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After being separated following the Apostasy for years, and then another year while Xaden braved Basgiath without him, Bodhi Durran nearly loses his composure when he sees his cousin taking roll at the parapet.
He looks so much harder than the last time Bodhi saw him. Xaden’s always been strong of course—as Fen Riorson’s son, he never could have gotten away with being weak —but now there’s a certain coldness in those otherwise familiar onyx eyes. A coldness that hadn’t been there in the years they spent growing up together. A new scar graces his angular face, dragging from just above his eyebrow all the way down to the very top of his cheek. If anything, it only makes him more handsome. Xaden has always been blessed with good looks, ever since they were young. Ever since girls started taking notice, and Bodhi got to hear stories from his cousin about making out in the woods and fumbled touches in the quieter, lesser used areas of the fortress they once called home. It had always been exciting, in a way, to hear those tales. To live vicariously through his older cousin and all of the trouble he got away with. Bodhi would spend the rest of the day thinking about the things he told him, what it must have been like, what it must have felt like. Sometimes he’d think about those stories late into the night, alone in his bed as well…
“Na—” Xaden’s voice dies as Bodhi steps forward, those dark, gold-flecked eyes flaring wide in obvious surprise.
There’s a beat of emotionally charged silence. But Bodhi knows as well as Xaden does that they can’t show any weakness. Neither of them. Not here, where so many others are watching. So he swallows hard and forces himself through the motions. Does what’s expected of him, just like he always has. “Bodhi Durran.”
Xaden nods stiffly, marking down his cousin’s name on the roll. He’s wearing rider black. Xaden was never meant to wear rider black. He was meant to rule. A rider… that was always supposed to be Bodhi’s role in their family. Now, he supposes, they’ll have to take it on together.
Bodhi doesn’t let himself react outwardly, but his chest swells with pride when he sees the patch on Xaden’s uniform marking him as a squad leader. Of course. He was born to be a leader, after all. Even Navarre can’t take that from him it seems.
He stands tall as Xaden gives him a final once over, impeccable posture drilled into from years of training and a childhood surrounded by nobles and generals and other important people. Glancing out at the candidate now about a quarter way across the parapet, Xaden turns back to Bodhi with a firm nod, onyx eyes meeting his with a simple, unspoken command. Don’t die.
“Go ahead,” he tells Bodhi, motioning towards the parapet just like he’s done with every candidate before him. As soon as Bodhi steps up onto the narrow stone walkway though, a particularly harsh gust of wind blows. He forces himself to stay as stony-faced as possible as the guy already out there stumbles, then slips, his knee hitting the stone with a hard twack while his other leg tumbles right over the edge, gravity claiming him for Malek as his scream wrenches through the hot, July air. Before he hits the ground below, Bodhi turns back over his shoulder, giving Xaden one last look. He holds his panic inside of him, neatly tucked away where no one else can see. On the outside, he’s the perfect picture of cool confidence. On the inside? He feels like he’s about to hurl.
Staring at Bodhi, not at the candidate who just fell to his untimely death, Xaden’s jaw flexes. “Go, Candidate Durran.”
So he takes a deep, steadying breath, and begins to cross, just like he’s done hundreds of times while practicing for this very moment on the rooftops of Riorson House.
His feet are firm, sure, and he’s over and across before he has a chance to second guess himself, solidly planted back on the sweet, stable ground. He wishes briefly that Xaden was on this side of the parapet, here to welcome him as a newly minted cadet, but there’ll be time for that later. He knows Xaden can’t drop everything for him, not here, as much as he might wish he could.
Garrick Tavis, Xaden’s best friend and apparently, according to a patch on his shoulder, his new executive squad leader, is on this side of the parapet though, and Bodhi accepts his wide smile and quick one-armed hug with a sigh of relief.
“Welcome to hell,” he tells Bodhi with a laugh, though there’s an undertone to his words that tells him he’s not entirely joking.
He waits there by the end of the parapet with Garrick until they finally spot Imogen—the one person in his year that Bodhi is most anxious to see make it across safely. They both watch with baited breath as she strides across the narrow stone bridge like it’s nothing more than the grass under her feet back home in Aretia, then she steps down into the courtyard, looking for all the world like the chance of falling to her death hadn’t fazed her one bit. She doesn’t let Garrick hug her, but Bodhi can see the relief in his eyes, knowing that she’s alive. He knows it’s almost certainly mirrored in his own. After waiting for the candidate behind her—Quinn Hollis, a girl she met on the stairs apparently—she slings an arm over Bodhi’s shoulder, leading him and Quinn off into the mass of brand new cadets filling the courtyard. He takes a deep breath and puts on that same mask of confident indifference. They’re cadets now. No room for anything else.
Later, while they’re being sorted into squads, Bodhi purses his lips when he and Imogen are separated. He’s placed with Xaden and Garrick in Fourth Wing, but Imogen is off on her own in Second. Well, not on her own, he supposes. Her new friend Quinn stands at her side, the two of them with their heads leaned in toward one another, talking quietly while a kid with sandy brown hair one row in front of them shoots a glare over his shoulder.
