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Evenings at the Borel mansion were often quiet. Gervaise, the steward and only member of staff, had long since retired to his room for the night. Ser Haldrath, the cat, was stretched before the fire, hogging most of its heat as light danced over his long white fur. It had been quite silky as a kitten but coarsened in his old age. Prone to matting, he never failed to put up a fight when Aymeric or Gervaise brushed him. Yet, even when he would scratch or bite, the young lord never minded. The cat was, after all, his oldest friend.
In truth, Aymeric should rightly also be asleep. But the work of the Lord Commander was never truly done, his home office a mess of papers and leatherbound reports. With his elbow on the desk, he rested his chin upon the heel of his hand, eyelids drooping as he struggled to focus on the text before him. He sat his empty teacup next to its mates. Aymeric insisted Gervaise go to sleep three servings ago, and he always forgot to bring the last cup down when he fetched another.
At last, he was finished. The bedroom was only the next room over, but still, the walk seemed a daunting prospect. He considered a moment. It would not be the first time he had slept at his desk. He had already shed most of his usual garb upon arriving home and was now dressed in just a light tunic and breeches, not precisely sleeping clothes, but comfortable enough. His contemplation was soon interrupted by Ser Haldrath as he leaped upon the desk to mewl discontentedly. The cat’s expression seemed to scold his master for his temptation to sloth. “Yes, yes, you are right. Let us go to bed,” Aymeric rose and gently scooped up his furry companion, giving him a small scratch on the head before departing.
Once inside the bedroom, Haldrath was deposited by the fireplace. He curled up on one of his many velvet blue pillows found around the manor. Aymeric added a few more logs to stoke the fire Gervaise had prepared hours previously now. He had a few tasks left in his evening routine, so he moved to supplement the light with some candle sconces. He was lighting the last of them when he heard the soft clink of a metal latch. The flame flickered as a cold Coerthan wind blew in from the open window behind him. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder as he shook the match to extinguish it because there was only one person prone to entering his chambers from the second-floor balcony. “Please do remember to close it this time. We will catch an awful chill.”
He expected a sharp retort. When none came, he turned. Estinien stood in front of the window in his full Drachen mail, visor obscuring his eyes. The armor bore ample evidence of recent combat, although it lacked the usual ash and scorch marks. The newcomer neither moved nor spoke, fists in tight balls at his sides. Gae Bolg leaned against the wall. It too was suspiciously clean of dragon’s blood. Aymeric felt his stomach tighten as concern creased his brow. Something about his friend was wrong. “Estinien. Are you alright?”
Without a word, Estinien closed the distance between them impossibly fast, taking Aymeric’s face into his hands and crushing his lips against his lover’s. Aymeric lost his balance and felt his back collide with the stone wall. The heat from the freshly ignited candle was burning close to their faces. Shining off Estinien’s armor, the flames seemed to stain him red in flickering waves.
They never really spoke about this aspect of their friendship. It started years ago when they were both just fresh young knights, evenings in close quarters spent exploring each other. But, Estinien had always proved difficult to hold on to, and they hadn’t been together like this since he had made Azure.
Their embrace grew closer as he pressed hard into Aymeric, the spikes on his breastplate pricking painfully through the knight’s tunic and into his skin. Aymeric’s hands instinctually raised to brace against Estinien’s chest, mind racing. Estinien was surely starved, but something about him seemed more like a panicked beast than an eager lover. Estinien’s shaking hands moved to Aymeric’s shoulders as the dragoon pulled from their kiss. Rapid, shallow breathing sat high in his breast, eyes still hidden beneath his visor. Before Aymeric could tilt his head to meet them, their bodies collided again.
Estinien’s kisses grew more frenzied and desperate as his hands moved from the knight’s shoulders to his long elegant neck. The cool metal of his gauntlets wrapped around the sides. After a few moments, Aymeric could feel them begin to squeeze. The dragoon’s breath suddenly felt unnaturally hot as Aymeric’s hands rose to pry the vice from his throat. His lover’s face was bathed in red light. Aymeric strained to speak through Estinien’s fevered kisses. “Estinien, stop.” His voice felt thin. “You are hurting me.”
The dragoon immediately withdrew, standing frozen before Aymeric. The knight rubbed a hand to his windpipe to coax it back into function, doubled over without the force of his lover’s hold. “I…I am sorry.” Estinien sounded both frightened and utterly despondent. When he turned back to the window to make his escape, Aymeric grabbed his wrist to stop him. Estinien spoke again, still frozen mid-stride. “Release me. I should not be here. It was wrong of me to come.”
