. Gentle. Like they got it, in the way only Bridge Four could. Maybe some of them had felt this way too, once.
Still, the shame curled in his gut like smoke.
He couldn’t bring himself to glance at Adolin. He didn’t want to know what he thought.
He already felt exposed enough.
He just wanted to be invisible again.
A warm hand settled gently on his arm.
Kaladin flinched.
Adolin’s fingers weren’t tight or forceful, just there. The weight of concern, not pressure. Kaladin looked up without meaning to.
Adolin’s expression was soft, his brow creased with worry, “What do you mean?” he asked quietly. His voice didn’t carry like it usually did. It was careful, intimate, like he was afraid of scaring Kaladin off, “Why are you saying that? That it’s too late, that it wouldn’t make sense?”
Kaladin’s throat tightened. He wished Adolin hadn’t asked.
He hated this. Hated talking about himself like this. Hated how raw it made him feel. As if his skin had been peeled back to expose every flaw he worked so hard to hide.
Why did Adolin have to look at him like that? Like he cared. Like he was hurt for Kaladin.
It made him feel small.
It made him feel like a wound that wouldn’t close.
He pulled his arm back and shook his head, gritting his teeth, “It doesn’t matter.”
“Kaladin—” Adolin started, but Kaladin cut him off.
“I said it doesn’t matter,” The words came out sharper than he intended. He stared hard at the table, “Forget it. I’m not interested in dating anyway.”
Silence.
Not the kind that came before laughter, or the kind that settled after a shared understanding. This was the other kind. The kind that stretched too long and made everything inside Kaladin coil with regret.
He hadn’t meant to snap. Not really. But the words had forced their way out. He hated that about himself. That even now, even surrounded by people who loved him, he couldn’t keep from lashing out when things got too close.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Adolin draw back slightly. His face didn’t change much—Adolin was good at keeping his composure—but there was a flicker in his eyes. Something wounded. He looked down at his hands and didn’t speak again.
Bridge Four didn’t speak either. They all glanced at each other, exchanging silent messages with their eyes. Concern. Frustration. Maybe even a little guilt for bringing it up.
No one pushed.
No one made it worse.
But no one smiled anymore, either.
Kaladin could feel the shift in the air. The easy camaraderie of before all of it had been swept away.
And he had caused it. Again.
Storms.
He swallowed hard and stared at the ring of moisture beneath his drink. His fingers tightened around the mug, not lifting it, just gripping it like it was the only thing keeping him tethered.
Why did he always do this?
They were just trying to include him. Just trying to encourage him, offer him something soft and human. And what did he do? He rejected it. He rejected them. Snapped at them like they’d struck a nerve, which they had, but not on purpose.
It was like he couldn’t help himself. Like any time someone reached out a hand, he flinched so hard it pushed them away.
He ruined it.
He ruined everything.
He didn’t even want to be this way, not really. He wanted to be someone who could laugh with them, who could smile at a pretty girl and mean it. Who could let Adolin look at him like that without feeling like the breath was being ripped from his lungs.
But he wasn’t that person. He didn’t know how to be.
He’d spent so long in the darkness that light felt like a lie. Kindness felt like a trick. And love, that soft, fragile, impossible thing, it felt like a language he’d never been taught, one he wasn’t allowed to learn.
He hadn’t meant to hurt Adolin.
But he had.
And now, just like always, he didn’t know how to take it back.
Kaladin took a breath, held it, let it out slowly. The tavern noise buzzed faintly around them, muffled by the storm inside him.
He didn’t deserve to ruin their night. He should’ve stayed behind.
Maybe then they would’ve kept laughing.
Maybe then Adolin wouldn’t be sitting there with his heart in his eyes, nursing a wound Kaladin hadn’t meant to inflict.
He closed his eyes, and tried not to think of how warm Adolin’s hand had been. Or how gently he’d asked.
Or how much he wished he could’ve answered.
⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹
They returned to their section of the tower under the hush of late hours. The stone corridors echoed quietly beneath their boots, the earlier noise of the tavern long behind them. Laughter had faded. Words, too.
Kaladin walked near the front of the group, just ahead of most of Bridge Four. His shoulders were stiff, arms at his sides. He stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so tight he thought he might crack a tooth.
He hated nights like this, the kind that made him feel more exposed than a battlefield. At least in combat, he knew how to move. Knew how to breathe. Emotions? That was unfamiliar terrain. It made him clumsy. Loud without meaning to be. Small when he tried to seem tall.
He heard footsteps behind him and then Adolin was suddenly beside him.
Kaladin’s heart sank.
He didn’t look over. He knew who it was from the rhythm of the steps, the presence that had been too near all evening, too warm, too close to something he couldn’t name. And right now, he didn’t want to face him. Not like this.
Storms. Not like this.
He sighed quietly through his nose and kept walking. Adolin didn’t speak right away. Just matched his pace, walking close enough for Kaladin to feel the quiet intent behind the silence.
He didn’t like it.
He knew exactly what Adolin was going to say, and he couldn’t take it. Not after everything. Not when he still tasted the bitterness of shame from earlier, still saw the shadow of disappointment flicker across Adolin’s face when he’d snapped at them all.
He didn’t want to be pitied. Especially not by him.
Adolin leaned a little closer, lowering his voice so the others wouldn’t hear, “Can I ask you something?” he said, careful and soft, “It’s personal.”
Kaladin kept his eyes forward. His jaw ached.
He almost said no. The word almost tumbled out. But there was something in Adolin’s voice that stopped him. Not pity. Not amusement.
Just… genuine.
So instead, Kaladin gave a sharp, reluctant nod.
Adolin was quiet for a beat, like he was choosing his words carefully, “When you said earlier that you’ve never dated anyone… never done anything…” He hesitated again, “Did you mean, like… absolutely nothing?”
Kaladin felt his body lock up. There it was. The question he’d known was coming. The one he didn’t want to answer. The one he didn’t want to admit the truth to, not out loud. Not to Adolin.
He stared straight ahead, muscles taut, every instinct screaming to shut it down.
But then Adolin added, quickly, almost stumbling over himself, “I’m not judging. Really. I just… I was wondering if that’s what you were embarrassed about. Back there.”
Kaladin swallowed hard. The hallway felt narrower than it had a second ago. Like the walls were closing in.
He didn’t answer right away.
Syl appeared on his shoulder, “You can tell him,” she said, voice soft, “He means it. He’s not making fun of you.”
Kaladin looked down.
He didn’t want to say it. Saying it out loud made it feel worse, like solidifying his failure in stone. But Syl was right. Adolin wasn’t mocking him. His voice hadn’t had even a trace of cruelty in it.
And storms help him, Kaladin wanted to say it. If only to not be holding it alone anymore.
“…Yeah,” Kaladin said, voice hoarse, “I meant… nothing.”
He didn’t look at Adolin.
“I’ve never—never held hands with someone. Not like that. Never kissed anyone. Never…” He shook his head, hating the heat rising to his cheeks, “Never flirted. I don’t even know how.”
The confession hung between them.
“I didn’t really have the chance,” Kaladin went on, more bitter now. “When I was younger, I was too busy trying to become a surgeon. Then a soldier. Then a slave. Then a… whatever I am now,” He gestured vaguely, “I just never had time. Or space. Or… or room to want anything like that.”
His throat felt tight.
“And now I’m… what? An adult? I don’t know how to do any of it. And it’s embarrassing. It’s humiliating, actually. So I don’t talk about it. I don’t want to. I’d rather just… not. Better if no one knows.”
He wished he could disappear. Just blink out of existence and never have to see the expression on Adolin’s face.
He was tired of feeling like this. Like a man perpetually out of step with the rest of the world. Like everyone else had been handed instructions on how to live, how to love, and he’d been passed over.
He clenched his jaw again, face hardening, “So, yeah. It’s easier just to leave it all alone. Pretend I’m not interested. It’s cleaner that way.”
He didn’t look to see how Adolin took it.
He couldn’t.
Adolin didn’t answer right away.
They walked in silence for a few paces. Kaladin’s pulse thundered in his ears. He half-expected Adolin to back away, to give him the polite “thank you for sharing” tone and then drop the subject forever. He wouldn’t even blame him.
But then Adolin spoke.
“Kal,” he said gently, “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. Especially not with everything you’ve been through.”
Kaladin didn’t respond.
Because what was he supposed to say to that?
He could feel the words catch in his throat, old and bitter ones. They tasted like years of quiet disappointment in himself, like the shape of every moment he’d swallowed feelings down before they could bloom. He hadn’t asked to feel broken. He hadn’t asked to grow up this way, closed off, half-frozen. But it had happened, and now all he could do was pretend it didn’t hurt.
He scoffed, shaking his head, “That’s easy for you to say.”
Adolin blinked at him, “What do you mean?”
Kaladin gestured vaguely toward him, exasperated, “You. You’ve dated people. A lot of people. Every other week someone’s mooning over you, and you actually know how to talk to them. You’re charming. Confident.”
Adolin looked caught off guard by the bluntness. Kaladin wasn’t sure if it was the tone or the compliment.
He barreled on, “You’ve got all this experience. And people want you. Of course you don’t think this stuff is a big deal, because it’s never been something you had to worry about.”
There. That was the truth of it, wasn’t it?
Adolin’s brow furrowed, “That doesn’t mean anything, Kal.”
Kaladin frowned.
Adolin shoved his hands in his pockets and let out a breath, “I’ve dated all those people,” he said, voice quieter now, “And yet… I’m still single.”
He said it with a kind of sad smile.
That caught Kaladin off guard.
Adolin looked at him for a long moment. Then he looked down, like the next words took effort to shape.
“You deserve to experience all of it,” he said, almost too softly, “You deserve to find love. To learn it. To know what it’s like to want someone and be wanted back. To want yourself, even. That’s not embarrassing.”
Kaladin stared at him, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. Or his heart.
Syl hovered beside him silently, tiny hands folded, “He means it,” she said gently, “He really does.”
Kaladin opened his mouth, then closed it. His throat felt tight again.
Adolin hesitated, then cleared his throat and pressed on, his voice going tentative, more vulnerable now than Kaladin had ever heard it.
“Would you be offended,” he said slowly, “If I offered to help you?”
“Help me?”
Adolin rubbed the back of his neck, visibly flustered now. His cheeks colored slightly, and he looked like he was regretting saying anything at all, but once the words started, they tumbled out.
“I mean… I could show you. If you wanted. Teach you how to talk to people you’re interested in. How to flirt. How to… y’know, kiss,” He coughed, looking away briefly, “Only if you’d want that. No pressure or anything, just… I figured, maybe… I could help.”
Kaladin stared at him, stunned.
There was a part of him that wanted to laugh, not out of cruelty, but sheer disbelief. Was Adolin Kholin—prince of Alethkar, known heartbreaker, walking embodiment of everything Kaladin wasn’t—really offering to teach him how to flirt? To kiss?
His first instinct was to recoil. To wave it off. To hide behind something cold and sarcastic. But that instinct was old and worn thin, and Adolin’s voice had been too genuine, too gentle.
Kaladin looked at him and saw not mockery, not pity, but hope.
Why would he offer that?
Why would he care?
Why would he look at Kaladin, broken and closed-off and constantly prickled with barbs, and want to be the one to show him softness?
Kaladin’s mind spun. His body felt too warm all of a sudden. He looked away, breath catching.
“I…” he said, but the words failed him.
“He’s not playing with you,” Syl whispered, “He’s nervous. Look at him.”
Kaladin did.
Adolin was fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve, refusing to meet his eyes. He looked… almost scared.
Of him.
That realization rooted Kaladin in place.
Someone cared enough to be nervous around him.
Kaladin’s heart pounded unevenly in his chest. He shook his head, brow furrowed deep, “Are you serious?”
Adolin looked back at him, unflinching, “I am.”
Storms.
Kaladin ran a hand through his hair, looking away toward the tower walls as they passed, “Why?” he asked, frustrated and overwhelmed, “Why would you offer something like that? That’s not—it’s not something casual, Adolin. That’s not just a sparring match or a favor. That’s…”
He didn’t even know how to finish that sentence. It was too much. Too close.
He looked back at Adolin, throat dry, “That’s serious.”
Adolin’s cheeks colored, but he didn’t look away, “I know it is,” he said softly, “But I meant what I said. I care about you, Kaladin. You’re my best friend. And I want you to be happy. I want you to have a chance to know what it feels like to connect with someone that way.”
Kaladin swallowed hard.
Adolin continued, carefully, watching him, “If that’s something you’d want, I’d be honored to help you. Really. I promise I wouldn’t push you into anything you don’t want. You’d set the pace. I’d stop the second you asked.”
He meant it. Every word.
Kaladin could feel the truth of it in Adolin’s voice, in the quiet steadiness of his gaze. He wasn’t playing around. He wasn’t making fun of him. He wasn’t treating Kaladin like a joke or a problem to solve.
He just… cared.
That was what Kaladin didn’t understand.
Kaladin stared at the stone beneath his boots, “You don’t have to do that,” he muttered, “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I know I don’t,” Adolin said, “I want to.”
That shouldn’t have been so devastating.
Kaladin’s hands curled into fists at his sides. There was a weight pressing against his chest, like something too old and too sharp had just cracked open. A part of him wanted to argue, to say no, to retreat to the safety of loneliness. But another part of him… another part…
He glanced at Adolin, who was standing there trying so hard to be casual, but whose posture betrayed a quiet tension, like he was bracing for rejection. Like he expected Kaladin to say no.
Syl floated up near his ear, “You want this,” she said.
I don’t, Kaladin whispered back.
“Yes, you do,” she said, smiling gently, “Maybe not the way you think you should. Maybe not in a way that makes sense yet. But I’ve watched you look at him.”
Kaladin’s breath caught. He looked away again.
He didn’t know what she meant. Or… he did. But he didn’t know how to hold that knowledge without feeling like it might undo him.
What would it even mean to say yes?
What would it mean to let someone that close?
To let Adolin that close?
His heart gave a nervous, desperate flutter at the thought of Adolin’s hands on his shoulders, his breath warm and near, his voice murmuring something soft just before a kiss. Not as practice. Not as a lesson.
But just as them.
Kaladin didn’t know what that would look like. Or if he’d ever be ready for it. But the idea of letting Adolin be the one to teach him, to show him… it didn’t make him feel afraid the way it should have.
It made him feel… something else.
Wanted.
Safe.
He looked at Adolin again. Really looked at him. Not the prince. Not the charming duelist. Just… Adolin. His friend. His warmth. His everything.
Adolin didn’t speak. Just waited. Gently. Patiently.
Kaladin swallowed.
“…You’d really do that?” he asked, voice low, like if he spoke too loud the moment would vanish.
Adolin smiled, not his big, showy grin. Just a quiet, earnest tilt of the lips that seemed meant only for him.
“I would,” he said, “Only if you want me to.”
Syl rested her hand on Kaladin’s shoulder, “You’re allowed to want good things,” she whispered, “You’re allowed to say yes.”
Kaladin’s heart beat loud in his ears.
He didn’t say yes. Not yet.
But he didn’t say no either.
Not right now, anyway.
Chapter 2: TWO
Notes:
y’all asked for chapter 2, so i delivered.
it’s almost 2am and i have to get up at 5am tomorrow (today). you’re welcome 🫶
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Adolin paced his rooms like a man being hunted. His steps were uneven, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, his coat off and forgotten, draped over a chair he hadn’t realized he passed ten minutes ago.
Storms. What had he done?
He scrubbed his hands down his face and groaned softly, the sound muffled. He wished someone would walk in and knock sense into him. Or just… knock him out, maybe. That might be better.
“Teach him how to kiss,” he muttered aloud, the words bitter on his tongue, “Storms, Adolin. What in the Almighty’s name is wrong with you?”
The memory of Kaladin’s face flickered behind his eyes: confused, with that stubborn little crease between his brows. He hadn’t said yes. He hadn’t said no, either, but… he hadn’t said yes.
And now he was probably hiding in his room, trying to figure out how to avoid Adolin without ruining their friendship.
Adolin collapsed onto the edge of his bed and let his face fall into his hands.
What was he thinking?
Kaladin had looked so small when he admitted he’d never done anything. Never kissed anyone, never even held someone’s hand. Adolin could still hear the weight behind those words, the shame Kaladin tried so hard to bury, like the simple truth of it made him less than everyone else. It had cracked something open in Adolin’s chest. It made him want to reach over and take Kaladin’s hand right then and there, just to show him what he was worth. That he deserved tenderness, just as much as anyone else.
And so he’d said it. He’d said the stupidest thing he could’ve possibly said in that moment.
Stormfather. He was such an idiot.
Kaladin probably thought he was some kind of creep. Some weirdo who saw his vulnerability and pounced on it, took advantage of it. He probably thought Adolin was only pretending to care.
Or worse… he’d figured it out. He’d finally realized.
That Adolin liked him.
Really liked him.
Adolin flopped backward onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling, arm over his eyes, “Storms,” he muttered again.
It wasn’t even just the kiss. It was everything. The thought of being Kaladin’s first. Not just the first person to kiss him, but the first to make him laugh like that in private, to touch him with something other than duty or expectation. To show him what it felt like to be wanted. Adolin had dreamed about it more times than he’d ever admit, even to himself.
And maybe it was cruel. Maybe it was selfish. But the idea that Kaladin could look at him like that, like someone he wanted… it was enough to keep Adolin up at night. It was enough to make him risk everything on this stupid, impulsive offer.
Because what else did he have?
He couldn’t flirt with Kaladin. Kaladin would never pick up on it—or if he did, he’d think it was some joke, or a way of teasing. And a confession? Adolin had tried to imagine how that would go. How Kaladin would look at him. All confused and wide-eyed, then maybe a little sorry. He’d let him down gently. He’d say he didn’t feel that way. He’d probably even apologize, because he was Kaladin, and he’d think it was his fault for not liking Adolin back.
And then… that would be the end of it.
So this? This was the only way Adolin knew how to stay close.
To pretend—just a little—that the lessons meant more. That when Kaladin leaned in, it would be because he wanted to. That when he smiled after a kiss, it would be because Adolin had done that. That, for a moment, the warmth in Kaladin’s eyes could be something more than friendship.
And then, when it was over, when Kaladin had learned enough to go kiss someone else, to hold someone else’s hand, to fall in love with someone else, Adolin would smile. He’d smile, and he’d mean it, because he wanted Kaladin to be happy. That was what mattered most.
Even if it broke his own heart.
Adolin turned his head, staring at the wall. He felt pathetic. And storms, he was so tired of pretending he didn’t want more.
But that was the choice he’d made.
So he’d wait. He’d wait to see if Kaladin would come to him. If he’d say yes. If he’d let Adolin pretend, just for a little while.
And maybe if he was lucky, it wouldn’t be pretend at all.
Maybe Kaladin would finally see—
The knock came so softly, Adolin almost thought he imagined it.
He froze, heart halting in his chest. For a second, all he did was stare at the door. The knock came again—quiet, hesitant, like someone unsure they should be there at all.
Kaladin.
Adolin didn’t know how he knew. He just knew. No one else knocked like that. No one else would knock like that, not on his door, not at this hour, not with that kind of fear trembling at the edges.
He rushed to the mirror on instinct, dragging his hands through his hair, trying to fix the mess of it. His shirt was rumpled; he adjusted it quickly. He didn’t know why it mattered, only that it did. That Kaladin might be looking at him, might see him, not as a prince, not as a friend, but something else entirely.
He opened the door.
And there Kaladin was.
He stood just outside the threshold, arms stiff at his sides, eyes focused somewhere near the floor. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. And yet, here he was.
“…Hey,” Adolin said gently.
Kaladin nodded, eyes flicking up for only the briefest second before sliding away again, “Can I come in?”
“Of course,” Adolin stepped aside.
Kaladin entered with cautious steps, as if the floor might crumble under him. Adolin turned to say something—to ask if he wanted water, or to sit, or just to take a breath—but Kaladin spoke before he could.
“I accept,” Kaladin said, voice low, “Your offer. I… I’d like to do it.”
The words echoed through Adolin’s skull, and for a terrifying second, he thought he might cry.
But he couldn’t. Not now. Kaladin was already nervous. Adolin could feel it, like the shame clinging to Kaladin’s skin, radiating in waves so intense it made Adolin want to pull him into a hug and never let go.
He schooled his face into something calm, just the hint of a smile. He nodded, “Okay. That’s… thank you, Kaladin. Really. I know this probably wasn’t easy to decide.”
Kaladin still wasn’t looking at him.
Adolin kept his voice soft, “I just want you to know—this isn’t something I’ll ever take lightly. I won’t go further than what you want. If anything ever makes you uncomfortable, you just say the word and it stops. No questions. Alright?”
Kaladin nodded once. Still tense. Still holding himself like he was expecting to be hit. Or mocked. Or pitied. The expression twisted something in Adolin’s chest until it felt like breathing hurt.
The shame he carried… it was unbearable. Like Kaladin thought he was less for not knowing how to do these things, like the lack of experience was some kind of mark against him. But it wasn’t. It never had been.
Adolin wanted to say something, anything, to cut through it. To say, You’re already enough. You’ve always been enough. But he knew that was too much. Not yet.
So instead, he gently motioned toward the couch.
“Can we sit?” he asked, “Just to talk, to figure out where to start. No pressure.”
Kaladin hesitated, then gave another slow nod.
They both moved to the couch. Kaladin sat at one end, as far from Adolin as the cushions would allow without being awkward. He perched there, stiff, like a man waiting for judgment. Adolin took his seat carefully, slowly, not too close, not too far.
The silence stretched between them.
Adolin watched him for a moment out of the corner of his eye. Kaladin’s hands were clenched in his lap. His knuckles were white. His jaw tight.
He was so tense it hurt to look at him.
What have they done to you? Adolin thought, What have they made you believe about yourself, that you sit here like this, like affection is something you have to earn, or that shame comes with inexperience?