Bodhi waits until after that first formation to corner Garrick and Xaden, the rest of his new squad already hurrying off—the other first years to collect their uniforms, and the rest of the cadets to enjoy their last day of freedom before classes start back up. Bodhi catches the two of them by the edge of the courtyard, talking to one another in hushed voices when he interrupts. “What about Imogen?” he asks, lowering his voice just enough so it won’t carry to anyone who shouldn’t hear.
Xaden’s eyes jerk up to meet his, jaw ticking. Garrick blows out a low exhale, glancing across the courtyard rather than meeting his accusatory stare.
“They wouldn’t let us take both of you,” Xaden grits out, his hand curling into a fist at his side. As he does, shadows curl and dance at his feet. Bodhi’s eyes go wide, heart pounding as he quickly tries to make sense of what he’s seeing. Xaden, no doubt noticing his stare, heaves a deep sigh. He doesn’t comment on his signet though. Just sticks to Bodhi’s initial question. “It was hard enough to convince them to put you in our squad.”
“Imogen will be alright,” Garrick says in a low voice. Bodhi looks over at him and notices Garrick’s not just avoiding his stare. He’s looking across the courtyard at where Imogen and Quinn still stand amongst a few other lingering cadets. “She’s tough.”
“I’m tough,” he snaps, drawing both Garrick and Xaden’s attention back to him as he scowls. “You should’ve had them put me in a different squad if it meant you could look out for someone else instead.”
“Well, tough shit.” Xaden’s voice brokers no room for argument, and in that moment, Bodhi hates him just a little bit. “You’re in our squad and that’s not changing.” For all that he’s always admired his cousin, for all that he’s looked up to him, following him around with pride his whole childhood, wanting to be him, right now he really does want to scream at him. Or maybe punch him. Do something to convince him that Bodhi doesn’t fucking need his protection. He’s been training all his life for the Rider’s Quadrant. He’s just as capable of surviving as Xaden or Garrick or anyone else.
Instead though, he just lets out a harsh sigh and turns on his heel. Arguing won’t him get anywhere. Not when Xaden’s looking at him like he’s that same little kid he grew up with rather than a full grown man ready to fight and kill his way through this quadrant.
“Where are you going?” Xaden asks.
“To pick up my uniform.” He shoots a glare over his shoulder. Xaden doesn’t even flinch. “Or do you need to tag along with me for that too? Are you going to follow me to my classes? Hold my hand through the Gauntlet?”
Xaden raises a brow, and it makes Bodhi feel like a fucking child, judged for his sudden outburst. Fuck him. He strides off in the direction of the rotunda, and his cousin doesn’t say a damn word to stop him.
It’s less than a week into classes, and Bodhi has already been nearly stabbed three separate times.
The first time is on his way back from laundry duty in a mostly empty hallway. He’s on the lowest level of the quadrant, just a few minutes away from the laundry room, when some girl angrily yells something about her mother dying in the fighting his uncle’s rebellion caused. Reflexes take over, years and years of learning where and how to kill someone, how to win in hand to hand combat, how to hone his body into a lethal machine, and Bodhi has a dagger in her side before he can even think of showing any mercy.
He stares down at her limp form as she bleeds out underneath him with a vacant stare up at the ceiling. None of that training prepared him for what happens after. For the life draining out of another human’s body, a whole person just gone, at his hand. He takes a deep breath in, pulling his dagger from the wound—which only causes the bleeding to worsen—and wipes it clean on the girl’s pants before sheathing it back at his side. He tries to stand, but it’s hard to make his legs work. For as steady as they were during parapet, they feel like jelly now.
So he just stays there, straddling her lifeless body, and stares as her soul slips away.
Thank the gods it’s Garrick who finds him there. He’s grateful enough that he doesn’t even bother to think too hard about whether his cousin and his friend might be keeping tabs on him.
“Bodhi.” He can’t fucking move. The footsteps get closer, Garrick’s soft curse not far from his right ear, and suddenly there are hands under his arms, hauling him to his feet. “Come on, Bodhi. Up you go.”
Bodhi just blinks a few times, clearing the hazy fog from his vision. His legs still don’t feel steady, but they don’t give out either. Not even when Garrick lets go and takes a step back, surveying the damage. “Good job not getting killed. Xaden would be proud.”
“I killed someone.” He blinks again, not quite able to comprehend how normal Garrick is being about all of this. The last time they had all been together, well, before the executions at least, they had just been kids. Now suddenly they were supposed to be unfazed by taking life?
It had sounded so much simpler in theory, when he was being trained for the quadrant.
“Better you than her,” Garrick says evenly, eyeing the corpse with distaste. He eyes Bodhi again, and a small, sympathetic smile crosses his face. Like he can tell exactly how weak Bodhi is compared to him and Xaden, and he’s trying to offer some sort of comfort. “Get out of here. Get some air. I’ll clean this up.”