“Wait.” Aymeric’s voice caught on the word, clearing his throat before continuing. “Estinien, you are worrying me.”
The dragoon turned sharply; rage returning, he violently ripped his hand free. He seemed almost to vibrate where he stood. For a moment, it seemed as if he would once again fly into Aymeric. Instead, he let out a strangled cry as he fell to his hands and knees.
Aymeric crouched to the ground and placed a gentle finger under his friend’s chin to lift it. “Please. Please, speak to me.” His voice was soft and low, like someone trying to coax a scared animal from its den. The words did not seem to reach and Estinien pulled his face away from the touch, sinking back onto his heels. When the knight reached out again, he instead raised his hands to the clasps of Estinien’s helm, tentatively undoing them with light fingers before carefully placing the headpiece on the ground beside them.
A mess of white hair, crusted with blood in some places, fell past Estinien’s shoulders. Now without his visor, his eyes were still hidden by his overlong fringe. Aymeric could see tracks of tears cutting paths through the dirt on his cheeks. The knight lifted his hand to his friend’s forehead ever so slowly, using his little finger to brush the hair aside. Estinien’s dark grey eyes held a storm within, sorrowful yet full of fury and pain. Then, with his gaze fixed on the ground, he finally spoke, barely louder than a whisper. “He let them die.”
“Who, Estinien?” Aymeric’s voice was soft and even, but his concern grew deeper. The knot in his stomach twisted—his heart beating loudly in his ears.
“Alberic.” His voice cracked as he spoke. “He could have saved them.” Estinien shut his eyes tight as if to hold back the flood of emotion welling in himself or maybe to avoid the look in his friend’s eyes.
Aymeric wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him. But he feared any movement to touch might startle him away. “My friend, please forgive me. I do not understand.”
When he returned Aymeric’s gaze, the knight could once again see the hate rising within. His voice grew strained, losing all the softness of despair. “There was no injury. He chose to relinquish the Eye. He let his fear of Nidhogg’s influence stay his lance. He chose cowardice while the horde burned my family.”
“Estinien...I am sure Alberic did all he could for Ferndale.”
“He admitted it!” he shouted as he sprang to his feet. The dragoon paced the carpet as his eyes bore through Aymeric’s. They seemed to almost glow crimson in his fury. “I confronted him, and he set that damned adventurer upon me! He would see me die to hide his shame!” he spat before letting out a roar of anguish. Wisps of scarlet aether consumed his form as red veins crawled up his face, and he smashed his fist into the wall. Ser Haldrath woke with a hiss before quickly retreating to the dressing room. Dust and shards of stone fell like fresh snow.
At last, the truth revealed itself. “Oh, my ill-fated friend.” Aymeric rose and came to stand in front of him. The knight held the dragoon's face between his hands, feeling the impossible heat beneath his fingers. He soothed his friend’s burning charcoal stare with cool azure blue. “This is the Eye’s doing. You have it with you, do you not?”
Before he could answer, they heard a knock at the door. “My Lord, is aught amiss? I heard shouting.” Gervaise spoke through the wood.
Aymeric looked to the source of the sound, lifting his voice in reply, “All is well. My apologies for waking you.” When he looked upon Estinien once more, the hatred and rage he saw there was now replaced with anguish and shame. The dragoon reached behind himself and then held out a luminous vermillion orb. The Eye of Nidhogg seethed with power. Its glow gave the room a blood-red hue.
The Lord Commander crossed to his dresser and retrieved a linkpearl from a small box on its top. Placing it in his ear, he waited a few moments and then spoke, “Ser Lucia, I apologize for the late hour, but I need you to come to the manse with much haste. Please tell no one you are coming”.
Much to her credit, the knight asked no questions. Just a simple “Yes, Lord Commander.” before the line went dead. He hated to involve her, but he could not leave Estinien on his own. Next, he went to work finding something suitable to carry Ishgard’s most powerful arcane relic. It would not do to have Lucia return it to the Vault in the open. He rifled through a wardrobe until he came upon a soft wyvernskin pack. Honestly, his plan seemed altogether peculiar, but in want of another, he held the carrier open before Estinien.
“Give it here.” Estinien followed Aymeric’s command. Aymeric fastened the belts as securely as he could, taking the bag into one hand while he held Estinien’s in the other. “I must go to the door to meet Lucia. I will be but a moment. Please stay here until I return.” Estinien gave a slight nod, seeming utterly spent. Aymeric then slipped out of the room and down the stairs.