He hated it. He hated that he was the first one to hear this truth from Kaladin, not because it made him special, but because it meant Kaladin had carried this for so long, alone.
He took a slow breath. He had to be careful.
“So,” Adolin said quietly, “What would you like to start with?”
Kaladin looked down at his hands, frowning like the question itself was too much.
“I don’t know,” he muttered, “I don’t even know what I don’t know.”
“That’s okay,” Adolin leaned back a little, giving him space, “We can figure it out together. No rush. No expectations.”
Kaladin nodded again. Still not looking at him.
And Adolin… he tried to ignore the pain in his chest. The pain that came from wanting to cross the distance between them and take Kaladin’s hands in his own. From wanting to show him, not just with words but with touch, with affection, with time that none of this made him lesser. That he was extraordinary, despite and because of everything he’d lived through.
Adolin cleared his throat quietly, “Is there anything you… wouldn’t want me to teach you?” he asked, careful to keep his voice light, “Like—boundaries. Um. Types of kissing, or… I don’t know. Other things.”
His cheeks heated immediately. Storms, that sounded awful. Like he was proposing some kind of in-depth study of every type of physical intimacy on the planet. He wasn’t even sure what he’d just offered, “Not that I’m, like, planning to do anything without talking to you first,” he rushed out, “I just mean, if there’s anything you already know you don’t want to try, or anything that would make you uncomfortable, I’d rather know now.”
Kaladin didn’t look up. But his fingers stilled.
He shook his head slowly, a faint flush rising on his cheeks, “I… don’t think so,” he said, voice quieter than before, “I don’t know. I don’t really know what I’m doing, so it’s hard to say. But I think it’ll be fine.”
He hesitated.
Then added, softly, “If anything, I’ll just embarrass myself. Not like that’s anything new.”
Adolin wanted to reach for him. To lift his chin, to meet his eyes and tell him he was doing fine. That it wasn’t silly or stupid. That Kaladin Stormblessed had nothing to be embarrassed about.
Instead, Adolin gave a small, huffed laugh and sat back a little, “I mean, if we’re keeping score, I’m probably going to embarrass myself more than you. I have no idea how to teach someone how to flirt,” He shot Kaladin a crooked smile, “I’m relying on our friendship to keep me from looking like a complete fool.”
He regretted the joke the moment it left his mouth.
Was it too casual? Too light? Was Kaladin going to think he wasn’t taking this seriously?
But then—
Kaladin glanced at him, just for a second. And smiled.
Just a faint curl of his mouth. Barely there.
It lit something warm in Adolin’s chest. A little glow of hope he hadn’t dared feel all night.
Kaladin tilted his head and asked, with a dry sort of amusement, “Was that your attempt at flirting with me?”
…What?
Storms. That was… unfair. That was dangerous. Kaladin didn’t say things like that. Not to him. Not casually. The fact that he was now, that he said it so flatly, almost like a tease… it knocked the breath out of Adolin’s lungs.
His first instinct was to laugh, to joke back. But then he saw the faintest shimmer of challenge in Kaladin’s expression. Just a flicker. Like Kaladin was testing something. Maybe even him.
“No,” he said slowly, “That wasn’t flirting.”
Kaladin looked faintly surprised by the serious tone. He turned toward him a little more, curious.
Adolin smiled.
“If I were flirting,” he said, voice a touch quieter, “You’d know. I don’t do it halfway.”
And Stormfather, he wanted to flirt. Every instinct in him begged to. Every word felt like it was balancing on a knife’s edge, too playful and Kaladin would retreat, too honest and Adolin might bleed himself open in front of him. But still… he wanted to say more. Everything.
But he stopped himself.
This wasn’t about him. This wasn’t about what he wanted.
This was about Kaladin.
He watched him closely. The way he’d shifted a little toward him, like the air between them wasn’t quite so heavy now. The faint color still high in his cheeks. The way he was still looking at his hands, but with less shame and more thought. Like maybe—just maybe—he was trying to imagine this as okay.
Adolin leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees again, still giving Kaladin space.
“Do you want to start with flirting, then?” he asked softly, “Or something else?”
He saw Kaladin’s breath hitch, the hesitation flicker across his face again. But then Kaladin nodded slowly.
Adolin smiled.
And now, all he had to do was not fall apart while teaching Kaladin Stormblessed how to fall in love with someone.
Even if that someone would never be him.
⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹
Kaladin regretted nodding the moment he did it.
He sat there, too stiff, hands in his lap like a child summoned to the highprince’s study, and stared at the wood grain of Adolin’s low table like it had all the answers to life’s awkwardness. Start with flirting, Adolin had said. As if that was something you could just… do. As if it were a formality. A thing with steps.
His stomach twisted. He should’ve said he changed his mind. Should’ve made an excuse and left.
But Adolin was looking at him with so much kindness. It made Kaladin feel like maybe he hadn’t just made a mistake. Like maybe this wasn’t something to be ashamed of.
Syl appeared beside him on the couch, sitting with her legs swinging over the edge, “This is already going better than I thought it would,” she said brightly, crossing her arms and leaning back as if she were watching a show, “You didn’t run away. That’s progress.”
Kaladin scowled at her, then glanced at Adolin.
“I… don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” he muttered, “Flirting. I don’t know what that even means.”
Adolin’s expression was open and impossibly gentle.
“Flirting,” he said, “Is just a way to show someone you’re interested in them. Or to test the waters to see if there’s interest. It doesn’t have to be fancy. It can be playful, or subtle, or just…” He paused, rubbing at the back of his neck, “It’s like offering a thread and seeing if they pick it up.”
Kaladin nodded slowly, though he wasn’t sure he understood any better.
“Right,” he said, “And if they don’t pick it up, you feel like an idiot.”
Adolin laughed, “Yes. Constantly.”
That… wasn’t the answer he expected.
“You feel like an idiot,” Adolin clarified, grinning, “But it doesn’t mean you are one. Everyone flirts badly sometimes. Everyone gets turned down. It’s part of the game.”
Kaladin frowned, “Why would anyone want to play a game where you just get turned down and humiliate yourself?”
Adolin’s expression softened again, “Because sometimes, they say yes.”
That shut Kaladin up.
He looked down again, ashamed of how loud his heart was beating. Of how this stupid conversation was making it hurt.
Syl nudged his knee, “Tell him he looks good,” she whispered, “That’s a good place to start.”
Kaladin made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, “What?” he hissed aloud.
Adolin frowned, “What?”
“Nothing,” Kaladin said quickly, “Syl just—” He stopped himself, “She’s being… obnoxious.”
Adolin chuckled, “Is she giving you flirting tips?”
Kaladin groaned and dropped his head into his hands, “I hate everything about this.”
“Don’t worry,” Adolin said, nudging him with his shoulder, “You’ll be a heartbreaker in no time.”
Kaladin peeked at him through his fingers, “So, what—you just want me to say something flirty? Right now?”
“You don’t have to,” Adolin said quickly, “Only if you want to try. I can go first, if it helps.”
Kaladin gave him a flat look, “You mean you haven’t already been?”
Adolin laughed, and Kaladin hated how it made his stomach twist. Not in pain. But a feeling like maybe he wasn’t completely alone in all of this.
“Okay,” Adolin said, settling in, legs crossed on the couch as he turned to face Kaladin more fully, “Let’s start simple. Eye contact. That’s big. And you could try saying something honest, but admiring. Something like…”
He leaned forward slightly, blue eyes shining with mischief, “Has anyone ever told you that you have the most intense, beautiful, brooding eyes in all of Alethkar?”
Kaladin stared at him.
“Storms,” he muttered, “If someone said that to me, I’d never speak to them again.”
“You might,” Adolin said, grinning wide, “But most people would love that.”
Kaladin shook his head, smiling despite himself. His cheeks hurt from how unfamiliar it felt.
Adolin tilted his head, “Your turn?”
Kaladin felt the panic rise again. He couldn’t do this. He didn’t know how to talk like that. He wasn’t charming, or smooth, or whatever it was Adolin seemed to do without trying.
But he’d agreed to this. He’d come here. And Adolin wasn’t making fun of him. He was watching him with the kind of patience Kaladin didn’t think anyone had ever given him.
He took a breath.
Looked at Adolin.
“Your hair,” Kaladin said, and immediately winced, “It looks… like it’s expensive.”
Adolin blinked.
Then burst into laughter.
Kaladin groaned, “I told you I’d embarrass myself.”
“No, no—” Adolin shook his head, still laughing, “That was fantastic. Is that a compliment or a passive-aggressive insult? I honestly don’t know.”
Kaladin gave him a helpless look, “I don’t either.”
Adolin leaned back, hand on his stomach.
“You’re doing great,” he said between, “Really. That was better than half the flirting I hear directed at me.”
Kaladin gave him a skeptical look.
“You’re trying. That’s more than most people do.”
Syl poked his knee, “You made him laugh. That counts as flirting too, you know.”
Adolin shifted a little on the couch. The silence between them felt thick with something unnamed—not awkwardness exactly, but anticipation. Kaladin wasn’t sure whether to lean forward or back.
“So... before kissing,” Adolin said quietly, “It’s usually good to let the other person know you’re interested. Not just with words. With touch. Something small.”
He reached forward and carefully brushed his fingers against Kaladin’s forearm.
Kaladin froze.
It sent something sharp and electric rushing up his spine. His breath caught in his chest. The contact lasted a heartbeat, then two, before Adolin pulled back.
“It doesn’t have to be a lot,” Adolin said, voice softer now, almost apologetic, “Just a way to say, ‘Hey. I see you. I’m here.’ Some people like sudden kisses, but honestly…” He shook his head a little, “That usually ends badly. I don’t like it. I think people deserve a warning. A choice.”
Kaladin nodded, because he couldn’t speak.
He felt like his skin was still glowing from that brief touch. How was it that such a simple gesture could leave him so rattled? He’d been punched in the face before. He’d been stabbed. He’d faced death more times than he could count—but this?
This quiet, barely-there touch had undone him.
He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head, “Okay,” he said hoarsely, “So… I just… touch someone?”
Adolin smiled again, “Yeah. Just something small. You can try it on me, if you want. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“But it does,” Kaladin thought, “It already does.”
He reached out slowly and tapped his fingers against Adolin’s shoulder. His hand was too stiff, too awkward. Like it didn’t belong to him.
Adolin tilted his head, “That was…” he teased, “A little more like poking a chasmfiend.”
Kaladin flushed, “Storms, I don’t know how to do this.”
“You’re doing fine,” Adolin said, “It’s not about technique. It’s about… intention.”
Adolin leaned forward a little more, letting the silence stretch. Then, more quietly, “You said earlier you’d never held hands before.”
Kaladin nodded, shame thick in his throat, “Yeah.”
“Can I?” Adolin asked, “Would that be okay?”
Kaladin hesitated.
He didn’t know how to explain what that kind of touch meant to him. Holding hands was something children did with their parents, something couples did when they wanted to show affection. But it was never something he was a part of.
The idea of someone doing that with him—especially Adolin—felt unreal.
But the warmth in Adolin’s eyes made it easier to handle.
“…Okay,” Kaladin said, barely above a whisper.
Adolin didn’t rush. He extended his hand, palm up, and waited.
Kaladin stared at it for a second, his heart hammering, before he reached out and placed his hand in Adolin’s.
Their fingers slid together. Adolin curled his hand lightly around Kaladin’s, not squeezing, just holding.
And storms, it was so much.
Kaladin could feel every point of contact, the heat of their skin, the gentle shift as Adolin’s thumb brushed once, lightly, against the back of his hand.
He looked down at their hands, disbelieving, “This is…” he tried saying, “It’s just hands.”
Adolin smiled, but not the usual teasing smile. This one was quieter. Sadder, maybe. Like he understood more than Kaladin wanted him to.
“It’s not just anything,” Adolin said, “Not when you’ve gone without it for so long.”
Kaladin didn’t know what to say to that. Because it was true.
He tried to laugh, tried to make it easier, “I feel like a teenager. Like someone who’s never seen a girl before.”
“You’ve seen plenty of girls,” Adolin said, smirking, “I think it’s just me who’s making you this flustered.”
Kaladin groaned and looked away.
“You’re blushing,” Adolin said brightly, and Kaladin didn’t have to look to know he was smiling.
And storms, he was blushing. His heart skipped like it was trying to throw itself straight out of his chest. He’d been made fun of before—too many times—but this didn’t feel like that.
And that? That was dangerous.
And then… it hit him.
That last thing Adolin said, that smug little “I think it’s just me who’s making you this flustered”? That had been flirting. Actual, real flirting.
Adolin had just flirted with him.
And Kaladin hadn’t even realized.
His stomach twisted in on itself. At first, it was giddy. Because it meant Adolin saw him. Because it meant—that even for just a second—he got to have this. The thing he never thought he’d be allowed to want. Adolin, teasing him. Choosing him.
And a part of Kaladin wanted to hold on to that moment forever.
But then, just as quickly, the brightness inside him cracked.
Because… no. That wasn’t real. That hadn’t been Adolin flirting. That had been the teacher, the guide in this stupid little lesson Kaladin had asked for. It was just part of the performance. Adolin was doing what he said he would do: helping Kaladin practice. Being nice. Being patient. Pretending.
Kaladin’s stomach flipped again, but this time it was cold, bitter. The rush of joy soured into something hollow.
Of course Adolin didn’t mean it.
He was just being kind. Just walking Kaladin through something he didn’t know how to do. Of course he’d use flirtation, of course he’d play that role, just like he’d promised. But that was all it was.
Kaladin swallowed hard and looked away again, pulling slightly at his hand, though not enough to fully break the contact.
“Right,” he muttered under his breath.
Adolin blinked at him, smile faltering slightly.
Syl floated up to his shoulder. Her eyes narrowed in quiet worry, “Kaladin…” she whispered, “Don’t do this. Don’t turn it into a weapon against yourself.”
He tried to ignore her. Tried to hold on to whatever warmth had been in his chest seconds ago. But it was slipping through his fingers, the way everything always did.
He’d forgotten. Just for a breath. Forgotten what this was.
This wasn’t Adolin courting him. This wasn’t Adolin wanting him. This was kindness. Charity. A gift from someone too good to let a broken, stunted man like Kaladin rot away without knowing what it felt like to be touched. To be wanted, even if it was fake.
And suddenly it felt harder to breathe.
Because he wanted it too much. He didn’t just want to learn how to flirt or kiss. He wanted to mean something to someone. He wanted Adolin to look at him and see something beautiful. Something worth it.
But that wasn’t how this worked.
So he forced a smile and leaned back just enough that their hands fell apart.
He cleared his throat, “Alright. What else should I know?”
Adolin was watching him now with a strange look in his eyes. But he didn’t push.
Adolin let their brief silence hang for only a few more heartbeats before he spoke again.
“Do you think,” he said, voice a little lower, almost tentative, “Maybe… you’re ready for the next part?”
Kaladin looked up at him, heart already pounding.
“The kiss,” Adolin added gently.
Kaladin blinked. His whole body went still.
Was he ready?
He wasn’t sure he’d ever be. Storms, how could he be ready? This was kissing Adolin. Adolin. A man Kaladin had barely survived being in love with for months without combusting.
“I…” Kaladin started, then stopped. He curled his hands into fists on his knees, then forced them flat again, “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” he admitted, voice rawer than he meant it to be, “But I want to try.”
He didn’t meet Adolin’s eyes. He didn’t dare to. If he did, he was afraid he might crack open entirely.
Adolin shifted beside him, and Kaladin felt the couch dip slightly as he moved closer.
“You don’t have to force anything, Kaladin,” Adolin said, his tone gentler than ever, “We can stop any time. Truly.”
“I know,” Kaladin said, “I just… I want to know what it feels like.”
Adolin went quiet at that.
Kaladin thought he could hear his own heartbeat now. He stared down at the space between their knees, hyper-aware of how close they sat. How warm Adolin’s body was.
And how unshakably kind he was, despite everything.
That was what broke Kaladin the most… the kindness.
And maybe that’s why, when Adolin gently said, “Kaladin, are you sure you’re alright?” it nearly undid him.
Kaladin immediately looked up, “Why?”
Adolin hesitated, “You’ve just… looked a little off since we held hands. I just want to make sure I didn’t… overstep. Or say something that made you uncomfortable.”
Kaladin’s throat tightened.
Storms, don’t be so damn considerate. You’re making it worse.
Adolin continued, softer now, with real worry in his voice, “I wouldn’t want this to make things weird between us. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be comfortable around me now. You’re—you’re important to me.”
That last part came out rushed, like it had slipped past whatever restraint Adolin was trying to maintain.
Kaladin swallowed hard. The lump in his throat didn’t budge.
He could end this. He could. Right now. Say no, say he wasn’t ready. That this was too strange, too overwhelming. Adolin would stop. He’d smile gently and say it was fine, because of course he would. He was good like that. Better than Kaladin deserved.
But…
But he didn’t want it to end.
Kaladin met his eyes, “I’m okay,” he said, quietly, “I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just… I’ve spent most of my life pretending I didn’t want things like this. And now that it’s here, I don’t know how to act. But I want to try. With you.”
Syl, still on his shoulder, smiled gently and gave the smallest nod, “That was brave,” she said, “I’m proud of you.”
Kaladin didn’t feel brave.
But Adolin nodded, “Alright,” he said, “Then let’s take it slow. You don’t need to do anything you’re not ready for. Just… trust me.”
“I do,” Kaladin said.
And somehow, that scared him more than anything else.
Because if he wasn’t careful, this kiss—this lesson—might just be the thing that ruined him.
But still…
He leaned in.
Because he had to know what it felt like.
Notes:
what’s a cliffhanger? i don’t know her.
Chapter 3: THREE
Chapter Text
Kaladin leaned in slowly, uncertainly, guided by instinct, fragments of memory, and glimpses of how others had done this before.
It was terrifying.
Not because he was afraid of Adolin but because it was Adolin. And Kaladin didn’t know how to do this without showing everything he’d tried to keep hidden.
Adolin leaned in too, and that made Kaladin freeze just for a moment. Because up close, this close, he could see the tension in Adolin’s jaw, the flicker of nerves in his eyes, the way his breath caught ever so slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was there.
Kaladin frowned slightly, surprised.
Why is he nervous?
This was just a lesson. Adolin was the one in control. He was experienced and charming. People probably lined up to kiss him. This wasn’t new for him.
So why did he look like he was the one about to fall apart?
Maybe… maybe it was just awkwardness. Teaching someone something like this had to be uncomfortable, especially when that someone was Kaladin. It wasn’t like Kaladin was easy or emotionally low-maintenance.
Still, Kaladin didn’t like the twist in his chest at that thought. He didn’t want to be someone Adolin had to endure for the sake of a promise.
Adolin’s voice came, low and calm despite the tension in the room, “Before you kiss someone,” he said, “It’s usually good to touch their face first, Their cheek, like this.”
He reached up slowly—always giving Kaladin the chance to pull back—and rested his hand against Kaladin’s cheek.
Kaladin stopped breathing.
His skin burned under Adolin’s palm, the contact gentle and warm. His chest ached with something stupid and needy. He leaned into the touch before he could think to stop himself.
Adolin hesitated, his hand still on Kaladin’s cheek. Then he glanced away as if embarrassed, “It kind of depends, though,” he added, voice quieter now, “What type of kiss it is.”
Kaladin blinked, confused, “What do you mean?”
Adolin’s throat worked. His eyes dropped to Kaladin’s mouth for a flicker of a second before darting away again, “Well… sometimes,” he said slowly, “If it’s more intense, or… more emotional, I guess… you’d put your hand somewhere else. Like—” He swallowed, “Like the back of their head. Or their neck. For a more… passionate kiss.”
His cheeks flushed even as he said it.
Kaladin cursed inwardly.
Storms, Adolin. Why would you say that.
Now it was all he could imagine, not this gentle lesson they were rehearsing, but something real. His fingers sliding into Adolin’s hair, their mouths meeting with need, a kiss that meant something, not because it was being taught, but because it was wanted.
It was unbearable.
He hated that his chest was tight with longing and shame at the same time. Hated that this was just a performance for Adolin. A favor. A kindness.
He would never do any of those things for real. Not with Kaladin.
And of course, Adolin noticed his expression.
Immediately, the prince pulled back a little, blinking like he was trying to defuse something, “Not that you have to worry about that kind of kiss,” he said quickly, “I mean… we’re not doing that. That wouldn’t be right.”
Kaladin nodded, trying to force his face into something neutral.
Right, he told himself, It wouldn’t be right. This isn’t about feelings. This is a tutorial. A charity case. A favor to a friend who’s an adult and has never kissed anyone. That’s all.
But the thought still throbbed in his chest like a wound.
Because even knowing that, part of him still wanted it.
Desperately.
Adolin let out a breath and looked down, fiddling with a loose thread on the edge of the couch, “I just meant,” he said, “If… if this doesn’t feel awkward enough already, and you’re still okay, we could try it. Just—just so you know what it’s like. You know. In case it ever comes up. For someone else. On a date.”
He wasn’t looking at Kaladin when he said it.
Kaladin swallowed hard.
“Sure,” he said, his voice barely audible, “Of course.”
I don’t want it to be for someone else.
He couldn’t say it aloud.
Instead, he sat still, trying to slow his heart, trying not to tremble. He was about to kiss Adolin Kholin. It wouldn’t mean anything.
He had to remember that.
“You ready?” Adolin asked softly.
Kaladin swallowed hard and nodded once, though he didn’t know if he was lying.
No. He knew he wasn’t ready. He’d never be ready.
But he nodded. Because he wanted this.
Even if it wasn’t real.
Adolin didn’t hesitate this time. He lifted his hand again, brushing his fingers back across Kaladin’s cheek, settling them lightly at the curve of his jaw.
“I’ll demonstrate first,” Adolin said. His voice was quiet, careful, “Then… you’ll try it back, if you want. No pressure.”