Bodhi’s so shocked by what he’s done, he doesn’t even say thank you. Just hurries out to the courtyard, finds a sturdy, empty patch of wall to brace himself against, and takes big, gasping lungfuls of air.
The next time he’s almost stabbed it’s on the mat—a first year cadet from Second Wing with a particular distaste for anyone with a rebellion relic—but Bodhi’s prepared for that one. Hand to hand combat is his bread and butter. He ends up with a win and a new, shiny dagger to add to his growing collection. Xaden watches from the side of the mat as impassively as always, but when Bodhi catches his eye, a slight, pleased smirk curls at the corner of his lips.
Bodhi does a double take. Gods, have his lips always been that nice, or have they changed too since he and Xaden last saw each other before Basgiath? Bodhi tries to shake the thought as he slides the new dagger into place and strides off the mat, but his eyes keep drifting back to him, to those full, soft, damning lips. He licks at his own. He’s always been told he and Xaden look alike, but there’s no way his lips look like that. They’re not nearly so perfect.
He’s still annoyed with his cousin for his overprotectiveness. Still upset he fought to have him in his squad so he could babysit the heir to his title rather than looking out for another Tyrrish cadet. However, Xaden is his squad leader, so he grits his teeth and bares it. It’s not like he can avoid him after all. Every single day, he’s in his cousin’s shadow, listening to that strong, familiar voice bark orders and watching even the most uninspired cadets respond with grudging respect. Even the cadets who hate Fen Riorson can’t deny that Xaden is a hell of a leader.
And Xaden, well, he tries not to show favoritism of course—as a squad leader, he certainly shouldn’t— but is it really favoritism when Bodhi is clearly the most talented first year in their squad? Those appreciative nods and the few, rare smiles are because Bodhi earns them, and for Bodhi, that just makes those little rewards all the sweeter.
As he walks off the mat to stand by the wall, he accepts a gruff, “Good work, Cadet Durran,” with a nod and tries to ignore the strange, tight feeling in his chest when a couple of girls from Third Wing walk by, shooting his cousin—currently dressed in a tight black training shirt that clings to his chiseled upper body—lingering looks that are anything but innocent.
The third time Bodhi almost gets stabbed, he really almost gets stabbed.
The first year barracks may be crowded and uncomfortable, but at least they’re somewhat safe. Killing another cadet while they’re sleeping is against the Codex.
What Bodhi quickly finds out is that, while killing another cadet while sleeping may be against the Codex, killing another cadet while they’re getting ready for bed is not in fact against the Codex.
Fucking technicalities.
This particular night, he gets in later than most, having spent a good chunk of the evening in the gym, and then the rest of it studying his new history textbook with Imogen. Most of his fellow cadets are already asleep when he enters the large, high ceilinged room, the deep sound of snores echoing through the space in an annoying ass symphony of utter, garbled noise. For Bodhi, sleep hasn’t come easy since the Calldyr Executions, and having to do it in this room full of loudly snoring cadets does not help. He sighs, shucking the lower half of his uniform and pulling on a pair of soft sleep pants instead. He just knows falling asleep is going to be a nightmare. Removing the weapons strapped to his upper body, he goes to change his shirt next. It still smells faintly of the gym. Gross. If it wasn’t already so late coming back, he’d have showered, but that’ll have to wait until the morning now. He has his shirt halfway over his head when he hears the footsteps, the sudden exhale of a harsh breath as someone moves quick and light on their feet, and fuck.
Bodhi’s chest is bare, his uniform shirt still clutched in his hand as he throws out one arm to block the attack, the cadet’s blade missing anything vital, but still slicing into the top layer of his skin, leaving a line of blood welling up in its wake as Bodhi gasps in shock.
He gets a firm hold on the tan wrist wielding the knife before finally glancing up at his attacker. It’s a guy from First Wing, and that's about as far as Bodhi’s knowledge of him goes. A fellow first year who he’s never spoken to a day in his life glaring at him with pure animosity.
“What the fuck?” The words are loud enough that the cadets closest to them stir, a few of them blinking in bleary-eyed confusion, looking for the source of the commotion. One mutters a very exhausted sounding “shut up” before turning back over in bed and slamming his pillow over his ear.
“You’re a traitor,” the guy, whose name Bodhi still doesn’t fucking know, shoots back at him. “All of you are. You shouldn’t even be here.”
“I didn’t fight in the apo—rebellion,” he says, quickly ‘correcting’ himself for the sake of not making this into more of an argument than it needs to be. The Navarrians can call it whatever they want. He knows the truth. Bodhi doesn’t let his hold on his attacker’s wrist slip, even as he struggles to free himself. “I was sixteen when it happened,” Bodhi spits out. “Do you really think they let teenagers go to war, or are you being deliberately obtuse to pick a fight?”
“You know what I mean,” the guy hisses, wrenching his arm, but Bodhi’s own grip only tightens. He can feel the bones under his fingers grind together as he twists his wrist, and his attacker yelps.
“I really fucking don’t.” Then, Bodhi yanks his arm back so far that he hears a sickening pop. The guy from First Wing screams as his knife clatters to the ground.