Just as his foot hit the landing, he registered a soft knock at the door. Borel manor was not far from her quarters at Congregation, but still, she had arrived with incredible speed. He quietly thanked Halone herself for having been blessed with such a First Commander. Then, he opened the door and motioned for her to come inside. She stood in her full armor, giving a quick salute before entering.
“Thank you for coming.” His voice was the smooth, practiced speech of his office. “I am afraid I will ask much of you this night.” He held out the pack. “Inside, you will find the Eye of Nidhogg.” Lucia’s eyes widened ever so slightly, but she said nothing. “I do not believe the Archbishop nor the Heavens’ Ward knows it is missing. But, ere that changes, you must needs return it to the Vault.”
Lucia reached out, stopping for just a moment before taking the straps in hand. “Yes, Lord Commander. I will see it done.” Another salute and she was gone into the night.
Aymeric locked the door behind her and took off back up the stairs. He was moving as fast as he could without waking his steward once more. As he reached for the knob, he said a silent prayer he would not find the room empty. Blessedly, Estinien was almost precisely where Aymeric had left him. However, he had slid down the wall to seat himself on the floor, eyes still set upon the ground. Ser Haldrath had emerged from his hiding spot to nuzzle the dragoon affectionately, but he seemed not to notice.
Aymeric sank to his knees beside him, once again taking his gauntleted hand. He could see fresh bruises down his forearms, staining the gaps in his armor shades of red and purple. “Estinien, you are hurt. I must send for the Chirurgeon.” At this, Estinien looked to meet Aymeric’s gaze.
“No.” His response was swift and firm. There was clearly to be no persuading him.
“Then, will you allow me to tend your wounds?” His friend seemed to struggle with a reply. His mouth opened slightly before closing again. Instead of words, he just gave another nod before moving to stand.
Aymeric led him to the master bath, turning on the taps and testing the temperature with his wrist. As the tub filled, he removed the rest of his friend’s armor, practiced hands undoing the series of intricate clasps. He set each piece aside, where it would wait until he could take it to the armory to tend it. All the while, Estinien simply stared into the middle distance, looking utterly exhausted. As Aymeric lifted his friend’s shirt, it stuck in places, glued to his wounds. Aymeric worked them free with gentle, patient fingers, not wishing to cause Estinien yet more pain. Finally, he removed his underclothes and tossed them down the chute as they were fit for naught but disposal.
Estinien’s wounds were now on full display. A purple bruise covered his midsection, sprawling out from his stomach. Tiny cuts decorated where his armor had pressed sharply into his skin, with similar markings high on his legs. There was a long slice down where his forearm was exposed, apparently from the tip of a lance. Aymeric marveled at how a mere adventurer had done him this much harm through Ishgard’s strongest armor.
After he turned off the knobs, Aymeric motioned for Estinien to come and get into the bath. He contemplated helping, but getting Estinien to accept any aid was delicate work. He must be careful not to overreach or risk shaming him. The dragoon moved wordlessly, lowering himself into the steaming water with a hiss. He sank further beneath the surface before completely submerging, blood and dirt forming wispy clouds as they freed themselves from his skin. Aymeric pulled over a small stool that once belonged to his mother’s vanity and watched Estinien’s white hair swirl and wave under the water’s surface.
Estinien reemerged with a gasp, sucking air painfully into his lungs. Aymeric reached to grab the soap and lathered it between his hands before rooting his long elegant fingers in his friend's hair, rubbing circles into his scalp. Estinien moaned softly, letting his head fall back against the edge of the tub.
“Do you remember the first time I washed your hair?” Aymeric asked into Estinien’s ear, leaning down over his shoulder.
“Twas not my choice.” He said gruffly, keeping his eyes closed as Aymeric delicately detangled the knots with his hands.
Aymeric hummed assent as he straightened in his seat. “In my own defense, it was becoming a bit of a nest. I feared a brume rat might crawl out and into our tent while I slept beside you.”
Estinien glared. “You nearly drowned me.”
“That is most unfair. You were under for mere moments.” He smiled as he returned Estinien’s gaze, tension easing in his chest. For the first time tonight, he truly saw his friend behind those eyes.