Kaladin couldn’t speak. He just nodded again.
And then Adolin leaned in.
It wasn’t dramatic or sweeping or breathless. It wasn’t how Kaladin had imagined his first kiss when he was younger, not stolen behind a barrack tent or shared in secret between frantic pulses of war. No, it was soft. Delicate. Adolin’s lips pressed against his with the gentlest insistence, like he was afraid too much pressure might scare Kaladin off.
Kaladin’s eyes closed automatically. He hadn’t even told them to. It just happened. His body responded on its own, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
It lasted only a few heartbeats. Not more than a few seconds. Barely longer than a peck.
But for Kaladin, it felt like time broke apart.
It was too much and not enough. Warmth spread through him, pooling in his chest. He felt himself tremble, just slightly, like his body didn’t know how to hold this feeling.
And all the while, some desperate part of him reached out and memorized it. Etched it into his soul. Because this—this one moment—might be all he ever got.
And he couldn’t bear to let it slip away.
Adolin pulled back slowly, his eyes opening, hand still resting on Kaladin’s face. He looked like he wanted to say something, like he was searching Kaladin’s face for a sign of regret, of discomfort, of pain.
Kaladin couldn’t speak. Not yet.
So Adolin asked instead, “Was that… okay?” he said, voice uncertain, “It didn’t make you uncomfortable?”
Uncomfortable?
Kaladin wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or curl into himself and hide.
Instead, he managed a nod, quiet and sure, “It was… it was fine.”
He cleared his throat, voice rough, “Good, even.”
Adolin smiled. He didn’t know what Kaladin had stored away behind his heartbeat. Didn’t know that Kaladin was holding onto that kiss like it was the only sunlight left in the world.
And maybe that was for the best.
Because this wasn’t real. It wasn’t his.
It was a gift. A lesson.
⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹
Adolin tried to breathe.
Tried to think, to organize the blur of emotion swimming behind his ribs, but his mind was still short-circuited from the kiss. The kiss. He’d just kissed Kaladin. Not in some fevered dream, not in a wish conjured in the quiet hours of the night, but here. Right now.
He blinked, trying to refocus. He couldn’t just sit here staring at Kaladin like a lovesick fool. He was supposed to be teaching him.
Right. This was a lesson.
He cleared his throat gently, aware of the way Kaladin still looked flustered, like he hadn’t expected to survive that. Adolin could relate. He felt like a single word from Kaladin could either break him or make him become the happiest man alive.
Adolin didn’t say what he wanted to. That it hadn’t felt like a lesson to him. That it had felt like everything.
Instead, he swallowed and spoke gently, “Do you think you’d be ready to… practice properly?”
Kaladin looked up at him, brows slightly raised in question.
“I mean—” Adolin rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find the words, “To try a real kiss. If you’d feel comfortable. You don’t have to. I just—” Storms, he sounded like an idiot, “I don’t want to rush you or make you feel like you need to do anything you’re not ready for.”
Kaladin blinked, then gave a small nod, “It’s fine. I’m ready.”
Adolin hesitated, “Are you sure?”
Kaladin looked him in the eyes, “I am.”
That earnestness—the quiet courage it must’ve taken for Kaladin to say that—made something in Adolin’s chest ache. He nodded, lips pressed together in a soft smile, and tried not to let his hands shake as he reached forward.
They both leaned in, slowly, the air between them thick and still. Kaladin mirrored his movement like they were moving together through water, calm and inevitable. It was beautiful, the way Kaladin responded to him, the unspoken trust that had grown between them.
When their foreheads almost touched, they each raised a hand, and Adolin’s fingers found Kaladin’s cheek again just as Kaladin’s hand cupped his jaw.
And then…
They kissed.
It was simple. Closed-mouthed. A soft meeting of lips. But there was nothing simple about how it made Adolin feel.
The second their mouths touched, he was drowning.
Kaladin’s lips were warm and unsure, and yet there was something yearning in the kiss, a hunger wrapped in caution, like Kaladin was trying to learn and savor it all at once. And Adolin wanted nothing more than to deepen it, to slide his hand to Kaladin’s neck, to kiss him like he meant it, like this wasn’t just some practice session but a confession.
But he didn’t.
Because this wasn’t about him.
He kept the kiss soft, just his lips pressed gently between Kaladin’s, breathing slow, measured.
Just a lesson.
Just a lesson.
Just a lesson.
But even then, his heart was screaming.
After a long breathless moment, they both pulled back. Adolin let his hand linger on Kaladin’s cheek for a second before slowly letting it fall.
Kaladin’s eyes blinked open, wide and unsure. His cheeks were flushed deep red, and his lips parted slightly like he was still catching his breath.
Adolin couldn’t help staring. Storms, you’re beautiful, he thought. But he didn’t say it.
Instead, trying to ground himself, he reached for his usual charm, offering a lopsided smile to cover the thunder in his chest.
“So?” he asked, voice soft and almost playful, “Do you think you’ve learned anything?”
It was the safest thing he could say. He didn’t trust himself to say what he really felt, how his skin still tingled where Kaladin had touched him, how he wanted to lean in again and again and again, how every part of this was breaking him in the most beautiful way.
You’ll never get to have this for real, his thoughts whispered cruelly, He’s not doing this for you. He’s doing this to learn. To be better for someone else.
Kaladin cleared his throat and looked down at his lap, his voice uneven and low, “Yes… I’ve learned a lot. I—thank you.”
Adolin’s heart twisted. The way Kaladin said it, so formal, so stiff… it sounded like a farewell. Like an apology. Like something fragile breaking beneath too much weight.
He gave a small shake of his head, “Don’t thank me. Truly, Kaladin. I wanted to help. I just hope you feel better now. Maybe… not as ashamed or embarrassed as before.”
He tried to smile. Tried to meet Kaladin’s eyes, “You don’t deserve to feel that way. Not about this. Not about anything.”
Kaladin nodded once, short and silent. His shoulders were tense. His jaw was clenched like he was holding something in. And the moment stretched too long between them.
The air shifted.
It was like someone had pulled the warmth from the room, leaving only the echo of something unfinished. Adolin’s stomach twisted. He suddenly wasn’t sure where to put his hands. He hated this part, the part where things turned quiet and strange and wrong.
Did I say too much? he wondered, Did the kiss make it worse? Was it too much too soon?
He opened his mouth, reaching for something—anything—to fix the change in the air, but Kaladin stood abruptly.
“I think… that’s enough for today,” Kaladin said, and his voice was clipped and polite.
Adolin stood too, quickly, nodding even though his chest had started to sink, “Of course,” His hands twitched at his sides, fighting the urge to reach out, to put a hand on Kaladin’s arm, or shoulder, or anything, to anchor him, to keep him here.
But he didn’t.
He didn’t want to ruin it more.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said instead, “We can talk more then, if… if you’d like.”
Kaladin had already started for the door. He paused only briefly to glance over his shoulder. His smile was quick, a flicker, not real, “Of course. Good night, Adolin.”
And then he was gone.
The door clicked shut.
Adolin stood frozen for a moment in the quiet. Then, slowly, he sank back down onto the couch, staring at the place Kaladin had just been sitting like it could give him answers.
Storms, I’m such a fool.
He buried his face in his hands, dragging them down over his eyes and cheeks, as if he could scrape away the humiliation pressing in on him. It hadn’t worked. It hadn’t done what he hoped.
Kaladin had looked… worse than before. Closed off. Quiet. Retreating into himself again.
I thought this would help. That had been the idea. A gentle offer. A way for Kaladin to feel safe, to learn, to maybe smile without it looking like it hurt.
But Adolin had wanted more.
And maybe that was the problem.
He hadn’t meant to blur the lines so badly. But kissing Kaladin, even just like that, had nearly undone him. And now, instead of helping, he’d probably made Kaladin feel awkward, cornered, pressured. Like he owed something.
Adolin squeezed his eyes shut.
He should’ve known better. Kaladin didn’t need someone flirting with him under the guise of instruction. He didn’t need another person trying to fix him. He needed someone who was patient. Who asked for nothing.
And Adolin?
He’d wanted everything.
I just wanted to be close to you, he thought bitterly, That’s all I ever wanted. But now you’re pulling away again and I don’t even blame you.
He stared at the door like it might swing back open. Like Kaladin might change his mind and walk back in with that half-smile, the one that looked almost real.
But the hallway stayed quiet.
Adolin exhaled, letting the silence swallow the last of his hope.
He’d ruined it. He was sure of it. And the worst part? He couldn’t even tell Kaladin why it mattered so much. Why it hurt so much.
Because the truth was—
That wasn’t just a first kiss for Kaladin.
It had felt like a last one for Adolin.
He’d never want anyone else. Not now that he knew what kissing Kaladin felt like.
⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹
Kaladin shut the door behind him and immediately leaned against it, exhaling shakily. His hand dragged down his face, smearing the heat of his skin across his cheeks, jaw, and neck.
Storms. Storms. Storms.
What had he done?
What had just happened?
His chest was tight, lungs refusing to breathe properly, like the air around him was suddenly too thick to take in.
The kiss—Adolin’s kiss—had been simple. Soft. Measured. It wasn’t even long. There was nothing indecent about it, nothing overly intimate. And yet…
Kaladin pressed his palm to his lower stomach, willing the sensation away. He knew exactly what had happened the moment they’d pulled apart. The moment Adolin’s hand lingered against his cheek and Kaladin’s own breath had stuttered in his chest.
He’d felt a tent in his trousers.
He’d gotten hard.
From that.
From a kiss. From Adolin’s kiss.
Storming Heralds, he wanted to disappear.
He hadn’t even realized it at first. The warmth had crept in so slowly, just a flicker in his chest, a tightening in his core. But it’d settled lower by the time he stood, by the time he flashed that awful, fake smile and told Adolin goodnight. And then he’d turned and nearly ran out of there, praying, desperately praying, that Adolin hadn’t noticed. That he hadn’t seen.
Because if he had…
Kaladin groaned aloud and slammed the side of his fist against the door. If he noticed, their friendship would be over. Ruined. Adolin would never be able to look at him the same way again.
And Kaladin would lose one of the only people who made him feel like he could be… whole.
He felt sick.
Not just because of the reaction itself. But because of what it meant.
Kaladin had never felt anything like that before. Never looked at someone and felt desire. He’d assumed he was just different, too broken, too numb, too guarded. He’d seen others talk about attraction, about love and need and want, and had always thought, I don’t have that. Not like them.
But now?
Now, with just one kiss, one touch from Adolin…
He was burning.
And he hated himself for it.
He pressed both hands to his face. You’re disgusting, he thought, You’re making this about you, about what you want, and not what this was supposed to be—
“Kaladin.”
He jumped, startled. Syl floated in front of him, arms crossed, her expression soft but insistent.
“Go away,” he muttered, shoulders tight, not looking at her, “I don’t need you mocking me too.”
“I’m not mocking you.”
“Sure,” he snapped, angling away from her, “Go on. Laugh. Tell me how pathetic I am for ruining this—for letting that happen.”
Syl didn’t move. She only blinked at him and said, “You didn’t ruin anything.”
Kaladin laughed bitterly, “Right. Because this is completely normal. Getting aroused over a friend trying to help you.”
Syl tilted her head, “Well… you like him.”
Kaladin froze.
His breath caught in his throat, “No, I don’t.”
“Kaladin.”
He clenched his fists, hating how his pulse stuttered at the mere suggestion, “Even if I did, that’s not—this isn’t how—he was just trying to help me. He doesn’t like me. Not like that.”
“You don’t know that,” Syl said gently, “He looked just as flustered as you did. He cares about you. I think he really wants to help you, yes—but I also think… he might like you too.”
Kaladin’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
He couldn’t let himself believe that. If he believed it, if he hoped, and it wasn’t true, it would break something in him he’d just started to rebuild.
“I can’t,” he whispered, “I can’t think like that. I’ll ruin it. I always ruin it.”
Syl sighed, drifting closer, “Then don’t do it alone. You’re not alone anymore, Kaladin.”
He swallowed hard.
“You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine. Or bottle it up until you feel like you’re going to explode. There are people who care about you. Who love you. Bridge Four would understand.”
Kaladin flinched, “I can’t tell them this.”
“Why not?” Syl said. “They’re your family. If you told them you were hurt, they’d be there. If you told them you were scared, they’d listen. So why not now?”
He shook his head.
“You’re not gross,” she said softly, “You’re not broken. And this thing that happened? It’s not shameful. It just means… maybe, finally, you’re ready to feel things again. That doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”
He blinked, eyes burning suddenly, unexpectedly.
“I don’t know how to talk about this,” he whispered.
“Then let them help you find the words.”
Kaladin stared down the hallway, at the turn that led toward Bridge Four’s common room.
He didn’t know what he’d say. He didn’t know if he’d cry or laugh or just sit there in silence. But Syl was right.
He couldn’t carry this alone. Not anymore.
So he took a shaky breath, squared his shoulders, and started walking.
One step. Then another.
Toward home. Toward family.
⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹
Kaladin stepped into the familiar mess of Bridge Four’s common room and immediately regretted every single one of his life choices that had led him here.
The room was warm, well-lit by the low evening spheres and even warmer from the body heat of his brothers scattered throughout. Rock sat cross-legged on the floor, carving something small and intricate from a piece of wood. Lopen and Teft were arguing about something. Skar and Drehy lounged nearby, watching them with amused expressions, and Rlain was leaning against the far wall with his eyes half-lidded watching Renarin from across the room.
And then the door clicked shut behind Kaladin, and all eyes turned to him.
He hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t even made a sound.
Still, Teft sat up straighter. Rock’s hands stilled. Lopen tilted his head.
“Kal,” Teft said, “What’s wrong?”
Kaladin froze.
He could feel it, the panic rising like a tide inside him, thick and crushing. What was he thinking? He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t say this. It was too stupid. Too personal. Too embarrassing.
He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
“Kal?” Lopen said, brows furrowing, “You alright, gancho?”
He shook his head, hands already clenching, “Never mind,” he muttered, “It’s stupid. Forget I came. It’s not—just—” He turned back toward the door.
He wasn’t going to do this. He wasn’t going to look his brothers in the eye and say, “Hey, so you know Adolin? My best friend, Adolin? He kissed me tonight. I kissed him back. And now I want to dig a hole in the ground and never speak again because apparently I’m a storming teenager with no idea how to handle a single drop of affection.”
“Kaladin…” a small voice said, and he didn’t even have to look to know what was coming next.
Oh no.
No, no, no, no—
Syl popped into view, hands on her tiny hips as she floated above the center of the room.
“…is embarrassed,” she said matter-of-factly, “Because Adolin’s teaching him how to kiss.”
Kaladin nearly died on the spot.
The silence in the room could’ve rivaled a highstorm.
Sigzil blinked, “He’s what?”
Syl floated a little higher, “Teaching Kaladin how to kiss. Because he’s never done it before. And now Kaladin thinks he’s a pervert because he got aroused because of it, and he’s spiraling, so I told him to come here. Because you”—she pointed at them dramatically—“are supposed to be his family and help him when he’s losing his mind.”
“Syl,” Kaladin hissed, his voice cracking in horror, “Storms.”
She turned to him, arms crossed, completely unbothered, “You weren’t going to say it. You were going to walk out and bottle it up and make yourself miserable and probably not sleep again. I’m not letting you do that.”
Kaladin wanted to crawl inside his uniform coat and cease existing.
Teft, of all people, was the first to recover. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking entirely too smug, “So. Adolin, eh?”
Kaladin groaned and dragged both hands down his face, his ears burning.
“Ohhh,” Lopen said, a grin spreading across his face, “Ohhhh. So that’s why you’ve been walking around lately like your brain’s not fully in your head,” he paused, “Because it isn’t. It’s somewhere else.”
Kaladin groaned louder.
“It’s fine, gancho,” Lopen said, “Lots of people get nervous before their first kiss. And it’s Adolin Kholin. He’s basically a walking romance novel. If you didn’t get all you know, I’d assume you were dead inside.”
“I am dead inside.”
Teft snorted.
Kaladin turned to Syl, face blazing, “Why did you do that?”
“Because you needed help,” she said gently, “And I knew they’d listen.”
He looked at the men around him. There was no mockery in their faces. No disgust. Just amusement, yes, but also warmth. Rock was smiling. Lopen looked way too excited, like he was already planning some kind of speech or party. Drehy and Skar exchanged a knowing look that made Kaladin’s stomach twist.
Rlain was watching him with quiet eyes, arms crossed over his chest, and said softly, “You liked it.”
Kaladin didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
“You’re allowed to,” Rlain said, “You’re allowed to feel things, Kal.”
And just like that—something in him cracked. His knees buckled and he sat down hard on the floor, head in his hands.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, “I kissed him, and it felt like the best thing I’ve ever felt. And then I hated myself for it. And then I wanted to do it again. And now I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s all so loud in my head, and I don’t know what to do with any of it.”
“You talk about it,” Teft said, “Like this. With us. And if you want to do it again… maybe that’s not the end of the world.”
Kaladin looked up, raw.
“You think he could—?”
“I think,” Teft said, “That man looks at you like you hung the storming moons. You just haven’t seen it yet.”
Kaladin stared down at his hands, twisting them together in his lap as the weight of the silence settled over the room.
He swallowed hard and shook his head.
“You’re all wrong,” he muttered, “It’s not like that. He’s just… helping me out. He’s always helping people. That’s just who he is. He would’ve done it for anyone.”
The words tasted bitter as they left his mouth.
Across the room, the others exchanged a look. A very pointed look. One of those silent conversations only people who knew each other far too well could have. Kaladin hated it when they did that. He felt like the last one in on a joke.
Renarin was the one who finally spoke.
“I don’t think that’s true,” he said gently, “Adolin does help people, yes. He’s kind. Generous. Loyal to a fault. But… not like this. Not with something so personal.”
Kaladin looked at him, trying to gauge whether this was just the fondness of a little brother talking, or if Renarin actually meant it.
“He’s been your friend for a while now,” Renarin continued, voice soft, “But I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you. And he’s never offered to kiss someone to help them learn. Not even when people flirted with him directly. It’s different with you.”
Different. Kaladin hated how much that word sparked hope in him.
He opened his mouth to argue—he didn’t even know what he was going to say—but then Drehy spoke up with a heavy sigh and the tone of a man about to explain something very obvious to a very dumb person.
“Okay. Kal,” Drehy said, hands raised as if preparing for a lecture, “I’m going to break this down real simple, alright?”
Kaladin narrowed his eyes, “What are you doing...”
“Just… listen,” Drehy leaned forward, “I like men. Right?”
Kaladin nodded, “Yeah. Of course.”
“And you’re my best friend. One of them, anyway. I love you, Kal. Like, would run through a battlefield for you. Have, in fact.”
Kaladin gave a weak smile, “Me too.”
“Right. But never, under any circumstances, would I offer to teach you how to kiss.”
Kaladin swallowed, feeling uncomfortable, “Uh…”
“Because that’s not what friends do,” Drehy said, as if he were explaining gravity, “I don’t care how attractive my friend is—no offense—and you are, but I wouldn’t say, ‘Hey, friend. You want to practice making out?’ That’s not ‘helping out a friend.’ That’s ‘I’m madly in love with you and this is the only excuse I can make for getting to kiss you.’”
Kaladin opened his mouth to protest, and failed.
Because suddenly the logic of it hit him like a boulder. He’d been so caught up in his own embarrassment, in the shame of his arousal and confusion and feelings, he hadn’t actually thought about what it meant. What kind of person did offer kissing lessons to a friend?
Not a friend, a voice whispered in his mind, Not just a friend.
Lopen burst out laughing, “Drehy’s right, man. I mean, yeah, Adolin’s easy on the eyes. But if he offered to teach me how to kiss, I’d be running the other direction.”
Rock gave a booming laugh, “Yes. He is prince, very nice hair, but I am married. And I also have dignity.”
“I’m not saying I wouldn’t be tempted,” Sigzil said with a shrug, “But I’d still say no.”
Rlain chuckled low in his throat, “We’ve all seen how you two look at each other. I was starting to think it was going to take a highstorm and a declaration from the Almighty himself before either of you admitted it.”
Kaladin stared at the floor, warmth creeping up his neck, curling in his gut.
“I…” he began, but the words were stuck. Tangled in emotion, “You all think he…?”
“You accepted it,” Drehy said, eyes kind now, “That’s the other thing. You could’ve said no. Could’ve brushed it off. But it wasn’t just about the kissing, was it?”
Kaladin closed his eyes.
No. It hadn’t been.
It had been Adolin. It had been his laugh and his touch and the way he looked nervous too. It had been the way his voice dropped when he said Kaladin’s name, the way his eyes softened when he asked if Kaladin was okay. It had been every tiny intimacy that Kaladin had stored away like stolen treasure.
It had been him.
“Storms,” he whispered.
Syl floated beside him, “See?”
Kaladin opened his eyes and looked at his friends. His family.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Teft grunted, “That’s okay. You don’t need to know yet. You’ve taken the hardest step already.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ve accepted it.”
Kaladin felt like something in his chest was unfurling. And as terrifying as it still was, there was something freeing about it too.
He’d kissed Adolin.
And he’d liked it.
And he’d like to do it again. All the time, even.
And there was nothing wrong with that.
Notes:
hopecore 💖
Chapter 4: FOUR
Notes:
ao3 stop glitching pls 😔
Chapter Text
The morning light filtered through Adolin’s windows, but it brought no comfort, no answers. The guilt still clung to him like armor he couldn’t take off.
So when Kaladin knocked on his door sometime after midday, Adolin nearly jumped.
He opened it to find Kaladin standing there, posture stiff, face unreadable.
Adolin’s stomach flipped, “Hey,” he said carefully, “You okay?”
Kaladin nodded once, quick, “Can I come in?”
“Of course.”