While the entire barracks wakes at the sound, Bodhi pulls on his sleep shirt, restraps his own weapons, and shoves a fresh uniform into his pack before slinging it over one shoulder.
He glances back at the guy who attacked him, now curled on the ground, cradling his dislocated shoulder. “The next time you try that, I’ll kill you without a second thought.”
And then, he strides for the door.
It’s past curfew, but Bodhi is long past caring as he storms up the stairs and through the halls for the one second year room he knows. He bangs on the solid wood twice, waits a few seconds, then knocks again.
“If you don’t open this door—” Bodhi mutters, but abruptly cuts himself off as a very tired, very shirtless Xaden yanks the door open and stares at him with raised brows.
“The fuck are you doing here?”
Bodhi drags his eyes up from Xaden’s naked chest, trying to shoulder past him into his room only to find himself blocked by some sort of invisible shield. Wards, his sleepy brain supplies. Xaden has wards up. He’s learned a lot of tricks since arriving at Basgiath it seems. “Let me in.”
Xaden dips his head out into the hall, glancing past Bodhi in either direction, before fixing his gaze on his clearly agitated cousin again, looking him up and down with a slight frown. “Why?”
“Because I’m sick of being hunted like a damn deer, Xaden, now let me in.”
Sighing, Xaden grabs hold of Bodhi’s arm and pulls him through the wards.
His cousin waves his hand and closes the door with lesser magic—something that Bodhi is still very much getting used to. This Xaden is a different person than the boy he grew up with. The magic and the shadows are part of it of course, but the more startling changes are in the way he acts. The way he interacts with others. The way he’s quieter, more careful. The way he hardly jokes around, even when it’s just those of them from Aretia. The way he walks around Basgiath like he’s intent on shouldering the entire weight of his father’s rebellion on his shoulders alone. Bodhi can hardly imagine this Xaden playing soldiers in the woods or smuggling cake out of the kitchens with him. Sitting around a fire and telling ghost stories. Joking about girls and bragging about his escapades. But it’s still him. Bodhi knows that deep down, he’s the same person. Just with a lot more walls.
Xaden leans up against the wall of his room, arching an eyebrow. “Why are you here, Bodhi?”
“I already told you—”
He raises a hand, and Bodhi snaps his mouth shut, cheeks flushing.
“Well then, do you want to be a little more specific and tell me what the fuck happened tonight?”
Chewing at the inside of his cheek, Bodhi takes a moment to consider. He told Xaden he could take care of himself, yet here he is, running to his cousin as soon as things get a little bit tough, begging for his help. Bodhi was supposed to be the rider all along, yet here he is, struggling to even make it to Threshing, let alone to graduation.
“I’d like to sleep at some point you know.”
Bodhi breathes out a petulant sigh. “Some asshole tried to stab me in the barracks.”
Xaden’s brows knit in thought. “While you were sleeping?”
Shaking his head, Bodhi takes a few steps to the bed, noting the messy way the covers are already pulled back, and perches on the edge of it. His cousin must have been laying down when he got here. “I wasn’t sleeping yet,” Bodhi explains. “Just changing into night clothes.”
“Shit.” Xaden scrubs at his face with one large hand, his stubble more pronounced at this time of night as he scrutinizes Bodhi. “If anyone tries that shit, you kill them. You know you can do that, right? As long as they’re not in your squad, you can, and should, kill them without punishment.”
“Of course I know that,” he says, a slightly incredulous laugh escaping his throat. “I already did kill the first one.”
“The first one?” Xaden’s eyes flare. “The fuck do you mean, the first one?”
“The other day. In the hall? After laundry duty?” He looks up at Xaden, forehead creased. From this angle, he can’t help but catch sight of that bare, muscled chest as he glances up to meet his dark eyes. It’s an incredibly distracting chest. “Didn’t Garrick tell you?”
“No,” Xaden says slowly, eyes narrowing, “Garrick did not tell me.”
“Shit.”
“Were you going to tell me?”
“I handled it.”
“You could have died.”
“I handled it.”
“If we both die, then there’s no—”
“I said I fucking handled it!”
Xaden’s jaw flexes, and Bodhi traces the movement with his eyes while the past week weighs down between them, his raised voice echoing in the silence.
“Look,” he says after a long moment, voice coming out careful and much more even now, “I just want to sleep here tonight. I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”
His cousin pushes off of the wall taking a few steps until he’s standing directly in front of Bodhi, staring him down. Bodhi knows they’re nearly the same height, but from this angle he looks so damn tall. “You’re going to sleep here until I decide it’s safe for you to go back to the barracks.”
“Xaden—”
“It wasn’t a fucking question, Bodhi. Now take your weapons off and lie down. I remember how much you toss and turn in your sleep, and I don’t want you accidentally stabbing me.”