After they finished washing, Estinien carefully rose as Aymeric handed him a towel of Borel blue, which he then rubbed violently over his mane before wrapping it around his waist. As Aymeric pulled the stopper for the drain, he pressed his lips in a line of pity; the basin would be a mess for poor Gervaise to discover in the morning. Now he must find the Chirurgeon's kit. He prayed it was somewhere in his rooms, but in all honesty, he was seldom here. He rifled through some cabinets until he blessedly found the dhalmelskin bag.
They left the bath, and Aymeric instructed Estinien to sit on the edge of the bed. Aymeric kneeled on the floor before him and laid open the bag on the carpet. After swatting Ser Haldrath’s curious nose out of the way, he reached inside for the necessary liquids and creams. Pulling out the jars, bottles, and cloth, he placed them around him with care, fashioning himself a small workstation. Estinien flexed with impatience, clearly uneasy with being cared for this way.
He would start with the gash on his arm. Thank Halone, it was not as deep as it seemed now that it was clean; thus, he could avoid having to subject Estinien to his unpracticed needlework. He dipped his fingers into a jar of cream meant to speed the healing and held out Estinien’s arm with his opposite hand. The dragoon seemed to flinch at his touch. “It is alright, friend, tis a simple salve,” Aymeric said as he smiled up at him. Estinien’s face flushed red, turning away from his gaze with a grunt of assent. Aymeric feared he might have embarrassed him, so said nothing more.
One by one, he tended to Estinien’s injuries, cleansing his cuts with alcohol and bits of cotton before covering them with bandages. He temporarily moved onto the bed to dress the wounds across the dragoon’s back. Upon further inspection, it seemed that one or more of his ribs were broken. Aymeric knew no magic to mend them, so he did what he could, which was regrettably very little. He wrapped Estinien’s chest with a long roll of ramie cloth in an attempt to keep them from moving too much. Once again, Aymeric was struck by the state his friend was in. He returned in better shape from battles with dragons.
All that was left were the injuries to his thighs. He instructed Estinien to remove the towel covering his waist. The dragoon took a deep breath before shifting himself to free it, wincing at the movement. He then spoke. “Hand me the salve. I can finish myself.” As Aymeric lifted the jar to hand it off, Estinien reached forward and hissed in pain. At this, the knight lowered it back to the floor.
“On second thought, I think not. I would not risk you further injuring yourself. Lie back,” Aymeric instructed. His friend seemed to swallow the urge to argue before shifting back from the edge to comply. While armored, scale mail matching that which covered his stomach also adorned his legs. As such, they shared the same bruises and cuts. Aymeric sat on the bed beside him and carefully moved one of his friend’s long legs to bend it, granting him access to the underside.
As he repeated his careful work of cleaning and soothing each hurt, he was suddenly stopped by a hand on his wrist. “Please. I can bear this no longer.” Estinien spoke while not taking his eyes from the canopy above.
At this, Aymeric straightened. “Is aught amiss? I know you loathe my fretting, but I am almost finished. I promise. It would not do to have these uncovered.”
Once again, Estinien went flush, turning his face away. “I cannot have you touch me so.” At last, Aymeric realized. He glanced quickly to note his friend’s growing arousal. It had been an age since they were last together, and he knew Estinien had no others. Intimacy was not his strength. He must indeed be touch starved.
“If you wish me to stop, I will do so, of course.” Aymeric rose from the bed and began packing away his supplies, retrieving the bag from its place on the floor. “Do you think you can manage the bandages? I really would like to shield these wounds.” Estinien moved to sit up against the pillows and gave a slight nod. As Aymeric leaned over to pass the roll, Estinien wavered, clearly still worn-out. To fight the Eye’s influence drained him of much of his aether, say nothing of his physical state. Aymeric moved to sit beside him. “Oh, my friend….”
“Spare me your pity,” Estinien grunted as he grabbed the cloth from Aymeric, slowly wrapping it around his leg.
“Of all the things I feel for you, I assure you, pity has never been in their number.” Aymeric smiled softly as he spoke.
At this, the dragoon ceased his work. For the first time since the bath, he met Aymeric’s gaze. His eyes grew wide for just a moment before he turned his attention back to his wounds. His voice was low and grave. "I tried to kill you."
"We both know it was not you who attacked me. That infernal relic corrupts you."
"And you know I need the Eye's power. I have no chance against Nidhogg without it" Estinien tied off the last of the fabric. He then slid away from Aymeric to the side of the bed. He rose and shakily moved to the armoire, pulling out garments and inspecting them quickly before tossing them aside."
"May I ask, what, pray tell, are you doing?" Aymeric raised an eyebrow as he watched his belongings fall to the floor.