Adolin stepped back to let him inside, heart hammering. Kaladin moved slowly, as if trying not to give anything away, but Adolin saw the way his eyes lingered on the bed, on the floor between them, on Adolin’s mouth for the briefest second before flicking away again.
They stood there in silence, like neither of them knew what to say.
And then Kaladin cleared his throat.
“There was… something you said. Yesterday. About kissing.”
Adolin blinked, “What about it?”
Kaladin still didn’t look at him. He folded his arms tightly across his chest like he was bracing for impact, “You said… there were other kinds. Different types of kisses. More…” he paused, as if choking on the word, “…passionate.”
Adolin’s heart stopped. He suddenly couldn’t feel his hands, “Right,” he said slowly, “I—yeah. There are.”
Kaladin swallowed hard, eyes fixed somewhere near Adolin’s shoulder, “What are those like?”
Adolin wasn’t sure he’d heard right, “You mean…?”
Kaladin finally looked at him. Really looked, “I don’t know what I’m asking. I just…” He shifted his weight, “I know I said I was done. That last night was enough. But I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. About the kiss.”
Adolin’s breath hitched.
“And I was wondering,” Kaladin said, voice quieter now, “If maybe… you could help me understand those other types too. Not now, not if it’s too much, but… eventually. If you still want to.”
Adolin stared, stunned. Words caught in his throat.
He’d dreamed—literally dreamed—of Kaladin asking something like this. But hearing it now, the rawness in Kaladin’s voice, the uncertainty in his eyes, it made something deep inside Adolin crack wide open.
He couldn’t speak right away. Could barely breathe. His heart had started pounding the second Kaladin walked through the door, but now it felt like it was trying to punch through his ribs.
He managed to find his voice, “Kaladin… are you sure?”
“I don’t know,” Kaladin admitted, “I just… I think I want to find out.”
Adolin exhaled slowly. It felt like the whole world had tilted a little, and he was still trying to find his balance.
“I’d never hurt you,” he said, voice low, honest, “And I’d never take this further than you wanted.”
Kaladin nodded, “I know.”
Adolin hesitated. Then finally said, “So… when you say you want to understand more… do you mean you want me to show you?”
Kaladin looked away again, then back. His ears were red, “Yes.”
Adolin stepped forward slightly, slow, careful, every part of him aching with hope and fear, “Then I’ll help. As much or as little as you want. But... only if you’re okay with it.”
Kaladin nodded again. Smaller this time, “I trust you.”
Those three words nearly undid Adolin completely.
He smiled, “Then we’ll go slow. You tell me where the line is. We’ll take it one kiss at a time.”
Kaladin’s lips curled up just slightly, but it was there, “Okay.”
Adolin stepped a little closer, barely an arm’s length away now. He didn’t touch him. Didn’t lean in yet. He just let himself look.
Storms, he was in trouble.
Because Kaladin had come back.
⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹
Kaladin felt like he was dying.
Not the kind of death he knew but something quieter. Somehow worse. His skin buzzed with nervous energy, his breath stuck somewhere between his ribs and throat. It had taken everything in him—every last shred of courage and resolve—to come back here. To face Adolin again. And to ask… that.
Storms, had he actually said it right? He wasn’t good with words. He never had been. He spoke in orders and silences, not careful admissions. He’d tried to phrase it in a way that couldn’t possibly be interpreted as platonic, as just another lesson. He hadn’t asked Adolin to teach him. Not this time. He’d asked to know, to feel.
To kiss Adolin more.
To kiss him properly.
To want him and be wanted in return.
And still, the fear pressed down on him like a weighted blanket, like a lowstorm waiting to break. What if Adolin hadn’t understood? What if Kaladin had embarrassed himself beyond repair? What if he’d imagined the way Adolin had looked at him last night? The softness, the ache, the way his lips had hovered just a moment too long?
Kaladin swallowed and stared down at the floor between them, trying to breathe past the hum of his own heartbeat. His hands felt restless, too big, too awkward at his sides. He glanced up, finally finding Adolin’s eyes again.
“So…” Kaladin rasped, voice almost too soft to hear, “How do we start?”
“Start?”
Kaladin nodded, trying to keep his expression blank, calm. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded, “With… whatever this kind of kiss is. The more passionate kind.”
“Oh,” Adolin said. He cleared his throat, “Right. Yeah.”
He rubbed the back of his neck in that way he always did when he was flustered, and Kaladin felt a ridiculous pang of fondness. It made it harder to breathe.
“Well,” Adolin began, shifting his weight, “It’s… it’s not too complicated, I guess. Just… um. Usually you—people—start soft, like before, and then if both people are into it, it sort of… deepens.”
Kaladin tilted his head, “Deepens how?” he asked, despite knowing the answer. He liked seeing Adolin flustered.
Adolin made a helpless noise and gestured vaguely toward his mouth, “With tongue. Usually. It doesn’t have to be right away, or even at all, but that’s what people mean when they say… making out. Kissing more intensely. You just sort of… let the kiss linger longer, part your lips a little, and then if it feels right…” He trailed off, cheeks burning so red Kaladin was momentarily distracted by the color.
Adolin looked down, clearly mortified, “Storms, I’m embarrassing myself.”
Kaladin’s mouth twitched despite the nervous weight in his chest, “Maybe,” he admitted quietly, and that alone nearly made him break into a smile, “But I appreciate it. You’re trying.”
Adolin looked up, blue eyes startled and searching. Kaladin held his gaze. He didn’t want to run this time.
Inside, though, his thoughts were spiraling.
He’s trying. For me. Again.
It wasn’t like the last time. This wasn’t some sterile little lesson, all politeness and restraint. This wasn’t Adolin offering his help to a friend in distress. This was charged with something else. Something unnamed and buzzing between them.
Kaladin didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know how to move forward without ruining everything. But he did know this:
He wanted Adolin’s mouth on his again. He wanted that fire, that closeness, the press of his body and the safety of his hands. He wanted to feel what it meant to be wanted. Even if it was only for now.
His voice was a little steadier this time when he asked, “So… we just start soft? And see where it goes?”
Adolin nodded slowly, “Yeah. If that’s okay with you.”
Kaladin took a breath. A deep one.
Then he stepped closer, so close that he could feel Adolin’s warmth. He could smell his cologne. His heart was a hammer in his chest.
“Okay,” Kaladin whispered.
And Adolin smiled, not cocky, but nervous and tender, like he couldn’t believe this was really happening.
Neither could Kaladin.
Adolin shut his eyes for a second, just a breath, like he needed to gather himself. Kaladin watched the motion—watched the way his lashes fluttered, how his shoulders lifted with that slow inhale—and then Adolin stepped closer, slow and careful, like approaching a skittish animal.
Then he raised his hand and gently placed it against Kaladin’s cheek.
Kaladin melted into the touch without thinking. He leaned into Adolin’s palm like he’d been waiting to do it his entire life. It was ridiculous how much one hand on his face could undo him, how grounded and wanted it made him feel.
So he reached up and touched Adolin too, his fingers curving over the side of his jaw, into the soft blonde strands of hair that curled near his ear. His thumb brushed against Adolin’s cheekbone.
The heat between them was staggering.
Kaladin leaned forward, slowly, until Adolin’s breath ghosted over his mouth. He was so close. And he wanted this so badly he could barely hold still. His heart was threatening to break out of his chest. His lips parted slightly, his hand trembling just a little. He didn’t know what he was doing, not really, but he knew that he wanted. He wanted Adolin, with a need that was terrifying in its clarity.
And then—
Adolin moved. Closed the distance.
Their mouths met.
Kaladin gasped softly against him, and then he was kissing Adolin back instinctively. There was no hesitation in his body, even if his mind still reeled. Their lips moved slowly together, like waves finding rhythm.
Then Adolin’s hand on his cheek tightened just slightly, firm and reassuring, and Kaladin felt the shift. The kiss changed. Adolin opened his mouth slightly, just a hint, and Kaladin felt it. He understood the invitation without words.
He followed.
He parted his lips too.
Their kiss deepened, grew bolder. Not rushed or messy, just more. More breath, more warmth, more want.
Kaladin’s stomach twisted with heat. He tried to kiss back like Adolin was kissing him, soft and sure, tongue brushing just barely, lips pressing with intention, but he didn’t know what he was doing. He tilted his head and tried to follow instinct, but—
Clack.
Their teeth bumped.
Kaladin stiffened immediately.
Adolin pulled back slightly, breathless, a smile twitching at the edge of his lips, “Less teeth,” he murmured, voice light and full of amusement.
Kaladin flushed hard, mortified, “Sorry,” he said, voice low, nearly a whisper, “I—sorry. I don’t—”
“Hey,” Adolin’s thumb brushed his cheek gently, “It’s okay. It’s your first time.”
Kaladin stared down, throat tight. The shame was instant, curling up his spine like smoke. He’d ruined it. He always ruined things when they started to feel good. When they started to feel like they mattered. He wasn’t meant for softness like this. For affection. For someone like Adolin.
But Adolin didn’t let go.
He didn’t laugh. He didn’t step back.
Kaladin slowly looked up, and Adolin’s eyes were still full of warmth.
So Kaladin nodded, almost imperceptibly. And they leaned in again.
The moment their mouths met again, everything changed.
There was no hesitation this time. No gentle testing of the waters. It was immediate, overwhelming. Adolin kissed him like he meant it—like he needed it—with a kind of urgency that made Kaladin’s knees nearly buckle.
Adolin’s tongue slid past his lips, confident and smooth, and Kaladin swayed forward, helpless to do anything but follow. It made his head spin, the heat of it, the taste, the pressure. Storms, he was so weak for this... weak for him.
The kiss turned messier by the second. Kaladin didn’t care. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and didn’t want to. His hands were moving without permission, one still on Adolin’s jaw, the other sliding down to grip his waist, pulling him in tighter, wanting more, needing more. He needed to be closer. To feel every inch of him.
And then Adolin made a soft sound in his throat and slid a hand into Kaladin’s hair, fingers threading through and gripping just enough to pull him closer, tilt his head, deepen the kiss. Kaladin gasped into his mouth, lips parting wider, and yes. This. This was what he’d dreamed about, even if he hadn’t realized it.
Adolin’s mouth was everything. Hot. Wet. Demanding. And Kaladin just tried to keep up. He was sure he was doing it wrong, sure his lips were too eager, his breathing too ragged, but he didn’t care. Not when Adolin was kissing him like this, not when it felt like their hearts were crashing together in the space between.
And then—
Adolin bit his lip.
It was brief but firm, sharp enough to make Kaladin let out a startled sound from the back of his throat. He didn’t even know what it was, exactly—a gasp, a whimper, a moan—but it escaped, raw and instinctual, and he didn’t care.
He wanted Adolin to hear it.
Because he wanted Adolin to want him like this. To like that he was affected. To know that Kaladin wasn’t pretending anymore. He wasn’t learning. He was falling.
Adolin froze.
The hand in Kaladin’s hair went still. The kiss stopped.
And then Adolin pulled back, abruptly, completely, like the air had shattered between them. Kaladin blinked, disoriented, his lips wet and tingling, his chest heaving.
Adolin took a step back, breath catching, his face flushed red, eyes wide like he’d done something wrong.
“I—storms, I’m sorry,” Adolin said, stumbling over the words, “I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t thinking, I just—” He looked down, mortified, “I lost myself. That… that wasn’t right. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Kaladin’s heart dropped so fast it left him dizzy.
Oh.
So it had been a mistake.
He stood there, frozen, hands limp at his sides, staring at Adolin as the words settled like lead in his chest.
It wasn’t right.
It wasn’t supposed to happen.
He hadn’t meant it.
Kaladin swallowed hard, trying to keep his expression from crumbling. His mouth still burned from the kiss, his lips still tingled from Adolin’s teeth. His body still ached with the warmth they’d shared, but now it felt like shame. Like he’d misread it all.
He’d let himself believe. Bridge Four had said it was mutual, that Adolin wanted this. And Kaladin had believed them. For one foolish, fleeting moment, he’d let himself believe that someone like Adolin could love someone like him. Broken. Touch-starved and confused.
But he was wrong.
Adolin was just being a good friend. That’s all this had ever been. Kaladin had asked for help, and Adolin had given it, because he was kind. Because he was generous.
And Kaladin had pushed too far. He’d been greedy. He’d wanted something he didn’t deserve.
Adolin was still apologizing softly, running a hand down his face like he couldn’t stand to look at Kaladin. That hurt more than anything.
Kaladin turned his face toward the wall. He couldn’t let himself speak, not now. His voice would crack, and the ache in his chest would spill out.
His vision was blurry from the burn of unshed tears he refused to let fall. Not here. Not in front of him. Storms, not in front of Adolin.
He couldn’t take that. He couldn’t handle the shame of letting Adolin see him unravel like this, piece by piece.
He swallowed, forcing his voice to stay steady, hollow as it was, “It’s fine,” he said quietly. His throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper, “I understand. Accidents happen.”
He hated how empty the words sounded. Like something he’d say to a stranger who bumped into him on the street. But he needed the distance. He had to keep the distance.
“It’s my fault anyway,” he went on, still staring at that damned blank spot on the wall like if he looked hard enough it would swallow him whole, “I should’ve never suggested this in the first place. It was stupid.”
Storms, he was so stupid.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. The words tasted bitter in his mouth, “I—really. Just… forget it, Adolin.”
He heard the floor creak behind him, Adolin shifting. A quiet intake of breath, the sound of a footstep forward.
“Kal—” Adolin’s voice was soft. Too soft. Too kind. It made Kaladin flinch.
He squeezed his eyes shut and cut him off, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
His voice cracked, just barely, and he prayed Adolin didn’t notice.
“It’s better if we just forget this happened,” he added, more firmly this time, clinging to the edge of control like a man hanging off a cliff, “I’ve already messed things up more than I had any right to. I… I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. It was selfish of me.”
He took a breath.
Then he turned and walked to the door without another word, without another glance, without giving himself a single heartbeat to hesitate. If he did, he might stay. If he stayed, he might beg.
And he couldn’t do that. Not again.
The door clicked softly behind him as he stepped out into the hallway, and as soon as it shut, the mask cracked.
His chest heaved. The tears started falling before he could even wipe the first one away. They slid hot down his cheeks, fast and merciless, like they’d just been waiting for him to be alone.
He walked fast—faster than he needed to—back toward his own room, head down, arms wrapped tight around himself. His heartbeat thudded in his ears, loud enough to drown out the world.
Idiot.
You absolute storming idiot.
Why had he ever let himself believe this was more than it was? Why had he thought, even for a second, that someone like Adolin could ever want him?
He should’ve known. He did know. But still, somewhere inside that ruined, rusted heart of his, he’d dared to hope.
And that was the cruelest part.
He’d hoped.
He could still feel the echo of Adolin’s mouth on his. The warmth. The taste. The way their bodies had pressed together, the way he’d gasped into it, desperate and dizzy and needing it like air. And the sound he’d made—
Storms. That sound. That desperate, disgusting sound. That was what ruined everything.
He’d made that sound and Adolin had pulled away.
It’s like he couldn’t even control himself around Adolin. It’s like he was a predator.
He hated himself for it.
Of course he pulled away, Kaladin thought viciously, Of course he did. You made it wrong. You’re worthless. You deserve nothing.
His hands shook as he reached for his door. He stepped inside and shut it behind him, barely making it to his bed before the weight in his chest collapsed in on itself.
He sat down hard and buried his face in his hands.
You’ll never be loved like that.
You’re too broken. You’re too much.
You ruin everything you touch.
“Kaladin?” A hopeful voice asked.
Syl.
“What’s wrong?”
Right. She’d been waiting for him to come back.
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t even look at her.
His shoulders curled in. His hands came up to tangle in his hair as if he could rip the pain out by the roots if he just held on tight enough.
Syl hovered closer, alarmed now. She placed a light hand on his shoulder.
“Kaladin,” she said again, more gently this time.
He didn’t lift his head. He couldn’t.
His voice was ragged, “Everyone was wrong,” he whispered, so quietly it barely passed his lips, “Adolin… he doesn’t like me that way.”
He shook his head slowly, trembling.
“Not at all,” he added, “Maybe he even hates me now. After what I did.”
Syl’s tiny hand pressed more firmly against his shoulder.
But it didn’t help. Nothing could help.
Kaladin drew a shuddering breath, and the tears came again, silent but unrelenting.
“I love him,” he said, voice cracking, “I love him, Syl. And I was stupid enough to think… that he might love me back.”
Even saying the words felt like cutting himself open.
He’d barely even let himself believe it, not truly, not until tonight. But it had bloomed in him anyway. That fragile, traitorous hope. The dream that maybe, just once, something good could be meant for him. That maybe all the things he’d thought he didn’t deserve: love, affection, someone who saw him and stayed, were possible after all.
But of course they weren’t.
Syl moved in front of him, floating until she was eye level with his hunched form. She reached out and stroked his cheek gently, trying to wipe away the tears that kept falling no matter how hard he tried to stop them.
“Oh, Kaladin,” she murmured, “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.”
Her touch was soft. Her voice a balm. But it barely reached through the ache in his chest.
“I was stupid,” he said, dragging a hand down his face, still not looking at her, “I thought… I thought he’d give some sign. That he’d lean into it, that he’d let it happen because he wanted it. But when I made a sound—a horrible, disgusting sound—he froze. Like I’d hit him. And then he pulled away.”
The memory made him flinch.
“I ruined everything. All of it. I thought maybe if I kissed him, really kissed him, he’d… I don’t know. I thought maybe he’d kiss me like he meant it,” He gave a broken laugh, bitter and sharp, “But he was just being nice. Just helping a friend. He probably felt obligated.”
Syl’s brows furrowed, her expression pained.
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly, “I really thought he liked you. I still do, Kaladin. Maybe he just panicked. Maybe—”
“No,” Kaladin cut in, finally lifting his head. His eyes were red and glassy, his expression hollow, “No, Syl. He doesn’t. And I should’ve seen it sooner. He was embarrassed. Ashamed. Said he got carried away like it was some accident.”
His voice dropped again, quiet and cold.
“Like I was a mistake.”
He swallowed thickly, and his gaze fell to the floor again.
“I just… I let myself believe something that wasn’t real. I thought maybe things could be different this time. That I could be someone worth loving.”
His voice shook, and this time, the words fell like stones.
“But I’m not. I never was.”
Syl pressed her forehead to his shoulder, her little body curling close, like she wanted to shield him from the world. Or from himself.
He didn’t move. Didn’t stop her.
He just sat there, drenched in the silence of his own making, mourning something that had never really belonged to him in the first place.
⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹
Kaladin was dreaming.
At first, the dream was quiet. Gentle.
Kaladin stood in the soft golden light of a room that felt familiar and strange all at once. None of it existed, not when Adolin stood in front of him.
Adolin reached out, tucking a curl of Kaladin’s hair behind his ear, fingers lingering at his temple.
“You’re so beautiful,” Adolin said, voice low. His hand caressed Kaladin’s cheek, thumb brushing under his eye with aching tenderness.
Kaladin flushed in the dream, smile breaking across his face before he could stop it. He ducked his head, a little bashful, “I’m not—”
“Yes, you are,” Adolin interrupted, firm and certain, “You always have been.”
Kaladin’s chest ached, too full. He reached up, wrapping his fingers around Adolin’s wrist, holding him there. Like if he let go, the dream might dissolve.
And then Adolin leaned in.
The kiss was soft at first, like the first one they’d shared hours before. Just lips brushing lips. Sweet and loving. But in the way dreams always were... it deepened. Adolin tilted his head and kissed Kaladin again, firmer this time, with purpose. His lips parted, tongue sliding against Kaladin’s in a way that made the breath catch in Kaladin’s throat. His fingers fisted in the front of Adolin’s coat, yanking him closer until their chests pressed together and Kaladin could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
Adolin’s hands were everywhere, cradling his jaw, sliding down to his throat, skimming along his shoulders. And then he broke the kiss, just barely, breath warm against Kaladin’s skin.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, mouth at Kaladin’s neck now. He kissed there, open-mouthed, tongue tracing just beneath his jaw before nipping lightly, pulling a shudder from Kaladin, “My gorgeous Kal.”
Kaladin whimpered and held tighter, not wanting this to end.
Adolin kept going. Lower. Kisses trailed down Kaladin’s throat to the base of his neck. Hands found the buttons of his shirt and undid them slowly, teasingly, each one accompanied by another kiss, another brush of fingers over bare skin. Kaladin’s breath hitched.
“I want you,” Adolin murmured, voice a low growl at his ear.
Kaladin moaned because yes. He wanted this. He wanted him. Wanted to feel Adolin’s hands everywhere, wanted to be touched, claimed, known.
He whispered it back, lips against Adolin’s hair, “Yes, yes, please, I want you too, I want you so much, please—”
Adolin shushed him with a finger pressed gently to his lips, “Don't worry,” he said, voice steady, like a promise carved into stone, “I'll give you everything.”
Everything.
Kaladin whimpered again, the sound raw, stripped bare. Adolin's finger slipped from his lips, tracing the line of his jaw instead as he returned to the buttons of Kaladin's shirt.
Each undone clasp felt like a revelation-cool air kissing newly exposed skin, followed by the heat of Adolin's mouth. The shirt fell away, sliding down Kaladin's arms to pool at his elbows before Adolin tugged it free and let it drop.
His hands settled on Kaladin's chest, palms rough but tender as they smoothed over his collarbones, down the ridges of his ribs. Thumbs brushed his nipples, deliberate, circling until Kaladin gasped, back arching.
“Look at you,” Adolin murmured, gaze raking over him, “A storming masterpiece. Every scar, every mole. I want to map them all with my mouth. Leave marks here—” His teeth grazed Kaladin's shoulder, “—and here—” A kiss seared over his heartbeat, “—so you never forget who you belong to.”
Kaladin nodded, breathless, fingers digging into Adolin's arms. Words were beyond him now, just shaky inhales, the occasional groan when Adolin's mouth grew bolder, sucking bruises into his skin.