Bodhi takes a deep breath in, turning his attention down to his own hands while he undoes the straps and sheaths that hold his various weapons, tossing them onto a chair in the corner. Then, because it’s just the two of them here and he may as well be comfortable, he tugs off his shirt and drapes it over the chair as well before crawling into Xaden’s bed. It’s not as big as the ones they have back in Aretia, but it’s much larger and ten times more comfortable than the beds in the barracks. When he turns to face the wall and settles his head against one of the pillows, it has that distinct minty smell that reminds Bodhi distinctly of home.
Xaden climbs into bed behind him without a word, and Bodhi can feel the heat of his body as soon as he slips under the covers, their skin not quite touching, but close. He’s so close that Bodhi wants to flip himself around and reach out his hand, to feel all of the places that Xaden is different now. Feel all of that well trained muscle. Run his fingers over the dragon relic and those one hundred and seven tiny scars on his back. Trace the rebellion relic winding up his arm, a near twin to Bodhi’s own. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and shakes his head just barely, a poor attempt to shake the inappropriate thoughts.
“I was serious when I said I only need to stay here for tonight, Xay,” he mutters into darkness, the childhood nickname spilling from his lips so much more easily now that they’re huddled together in bed like this. Just like they used to during that last year together, before everything fell apart. When both his mother and Xaden’s father were off fighting Navarre, and the two cousins weren’t sure whether either of their parents would come home.
The room is quiet enough that he hears Xaden swallow. Feels him shift against the bedsheets less than a foot away. “You’re not going to die in this quadrant, Bodhi,” he says, voice softer than Bodhi’s heard it since before they were dragged off to be fostered by different families. “Not if I can help it. Sleep here until it’s safe.”
Bodhi doesn’t bother pointing out that it will never be safe for them at Basgiath. Instead, he tucks the blanket in tighter under his chin and scooches just an inch or two closer to his cousin, playing it off as simply finding a more comfortable position. He can feel the slight dip of the mattress where he knows Xaden is. It’s a comforting presence.
“Good night, Xay.”
“Night.”
When Bodhi finally falls asleep, dreams that he hasn’t visited in years suddenly resurface. Dreams of the stories Xaden used to tell him. Dreams of all the things he’s sure must have happened since in this very bed. He’s seen the way the girls here look at his cousin. He dreams of Xaden fucking them, Bodhi’s subconscious sitting in the corner and watching undetected like a godsdamn voyeur, stroking himself to the fleeting images, wanting, longing, yearning to do so much more than just watch.
And the part that scares him most of all, the part that he’s never wanted to admit, even to himself, is that he’s never wanted to take Xaden’s place in these stories and dreams. He’s not jealous of his cousin.
He’s jealous of the girls underneath him.
The dream goes fuzzy around the edges, Bodhi blinks, and suddenly it’s him stretched out on the bed instead. Him that Xaden is touching, teasing, biting. Kissing. Him that Xaden holds down and forces his way inside, fucking him over and over until he’s screaming for more, begging for his cousin to claim him, to be his and only his.
They’re finally back together, and Bodhi’s not letting Xaden go. Not again.
Right as his orgasm starts to build, as the heat flaring bright near the base of his spine becomes entirely too much, he jerks awake with a start.
It takes Bodhi a few moments to remember where he is. How he got here. The dark, indistinct features of Xaden’s room come into focus slowly. He shifts his weight against the mattress, thighs brushing together, and finds himself achingly hard.
When he flips over to find himself mere inches from Xaden’s face, those stark, angular features less harsh in sleep and his full, beautiful lips parted as his chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths, Bodhi’s heart skips a beat.
He reaches out a hand and brushes his fingers lightly, so lightly they’re barely touching, against the sensual curve of his mouth. Traces that gorgeous, full lower lip, entirely in awe at how soft it is. He didn’t know that any part of Xaden was soft. Xaden doesn’t stir, even as Bodhi cups his cheek, tracing featherlight fingers over rough stubble, running his thumb over that incredible high cheekbone—one of the few features he didn’t get from his father. Xaden’s dark, full lashes are fanned out over the very top of it, contrasting his golden brown skin beautifully. He’s a contradiction of gentle, sleep-smoothed features and harsh, strong angles like this, and Bodhi can’t get enough.
His eyes fall to his cousin’s chest next—hard, chiseled muscle honed by years on the sparring mat—watches it move in time with his breaths, each inhalation filling Bodhi with so much relief. Xaden is alive. They’re both here. Both alive. During those years apart, he wasn’t sure they’d ever get to this point.
Bodhi’s hand drifts down those beautiful pectorals, right over Xaden’s heart. He presses his palm flat until he can count the steady beats of his heart.
He traces the ridges of hard muscle, eyes glued to the skin stretched taut over them, so similar to his own he might lose track of who’s who if he’s not careful. He gets to the bottom of his cousin’s abs, the sparse trail of hair leading under buttery-smooth fabric, and Xaden gasps softly in his sleep, his hips shifting, but he doesn’t roll over, doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t move a single inch except for that one little twitch.
Carefully, ever so carefully, Bodhi trails his fingers lower, brushing over the smooth material until he finds what he’s looking for. Xaden’s lips part, and a low, heated groan pierces the room, the noise driving straight into Bodhi’s chest and lodging somewhere in his throat. He has to bite down hard on his own lip to stop himself from echoing that groan right back. He’s hard as a fucking diamond, and hearing his cousin make sounds like that isn’t helping.