"Getting dressed. You threw away my clothes." Estinien said as he continued rummaging about.
"If you seek nightwear, they are in the dresser."
Finding an acceptable shirt, at last, Estinien pulled it over his head. The movement clearly pained him. He then put on a pair of thin hempen breeches. He inhaled sharply as he bent to try to pick up his helm from its place on the carpet. Then, realizing what Estinien intended, Aymeric spoke incredulously, "You can not possibly mean to leave."
"That is precisely what I mean to do." Estinien made slow progress moving toward the master bath.
Aymeric rose and stood to bar his path. "Estinien, be reasonable. You are not well. Without a proper healer, I have no means to restore your aether. You are liable to collapse in the street before you even reach the Congregation."
"I will manage." He went to walk around his new obstacle but swayed slightly. He closed his eyes as he tried to regain his balance.
"Estinien, please." Grasping Estinien’s free hand, Aymeric spoke softer now, almost as if in prayer.
Startled at the touch, Estinien stared into Aymeric’s eyes, the crease of the dragoon's brow softening as he saw his friend's worried expression. When he could bear his gaze no longer, he turned his face away ever so slightly, handing Aymeric his helm. "Fine. If you will cease your mewling."
Aymeric gave his hand a tiny squeeze. "Thank you. Let us get you back in bed."
Helping Estinien as much as he would allow, he moved the duvet to grant him ease of access. Once Estinien was settled, again sitting up against the headboard, Aymeric made ready to join him, stripping off the rest of his clothes before opening the dresser to change. He could see Estinien’s interest, the dragoon's eyes flitting away and back so as not to be noticed. After he dressed, he moved to extinguish each of the candles in turn, until the only light was that from the fire. He crawled under the duvet to Estinien’s left and onto his side, stretching slightly as his head hit the pillow.
When the dragoon made no move to lay down, Aymeric sat up to face him. “Estinien, you must sleep .” In all truth, he expected this. For as long as Aymeric had known him, Estinien had been plagued with nightmares. Insomnia was his chosen weapon against them. Aymeric thought back to what Estinien had said when he first arrived, of Alberic’s actual involvement in losing his home, as well as the grief and pain he saw in his friend’s eyes.
Aymeric considered a moment. “Do you wish to talk about what happened?” He knew Estinien seldom wished to speak of personal matters, but he could not very well allow him to keep himself up half the night.
“Hmph. You are overfond of talking.” Estinien made his best attempt to fold his arms in his usual pose of discontent but was somewhat limited by his broken ribs.
“Very well. If you would prefer silence...” Heat rose deep in Aymeric’s midsection as he settled on a response. “Do you desire comfort in other ways?”
The tips of Estinien’s long ears turned dalamud red at the suggestion. He turned back to meet Aymeric’s gaze. Aymeric could now see there was a new hunger rising behind Estinien’s eyes. The dragoon gave a slight nod.
For the second time tonight, they pressed their lips together. But while the first was full of fire and fury, this was soft as falling snow. Aymeric’s right hand found its way once more into Estinien’s hair, still damp from the bath. His left trailed down Estinien’s body, his fingers fluttering lightly over where he was injured. As he reached his lover’s waistband, he paused, pulling his face away to look again in Estinien’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
“You promised to stop talking.” Estinien crushed his lips against the knight’s, grabbing Aymeric’s waiting hand and shoving it hard down the dragoon’s trousers. There it found Estinien’s swollen length, hard against his pelvis. Aymeric took it in his hand and began to pump, moving the foreskin between his fingertips each time he crested the tip. Estinien let out a deep moan of relief, sending vibrations through their kiss.
Aymeric pulled his hand away, and Estinien whined softly. He threw back the duvet and began undressing his lover, wishing for this sin to be on full display. When Estinien moved to try to reciprocate, Aymeric pinned him flat back against the headboard. He repeated the careful motions of removing Estinien’s shirt and pants. It seemed their night had looped around on itself, Aymeric once again preparing to tend to his friend’s wounds, albeit of a much different sort.
“This is hardly fair.” Estinien was now naked on the sheets. As he spoke, he looked up and down Aymeric’s still very clothed body. At this, the knight wore a wolfish grin - slowly and carefully undoing each button on his nightshirt. As he shrugged it off his shoulders, Estinien began to stroke himself, his pace galloping faster when Aymeric undid the laces at his waist, revealing his own arousal. Now similarly undressed, he sat beside Estinien, moving his hand to replace his lover’s. Estinien’s kisses became more urgent, sucking on Aymeric’s lip before soothing it with his tongue.