Adolin's hands drifted lower, skimming the taut plane of his stomach, the dip of his hips. Kaladin trembled as fingers hooked into the waistband of his trousers, but Adolin paused, dragging his palm instead over the hardness between Kaladin's legs.
“All this,” Adolin said, pressing firmly, drawing a choked gasp from him, “Is for me?”
“Yes,” Kaladin gritted out, hips jerking helplessly into the touch.
Adolin hummed, low and pleased. He leaned in, lips brushing Kaladin's ear, “Do you want me to be your first?” His hand squeezed, just once, and Kaladin's knees nearly buckled, “Want me to ruin you for anyone else? Make sure you never think of another name when you're alone at night?”
Kaladin's vision blurred. He nodded, frantic.
Yes. He wanted it, wanted the burn of Adolin's claim, the wreckage of his certainty. Wanted to be unmade and remade right here, in this dream that felt too real, too much.
Adolin smiled, sharp and hungry, and kissed him. Hard.
And then—
Kaladin’s eyes flew open.
He was in bed, chest heaving, his sheets tangled around his legs, heat pulsing through every inch of him.
He was hard.
…Again.
Storms.
He shoved a hand over his face and groaned, heart pounding, skin flushed and very aware of his body. Every part of him was alight. The way Adolin had touched him, had looked at him, kissed him—
Kaladin turned onto his side, pushing his head into his pillow as if that would help hide him from the shame. From the ache. From the longing. From the very real, very inconvenient proof of how deeply he wanted someone he could never have.
Because that kiss wasn’t real. That touch wasn’t real. That whisper—“My gorgeous Kal”—wasn’t real.
Storms, what was wrong with him?
How could he have a dream like that after everything that had happened? After the way Adolin had pulled away, after the mortified apology, after Kaladin had fled with tears in his eyes and a hollow where his heart should’ve been?
How could his mind betray him like this? How could his body still want?
What was the point of dreaming something like that? What was the point of wanting something he could never have?
The heat that lingered in his body now felt sickening. Like something shameful he didn’t deserve. He was still aroused, still shaking with the remnants of it, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want it. He wanted it gone.
He wanted everything gone.
“I’m so stupid,” he whispered into the fabric, the words barely a breath, “Storms, I’m the worst.”
He’d let himself hope. He’d believed the way Adolin looked at him might mean more. He’d let Bridge Four convince him that maybe Adolin felt the same. And for a heartbeat, Kaladin had believed it.
He’d kissed him.
He’d made a sound.
And Adolin had pulled away.
That was the truth. That was the moment everything had become clear.
Kaladin dragged the pillow over his head like it might smother the memory. Like it could bury him with it.
He wept for the dream that wasn’t real, for the feelings that would never be returned, for the version of himself he’d imagined in Adolin’s arms: so loved, so wanted.
He wept for the boy who’d finally dared to believe someone might love him.
And now knew better.
No one ever would.
Chapter 5: FIVE
Chapter Text
The door clicked shut behind Kaladin, and Adolin stood frozen in the silence that followed.
He didn’t move until the weight of the moment crashed down on him all at once.
Then he let out a strangled breath and dragged a hand down his face, fingers pressing hard into his eyes, like he could scrub the guilt out of himself if he tried hard enough.
Storms.
He’d messed everything up.
The echo of Kaladin’s voice still rang in his head: “It’s better if we just forget this happened.”
As if it hadn’t meant something.
Adolin turned in a slow circle, like the room might offer some answer, but all he found were the shadows of what they’d done. The spot on the rug where Kaladin had stood. The air still warm with their breath. His own heartbeat still thrumming wild in his chest.
He stumbled back a step, sitting heavily on the edge of his bed. He dropped his head into his hands and let the silence swallow him.
He’d wanted that kiss. Every part of it. He’d wanted more than that kiss.
It had started slow, careful, and then Kaladin had moaned when Adolin but his lip, and Adolin had lost himself completely. His tongue, his hands, the way Kaladin pulled him closer, it was all too much and not enough. It had felt real. Not practice. Not a favor. Real.
And that terrified him.
Because what if Kaladin hadn’t meant it that way? What if it had just been a lesson to him, just some harmless exploration of intimacy, just curiosity or trust or… anything other than what Adolin had felt surging in his chest?
He’d panicked. Pulled away.
He hated himself for it.
Kaladin had looked so hurt. Like Adolin had shoved a Shardblade through him. And the worst part was… Adolin wasn’t even sure what he’d apologized for.
He’d said he lost himself. That it wasn’t right.
But he wanted to lose himself. He wanted it to be right. He wanted Kaladin to grab his face again, to kiss him, to press against him like he needed him. He wanted Kaladin’s hands and Kaladin’s sighs and Kaladin’s ridiculous, endearing clumsiness.
He wanted him.
And instead… he’d let him walk out thinking the whole thing had been a mistake.
Adolin pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes until stars sparked behind them. What if Kaladin never came back? What if that was it? The end of something that had barely begun?
He stood up abruptly, paced to the window, then turned back and cursed under his breath.
I need help.
And he hated that. Hated that he couldn’t fix this on his own. That he couldn’t just be brave enough to tell Kaladin the truth. That he was afraid. Afraid of ruining what they had and afraid of asking for more.
He needed someone who knew what it was like to feel too much, to be afraid of love and still love anyway.
He needed Shallan.
⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹
Adolin sat on the edge of Shallan’s couch, elbows on his knees, hands tangled in his hair. He’d come straight from his room, guilt dragging behind him like a storming bridge, his heartbeat still out of rhythm from everything that had happened.
Shallan had been sketching Veil when he burst in.
Now she lowered her charcoal pencil slowly, giving him the kind of look that said she was preparing herself for something ridiculous. And, fair, it was ridiculous.
“So,” she said, brows raised, “You offered to give Kaladin kissing lessons?”
Adolin groaned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, “Storms, Shallan. Do you have to say it like that?”
“That’s what happened, isn’t it?” she said, a note of laughter in her voice, “You, Adolin Kholin, Highprince, dueling champion, notorious flirt… giving kissing lessons to the one man on this entire continent who’s more emotionally constipated than you.”
Adolin groaned louder, “Yes. Fine. I know it sounds stupid.”
“It doesn’t sound stupid,” she said, folding her hands neatly in her lap, “It is stupid.”
He gave her a withering look, but the shame in his chest only deepened.
“I just—” He sighed, slumping forward again, staring at the rug beneath his boots, “I didn’t know what else to do. He looked so lost, Shallan. So… unsure of himself. And I thought—”
He hesitated, mouth dry.
“I thought maybe if I helped him figure things out, it would make him feel better. More confident. I didn’t want him to feel left out. Or… like he didn’t deserve to experience any of it. Because he does. He deserves softness and care and kisses and love.”
He rubbed his palms over his thighs. His voice lowered.
“But if I’m being honest… deep down, I just wanted an excuse to be close to him. To touch him and kiss him, even if it wasn’t real. Even if it was just… helping,” His throat tightened, “I told myself it would be enough.”
Shallan didn’t respond immediately. She watched him with a strangely soft expression, not mocking, not even amused anymore.
“Mmm,” said Pattern from beside her, vibrating, “There are no lies in this.”
Adolin dragged a hand through his hair, “Yeah, well. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
He didn’t want to lie. Not to Shallan, not to Kaladin, but he also hadn’t known how to tell the truth without ruining everything.
Because the truth was… he loved him.
He loved the way Kaladin looked when he was caught off guard, like he didn’t know what to do with kindness. He loved the way he looked when he was relaxed, for once not worrying. He loved the quiet depth in his voice when he spoke about his men or when he believed in something.
He loved the way Kaladin had kissed him like he was trying to memorize the feeling.
Adolin swallowed, throat tight, “I messed it up.”
“Yeah,” Shallan said softly, “You kind of did.”
He looked up but there was no malice in her tone. Just honesty.
“You panicked,” she continued, “You had something real and it scared you, so you pulled away. But Kaladin… he’s the type who already assumes he’s not wanted. If you give him a reason to believe that, he’ll cling to it like it’s truth. Even if it breaks him.”
Adolin winced. That was exactly what had happened. He’d seen it in Kaladin’s eyes, that shuttered look, that wall slamming down. That hurt.
“He wouldn’t even look at me,” Adolin whispered, “He just… left. And I let him.”
Shallan tilted her head slightly, “So what are you going to do now?”
Adolin hesitated. He wanted to fix it. Storms, he wanted to grab Kaladin, kiss him again, properly this time, and tell him for how long he’d loved him. And that none of this had ever been a lesson. That he hadn’t pulled away because it felt wrong, but because it had felt too right.
But he wasn’t sure Kaladin would believe him now.
Still, he straightened.
“I’m going to talk to him,” Adolin said, “I don’t know how yet, or what I’ll say, but I have to try. Because if I let him think this was just a favor—a charity case I was helping out of pity—then I don’t deserve him.”
Shallan watched him for a long moment, her expression uncharacteristically serious.
“You know you can’t just say you’re sorry and leave it at that,” she said softly, “You have to tell him all of it.”
Adolin swallowed hard, nodding before he even knew what to say. His hands curled into fists on his knees.
“You think I don’t know that?” he muttered, voice rough with guilt.
She leaned forward slightly, “You have to tell him how you feel,” she said, “Not in a joke. Not half-hidden behind charm and lessons and ‘practice.’ Not like you’re scared of your own feelings.”
Her voice was gentle but firm, “You love him. So say it. Let him decide how he feels. But don’t hide it anymore. Don’t make him guess.”
Adolin closed his eyes for a beat. The words felt too big in his chest, too vulnerable, but she was right.
Kaladin deserved the truth. Not more confusion.
“Yeah,” he said hoarsely, “Yeah, I’m going to tell him. I’m going to tell him everything. And hope… hope it’s not too late.”
He meant to sound confident, but his voice broke a little at the end. Because what if it was too late?
What if Kaladin didn’t want to see him again? What if he’d closed the door for good?
He pictured the look on Kaladin’s face when he pulled away. Kaladin hadn’t even said goodbye. He just left. And Adolin had let him go.
Storms, he wanted to kick himself.
“He is afraid of pain,” Pattern said, his voice buzzing with a kind of distant sympathy, “He believes he is a burden. That he ruins things. You must… disprove this. With truths. Strong ones.”
Adolin nodded slowly, letting those words sink in.
With truths.
That was the only thing Kaladin would believe. Not excuses. Not sweet words wrapped in uncertainty. Truths.
“I will,” Adolin said, “I’ll tell him.”
He looked up at Shallan again, his voice soft but sure, “No more jokes and no more pretending I don’t mean it.”
Shallan smiled gently, “Good. Because if you joke about this again, I’ll slap you myself.”
Adolin gave a weak chuckle, grateful for the levity even as his stomach twisted with nerves. Then he stood, slowly, like the weight of everything he carried made it harder to move.
“I just… I hope I didn’t lose him. I hope he’ll still listen.”
Shallan’s voice turned quiet, “He will. Kaladin might shut doors, but he doesn’t lock them. Not forever. If you’re honest… if you really mean it… he’ll hear you out.”
Adolin nodded, jaw tight. He was afraid. He hadn’t felt this exposed in years.
But it didn’t matter.
Kaladin was worth it.
Even if it shattered him. Even if he said no. Adolin was going to tell him the truth, finally, and not just in a kiss.
He was going to say it.
I love you, Kaladin.
He practiced it under his breath as he turned toward the door, heart thundering.
He would find him.
And he would say it for real.
⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹
Adolin walked the length of the hallway with slow, deliberate steps, each one echoing with the sound of his racing thoughts.
He kept repeating the words under his breath like a prayer, “I love you, Kaladin. I love you, and I’m sorry I hurt you, and I was stupid, and I just want to be honest now. No more pretending.”
He’d said it at least a dozen different ways already. Rewritten the script in his mind a hundred times.
In some versions, Kaladin opened the door with tired eyes, guarded as always, but softened the moment he saw Adolin standing there. Adolin would step forward and take his hands, grounding them both. He’d confess everything and Kaladin’s lips would part in surprise, and then slowly, slowly curl into the kind of smile Adolin had only seen a handful of times. A real one. Small and shy. Kaladin would lean in like it was the most natural thing in the world, and when their mouths met, it would be quiet and sacred. A beginning, not a mistake.
In other versions, Kaladin wouldn’t smile at all, he’d freeze, eyes wide and stunned, blinking like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Adolin would think he’d misread everything, would start to retreat, but then Kaladin would grab his wrist and pull him in without a word, mouth crashing against his like he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. That kiss would be messy, full of all the things they’d kept inside for too long: shame, longing, fear, want. Kaladin’s fingers would twist into his coat and Adolin would fall willingly into the gravity of it, his whole body singing with the truth.
There were softer versions too. Ones where Kaladin didn’t say anything for a long time, but stepped forward and cupped Adolin’s face, “You really mean it?” Kaladin would ask, barely above a whisper. And Adolin would say “Yes, yes, Stormfather, yes.” Kaladin would touch their foreheads together and whisper, “I think I’ve loved you for a while,” and the ache in Adolin’s chest would ease, slow and sweet like sunlight through mist.
In the boldest version, Kaladin didn’t wait at all. He opened the door, saw Adolin, and said simply, “I hoped you’d come.” He’d step forward, press their mouths together in a kiss that said finally, and pull Adolin inside like he belonged there, like he always had.
There were other versions—versions that made Adolin’s breath catch and his chest feel too small for his heart. Fantasies he wasn’t ready to name. Kisses that didn’t stop. Kaladin in his arms, skin against skin, murmuring Adolin’s name breathlessly. Versions where they fell asleep tangled in each other’s arms, and for the first time in forever, neither of them had nightmares.
But no matter the shape of the fantasy, the feeling was the same: relief. Joy so big it frightened him. A rightness he’d never known how much he longed for until he imagined Kaladin reaching back.
He clung to those versions like lifelines, trying to drown out the other ones. The ones where Kaladin turned away. Where his eyes were too blank, too shuttered. Where he said, “You’re too late.”
Adolin’s throat tightened as he rounded the corner. Kaladin’s door was just ahead. It felt like it pulsed in the distance, like this whole walk had taken hours, when in truth it had been only minutes. He paused a few steps away, forcing himself to breathe.
His hand hovered over the door for a moment. Then he knocked. Three short raps.
No answer.
Adolin waited. He could hear the pounding of his own pulse more than anything else. The hallway was quiet, too quiet. No creak of the bed, no shifting footsteps inside. Nothing.
He knocked again.
Still nothing.
His heart gave a sharp twist. Maybe he’s not there, he told himself. That had to be it. Kaladin went for a walk. Or to the training grounds. Or… somewhere. He wouldn’t just sit in there ignoring the door. He wouldn’t do that. Not Kaladin. He might be angry, he might be hurt, but he wasn’t cruel.
Was he?
Adolin stepped back from the door and ran a hand through his hair, trying to quell the sick twist in his gut. Storms, what if he really was ignoring him? What if this was Kaladin’s way of closing the door, literally and metaphorically?
The memory of Kaladin’s face when he’d left Adolin’s room came rushing back, the pain in his eyes, the way he couldn’t even look at him, the tremble in his voice when he’d said, It’s better if we just forget this happened. That haunted look, like the weight of it all was crushing him from the inside out.
Adolin swallowed hard.
He had to believe Kaladin just wasn’t here. That was the only thing keeping his hope alive, however fragile it had become. Because the alternative… the thought that Kaladin might be shutting him out completely…
That would break something in him.
Adolin reached out, rested his fingers gently on the wood of the door, as if maybe Kaladin could feel it through the other side. As if the connection between them could stretch across silence and space and still somehow hold.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, forehead resting briefly against the door, “Storms, Kal… please let me make this right.”
But the door remained closed.
Adolin drew back, heart heavy, unsure if he should wait, or go, or knock again until his hand bruised.
He wasn’t even sure how long he stood there—minutes? longer?—hope ebbing slowly away.
And still, the door stayed shut.
Please don’t let it be too late, he thought again, this time without conviction.
⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹
Adolin made his way to Bridge Four’s rooms, boots heavy with guilt. He moved quickly, without thinking too hard about it, driven by desperation more than anything else. He couldn’t stand still. He couldn’t wait. If Kaladin wasn’t in his room, then he had to be here.
Because if he wasn’t he wasn’t sure what he’d do.
The moment he stepped into the room, the conversation dimmed. A few of the men straightened. Teft gave him a nod. Rock, who was seated at the small table, paused with a cup of horneater stew halfway to his mouth.
But Kaladin wasn’t there.
Adolin’s stomach dropped.
“Hey,” he said quickly, his voice hoarse, “Sorry to… interrupt. I just—”
He rubbed the back of his neck. Storms, he couldn’t even look composed anymore, “I’m looking for Kaladin. I need to talk to him. It’s… important.”
The silence that followed wasn’t angry. That somehow made it worse.
Teft glanced at the others before folding his arms and leaning back against the wall, “He’s not here.”
“Right,” Adolin nodded, lips tight. He already knew that, “Do you know where he—?”
“We’re not going to tell you,” Skar said, gently, not unkind, “Sorry, Adolin.”
Adolin stared, “What?”
Rock set down his stew and stood, “Kaladin is… hurting. He needs space. And we are his family. His brothers.”
“We love him,” Sigzil added, voice low, “And we won’t betray his trust.”
Adolin felt the words hit his chest like a slow punch. He blinked, trying not to flinch. Storms, I deserve that.
“I’m not trying to chase him down or force him into anything,” he said, quiet, “I just… I need to explain. I hurt him and I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know what I was doing and—storms, I should’ve told him the truth. I should’ve told him I care about him.”
He raked a hand through his hair, “I don’t want to lose him. As a friend or—or anything more.”
The room was still for a long moment. Then Teft let out a long sigh and crossed his arms.
“Kal’s a good man. But he doesn’t think he deserves anything good. Not really. He blames himself for every damn thing that’s ever gone wrong in his life.”
Adolin’s throat closed.
“He thinks he ruined your friendship,” Teft continued, “He’s… humiliated. Ashamed. That’s why he ran.”
Adolin closed his eyes.
I did that to him. Me.
“I didn’t want him to feel that way,” Adolin said, voice raw, “I thought I crossed a line and I panicked and… I made it worse. I didn’t think he—” He stopped himself, then swallowed hard, “I didn’t think he’d want it to be real.”
Rock’s face softened, “Maybe he did.”
“I think he did too,” Adolin whispered, “And I think I ruined it.”
He stared at the floor. His hands curled into fists at his sides, “He means everything to me. And now he probably thinks I was just… being kind. Or just wanted to help him learn. But it wasn’t that. It was never just that.”
None of the men said anything for a while.
“Do you love him?”
Adolin froze.
He looked at his friends around him. They weren’t judging him, they weren’t not mocking him. They were just… waiting. Like this answer meant something to them. Like they already knew the truth and were simply giving him the chance to say it aloud.
Adolin opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
He wanted everything. He wanted Kaladin’s silences, his grief, his scars. He wanted Kaladin’s laughter. He wanted to be the person Kaladin trusted enough to break in front of, to rebuild with, to hope again.
He wanted to be chosen by him.
And he wanted to choose him back.
Even when it was hard.
Even when it felt impossible.
Especially then.
Adolin swallowed hard, “Yes,” he said quietly, “I do.”
No one said anything.
So he went on.
“I love him. I don’t know when it happened—maybe it was the first time I saw him smile without forcing it, or the way he gets all awkward and quiet when he’s trying to be brave about something that hurts. Maybe it was when he trusted me with things no one else gets to see. Or maybe I just always have, and it took me this long to admit it.”
He rubbed at his jaw, then let his hand drop uselessly to his side.
“I thought if I just stayed close, if I stayed safe, I’d get to keep him. Even if it wasn’t real. Even if he never knew. But that was wrong. And now I’ve hurt him, and I might’ve ruined the only chance I had to be honest.”
Teft gave a small grunt, but there was something warm beneath it, “Then don’t lie anymore.”
Rock stepped forward and put a heavy hand on Adolin’s shoulder, “You are a good man, Adolin. We see that. But you must be brave now. Not just in battle. In love too.”
Adolin nodded slowly, the corners of his eyes stinging, though no tears fell.
“I’ll wait for him,” he said, “However long it takes. And if he never wants to speak to me again… then at least he’ll know. At least I told the truth.”
But as he walked back to his room, heart thudding in his chest, one terrible, aching thought looped again and again in his mind:
What if he never comes back?
What if Kaladin was too hurt to even try again?
What if I’ve already lost him?
⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹
That evening, Adolin tried not to think about Kaladin. He told himself to let it rest for the evening. Kaladin needed space, and he would respect that. There was nothing more he could do right now except wait.
So he changed into his sleeping clothes a bit earlier than usual, with slow, restless hands. He folded his coat with more care than was necessary, draped it over the arm of a chair, and tried to focus on mundane things.
And still… he couldn’t stop thinking about Kaladin.
Adolin sighed and leaned forward onto the windowsill, letting the cool breeze touch his face. He told himself to stop. He needed to sleep.
But his imagination betrayed him.
He imagined what it might be like to live his life with Kaladin. To share this space.
He pictured Kaladin standing beside him at the end of a long day. He imagined them changing for bed together. How Kaladin would tug his shirt off with that same unconscious grace he always had. Adolin would freeze every single time, no matter how many times he saw it. His breath would catch, and he’d grin like a fool.
“Do you have to stare every time?” Kaladin would grumble, face a little flushed, but there’d be no real bite to it.
And Adolin would lean in and say, “Obviously. You think I’m strong enough not to?” Maybe he’d let his voice drop low and flirty, just to see the way Kaladin’s ears went red. And maybe he’d steal a kiss in the middle of that, just a quick, greedy brush of lips that turned into a second one, and a third.
He’d laugh against Kaladin’s mouth, “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”
Adolin’s chest warmed with the thought. It wasn’t even a fantasy full of lust, it was something softer, more intimate. Something that spoke of belonging.