He should get out of Xaden’s bed.
He should get up, go to the private bathing chamber, take care of himself in there, and leave his cousin alone.
But what he should do and what he desperately wants to do are two entirely different matters, and with Xaden here in this bed next to him, already shirtless and responding so nicely to his reverent touches, he doesn’t stand a chance at doing the right thing.
Bodhi brushes his knuckles up the side of Xaden’s quickly hardening cock and watches his face distort with obvious pleasure. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He wonders what Xaden is dreaming about right now. If he’s ever dreamt of Bodhi the way he dreams of Xaden. Still over the fabric of his pants, Bodhi grasps his cock, stroking slowly, careful never to move too hard or too fast, not to do anything that could possibly wake the gorgeous man laying next to him until he’s as hard as Bodhi himself.
Only when he starts to hear Xaden’s breathing shift into something shallower does he remove his hand, ever so quietly turning back over onto his side and closing his eyes, scooting back until their hard, warm bodies are pressed tightly against one another, his ass right up against Xaden’s cock in a way that could be an accident. Merely a consequence of moving around while they slept.
Xaden may still be mostly asleep, but he’s clearly been affected by Bodhi’s teasing. His hand grips Bodhi’s hip, tugging him even closer against his bare skin, and Bodhi bites down so hard on his lip he tastes iron.
Xaden’s hips surge forward, cock pressed right up against Bodhi’s ass, grinding thoughtlessly against him. Those hips roll again and again, subconsciously seeking friction, until suddenly his cousin slows to a halt, his fingers loosening their hold in Bodhi’s skin as his breathing catches, realization dawning over him like the sun will in mere hours. But when Xaden goes to pull away, Bodhi makes the snap decision to play into it. Breathes a sleepy, needy noise and presses back against his cousin, drawing a startled moan from Xaden’s lips and a quiet, “Oh, fuck.”
And despite Xaden’s strong will and notorious self control, he doesn’t stop. No, with Bodhi so clearly willing under his hands and his brain hazy from sleep, Xaden grinds forward again, seeking friction between their clothed bodies exactly as Bodhi has been craving. While Xaden was still asleep, unaware of what he was doing, it had felt incredible. Now? With his cousin willingly rutting up against him, using his body to chase that building pleasure? It’s heaven. Better than any of Bodhi’s dreams, because this is real.
Xaden’s breath is hot and quick against the back of his neck, and his fingers dig in at Bodhi’s hip again. Bodhi does everything he can to continue feigning sleep. He’s worried that if he appears to wake too suddenly, Xaden will stop. And he can’t have that.
So he limits himself to soft, sleep-murmured words, quiet moans, and subtle gasping breaths that only seem to ignite the fire in Xaden’s veins. He keeps his body loose and limp as his cousin holds him against the mattress, still half asleep himself as he rolls his hips against the warmth of Bodhi’s body under the covers over and over again, seemingly unaware that his own voice is getting louder with each passing minute.
Now, Bodhi thinks. He has to make a move now if he wants this to be anything more than some one-sided grinding—as incredible as Xaden’s grinding is. He rolls his own hips back more deliberately with his cousin’s next thrust, turning his face out from the pillow to make sure Xaden can hear him, a mix of sleep-rough confusion and needy desire lacing his tone. “Mmm, Xay?” Xaden’s hips come to an immediate halt, but Bodhi just works his own backward, picking up exactly where his cousin left off to maintain a steady rhythm against his aching cock. “No, don’t stop,” Bodhi breathes, wrapping one leg back to hook over Xaden’s and pulling him impossibly closer. “Feels so good.”
“Bodhi, I…” Xaden’s voice sounds almost strangled, but Bodhi can still feel him, pressed between their muscled bodies, hard as a fucking rock. When Bodhi wriggles back, his cock twitches.
“Please, Xaden,” he pleads, voice tinged with a desperation that he truly does feel, “I need you.”
And when he grinds back again, Xaden doesn’t stop him. Then, after a few more rolls of his hips, Xaden wraps his hand around Bodhi’s waist and tugs him close, fingers digging into his own perfectly carved abs, pinning him against his cousin’s body as Xaden lets go of his inhibitions and seeks the friction he so badly needs, driving himself into Bodhi’s ass so hard the bed shakes and thuds against the wall.
“Fuck, Xaden.” Bodhi reaches back, desperate to touch, clawing at whatever skin he can catch with his fingers, but it’s not enough. He knows exactly what he wants, can already feel his mouth watering with the possibility as that hard, thick cock grinds into him over and over. Squirming in Xaden’s tight hold, Bodhi manages to twist around until they’re facing one another, not lingering long enough to catch whatever emotions might be crossing his cousin’s face before he slides down that tall, perfect physique, tossing the covers haphazardly to the floor as he straddles himself across Xaden’s thick thighs.