Aymeric could feel his lover begin to rut into his fist, desperate for even more friction. At this, he withdrew his hand again. Estinien growled in frustration until silenced by the crush of Aymeric's lips on his own. The knight then broke their kiss to whisper into his lover’s ear. “I can’t have you hurting yourself, lie back and let me work." Estinien complied, scooting down carefully to lay flat on the sheets. Aymeric then moved to the dragoon's waist, laying his forearm along his hip to pin him in place. "You must keep still.” Looking up, he could see the exact moment Estinien realized what he intended, the instant his expression turned from irritated to ravenous.
He gripped Estinien’s shaft at the hilt before swallowing it, running the flat of his tongue slowly up the length, its tip lingering on the crown, tasting his lover’s arousal. Estinien moaned before letting his head fall back against the pillow. Aymeric then took him deep into his throat, moving to swallow him again and again, chasing his own lips with his fist. The relentless sensation made Estinien’s hip muscles flex, but he could make no move to rise against Aymeric’s hold.
"I'm going to…" his breathing grew shallow as he panted out the words. Aymeric felt his own erection throb at the promise. He moved that much faster to spur his lover to climax. Estinien spilled himself with a violent shudder while Aymeric drank deep, continuing his ministrations to the point where he felt his lover attempt to squirm - spent and overstimulated. There was a vulgar popping noise as Aymeric slid off his cock, his mouth releasing its suction. He licked his now swollen lips clean as he moved to lay on his side beside Estinien, basking in his glow.
To see Estinien this way was a rare thing indeed - satisfied and unencumbered. He looked so much younger, a brief glimpse of the man he might have grown to be, had he been spared all his pains. Aymeric could imagine him standing in the Eastern Highlands as they once were, lush and green, holding firm to a shepherd's crook instead of a lance. Able to live a simple life untouched by fire and blood. At this, the knight felt a pang of grief in his chest.
After steadying his breath, Estinien turned his head on the pillow to look upon his lover. Upon seeing Aymeric's familiar pensive expression, he exhaled deeply from his nose. "There is such a thing as overthinking, you know?"
Brought back to the present, Aymeric smiled. "Forgive me, ‘tis a habit for which I am all too prone." He placed his hand to rest on Estinien’s cheek, thumb gently stroking his exquisite cheekbone, losing himself in his stare. The sheets rustled softly as Estinien’s left hand slid across, finding purchase on Aymeric’s still throbbing arousal. The knight took a trembling breath at the contact before knitting his brow in concern. "You do not need...You are hurt…" The slight whine in his voice betrayed his genuine desire.
"You're doing it again. I am not made of glass." Estinien pumped faster as he used his free hand to pull the knight into a kiss, tasting himself as he nipped and sucked. Aymeric’s slender fingers curled as his breathing grew rapid. His pulse rang in his ears, and he felt himself twitch, already embarrassingly close. His jaw fell slack as he began to pant, granting Estinien’s tongue easy access. Next, the dragoon nuzzled himself against Aymeric’s cheek, spreading small kisses up his ears and down to his slender neck.
"By the fury, Estinien…." The dragoon purred in approval at hearing his own name spoken with such reverence. Aymeric could feel the vibration. Estinien traced a line up the side of his elegant throat with the tip of his tongue before sucking affectionately at his earlobe, sending tingles through Aymeric’s body. The grip on his length was unrelenting, Estinien's strong and calloused hand stroking him towards oblivion. All at once, he came undone - hot sticky release coating the fingers still working away. His moans were swallowed by Estinien’s kiss. They pressed their foreheads together, closing their eyes as they breathed each other in.
After what felt both like an instant and an eternity, Aymeric broke their embrace to retrieve a handkerchief from his bedside table. He retreated to the sink to dampen it before making to clean his mess as best he could. Estinien just threw his head back onto the pillow and closed his eyes, bemused by his fastidious lover.
By the time Aymeric was satisfied the bed was fit to sleep in, he could tell Estinien was already fast asleep. Aymeric knew, in all likelihood, he would awake to find him gone. He may have fled already had he the strength. So, Aymeric watched him for a moment, transfixed, before pulling the duvet up to cover him. He then climbed in at his side. Ser Haldrath reappeared, gracefully leaping up to settle on the foot of the bed. Aymeric let out a contented sigh as he finally drifted off to sleep.