He walked to his mirror, pulling the brush from the drawer and dragging it through his hair. His eyes flicked to his reflection.
And suddenly, he imagined Kaladin standing behind him. Maybe brushing his teeth. Maybe leaning lazily against the doorframe. Or maybe he was watching Adolin’s reflection in the mirror, curious and a little amused.
Adolin smiled faintly at the thought.
“Come here,” Adolin would say.
Kaladin would frown, “Why?”
“Brush my hair.”
Kaladin would scoff like it was insane, “What?”
“Come on,” Adolin would say, playful, “You’ll love it. I promise.”
Kaladin would roll his eyes, but he’d step forward, grumbling about spoiled lighteyes as he took the brush from Adolin’s hand. And Adolin would close his eyes and melt into the touch of gentle fingers in his hair.
And afterward, Adolin would twist around and murmur, “Your turn,” and Kaladin would groan, “No way,” and Adolin would beg.
And in the end, Kaladin would fold. Of course he would.
The daydream made Adolin feel giddy. He wanted it so much, this imagined domesticity. It was so stupid. But it was everything.
He put the brush down with a quiet sigh, staring at his reflection. He looked tired, but also very much in love.
Storms, he was so in love.
He was a fool. A lighteyed fool who yearned like a man with no defenses left.
I’d give anything for that, he thought.
And then—
Knock knock.
He froze.
His breath caught in his throat. He stared at the door like it had just spoken to him.
One knock. Two. A pause.
He felt it in his bones.
It was him.
It was Kaladin.
Notes:
fun things are coming soon 🤭
Chapter Text
Adolin opened the door.
And then there he was.
Kaladin.
He looked like he’d been in Damnation.
His eyes were red and teary. His expression was strangely blank, as if he were trying very hard to hide all his emotions.
All Adolin wanted to do was reach for him and pull him into his arms. Bury his hands in that beautiful, unruly hair and whisper every word he should’ve said earlier. Tell him he was worthy. That he was loved. That Adolin had never wanted anything more than to be with him.
But he couldn’t tell him that. Not yet, at least.
He stepped back and gestured for Kaladin to come in, and Kaladin moved like a man walking into battle. Adolin could tell he was bracing for pain and heartbreak. He was preparing himself to be rejected.
Adolin opened his mouth to speak—to apologize, to explain, anything—but Kaladin spoke first.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Kaladin said, voice too flat, like he wasn’t even present in his own body, “About… about not having kissed anyone before. That was my mistake.”
Adolin blinked, confused, “Kaladin—”
“I shouldn’t have told you. Or accepted your offer. I put you in a position where you felt like you had to… help me. And that’s not fair,” Kaladin was staring at the floor, arms crossed tightly over his chest like he was holding himself together by force, “I’m sorry. I never should’ve let it happen.”
Adolin took a step forward, unsure, “Kal—”
Kaladin kept going, voice tightening, “It ruined everything. And I get it if you don’t want to be friends anymore. I made things weird. I crossed a line. I…” Kaladin exhaled, his eyes finally lifting to meet Adolin’s, “I made that… sound. And it was so disgusting. I get it if you’re repulsed by me. I certainly would be if I were you.”
Adolin couldn’t fathom what Kaladin had just said.
Disgusting?
Kaladin was talking about that little broken sound he’d made when Adolin bit his lip.
That sound had ruined Adolin in the best way. It had made his head spin and his knees go weak. It had made Adolin want to have his way with Kaladin right then and there.
And Kaladin thought it was disgusting?
Stormfather.
How could Kaladin believe that? How could he possibly think that what happened was his fault? That Adolin had only done it out of pity or pressure? That he’d been anything other than completely overwhelmed and in love?
Adolin swallowed hard, watching Kaladin shrink in on himself like he was trying to disappear.
This wasn’t Kaladin Stormblessed, the fearsome bridgeleader, the fearless warrior who’d faced Shardbearers and highstorms.
This was Kaladin the man.
The one who’d never been told he was wanted. The one who’d been used and abandoned and broken too many times. The one who thought he didn’t deserve anything good.
And Adolin had made it worse.
I did this. I let him walk away thinking he was a mistake.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He wanted to scream, to hit something, to rewind time and do it all differently. To say the words right, pull Kaladin back, and tell him that his moan had been the most perfect sound Adolin had ever heard in his life.
Instead, he stared at him. At his beautiful, broken, self-loathing friend—though, hopefully lover soon—and felt his heart shatter all over again.
Kaladin still thought he wasn’t enough.
And Adolin couldn’t let that stand. Not for another heartbeat.
Adolin forced himself to breathe, to stay still, to meet Kaladin’s eyes with every ounce of gentleness he could summon.
“Please,” he said softly, “Don’t ever say anything like that again. None of it. Not the part about ruining things. Not the part about making me uncomfortable. And definitely not the part about being disgusting.”
His voice was quiet but firm, almost pleading. It trembled slightly. He didn’t care.
Kaladin shook his head, turning away like he couldn’t bear to be looked at, “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better, Adolin. I get it. You don’t owe me—”
“No,” Adolin cut him off, louder now. He took another step forward, “No, Kaladin. Storms, just—listen to me for once.”
Kaladin looked nervous but stayed silent.
Adolin’s breath came short. He wasn’t ready for this. But if he didn’t speak now, he’d lose Kaladin again. And he couldn’t live with that.
“I said I wanted to help you,” he began, slowly, the words sticking in his throat, “And… I did. I still do. I hate the way you talk about yourself, like you’re broken, like you’re too much or not enough. I wanted you to feel cared for. But that wasn’t all of it.”
He swallowed hard. His hands flexed nervously at his sides, “The truth is, I wasn’t being honest. Not completely. I said I was offering to help because I wanted you to learn and I didn’t want you to feel left behind. But the truth is…”
He met Kaladin’s eyes and he couldn’t hold back anymore, “I’m in love with you.”
Kaladin’s brow furrowed. His lips parted slightly. He looked stunned, like Adolin had just spoken in another language.
Adolin blushed hard, his voice higher as he rushed to explain, “I know it wasn’t right of me to frame it that way. I didn’t mean to manipulate you. I just… I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance otherwise. And I wanted to kiss you so badly, that when you said yes, I—”
He dragged a hand through his hair, miserable, “Storms, I was a fool. I shouldn’t have done it like that. I should’ve just told you the truth. But I didn’t think you’d feel the same. I didn’t think someone like you could ever feel that way about someone like me.”
Kaladin was frowning now, but not angrily, just… confused.
“Wait,” he said, voice soft and cautious, “You’re saying you’re in with love me?”
Adolin nodded slowly, “Yes.”
Kaladin’s frown deepened, “Like… really love me? Not in that ‘you’re my best friend’ way?”
Adolin stared at him for a moment, and then let out a quiet, breathless laugh, “Storms, Kal. You’re so… so adorably silly sometimes.”
He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but it slipped out anyway. Because how could Kaladin possibly think this was something Adolin said as a friend?
This man had invaded his every waking thought. He lived in Adolin’s mind the way nothing else did, not even fashion, or Maya, or even his horse. He wasn’t some passing affection. He was everything.
Adolin’s voice dropped low, gentle again, “No, Kal. This isn’t a joke. This isn’t a friendly gesture or some dumb princely charm, I’m telling you this because it’s the most honest thing I’ve ever said. I love you. And not a single part of what happened between us was wrong.”
He watched as Kaladin blinked rapidly, lips parting in shock, as if the words just couldn’t compute.
And Adolin thought, Stormfather. I really broke his heart, didn’t I?
But maybe he could still put it back together.
⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹ ⊹˙⋆ ⛧ ⋆˙⊹
Kaladin couldn’t breathe.
Or maybe he was breathing too much. His chest rose and fell with every heartbeat. He just stood there, frozen, staring at Adolin like he was something out of this world. Like he was something out of his dreams.
Adolin loves me.
He blinked, and the words echoed again, disbelievingly, inside his mind.
Adolin loves me.
He said it again and again, as if repetition would make it more real. As if saying it inside himself could help him understand how any of this was happening. How the man he’d wanted so quietly, so painfully, was now standing in front of him saying the one thing Kaladin had never dared to hope for.
Adolin loves me.
Adolin loves me.
Adolin loves me.
It made him want to cry again.
His throat was thick with it. It was too much after everything that had already happened, after the devastation of thinking he’d ruined everything forever.
He remembered how he’d walked to this room like he was walking to an execution. How he’d made himself numb just to survive this conversation. How he’d rehearsed his apologies with a flat voice and an empty heart because the only thing worse than losing Adolin’s friendship was dragging it out with false hope.
But he’d been wrong.
Adolin loved him. Not in the way friends sometimes say it—though Kaladin knew Bridge Four’s love was different from most friendships. And he loved them too.
But no, this was something else entirely. This was romantic love.
“I…” He looked down for a moment, then up again, eyes shining, “I love you too.”
His voice was soft but sure, “I’m so in love with you I can barely function some days. I thought—” He choked on the memory, “I thought you hated me. That I’d ruined everything and made you uncomfortable. That you’d only ever seen me as a friend.”
It hurt to say.
Adolin took another step forward, like he was afraid Kaladin might vanish if he moved too fast. His hand lifted gently and settled against Kaladin’s cheek, his thumb brushing softly under his eye.
Kaladin leaned into it without thinking. The warmth of that touch melted something frozen inside him.
Adolin smiled, eyes warm, voice hushed with reverence, “I love you so much, Kaladin. So, so much. More than anything.”
And that was it.
That was the moment Kaladin’s knees nearly gave out. He didn’t collapse, but it felt like he could’ve. Like all the hurt and loneliness and self-loathing he’d carried was finally too heavy to hold after hearing something so good and undeserved.
He didn’t understand it.
But he wanted it more than anything.
He bit down on the emotion threatening to overwhelm him, but the tears still gathered in his eyes, blurring Adolin’s face like mist over sunlight.
And Adolin, the storming beautiful idiot, just smiled that devastating smile of his, the one Kaladin had always hated for how charming it was, and now loved for the exact same reason.
Then, Adolin leaned a little closer and, in the softest, most unfairly seductive voice, said, “And Kal… I loved hearing that moan you made. Storms, it was beautiful. I hope I get to hear more of it.”
Kaladin’s jaw dropped. A rush of heat exploded across his cheeks. He could feel it and knew Adolin could see it too, because he laughed, delighted and entirely too pleased with himself.
Kaladin looked away, mortified.
“I hate you,” he mumbled, trying to hide behind his hands.
“No, no, no. You love me. You said so yourself approximately… 10 seconds ago?” Adolin corrected cheekily.
Kaladin groaned into his palms. He couldn’t even deny it.
Adolin’s fingers move to Kaladin’s jaw and tilted his face gently upward, making Kaladin look back at him. The touch alone nearly undid him. And Kaladin let it happen. He’d let Adolin do anything, if it meant he’d keep looking at him like that.
Adolin’s voice was low, coaxing, “You’re so beautiful, Kal.”
Kaladin just stared at him, not knowing what to say.
And then ,because Adolin was Adolin, he smiled, just a little too knowingly, and added, “So… how about it? Think you’d be willing to show me just how well I taught you to kiss?”
Kaladin’s mouth dropped open slightly, “Storms.”
He was never going to get used to this. To Adolin speaking to him like that. Like Kaladin wasn’t some broken thing, but someone Adolin Kholin wanted to flirt with. To touch. To kiss. To be with.
He tried to smother the heat in his cheeks, but it was too late. His entire face felt like it was glowing.
Still, somehow, he found the nerve to lift his chin just a little and narrow his eyes in mock challenge.
“You sure you’re ready to see just how good of a kisser I’ve become?” Kaladin asked, surprised at the steadiness of his voice.
Adolin’s eyebrows rose, lips parting into a wickedly handsome grin. He leaned in slowly, his presence overwhelming every one of Kaladin’s senses. His voice dropped to a whisper, all mischief and promise.
“I’ll always be ready,” Adolin said, “Because I’m the one who taught you. And you…” He brought his lips so close they were almost brushing, “You’re never going to kiss anyone else, Kaladin. You’re mine.”
That last word shattered something inside Kaladin in the best way.
He didn’t wait any longer.
Kaladin surged forward, closing the tiny distance between them, and kissed Adolin.
It was nothing like their first kiss. It wasn’t clumsy or timid. Kaladin kissed him like he meant it, because he did. Every moment with Adolin had been a lesson, but not just in the act itself. In the feeling. In the tenderness of wanting. In the soft, messy vulnerability of desire.
He poured all of that into the kiss now.
He tilted his head just right, letting their lips fit together in perfect sync, parting slightly to deepen it. He remembered how Adolin had liked it when he did that. How his hand had tightened the first time Kaladin opened his mouth for him. So Kaladin did it again, giving him more.
His heart pounded in his ears, but he didn’t flinch away. Not this time.
He felt Adolin’s hand settle in his hair again, gently tugging, just enough to make Kaladin gasp. He felt Adolin’s lips curve into a smile against his own, like he was enjoying every moment of this.
He likes it. He really likes it. He likes my kiss.
He wanted to laugh. To cry. To do both at once.
It felt like his soul was cracking open with each brush of Adolin’s lips. This was home, right here in Adolin’s arms, and he never wanted to leave.
Then, Adolin bit his lip.
It was just the slightest pressure, a nip, really, but it sent lightning straight through Kaladin’s spine. He gasped, startled by how strong the sensation was, how quickly it ripped sound from his throat.
A moan escaped him, low and needy, before he could even think to suppress it.
He tensed instinctively, remembering the last time. But Adolin didn’t pull back this time. He didn’t freeze or look horrified. He just made a pleased sound of his own, almost a growl, and wrapped his arms tighter around Kaladin’s waist, drawing him closer until there was no space between them.
“That sound…” Adolin murmured, lips brushing against Kaladin’s jaw as he spoke. His voice was rough and hoarse with want, “Storms, Kal… I could listen to you make sounds like that all day.”
Kaladin’s heart stumbled.
Adolin trailed hot kisses along Kaladin’s cheek and down his throat, lingering there. His breath was warm against Kaladin’s skin, and it made him shiver.
“You make me crazy,” Adolin whispered, lips brushing along the tendon in Kaladin’s neck, “You make me so hard, I can barely think.”
Kaladin felt like he was melting.
He never thought he’d experience this. Not without shame, not without someone flinching away or treating him like a curiosity. But this… Adolin was touching him like he was something his.
And Kaladin? He wanted to give himself over completely. He’d never trusted anyone like this. He never wanted to stop feeling this way.
He let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as Adolin kissed his way across the sensitive skin beneath his ear.
“Can I…” Adolin’s voice broke slightly with restraint. He pulled back just enough to speak clearly, “Can I leave marks on your neck?”
Kaladin opened his eyes, blinking in a daze, “What?”
Adolin leaned in, his lips brushing Kaladin’s again, not kissing him, just hovering, “Please, Kal. Let me. Let me show everyone you’re mine.”
Kaladin’s breath caught. He couldn’t even think.
Adolin’s voice turned softer, more desperate, almost a plea, “And don’t use your Stormlight to heal them. Let them stay. Let everyone see how much I want you. How much I love you.”
Storms.
Kaladin had to close his eyes again because he thought he might actually explode from the way that made him feel.
He wants to mark me.
He wants people to know.
He’s not ashamed. He’s proud of me.
No one had ever been proud of him in this way. No one had ever wanted to show him off. He was the scarred soldier, the broken Windrunner, the failed surgeon’s son.
And now Adolin Kholin was begging to leave visible proof of his desire on Kaladin’s skin.
Kaladin could barely breathe past the rush in his chest. He felt dizzy with it.
He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice, “Yes,” he whispered, and then louder, “Yes, Adolin. You can.”
“I won’t heal them,” he promised, his voice trembling, “I’ll let everyone see.”
And he meant it.
Adolin’s smile could’ve lit the entire tower. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he leaned in and pressed a quick, grateful kiss to Kaladin’s lips.
“Thank you,” Adolin whispered, so sincerely, like Kaladin had given him something priceless. And maybe he had.
Adolin didn’t return to his neck just yet. Instead, he drew back slightly, enough to look Kaladin over with a lopsided, mischievous grin, “You know,” he said, voice low, teasing, “I think we need to get a bit more comfortable. Don’t you think so?”
Kaladin felt his heart stutter, his breath catching in his throat. He knew exactly what Adolin meant.
And yet… he didn’t panic.
He should’ve. In the past, the very idea of physical closeness, of being so seen might’ve made him flinch. But now? Now it just made him feel electric.
He nodded slowly, a flush creeping up his neck, and Adolin’s expression lit up even more.
Without a word, Adolin stepped closer and gently took hold of the front of Kaladin’s uniform. His fingers curled into the fabric with intent.
Kaladin’s breath hitched as Adolin guided him backwards, step by step, until his back met the wall just beside the edge of Adolin’s bed. His pulse thundered in his ears, and he was aware of how Adolin’s body was nearly pressed against his and the intoxicating scent of him.
Kaladin’s eyes flicked to the bed before he could stop himself.
Adolin caught it, of course.
“Oh,” he said with a smirk that made Kaladin’s knees go weak, “Already thinking about all the things we could do in bed?” He leaned in close, brushing their noses together, “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Kal. That’s not what this moment’s for.”
“Yet,” he added with a wink, and Kaladin felt like he might whimper at that alone.
Storms, he was so gone for this man.
Kaladin huffed a flustered breath, turning his face slightly away out of habit, but Adolin was faster. He caught Kaladin’s chin and tilted it gently, making him meet his gaze again.
Then, finally, he ducked his head and resumed kissing down Kaladin’s neck.
Kaladin shivered as warm lips brushed just below his ear, then lower. Each kiss was soft at first, slow and deliberate, like Adolin was memorizing every inch of him. But then came the bites. Small, sharp nips that made Kaladin gasp and arch into him.
He hadn’t known he could like that.
But he did.
Storms, he really did.
Adolin’s teeth grazed the curve of his throat before pulling gently at the skin there, and Kaladin’s fingers clutched helplessly at Adolin’s shoulders.
He could still hear Adolin’s voice: Let me show everyone you’re mine.
He tilted his head further, giving Adolin more access without even thinking. He let out another soft moan as Adolin bit down again, this one a little harder, and Kaladin knew without a doubt that this one would bruise.
“You sound so beautiful,” Adolin murmured against his skin, “My Kaladin.”
Kaladin whimpered at that.
He hadn’t even meant to. The sound just slipped out, raw and needy and entirely without dignity. It mortified him.
But Adolin groaned softly in response like Kaladin had just given him the greatest gift in the world.
“I swear,” Adolin muttered between kisses, “If you keep making sounds like that, those little gasps, Kal, I’m going to lose every last bit of self-control I’ve ever had.”
Kaladin felt his heart lurch violently in his chest. Then he felt Adolin’s fingers at the front of his coat. He gently shrugged the Captain’s coat from his shoulders with maddening care, letting it fall, forgotten. Kaladin’s shirt was next.
Button by button.
Adolin kept murmuring to him through it all, every word like honey.
“You drive me mad,” he whispered, brushing a kiss just below Kaladin’s jaw, “You don’t even know what you do to me. The things I want to do to you…. storms. All I can think about is shoving you hard against this wall, and fucking you until you scream.”
Oh.
Kaladin’s head tipped back. His fingers dug into Adolin’s arms. His whole body was tense with want.
He was coming apart under Adolin’s hands. All Adolin had to do was talk and Kaladin’s knees felt like they might buckle. And the worst part? He craved more. He ached for it: every bruising kiss, every filthy promise, every possessive touch.
“Adolin,” he gasped, voice breaking, “Please…”
Adolin pulled back just enough to lock eyes with him. A wicked, knowing smile curved his lips as his hands stilled, teasingly holding the final buttons closed. Kaladin's hips jerked forward involuntarily, seeking friction, but Adolin held him firmly in place.
“No,” Adolin murmured, his voice thick with playful mock-sternness, his thumb brushing roughly over a peaked nipple through the open shirt.
Kaladin jolted, a sharp gasp tearing from him.
What?
Adolin chuckled darkly, pressing another lingering kiss to the corner of Kaladin's kiss-swollen mouth, “Look at you all worked up and trembling. And so eager. But you're not ready yet, Kal.”
Kaladin’s mouth opened, confusion warring with helpless arousal, “I—what?”
Adolin leaned in again, his lips brushing the shell of Kaladin’s ear. His voice dropped lower, rougher, impossibly intimate.
“You thought our lessons were over just because I taught you how to kiss?” he whispered, and then—Stormfather—his tongue traced a slow line along the edge of Kaladin’s ear, “Oh, no, Kal. That was only the beginning.”
A desperate, strangled sound tore from Kaladin’s throat. Not a moan, but a raw gasp of disbelief and sheer need. He couldn’t control it.
“I’m going to teach you how to have sex. How to fuck,” Adolin breathed, the words thick with heat.
Kaladin died right there, on the spot.
He was no longer living.
He was dead.
Yes, he was. Wasn’t he?
Because in what world had he heard Adolin correctly?
Adolin wanted to teach him… that.
With him.
Sex with Adolin.
He was… he was going to… have sex… with Adolin Kholin.
Adolin, totally unbothered by Kaladin’s death, reached to undo the last button of Kaladin's shirt.
He spread the fabric wide, thumbs brushing deliberately over the bare skin of Kaladin's abdomen, just above the waistband of his trousers. Kaladin flinched violently at the contact, a jolt of pure sensation that went straight to his cock.
His very obviously hard cock.
“Do you understand?” Adolin asked. His voice was low now and utterly serious.
“I'll be your teacher for everything. How to touch me. Where to touch me,” His hand slid lower, fingertips brushing the coarse hair under Kaladin’s waistband, making him gasp, “How to use your mouth,” He paused. Kaladin felt the weight of it like a physical pressure, stealing his breath. Adolin's eyes held his, unflinching, “How to take me inside you.”