“Bodhi,” he gasps, rough voice choked off as he lifts his head just enough to watch, one hand shoved back through his own dark hair, pushing it off of his forehead while the other clenches into a straining fist atop his own thigh. “What are you doing?”
Bodhi worries his lower lip between his teeth as he dips his fingers under the waistband of Xaden’s pants, those fucking magnificent abs contracting and twitching as his cousin teases the sensitive skin so close to where he really needs him. “I missed you,” Bodhi says, low voice burning with the truth of it. His fingers hook around the waistband and tug, shoving his pants down just far enough for Xaden’s cock to spring free. And gods, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Long and thick and so tantalizingly hard for him. Just for him. It’s better than anything Bodhi has conjured up in his years of dangerous dreaming and speculation. It’s like Xaden’s body was carved from stone, a perfectly designed specimen chiseled by a master sculptor—one who knew exactly what it would take to turn Bodhi on past the point of common sense. He sighs in expectant delight, licking his lips as he dips his head down low, mouth nearly grazing the tip of his cousin’s cock as he demands, “Now let me show you just how much I missed you.”
Xaden throws his head back on a groan as Bodhi’s lips wrap around the thick head, sucking his cousin down in one, smooth motion. When he gets as far as he can fit, Bodhi sits there and takes a deep breath through his nose, allowing himself a moment to let everything sink in. This is real. He’s here in Xaden’s bed, with his mouth stuffed full of Xaden’s cock, every inch of that gorgeously intoxicating body stretched below him like a damn feast. Years ago, he heard plenty of stories from his cousin of those girls back home who got down on their knees for him. How godsdamn good it felt.
And if there’s one thing Bodhi knows sitting there straddling Xaden’s thighs, years and years of lusting after his cousin in secret finally culminating in this very moment, it’s that he will be better.
Pressing his tongue against that thick vein on the underside of Xaden’s shaft and hollowing his cheeks to create suction, Bodhi draws back, sliding saliva-wet lips over every inch so slowly that he’s sure it must drive his cousin mad but, at least for now, Xaden holds himself in check. He doesn’t grab Bodhi’s head and hold him still and vulnerable while he fucks up into his mouth, chasing his own pleasure, as much as Bodhi secretly wishes he would do just that. No, Xaden keeps his body still, limiting himself to short, aborted little movements, twitching against the sheets as he forces himself not to drive his hips up into the warm, promising softness of Bodhi’s mouth.
He lets his cousin play for now.
And Bodhi takes full advantage of that momentary surrender.
His hands find purchase on the hard, tense muscles of Xaden’s thighs—even firmer than they were back in Aretia now that he has a year of dragon riding under his belt—his thumbs sweeping over heated bare skin, brushing so close to his balls that Xaden inhales sharply. Bodhi just hums around his cock in response, his mouth stretched obscenely wide as he takes Xaden over and over again, fingers kneading into those tight muscles as he drives him higher with his lips and eager tongue just like he’s dreamed of countless times. If he’s dreaming now, he never wants to wake up.
Just as Bodhi’s jaw is starting to ache and the building need in his own neglected cock is growing uncomfortable, his cousin’s unbendable willpower straight up snaps. That hand that has been so still the entire time Bodhi’s had his mouth on Xaden suddenly dives into his hair, fisting so tight in his curls that his scalp stings with the pull. Bodhi moans, the cock in his mouth muffling it in a way that somehow just makes it sound more sinful, and that sound is apparently all the permission Xaden needs to hold him tight and start thrusting up into his cousin’s willing mouth with abandon. As Xaden uses his hand to steer his every movement, pulling his head down to meet each rough thrust with his spasming throat, Bodhi has the distinct realization that he is no longer giving his cousin a blowjob. No, now he’s nothing more than a wet, willing hole for Xaden to fuck, and that knowledge alone sparks a blazing fire in his very soul. It should be humiliating, degrading. He shouldn’t want to be used like this. But gods he does. It has his entire sense of being in thrall, his every muscle taut, pulled tight with desperate, burning desire for more. He reaches his hand down between their bodies, finding his own cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs, and matches his cousin’s relentless pace with his own strokes as the building pressure threatens to consume him in flames. He’s never been so turned on before. It’s like the very blood flowing through his veins is pure fire, and he’s entirely willing to let it burn him.
“Bodhi.” Xaden’s groan overrides his every thought as he works himself faster, as Xaden continues to drive up into his throat with all of that glorious strength, the sound of his name on those beautiful lips the most important thing he’s ever borne witness to, and as Xaden drags him back down, the head of his cock brushing the back of his throat with each thrust, Bodhi does all he can to breathe through it. To relax his jaw and keep his mouth soft and pliant—to be good for him—while Xaden gives him exactly what he’s needed for all of these years. “Bodhi, fuck, I’m going to—”
At the first taste of his cousin’s come on his tongue, Bodhi falls headfirst over the edge of an endless abyss of pure ecstasy. His eyes squeeze shut and his whole body burns bright as he spills over his own fist, a low, drawn out groan of pure pleasure muffled around his cousin’s throbbing cock as he fucks into Bodhi’s mouth a few more times, making sure to empty every last drop across his tongue.
Face flushed and chest heaving from his own orgasm, Bodhi swallows it down. When he finally pulls off, he licks the last traces of Xaden from his lips before resting back on his heels, eyes locking with Xaden’s as his cousin breathes out an unsteady exhale that sounds equal parts sated and uncertain. His thick brows knit together, and he shakes his head just the tiniest bit side to side, like he’s trying to clear it. “Fuck.”
Bodhi wipes the excess saliva off on the back of his arm and tilts his head, a ghost of a smile still touching his lips. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s…?” Xaden shakes his head again, more firmly this time. His pupils are still blown, eyes dark and simmering with the warmth of afterglow, but they hold a genuine concern as well that makes Bodhi’s heart stutter. “We—fuck. What do you mean what’s wrong? We… we shouldn’t have done that.”
Bodhi swallows, his throat suddenly dry. It tastes like Xaden going down. “Says who?” He knows it’s a ridiculous, rhetorical question. Says everyone, probably. But so what? Fuck everyone else. He’s been terrified of these feelings for years, and now that he finally has Xaden, all he can think is what even was there to be so afraid of?
That? Him and Xaden? It was more than good. It was everything.
“Bodhi.” Xaden’s tone grows sharp now, not unlike the one he uses when he’s dishing out commands to their squad. Bodhi sits up a little straighter on instinct at the rebuke. “We can’t.”
“Clearly we can,” he argues, motioning at their softening cocks while Xaden just winces at the reminder. “It’s fine, Xay. It’s just a little fun. Who the fuck cares?” He takes a deep breath in, leveling his stare on Xaden. “I think after everything we’ve been through, we both deserve to feel good.”
“If anyone finds out about this—”
Bodhi runs a finger up Xaden’s hard inner thigh, making him choke on his own words. He throws a scowl his way, but Bodhi only smiles. “No one is going to find out.”
The words settle between them, and though his own voice is a bit too sharp to be comforting, it seems to soothe that wild look in Xaden’s eyes nonetheless.
“Besides,” Bodhi says, a hint of his loose, satisfied grin returning, “you clearly can’t say you didn’t enjoy yourself.” He licks his lips again just to watch Xaden’s eyes dart to them, tracing the path of his tongue. There’s a hunger there that Bodhi wants to see every day for the rest of his life. He considers it, the two of them, back in Aretia. Once they find a way to get out of Navarre’s demands and make their way back home. Xaden as Duke, Bodhi at his side, just like it was always meant to be. Xaden will have to marry of course, but that hardly matters when the whole thing is contractual anyway. He can fulfill his duty with his wife, and once that’s out of the way, Bodhi can climb into his bed again, the two of them tangled up in one another as often as they please. They are each other’s only surviving family after all—ignoring Xaden’s mother of course, but the gods only know where she fucked off to. It’s only right they stay close, keep each other comfortable and satisfied and loved in a way that no one else can. “I know you too well. Don’t bother trying to lie.”
Xaden’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t bother arguing. He can’t. Like Bodhi pointed out, he knows his cousin too well to believe anything but the truth. Xaden sits up and nudges him over to the side so he can stand, wincing down at the wet spot on his sleep pants, courtesy of Bodhi’s cock spilling right onto his legs while Xaden fucked every single thought right out of his head. Rather than pulling the soiled pants back up, he shucks them entirely, striding for his private bathing chamber without a word. Bodhi watches him go, staring at that perfectly sculpted ass and wondering if he can convince his cousin to go another round when they wake up again in a few hours. Then he flops back down onto the mattress, rolling over onto his side, and letting heavy eyes fall closed. He feels so pleasantly, achingly tired, his limbs so loose, body so warm and hazy, that he nearly falls asleep just waiting for Xaden to return.
Bodhi doesn’t open his eyes when he hears the door open, but he tracks the soft sounds of Xaden’s bare feet on the floor as he walks back across the room, hears his quiet sigh. There’s a fondness in the sound that reminds Bodhi of the old Xaden. The one unburdened by war and rebellions and a full year of doing whatever it took to survive in Basgiath. The heavy blanket, kicked to the floor in the midst of their escapade, is tossed over him, and Bodhi hums at the comforting warmth. And when his cousin crawls back into bed this time, he doesn’t bother leaving an inch of space between them. He fits himself along the curve of Bodhi’s back and slings one arm—the one with his rebellion relic—over his waist. Not embracing him, but just draping it there, making him aware of his presence. It almost feels possessive.
Bodhi thinks he might like the notion of Xaden being a little possessive over him.
“So,” he asks sleepily, warm and content and relaxed against Xaden’s beautiful body, “how long am I sleeping in your room, Xay?”
His cousin’s exasperated sigh is hot against the back of his neck, but still, there’s a tiny edge of amusement in his voice. “Go to sleep, Bodhi.”
And without the threat of murderous Navarrian first years surrounding him, with Xaden’s solid, steady presence at his back, he does.