Kaladin, who was still sure he’d died and this was somehow the afterlife, managed a jerky, frantic nod.
“Good,” Adolin murmured. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against Kaladin’s. His hands slid around to grip Kaladin's bare back, pulling him flush against the hard length of Adolin's own arousal.
“And you don't have to worry about anyone else. Ever,” Adolin's voice dropped to a guttural, possessive growl that vibrated through Kaladin's bones, “I'm the only one who will ever get to see you like this. The only one who will ever get to touch you like this. The only one who will ever be inside you. Won’t I?”
The words hit Kaladin hard.
Only Adolin.
The concept was terrifying, yet absolutely right.
He let out a shaky breath, almost a sob, “Yes,” Kaladin choked out. It was the only word he could find.
Adolin just smiled and kissed him.
After a moment, he pulled back just enough, his lips still brushing Kaladin’s, “Okay, my beautiful student,” he said, the word rough with heat, “Let’s begin.”
Kaladin was so gone for him.
And he didn’t care if it made him foolish or naive or too easily undone.
He wanted Adolin.
And he was, by some miracle, going to have him.
So he’d be Adolin’s student. And he’d enjoy every moment of it.
Notes:
hehehe…
and don’t worry my beautiful friends because the smut will be 4 chapters long (5 if you count this one). so i hope you’re excited!! 🥳🤭❤️
Chapter 7: SEVEN
Notes:
professor Adolin era unlocked 😜
Chapter Text
Adolin’s fingers moved trailed down Kaladin’s bare chest, before finally pushing Kaladin’s shirt off his shoulders.
Kaladin shivered under his touch, every nerve on fire with the sensation of being seen—being touched—like this for the first time.
Adolin smiled, clearly admiring what he saw, “You’re beautiful,” he said, and he said it like it was fact, not something up for debate. Like it was a truth that existed independent outside of Kaladin’s own self-doubt.
And then, with one smooth motion, Adolin tugged his own sleep shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
Kaladin stared.
Storms.
He could barely think. Could barely move. Adolin was so close, so beautiful, and looking at Kaladin like he was the one worth worshiping.
Kaladin wanted to do something, say something, anything. But his tongue felt thick in his mouth. His body buzzed with a tension he didn’t know how to name.
Adolin leaned in again, his lips brushing Kaladin’s ear.
“Lesson one,” he whispered, his voice dropping lower, rougher, “Take my pants off.”
Kaladin’s breath caught.
He could feel Adolin’s smirk against his skin. The prince wasn’t teasing out of mockery, he was loving this, loving him. Kaladin could feel the affection in every word, every inch of space between their bodies. He wasn’t being used. He was being wanted and loved by Adolin Kholin.
Storms, he was going to finish in his smallclothes before they’d even begun their lessons.
Kaladin’s hands trembled as they hovered just short of Adolin’s waistband.
“Go on,” Adolin prompted softly, a hint of that playful challenge back in his tone, “You can do it.”
He fumbled for the tie. The knot was simple, but his fingers felt clumsy. He tugged at a loose end, but it only tightened. A frustrated noise escaped his throat, part groan, part whimper.
Adolin chuckled, a low, warm sound, “Easy,” he murmured, “Slow down. You're thinking too hard,” He reached down, his own hand covering Kaladin's trembling fingers where they wrestled with the knot. He guided Kaladin's fingers to the correct loop, “Here. Pull this one.”
Kaladin focused on the point of contact, on the warmth of Adolin's hand over his. He followed the guidance, pulling the loop. The knot loosened. Relief washed over him, quickly followed by another wave of heat as the waistband slackened.
“Good,” Adolin breathed, his lips brushing Kaladin's temple. He didn't move his hand away, “Now, just push them down.”
Kaladin slid his hands, still partially covered by Adolin's, beneath the loosened waistband. His palms met the warm skin of Adolin's hips. He gasped at the contact, his fingers curling instinctively against the smooth plane just above the sharp bone.
He pushed down.
The soft fabric slid easily over Adolin's hips. Kaladin kept pushing the material down Adolin’s strong thighs.
He dropped to one knee almost without thought, needing to follow the trousers down. The fabric pooled around Adolin's ankles.
Kaladin stayed there, kneeling.
He stared at the exposed skin before him: the powerful legs, the defined muscles, the blonde and black trail of hair leading upwards from Adolin’s cock, disappearing under the hem of his smallclothes.
His heart hammered against his chest so hard he felt lightheaded. The reality of Adolin, mostly undressed because he had done it, was overwhelming.
Adolin stepped gracefully out of the pants pooled at his feet. He looked down at Kaladin, his expression unreadable for a moment, then softening into pure affection. He reached out, tangling his fingers in Kaladin's dark hair, tilting his head back.
“Look at you,” Adolin murmured, his thumb stroking Kaladin's cheekbone, “Kneeling for me already,” He smiled, a slow, possessive curve of his lips, “Perfect.”
Kaladin couldn't speak. He leaned into the touch, his eyes locked on Adolin's face.
He was Adolin's student. Adolin was his only and only teacher. The thought sent another jolt of heat through him.
Adolin's gaze traveled down Kaladin's kneeling form, “My turn,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper filled with intent, “Stand up.”
Kaladin pushed himself up on shaky legs, his body thrumming. Adolin's hands were immediately on him, sliding possessively over his bare chest.
They weren't gentle now. His thumbs found Kaladin's nipples, rubbing slow, firm circles over the sensitive buds.
Kaladin gasped, a sharp intake of breath that turned into a choked groan. His head fell back slightly, eyes squeezing shut against the sudden, shocking intensity of the sensation. It was too much.
Adolin watched him unravel, a satisfied curve to his lips. He kept up the tormenting circles for another long moment, letting Kaladin feel it fully, letting him squirm.
Then, without warning, his hands slid down Kaladin's sides, and grasped Kaladin's own wrists firmly. He pulled Kaladin's hands down, placing them flat against the fabric of his own trousers, right over the waistband.
Kaladin's eyes snapped open, wide and confused. He stared at his own hands resting there, then up at Adolin.
Adolin chuckled, low and dark. He leaned in close, his breath hot against Kaladin's ear, “Oh, Kaladin. Did you think I was going to take these off for you?” He clicked his tongue mockingly, “No. Very wrong. So very wrong.”
He kept one hand wrapped firmly around Kaladin's wrists, pinning them, while the other tangled back into Kaladin's hair, gripping it tight enough to pull his head back slightly, forcing Kaladin to meet his intense gaze.
“You're my student. Remember? Students do. They learn by doing. Under supervision,”His voice dropped, becoming huskier, “If you thought I was just going to take you to bed and fuck you... you don't know me well enough yet, bridgeboy. Not nearly well enough.”
Storms, take me, Kaladin thought, overwhelmed.
He whimpered, the sound escaping him involuntarily. He could feel himself hardening to the point of pain against the confines of his trousers.
Adolin's grip in his hair tightened, a reminder of his control.
“You're going to learn,” Adolin continued, his voice a rough caress, “Learn everything I show you. Learn how to use your hands, your mouth, your body. Learn how to fuck.”
He paused, letting the crude word hang heavy in the charged air between them, “And only then... only when I'm satisfied you've learned your lessons well... only then will I have my way with you.”
He pulled Kaladin's head back a fraction more, forcing eye contact, “But understand this: I don't sleep with lazy students. I don't reward incompetence. I only fuck those who know exactly what they're doing. Who know how to fuck.”
A low, desperate moan tore from Kaladin's throat. The image Adolin painted—learning everything, then finally being taken by him—mixed with the stark threat of denial, sent another wave of intense heat crashing through him.
Adolin's thumb stroked his cheekbone, a jarring contrast to the tight grip in his hair, “Do you understand the rules, Kaladin?” His voice was deceptively calm now, deadly serious.
Kaladin's breath hitched. He managed a frantic nod, “Yes. Yes, I understand.”
Adolin's eyebrow arched sharply. He didn't move, didn't loosen his grip. He just waited, his gaze piercing, expectant.
The silence stretched.
Kaladin felt a fresh wave of heat flood his face.
Sir.
The realization hit him like a Shardblade to the chest. Adolin was taking this teaching role seriously.
Kaladin whimpered again, the sound pathetic even to his own ears, “Y—yes...” he stammered, forcing the unfamiliar word past his lips, “...sir.”
A slow, predatory smile spread across Adolin's face. He released Kaladin's wrists, though his hand remained fisted in his hair. The other hand went to trace the line of Kaladin's jaw with a possessive fingertip, “Good,” he murmured.
“Very good, student. Now,” His gaze dropped pointedly to where Kaladin's hands still rested on his own waistband, “Show me you're paying attention. Show me you want to learn.”
Kaladin's fingers trembled as they found the laces of his trousers. His movements were jerky and rushed. He kept glancing up at Adolin's face, searching for approval, for a sign that he was doing this right.
Adolin just watched him.
Kaladin finally shoved the trousers down over his hips. They pooled around his ankles. He stepped out, kicking the fabric aside.
Now he stood only in his thin, damp smallclothes.
The cool air hit his skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Adolin's stare. He could feel that gaze like a physical touch, lingering on the undeniable bulge straining the fabric, on the small, dark patch of wetness already visible at the front. He wanted to cover himself.
Adolin hummed, a low sound of pure appreciation that vibrated in the charged space between them.
“Stormfather, Kaladin,” he breathed, his voice thick, “Look at you. You are... stunning. The most beautiful man l've ever had the privilege of seeing.”
He took a small step closer, his eyes never leaving Kaladin's body, “The most beautiful man l'll ever touch. I’ll ever taste. It's an honor. Truly,” His voice dropped, “Just to look at you like this.”
Kaladin flushed violently, the heat rushing from his chest up his neck. He dropped his gaze, staring at the floorboards near Adolin’s toes. His heart hammered against his chest. The intensity of the praise, the raw desire in Adolin's voice, was overwhelming.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry, “Y—you too,” he mumbled.
Adolin tilted his head slightly. A slow, knowing smile touched his lips, “What was that, beautiful?” he asked, “I didn't quite hear you. Say it louder.”
Kaladin squeezed his eyes shut for a second, utterly humiliated, then forced them open, lifting his gaze to meet Adolin's.
“I said...” He practically whispered, his voice catching, “You too. You're...” He took a shaky breath, pushing the words out, “You're the most beautiful man l've ever seen. And...” He paused, weighing out the importance of the words, “The only man l've ever... wanted like this… sir.”
Adolin's smile softened into something warmer.
He closed the final distance. His hand came up, fingers gently cupping Kaladin's jaw, his thumb brushing the burning skin of his cheek.
“Thank you, Kal,” he murmured, his eyes staring into Kaladin's, “That's... lovely to hear.”
Then, his hand slid down, resting lightly on Kaladin's bare shoulder. His thumb traced a slow circle on the skin there.
“Now,” Adolin said, his voice dropping back into that low, teaching tone, “It's time. Remove your smallclothes. Let me see you—all of you. Completely bare for me.”
Kaladin's breath hitched. His stomach clenched tight. He looked down at himself, at the thin strip of fabric still hiding his cock. His arousal was painfully obvious beneath it, the wet patch even larger now. He swallowed again, his mouth suddenly dry as dust.
Slowly, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his smallclothes.
Adolin waited patiently.
Kaladin finally pushed the smallclothes down. He let out a small, involuntary whimper of half-pain, half-pleasure as his hard length caught briefly onto the material, before sliding down completely.
He stepped out of them, kicking them aside.
He was completely naked now.
He kept his gaze fixed on a point just over Adolin's shoulder, unable to look him in the eye or down at himself.
He felt Adolin's eyes roam over him, taking in every detail: his lean muscle, the flush on his skin, the hard line of his cock, the slight tremor in his hands.
Adolin let out a slow, controlled breath. Pure appreciation and desire burned in his expression, “Kaladin,” he breathed, “Look at you. You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.” He took in the sight for another long moment. A low, pleased hum rumbled in his chest again.
“You're already,” he started, his voice rough with certainty and possessiveness, “My favorite student.”
Kaladin felt the heat explode across his face, a fierce blush burning his cheeks, his ears, down his neck.
Stormfather.
He was already trembling, his control fraying completely, and Adolin hadn’t even touched him properly yet. How was he supposed to survive the actual lessons? The thought alone sent another wave of heat crashing through him, leaving him lightheaded.
Adolin watched the blush spread, his gaze sharp, appreciative, “Before we begin,” he said, his voice still that low, intimate rumble that vibrated straight into Kaladin’s bones, “I need to ask you some things. To… assess where we start,” He lifted his eyebrows expectantly, “You will answer me truthfully. Understand?”
Kaladin swallowed hard. He managed a jerky nod, “Yes, sir,” he rasped.
“Good,” Adolin leaned in, his breath warm on Kaladin’s burning skin.
“First question. Kaladin… have you ever touched yourself?” He paused, letting the bluntness of the question land, “Have you ever done it… thinking of me?”
Kaladin’s eyes widened. The blush deepened, scorching him. His gaze darted away, unable to hold Adolin’s intense, knowing look. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second.
“I—” His voice cracked.
“Look at me,” Adolin commanded softly. Kaladin’s eyes snapped back to his, helpless. “Have you?”
Kaladin felt like he was breaking apart. He gave the tiniest, almost imperceptible nod, “Yes,” he breathed, the word barely audible, thick with shame and need.
Adolin’s expression darkened, “And when you did… did you fantasize about us? Together?” His voice dropped even lower, husky, “About me touching you? Me inside you?”
Kaladin flinched. Oh, storms.
The heat wasn't just on his face now, it felt like his whole body was on fire. He wanted to disappear. He stared at Adolin, unable to speak.
“Kaladin,” Adolin repeated, his thumb stroking a tiny, maddening circle on Kaladin’s skin, “Tell me the truth. Now.”
“Yes!” The word burst out of Kaladin desperately, “Yes. I fantasized about us… like that.”
Adolin’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile, “Good. That’s… very good, Kal.”
He leaned closer, his nose almost brushing Kaladin’s, “And don’t be embarrassed. It’s natural. Expected, even,” His voice took on a subtle edge, “If you were thinking of me."
The hand not resting on Kaladin’s skin came up to cup his jaw, forcing him to hold Adolin’s gaze, “Only me. Because if I ever found out you touched yourself thinking of someone else…”
Adolin’s thumb traced Kaladin’s lower lip, his eyes darkening, “There would be punishment. Severe punishment. Do you understand that?”
Kaladin’s breath hitched. Fear and something hotter twisted together in his gut. The possessiveness in Adolin’s voice, the promise of consequences… it terrified him in the best way.
“No!” he gasped, shaking his head frantically against Adolin’s hand, “No, Adolin—sir, never. Only you. I swear it,” The words tumbled out, frantic, “I promise.”
Adolin’s smile widened, genuine pleasure lighting his eyes.
“Perfect,” he murmured, the word warm and approving. He stroked Kaladin’s cheek, “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
He shifted, his body pressing Kaladin more firmly against the wall, “Now,” he said, his voice dropping back to that devastating whisper, “Show me.”
Kaladin froze, “What?”
“Show me how you did it,” Adolin breathed, his gaze dropping pointedly lower, then back up to meet Kaladin’s horrified eyes, “When you touched yourself thinking of me. Show me how you touched yourself.”
His eyes held Kaladin’s, “And tell me—tell me exactly what you imagined. What you pictured us doing. Every detail you remember."
Kaladin couldn’t breathe.
Show him? Tell him? Here? Now? With Adolin watching?
The embarrassment was a crushing weight. He felt dizzy. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
“You’re my student, Kaladin,” Adolin reminded him, his voice commanding, “So show me. Tell me. Now,” His hand on Kaladin’s jaw tightened just slightly.
Trembling violently, Kaladin closed his eyes for a second, gathering the shattered pieces of his courage.
Slowly, his hand moved. He couldn’t look at Adolin. He focused on the feel of Adolin’s hand on his face, the heat radiating from the body pressed against him.
He finally grabbed his erection.
He gasped at the contact. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, humiliated.
“Look at me,” Adolin ordered.
Kaladin forced his eyes open, meeting that intense blue gaze. The blush felt permanent.
He started to move his hand, a slow, tentative stroke. It felt impossibly intimate and unbearably exposed.
“Tell me,” Adolin murmured, his own breath seeming a little quicker now, his eyes fixed on Kaladin’s hand, then back to his face, “What did you imagine first?”
Kaladin’s voice was a broken whisper, “Your—your hands on me… like—like this,” He faltered, “Touching me here,” He moved his own hand again, a jerky motion.
“Where else?” Adolin prompted, his voice thick. His thumb brushed Kaladin’s lip again.
“Your mouth,” Kaladin choked out. The image flashed in his mind: Adolin kneeling, looking up at him with those eyes, “On—on my neck, my chest, then lower,” He shuddered, his hand moving a fraction faster, driven by the memory, “You taking me into your mouth, licking me, kissing me—storms—like you owned me.”
Adolin made a low sound, almost a growl, deep in his chest.
“And what else, Kal? What did you imagine me doing? What did you want me to do?"
Kaladin’s breath came in ragged gasps. He was losing himself, the combination of his own touch, the vivid memories, and Adolin’s relentless attention pushing him towards the edge.
“You… inside me,” he gasped, the words ripped out of him, “I—I pictured it. You… pushing into me, stretching me, filling me. You… you were so big.”
He moaned, low and desperate, his hips jerking slightly into his own hand, “It—it hurt a little in the fantasy. But then it felt… it felt so good. Just you, moving inside me, claiming me, taking what you wanted,” He was panting now, barely coherent, “Only you. Always only you.”
Adolin’s eyes were blazing with heat and possessiveness. He leaned in, his lips brushing Kaladin’s ear as Kaladin trembled on the brink.
“Good boy,” he breathed, the praise sending a fresh jolt through Kaladin, “That’s exactly how it will be, beautiful.”
Chapter 8: EIGHT
Chapter Text
Kaladin trembled violently on the edge, Adolin's praise and the vivid image of being claimed echoing in his mind. His hand moved faster, desperate for release.
Then, Adolin's hand was suddenly there. Not stopping him, but covering Kaladin's own hand on his cock.
Adolin's fingers pressed down, adding firm, undeniable pressure to Kaladin's frantic strokes.
The shock of contact, the sheer intensity of Adolin touching him there, even through his own hand, ripped a ragged moan from Kaladin's throat.
“Adolin—” The name spilled out, raw and needy.
Adolin's head snapped up, his gaze sharpening instantly. He tsked, “What did I say about names, Kaladin?”
His voice was low, dangerous. The hand over Kaladin's tightened, forcing his grip tighter, the pressure almost painful, “When we're like this... what do you call me?”
Kaladin gasped. Shame flooded him, hotter than the arousal. He felt foolish—like a complete virgin.
Well, you are, a small, humiliated voice whispered.
But beneath the embarrassment, a deeper truth pulsed: Adolin liked this.
He liked Kaladin’s submission. He found it hot. And Kaladin... if he forced himself to be brutally honest... he liked it too. He craved the safety of belonging to Adolin like this. He knew Adolin would never hurt him, and all of this was just them roleplaying.
“S—sir,” Kaladin choked out, “I'm sorry, sir.”
“Better,” Adolin murmured, the dangerous edge softening slightly, though his hand remained firm, guiding Kaladin's strokes to a slower, more controlled pace that was agonizing.
Kaladin whimpered, his hips straining against the restraint of Adolin's control. He was still so close, the pressure building again relentlessly.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold on.
“Sir... please...” he gasped, the words barely audible, “Can I... can I come? I'm so close...”
Adolin huffed a soft laugh right against his ear, “Already, Kaladin? After barely starting?”
He shifted his body, pressing Kaladin harder into the wall, his own arousal a hard line against Kaladin's hip.
“Oh, no. Not yet,” His voice dropped to a whisper, “That's going to be your next lesson. Learning to hold back. Learning to make the pleasure last.”
His lips brushed Kaladin's temple, “Trust me, the gratification... it's far better when you wait. When you earn it.”
He paused, letting the words sink in, his hand still dictating the slow, torturous rhythm over Kaladin's, “And it's something I'm asking of you. Right now. A rule.”
He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with Kaladin again, his gaze intense, “You wouldn't dare break one of my rules so soon, would you? Not after promising to be my good student?”
Kaladin whined, a high-pitched sound of pure frustration. His whole body was taut, sweat beading on his forehead.
“Sir... I... I don't know if I can,” he confessed, his voice shaking. The need was a physical ache, a desperate throbbing he felt in his very bones. Holding back felt impossible.
“It's too much,” he said.
Adolin's expression softened slightly, “You can,” he stated firmly, “Because I'm telling you to.”
He leaned in again, his breath hot on Kaladin's skin.
“Listen to me. If you want me to fuck you,” he emphasized the crude word, making Kaladin flinch, “Like you described... hard, deep, claiming you... then you need to learn this control.”
His free hand slid down Kaladin's side, possessive.
“I need to know you can take it. That you can hold on until I decide you're ready. Until I decide you've earned your release.”
His thumb stroked the sensitive skin just above Kaladin's hip bone, “You want that, don't you? You want me inside you, just like your fantasy?"
“Yes!” The word was filled with raw, unadulterated want, “Storms, yes.”
“Then prove it,” Adolin commanded, his voice low and compelling, “Hold back. Show me you can obey. Show me you can wait for me.”
He increased the pressure of his hand over Kaladin's for a second, a reminder of his control, then eased it back to the agonizingly slow pace.
“Your pleasure belongs to me now, Kaladin. You come only when I give you permission. Understand?”
Kaladin shuddered, a sob catching in his throat. The denial was a physical pain.
He felt like he was going to cry.
Then, Adolin’s hand suddenly stopped its movements. His other one moved to Kaladin’s cheek instantly, cupping it gently.
Kaladin’s breath caught at the soft touch.
What?
He was about to ask if something was wrong when Adolin broke the momentary, uncomfortable silence.
“Are you sure you can hold off for me, Kal?” Adolin asked, his eyes searching Kaladin’s, all of his dominant persona gone in a heartbeat, leaving only love and worry behind.
Kaladin opened his mouth—
“Because if not, that’s completely fine. I promise,” Adolin continued before Kaladin could get a word in, “I’m so sorry for not asking you beforehand if you were even alright with this. Storms, I’m sorry. I’d never force you—”
Adolin looked so guilty, so scared. Like he feared Kaladin wasn’t enjoying their roleplay at all.
It broke Kaladin’s heart. He couldn’t let Adolin believe that. Storms.
This was his fantasy too, he just didn’t know he had it. Not until his beautiful Adolin had shown him it was possible.
Kaladin put his unoccupied hand over Adolin’s on his cheek, nuzzling into it.
He swallowed before speaking, “Adolin, please, please stop. Please don’t apologize for… for anything.”
Adolin’s eyes widened, his mouth parted. He hadn’t been expecting that. He’d been expecting Kaladin to yell at him.
Kaladin instead pressed a kiss to Adolin’s hand.
“Listen to me, alright? I promise I’m okay. I promise I want to continue. I promise I’ll…” He paused, a blush rising to his cheeks once again. He cleared his throat before finally getting the words out, “I promise I’ll hold off for you. I feel completely safe with you. I love what we’re doing.”
Adolin let out a breath that was full of relief.
He pressed his forehead to Kaladin’s, looking at him with so much love Kaladin didn’t know how to hold it all.
“Thank you. Thank you,” Adolin said slowly, “I love this too. I love it so much—I love you. I love being your teacher for this. It’s…”
Kaladin smiled. Storms, he loved him so much.
“It’s the best,” Kaladin continued for him, biting his lip, “And it’s us. You’re… the only man I’d let do this with me. Be my teacher. Dominate me.”
Adolin’s eyes sparkled instantly. He looked like he was about to say something either sweet or dirty. Kaladin didn’t know.
But he had to stop him before this got even more out of hand. His erection hadn’t gone down even a bit, and with Adolin’s hand still on it, guiding his moves…
Kaladin wasn’t going to be able to hold off for very long. And he’d promised Adolin he would.
He couldn’t break his promise before they’d even properly started.
Kaladin leaned back, taking his hand from his own face, forcing Adolin to take his hand down too.
Adolin blinked a few times, clearly confused.
Kaladin just gestured down to where Adolin’s hand was still wrapped around Kaladin’s, which had paused his movements on his cock.
Adolin sucked in a breath, as if through his sweet words and comforts he’d forgotten what they’d been doing.
“Oh… right,” he breathed, his eyes darkening and entire body shifting slowly back to his ‘Professor Adolin Kholin’ persona. He squeezed Kaladin’s hardness once, making him let out a pathetic moan.
Kaladin chuckled faintly, sweat beading on his forehead, “See? Yeah. So, uhh, please, let’s keep going. I—I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold off with your hand on me like that.”
Adolin just grinned and leaned a bit closer.
“Mmm. I do see,” he whispered, voice low and seductive. He tilted his head slightly, looking Kaladin in the eyes, “But I think you forgot something, beautiful. I’m giving you one chance to make it right.”
Storms. This man—
Wait.
I forgot something? Kaladin thought, panicking. His breath was coming in quicker, What—what did I—
Adolin, seeming to see Kaladin’s worry, resumed his painfully slow movements on Kaladin’s cock.
Kaladin whimpered, his erection pulsing under their joint touch.
“You forgot again? Oh, Kal…” Adolin tsked, shaking his head with a disapproving expression, “Are you turning into a bad boy? Hm? Forgetting our rules? Forgetting what your teacher told you to do?”
Kaladin shook his head frantically, his eyes widening, “No, no, no, no. I haven’t forgotten. I just—”
He had forgotten, had he? What was he doing wrong?
Adolin leaned in until his lips brushed along Kaladin’s ear.
“Stop lying. You’ve forgotten. I know you have,” His voice was pure heat, “But it’s alright. I’ll give you another chance to correct yourself. Because if you don’t…”
He paused, letting the words sink in. Kaladin shivered, already on edge.
“If you don’t,” Adolin continued, dragging his tongue over the shell of Kaladin’s ear, “I’ll have to punish you.”
Kaladin gasped, terror and something darker pooling in his gut.
“P—punish me?” he mumbled.
Adolin hummed against his ear, nosing at his cheek.
Kaladin swallowed before taking a deep breath, “Punish me… how?” His voice shook.
Adolin growled in response, softly biting Kaladin’s ear like he couldn’t stop himself. He leaned back before replying.
“I’d be forced to spank you,” he said, raising his eyebrows and giving Kaladin a look that screamed of disappointment, “A proper punishment, wouldn’t you say? Discipline is important to me. You should know this.”
Kaladin did know this.
Adolin sighed, “I’m counting to three. If you don’t correct yourself by one, you know what awaits you.”
And—
Oh.
Oh.
“Three…” Adolin said, his eyes narrowing.
Storms, I’m an idiot.
He remembered.
“Two…” Adolin’s voice sharpened, his grip on Kaladin’s cock tightening.
Kaladin gathered his courage, taking a deep breath before finally saying what Adolin needed to hear.
“Sir! Sir, I’m so sorry—” he said all at once, trying to get the words out as fast as possible. He couldn’t disappoint Adolin any more than he already had.
Adolin, who’d been clearly prepared to say one froze. His eyes widened in surprise before he quickly snapped out of it and grinned viciously.
Kaladin leaned into his submissiveness further, squeezing his eyes shut in shame for his forgetfulness.
“I really am sorry for forgetting your title, sir. I’ll never do it again,” he muttered. He opened his eyes and looked right at Adolin, his eyes watering slightly, “I promise, sir. I promise to be a good boy.”
“Mhm,” Adolin hummed, “So you can be a good boy when you want to. Interesting. I’ll save that information for later. Maybe you’ll get your spanking after all.”
Kaladin’s mouth fell open.
Stormfather.
Was it wrong of him to say he wanted to get spanked? He was sure Adolin wouldn’t think so.
“Sir, if I may—”
Adolin ignored him, his voice dropping to a whispered command, “No, you may not. Get on your knees. Now.”
Kaladin's breath hitched sharply. On his knees. The command sent a jolt of pure heat and disbelief straight through his core.
His legs felt weak, but he moved, sinking down slowly onto the floor in front of Adolin.
He was now eye-level with the straining bulge in Adolin's smallclothes. His mouth went dry.
“Lift your hands,” Adolin instructed, his voice calm but thick with anticipation, “Put them on my waistband.”
Kaladin’s fingers trembled slightly as they brushed the fabric at Adolin's hips. He felt the hard muscle beneath, the heat radiating from Adolin's skin.
Adolin let out a low, approving hum.
“Look at you,” he breathed, the praise warming Kaladin despite his nerves, “Perfect.”
He shifted his weight slightly, leaning into Kaladin's touch, “Yes. Now just slide them down.”
Kaladin's fingers hooked into the waistband. He took a shaky breath, then pushed the fabric down over Adolin's hips, letting them drop to the floor.
Adolin stepped out of them effortlessly.
Seeing Adolin fully naked, seeing his cock—hard, thick, flushed—right in front of his face... Kaladin felt dizzy. A rush of heat flooded his cheeks, his neck, his whole body.
He'd never thought he could want this. Never imagined craving the taste of another man, the feel of him in his mouth. But now, with Adolin standing over him, looking down at him with those dark, demanding eyes... the hunger was undeniable.
He wanted it. More than anything he'd ever wanted before. He wanted to please Adolin, to taste him, to learn this.
Adolin's hand settled in Kaladin's hair, “I know,” Adolin said, his voice a low rumble above Kaladin, “I know you've never done this before. Never sucked a cock before.”
He paused, and Kaladin felt a flicker of something else. Because Adolin added, his tone matter-of-fact, “Obviously, I have. So now I can teach you.”
The words landed like a punch.
The image of Adolin with others, kneeling for them, flashed unwanted in his mind. The possessive hunger curdled slightly into a sour, painful jealousy. His gaze dropped from Adolin's face to the floor.
Adolin's grip in his hair tightened instantly, forcing Kaladin's head back up, forcing him to meet those intense blue eyes.
“Hey,” Adolin said, his voice sharpening, cutting through Kaladin's sudden hurt, “Look at me. Don't worry about that.”
His thumb brushed Kaladin's temple, “Listen. I know you're going to be the best at this. Because it's you. And I know,” his voice dropped, thick with promise, “That when it's my turn, when I finally get my mouth on you, Kaladin... I know you're going to taste the absolute best. Better than anyone.”
He leaned down slightly, his gaze burning into Kaladin's.
“Don't be jealous. You have no reason. This? You and me? It was always meant to be like this. You were always meant to be the one on your knees for me. Just like I was always meant to be the one kneeling for you when the time comes. No one else matters. Only us.”
The possessiveness in Adolin's words, the absolute certainty, washed over Kaladin, erasing the sting of jealousy, replacing it with a dizzying rush of relief and that fierce, primal need to belong to Adolin completely.
Adolin wanted him. Only him. Kaladin nodded instantly.
Adolin's expression softened, satisfied. He gently patted Kaladin's cheek, “Good.”
“Now,” his voice returned to that low, instructional tone, “Use your hands. Grab the base of my cock. Get used to the feel of it,” He paused, letting the instruction sink in, “Then start stroking it slowly. Get yourself ready to put it in your mouth.”
Kaladin's heart hammered against his chest. He looked at Adolin's erection.
Slowly, he lifted his right hand. His fingers trembled as they brushed the hot, velvety skin. He wrapped his hand tentatively around the thick base. He tightened his grip slightly, feeling the pulse beneath his fingers.
Then, obeying Adolin's command, he began to move his hand. A slow, tentative stroke upwards.
Adolin let out a soft, encouraging groan above him.
Kaladin did it again, a little less hesitantly this time, his gaze fixed on his hand moving on Adolin's cock.
A low hum of satisfaction vibrated in Adolin’s chest, “Beautiful,” he murmured, “So beautiful like this.”
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Kaladin's forehead, “You're learning fast, Kal. So good for me already.”
Adolin pulled back just enough to look into Kaladin's eyes. His hand slid back into Kaladin's hair, fingers tightening gently but firmly at the roots.
“Now,” he said, his voice rough, “Do you think you're ready to take me into that perfect mouth of yours?”
“Yes, sir,” Kaladin breathed, the title feeling natural now.
“Go ahead,” Adolin encouraged, his voice thick, “Taste me. But remember what I said: no teeth, just those soft lips and that clever tongue.”
His gaze darkened, “Get me nice and wet. Because after you've done this,” He paused, letting the promise hang heavy in the air, “I'm going to teach you how to take me inside you.”
A needy whimper escaped Kaladin. The image—Adolin pushing into him, claiming him that way—sent a fresh jolt of heat and terrifying want straight to his core. His fingers clenched on Adolin’s cock.
Adolin chuckled, the sound warm, “Oh? Does that excite my eager student?” He tilted Kaladin's chin up with the hand not in his hair, “Tell me.”
“Yes, sir,” Kaladin gasped, unable to lie, unable to look away, “Yes, it... it does.”
“Good,” Adolin murmured, “But it only happens...” He leaned down slightly, his breath hot on Kaladin's face. “...if you do this well. If you make me feel so good with that mouth. Understand?”
Kaladin nodded frantically, “Yes, sir. I understand.”
He wanted that next lesson more than anything.
Guided by Adolin's hand in his hair, Kaladin leaned forward. He pressed a tentative, closed-mouth kiss to the tip.
Adolin groaned, a sound of pure pleasure escaping him.
Emboldened, Kaladin opened his mouth, letting his lips slide over the sensitive head. The taste was new, salty and musky, but so Adolin.
He flicked his tongue tentatively against the slit, earning another sharp intake of breath.
“Just like that,” Adolin breathed, his fingers tightening almost painfully in Kaladin's hair, “Good boy. Now... take more.”
Kaladin obeyed, pushing forward, letting Adolin slide deeper into his mouth. He focused on keeping his teeth covered, using his lips to create a seal.
When he felt the thick head press against the back of his throat, he paused, breathing harshly through his nose, then pushed past it, taking Adolin fully into his mouth and throat until his nose pressed against Adolin's lower stomach.
Adolin cursed above him.
Kaladin held still for a moment, adjusting his mouth.
Then, remembering Adolin's instructions, he began to move. He pulled back slowly, letting his tongue drag firmly along the underside of Adolin's groin, then sank down again, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked.
He repeated the motion.
Adolin's groans grew louder, more ragged, “Storms, Kal... yes... just like that... perfect...” His hips gave a tiny, involuntary thrust, “So good... learning so fast...”
The praise flooded Kaladin with warmth. He wanted to be perfect.
He focused on the sensations of Adolin on his tongue before sucking harder and moving faster.
He was desperate to please. To be the best student Adolin had ever had.
He used his hand on the base, twisting slightly on the upstroke, mimicking what he'd done to himself.
Adolin's breathing became harsh. His grip in Kaladin's hair was iron-tight now, holding him in place, “Stormfather... Kal...”
Kaladin felt powerful seeing Adolin unravel above him.
Suddenly, Adolin pulled back, dragging himself almost completely out of Kaladin's mouth.
Kaladin made a confused, needy sound, lips still parted, looking up.
Adolin's eyes were blazing, his jaw clenched tight. He was breathing hard.
“Stop,” he commanded, his voice rough but controlled. Kaladin froze instantly.
Adolin cupped Kaladin's face, “Look at me.”
Kaladin blinked up, dazed, lips swollen and wet.
“You're doing too well, beautiful,” Adolin said, a strained smile touching his lips, “I'm too close. Remember?”
He stroked Kaladin's wet bottom lip with his thumb, “If I come now,” His thumb pressed down slightly, “l won't get to come inside you later.”
He leaned down, his voice dropping to a heated whisper, “And I know that's what you really want. Isn't it? To feel me fill you up? Claim you completely?”
Kaladin shuddered violently, “Yes,” he choked out, desperate, “Please. I want that.”
“Good,” Adolin said, straightening up slightly, still holding Kaladin's gaze. He was visibly fighting for control, his cock pulsing near Kaladin's face.
“Then be patient. We're just getting started.”
He traced the curve of Kaladin's ear, “When I tell you to begin again... you'll finish getting me ready,” His eyes darkened with pure promise, “Then I’ll teach you the next lesson, yes?”
Kaladin nodded quickly, his breath still ragged, “Yes, sir.”
The need to feel Adolin inside him was a physical ache.
“Perfect,” Adolin murmured, his own voice tight with restraint. He guided Kaladin's head gently.
“Keep going now. But slowly. Just enough to keep me wet,” His thumb rubbed circles on Kaladin’s cheek, “Get me ready to slide into that perfect hole of yours.”
Kaladin shuddered at the explicit words, “Yes, sir.”
He leaned forward again, his movements careful this time. He took Adolin back into his mouth, just the head at first.
He licked slowly, swirling his tongue around the sensitive tip. He sucked gently, just enough to taste Adolin’s pre-cum.
Kaladin focused on coating Adolin in his saliva, making him slick, the sole purpose burning in his mind: prepare him so I can take him inside me.
Adolin groaned above him, a low sound of pleasure mixed with exquisite torture, “Storms, Kal... that's it... perfect...”
Kaladin felt a tiny, desperate thrust of Adolin's hips against his lips. He sucked again, softer, letting his tongue lie flatly along the underside.
Adolin pulled him off with a firm yank on his hair. Kaladin gasped, blinking up, lips wet and parted.
Adolin looked down at him, his expression full of pride and possession, “Perfect,” he said, his voice rough.
“You're already my best student, Kaladin,” He leaned down, his eyes locking onto Kaladin's, “My only student from now on. Forever.”
The possessiveness sent a fresh wave of heat through Kaladin. He fully belonged to Adolin.
Then, Adolin gently helped him stand up.
Kaladin's legs felt shaky and weak, but Adolin immediately cupped his face, and brought their foreheads together, holding him up.
Adolin took a deep, slightly shaky breath. The intense teacher persona seemed to soften once again.
His voice dropped, “Kal... I forgot to ask you something when I checked in earlier,” He swallowed, “I'm sorry. I got carried away.”
Kaladin searched his eyes, confused, “What is it?”
Adolin held his gaze, completely serious now, “Would you... would you like to court me officially? Be with me?”
Kaladin froze. His eyes widened. The heat in his face flared anew, but for a completely different reason. His heart hammered against his chest, “Adolin... are you serious?”
“Of course,” Adolin said, his thumbs still stroking Kaladin's cheeks.
His eyes were earnest, “I want you to be mine. Not just like this. Not just for... lessons. I want to date you. Take you out. Hold your hand where people can see. Wake up next to you. Argue with you over breakfast. Kiss you in the training grounds.”
A small, genuine smile touched his lips, “I want you to be my partner, my lover. I love you so much. And I want to court you. Properly.”
Kaladin stared. The words hit him harder than any physical touch. The intensity of the last hour, the raw vulnerability, the sheer want he felt for Adolin all crashed together.
His vision blurred. A sob caught in his throat. He felt like he might shatter from the overwhelming wave of emotion. He couldn't speak. He just nodded frantically, tears finally spilling over.
“Yes,” he choked out, his voice trembling, “Yes, Adolin. I want to. So much,” He leaned forward, burying his face against Adolin's neck, clinging to him, “I want to court you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Adolin wrapped his arms around him tightly, holding him close, one hand cradling the back of Kaladin's head.
“Me too, beautiful. Me too,” he breathed. He pressed a kiss into Kaladin's hair.
Kaladin lifted his head just enough, his lips brushing Adolin's ear, “I love you so, so much,” he whispered.
Adolin pulled back just slightly, enough to look into Kaladin's eyes. His own eyes were a little damp too, “I love you too,” he whispered back.
Then, Adolin leaned back fully. A familiar, mischievous spark ignited in his eyes. The soft moment seamlessly shifted back into the earlier charged energy between them.
“So,” he said, “Ready to keep going, my student-turned-lover?”
Kaladin took a shaky breath, wiping his face with the back of his hand. The tears were replaced by a fresh wave of heat. He met Adolin's gaze, his own eyes dark with desire and complete trust.
“Yes, sir,” he replied, “I'm ready.”
Adolin's grin widened. He took Kaladin's hand firmly in his, “Wonderful. Come to bed.”
He led Kaladin across the room until he stopped beside the bed. He turned Kaladin to face him.
“The next lesson begins now,” Adolin stated, his eyes burning into Kaladin's, “Are you ready to learn how to take me, Kaladin Stormblessed? Are you ready to belong to me completely?”
Kaladin didn't hesitate. He looked straight into those intense blue eyes, feeling the love beneath the command.
“Yes, sir,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his limbs, “Teach me.”
Notes:
i couldn’t not add pure cutesy fluff, y’all. it’s my favorite 🥰
Pages Navigation
CoffeeDrip on Chapter 1 Mon 09 Jun 2025 02:19PM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 1 Mon 09 Jun 2025 02:21PM UTC
Comment Actions
The_Mxs_of_Many on Chapter 1 Mon 09 Jun 2025 02:56PM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 1 Mon 09 Jun 2025 02:58PM UTC
Comment Actions
CoffeeDrip on Chapter 1 Mon 09 Jun 2025 03:53PM UTC
Comment Actions
GPSBeforeJourney on Chapter 1 Mon 09 Jun 2025 05:16PM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 1 Mon 09 Jun 2025 05:17PM UTC
Comment Actions
Hoidfan_AK on Chapter 1 Mon 09 Jun 2025 05:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 1 Mon 09 Jun 2025 05:30PM UTC
Comment Actions
Lonely_ghost_writer_123456 on Chapter 1 Mon 09 Jun 2025 08:56PM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 1 Mon 09 Jun 2025 09:02PM UTC
Comment Actions
DanniDorian on Chapter 1 Tue 10 Jun 2025 01:52AM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 1 Tue 10 Jun 2025 05:44AM UTC
Comment Actions
AbsolutelyNob on Chapter 1 Tue 10 Jun 2025 03:36AM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 1 Tue 10 Jun 2025 05:45AM UTC
Comment Actions
Account Deleted on Chapter 1 Wed 11 Jun 2025 05:48AM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 1 Wed 11 Jun 2025 05:56AM UTC
Comment Actions
sulkingintheshrubbery on Chapter 1 Sun 22 Jun 2025 08:41PM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 1 Sun 22 Jun 2025 09:20PM UTC
Comment Actions
Silver_Sterling on Chapter 1 Tue 12 Aug 2025 08:20AM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 1 Tue 12 Aug 2025 08:21AM UTC
Comment Actions
CoffeeDrip on Chapter 2 Mon 16 Jun 2025 11:44PM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 04:11AM UTC
Comment Actions
The_Mxs_of_Many on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 12:09AM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 04:12AM UTC
Comment Actions
The_Mxs_of_Many on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 04:16AM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 04:17AM UTC
Comment Actions
Hoidfan_AK on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 12:32AM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 04:13AM UTC
Comment Actions
Account Deleted on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 03:03AM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 04:13AM UTC
Comment Actions
I_live_in_captivity on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 03:30AM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 04:13AM UTC
Comment Actions
margaeryt (scientificillustration) on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 03:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 04:14AM UTC
Comment Actions
DanniDorian on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 04:27PM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 04:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
Silvermoonwater on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 07:43PM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 08:11PM UTC
Comment Actions
AbsolutelyNob on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 08:53PM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 2 Tue 17 Jun 2025 09:07PM UTC
Comment Actions
auds (Guest) on Chapter 2 Thu 19 Jun 2025 12:51AM UTC
Comment Actions
chappellroansgf on Chapter 2 Thu 19 Jun 2025 06:24AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation