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It had been Alaira's idea to take the girls for a little vacation— just a few days of enjoying the coastal town closest to where she and Euini had settled, the summer sun and warm waters. "I know it's not your scene," she'd told Qifrey with a nudge of her elbow, "but I think it'd be good for them!" Richeh had been the first of the four to aim pleading eyes at Qifrey, but it took very little pressure from the apprentices for him to yield to this plan.
It wouldn't just be a vacation for the girls, after all; Qifrey could barely remember the last time he'd been alone with Olruggio, and considering that spending time with Olly was only recently no longer a potential trigger for death by silverwood, he was very much looking forward to some time with no girls to worry about walking in on anything they shouldn't see. They'd managed a few hasty caresses and fumbling gropes since Qifrey was cured, but he had extensive plans for Olly now that their peace was guaranteed.
The morning Alaira came through the windowway to pick up the girls (and their spelled luggage, the levitation charm for which Tetia had spent the past week refining with Olly's help), Qifrey saw them off with a smile and a gentle reminder of "Be good, and have fun." The moment the windowway closed behind them, he took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and went to find his Watchful Eye.
Unsurprisingly, despite this plan having been made and communicated in advance, Olruggio was still deeply asleep when Qifrey peeked into his workshop— one ink-stained hand dangling over the side of his hammock proving his location. Smiling, Qifrey floated up to get a better look at him, and nearly fell out of the air at the state he found Olly.
When Olly had brought home the airy pajamas given to him by a grateful client, Qifrey's first reaction had been that's not pajamas, that's lingerie. Olly himself seemed oblivious to the charms of the garments, wearing them for comfort and not for seductive purposes, as far as Qifrey was ever aware; it was rare that Olly ever wore them out of his room, and if he did, it was only in the dark of night, when the girls were long asleep, and his encounters with Qifrey were more chance than anything.
That was to say, Qifrey hadn't had as much opportunity as he would have liked to appreciate the way the cape draped over Olly's broad shoulders, held in place by what magic, he couldn't begin to guess, the translucence of the sheer fabric veiling Olly's body from the waist down, like a half-remembered dream that Qifrey wanted nothing more than to seize with both hands. Now, having tossed and turned in his sleep, the skirt was twisted around Olly's legs, half-hiked to reveal one shapely, hairy calf, gathered in the front where Qifrey could see the jut of Olly's morning wood pressing up against the fabric.
Qifrey stifled a little moan into his own fist, making a meal of Olruggio's body with his gaze while his mouth watered desperately. Part of him wanted to pounce, to climb into the hammock and help himself to his best friend's vulnerable body, but that was both inappropriate and not nearly satisfying enough compared to doing what he wanted while Olly was awake to enjoy it.
"Olly," he cooed softly, carding his fingers through sleep-rumpled black hair. There were a few strands of silver near Olly's temple, a mark of the years they'd spent in their agonizing dance of wanting to be close and needing to be apart, and the sight of them made Qifrey's chest ache. So long they'd spent not able to be everything they wanted to be to each other, so many years of deferred affection that Qifrey wanted desperately to make up for. "Olly, dearest, wake up…"
"Mmmno," Olly groaned, turning his head into Qifrey's hand before blinking up at him, blue eyes barely opening before a smile curled his lips. "Qif. Mornin'."
"Good morning." Qifrey swallowed as Olly yawned and stretched out luxuriously, the filmy fabric of his top peeling apart to bare his whole fuzzy chest, the shift of his hips drawing Qifrey's gaze down to his coyly draped cock. "I was thinking for breakfast…"
"Hmm?" Sleepy-sweet and easygoing, Olly arched his brows curiously.
"…I would very much like to have you for breakfast," Qifrey admitted, all his plans having gone straight out the window at his first glimpse of the delectable snack asleep in his hammock.
"Not very nutritious," Olly joked, spreading his legs when he realized where Qifrey was looking. "Sure you don't want somethin' more substantial?"
"Oh, I think you'll fill me up perfectly." Qifrey looked up to meet Olly's eyes, a plea in his own. "May I have you?"
"I'm all yours, darlin'," Olly said softly, "have me however you'd like."
Permission granted, Qifrey wasted no time at all in straddling Olly's waist, hands spread out over his bare chest and squeezing his soft, hairy pecs immediately. Olly sucked in a shaky breath, his whole body humming with anticipation as he realized that Qifrey was only wearing his white overdress, nothing beneath at all— decent enough to see the girls off when he didn't need to leave the house, debauched enough that when Qifrey ground back against Olly's erection, the barely-there barrier of Olly's sheer skirt did nothing to obscure the feeling of his cock sliding against Qifrey's crack.
"Fuck, Qifrey," Olly gasped, arching into him until Qifrey leaned on his hands, pressing Olly's chest back down into the hammock. "Are we—"
"Completely alone for the next four days? Yes indeed," Qifrey purred, thumbing at Olly's nipples just to make him squirm. "No interruptions, no other concerns, no reason for you to try to be quiet while I savor you, so please don't stifle yourself while I finally give you all the attention you deserve, my love."
"Oh," Olly breathed, and then "Oh," when Qifrey pinched one nipple, his body jolting under Qifrey's. "Y-yeah, all right, I'm— nngh, Qif, what are you—" His hands clutched clumsily at Qifrey's legs when Qifrey lifted himself off Olly's hips, "don't go, that was good—"
"Shh, I'm not going anywhere," Qifrey soothed, bending to kiss him before sitting back and dragging his hands from Olly's chest down to his hips. "I'm simply settling on my strategy to completely dismantle you, that's all."
"That's all," Olly echoed weakly. He looked wrecked already, and Qifrey had barely done anything to him yet. "Do I… will I get a chance to do this to you?"
"We've got plenty of time," Qifrey said, which wasn't a yes. He still wasn't entirely comfortable receiving affectionate touch, even after the silverwood was eradicated, but giving— giving he could do, and very much wanted to. "Don't think about later, Olly, focus on now."
"Plenty goin' on now to focus on," he agreed, lifting his hips as Qifrey's fingers toyed with the waist of his skirt. "You gonna take that off me?"
"Mm, I don't think so…" One finger dipped into Olly's bellybutton and followed the trail of dark hair downward, hooking into the skirt to pull it down just far enough for Qifrey's thumb to ruffle the curls thickening between Olly's legs but not far enough to reach where Olly really wanted that touch to go. "You look so pretty in it, it seems a shame to remove it."
"So you're gonna torture me," Olly said melodramatically, covering his eyes with one wrist but ruining the effect when he peeked at Qifrey from under it.
"Torture? Not in the least." Qifrey leaned forward, gently gripping Olly's wrist to pin it above his head, lowering himself until his lips were just out of reach. "No, Olruggio, I'm going to worship you."
The sound Olly made was not a word. If he had any words to speak, Qifrey didn't give him the chance to muster them before claiming his mouth in a kiss that stole his breath and made his head spin. In all the years he'd spent yearning for Qifrey, his imaginings had mostly been about how he would make Qifrey feel good; turned around on him, Olly was adrift, none of his fantasies addressing how to receive pleasure instead.
Qifrey rubbed his face against Olly's, relishing in the scratch of his beard against Qifrey's smooth skin, dropping kisses on his cheeks and his nose and the dark smudges of exhaustion that permanently adorned below his eyes. "You're beautiful," he murmured between kisses, "you've always been beautiful, I've thought so since you pulled me out of the ocean and put the breath back in my lungs." The hand on Olly's wrist slid up to lace their fingers together, still holding him in place. "You're the one who tortured me, Olly, decades that all I could do was love you in silence, at a distance…" One more kiss on Olly's lips, and then Qifrey nudged the tips of their noses together until Olly opened dazed eyes and met Qifrey's gaze. "Thank you for that pain," Qifrey said softly, "it helped keep the tree at bay."
"Qifrey," Olly whispered, because what else could he say to that? Qifrey smiled, not the false smile Olly had taught him that he'd used thousands of times since then, but a small, lopsided smile that wrapped itself around Olly's heart. "Never wanted to hurt you."
"Funny to hear that from the brilliant architect of my torment," Qifrey said, lightly enough that it couldn't hurt Olly to hear it. "No, love, you did what was necessary, as did I. If we hadn't, we never would have reached this…" He shifted until their bodies were aligned, warm and hungry and pressed hard together between them. "And this is going to be so, so good."
Helplessly, Olly ground upwards, cock dragging against Qifrey's through fabric he wished wasn't there. "If you won't take my clothes off, at least take off yours," he pleaded, "let me see you, Qif, please."
Not a second later, Qifrey's white dress went flying off the side of the hammock, leaving him gloriously bared to Olly's starry-eyed gaze. Qifrey fought his own self-consciousness to allow that gaze— so many scars on his body, from long-healed wounds and from the more recent extraction of the silverwood that left vegetal vestiges marked in his skin; so hard to be uncovered when his life had been spent as tightly and completely clothed as he could be, even to the collar woven snug around his own throat each morning. There was nothing but adoration in Olly's eyes, though— well, adoration and lust that turned ocean-blue eyes nearly black, almost looking intoxicated on nothing more than the sight of Qifrey's skin and a few kisses and caresses.
Still long enough to let Olly get an eyeful and then some, Qifrey ducked his head and shifted back, his mouth going to Olly's throat to nuzzle against his fluttering pulse and kiss down, mouth open and sweet as he made his way to take one nipple between his teeth. The first gentle nibble had Olly keening and arching upward against Qifrey's hand planted firmly against his solar plexus; when Qifrey swirled his tongue around that pebbled nipple, swirling the hair surrounding it, Olly thrust his hand into Qifrey's hair and held him there, panting like he'd broken the surface from deep, deep underwater. "Fuck, that's good— how'd you know—?"
Qifrey had no intention of lifting his head to explain that he'd flicked Olly on the chest once during a playful tussle when they were fifteen or so, and that the way Olly had moaned and gone stock-still with aroused embarrassment had fueled his fantasies since then. He just chuckled into the pelt between Olly's pecs as he switched to the other side to suck that nipple to attention and then bite it hard enough to make Olly yowl.
Even though Qifrey could easily have spent hours on Olly's tits alone, the begging that spilled from Olly's lips was enough enducement to move lower. "Please Qifrey, more, I need more, Qif, please." How could he resist when that rough, beloved voice was breaking on his name? Olly sobbed when Qifrey drew back, then cried out twice as loudly when Qifrey ducked his head under the filmy pajama skirt and charted a path from Olly's knee up to his groin, mapped with the tip of his tongue. "Oh fuck, please yes," Olly whimpered, his thighs falling apart eagerly, offering himself to Qifrey with no reservation.
Between Qifrey's poor vision and the obscurity of the translucent fabric over his head, he couldn't see the look on Olly's face as he pleaded. What he could see was Olly's cock, thick and throbbing and wet at the tip when Qifrey put his lips to it, jumping in his grip when Qifrey wrapped his hand around the base and took the head into his mouth.
"Fuck," Olly groaned, his legs trembling around Qifrey's shoulders, pulling his own hair to keep himself from pulling Qifrey's. "I'm— I can't last, Qif— please don't stop—"
A herd of eldroxen couldn't have pulled Qifrey away; stopping was unthinkable when Olly was a beautiful, begging mess beneath him, bittersalt dripping on Qifrey's tongue as he went down and down and down until he'd taken Olly all the way into his throat. After a lifetime of ignoring silverwood roots climbing down to his lungs, this was by far the best way his throat had been invaded, blunt heat and Olly's sobbing warning, "Gonna come, Qif, I'm—" Qifrey cupped a hand around his balls to feel them draw high and tight the instant before Olly spilled into his mouth, making sounds that Qifrey had never heard from his dearest friend before and wanted to hear as often as possible from now on.
When Qifrey emerged from under Olly's skirt, he looked insufferably smug, wiping his lips with the pad of his thumb and then sucking it clean. "That's breakfast sorted for me," he said cheerfully, though his voice had a raspy edge to it.
"Guh," Olly responded, still swimming in aftershocks as Qifrey stretched out atop him again.
"Is it okay to kiss you after that?" Qifrey asked. Olly's hand wound gently into Qifrey's hair to draw him down into a kiss, licking into his mouth with no hesitation and almost no coordination at first.
"You can kiss me whenever you want," Olly murmured when their mouths broke apart, "before, after, durin', whenever." His other arm wound around Qifrey's waist, pulling his body down and trapping Qifrey's neglected length against Olly's furry belly. "What about you, what do you want? I'll do anythin'."
"Anything?" Qifrey breathed, looking down at his lover's eyes gone clear and bright in the wake of his orgasm.
"You heard me," Olly said, arching his neck to kiss Qifrey again. "C'mon, you gotta have things you want, tell me one of 'em."
"There's nothing I don't want from you, Olly," Qifrey murmured, painfully honest. "I want it all, everything we could possibly do together."
"Me too, but that doesn't give me a startin' point," Olly laughed. "Let me make you feel as good as you just did me, Qifrey, I wanna see you fall apart for me." His voice was a warm purr that shivered down Qifrey's spine in the wake of his stroking hand.
Qifrey inhaled sharply when Olly's hand squeezed his ass, his hips grinding down against Olly's solid form. "Put me under you," he said, "pin me down and let me rub up against you?"
"Happy to," Olly rumbled, and rolled them over. When they'd been younger, scuffles devolving into wrestling matches on the floors of the Great Hall, Qifrey had always ended up below him; as grown men, the sense of victory was no less sweet when Qifrey asked to be put there. He settled himself between Qifrey's sprawled legs, stroking his cock once to get it well situated between them before lowering himself atop Qifrey's body. "Like this?"
"Mmm," Qifrey agreed, his eye fluttering shut as Olly's weight pressed him down. "Perfect, you're perfect." He rocked his hips up, frotting against Olly's stomach with a happy little moan that Olly swallowed down in a kiss. Olly's hands found Qifrey's and laced their fingers together, holding them to either side of Qifrey's head, wild white hair brushing fingers as Qifrey's head tossed.
"Lovely," Olly murmured, watching Qifrey's face avid as a devotee, the way his mouth open and shut helplessly with every thrust. "So lovely, Qifrey, I love you." Qifrey whimpered and forced his eye open, gasping at the look on Olly's face, intent and adoring. "C'mon, Qif, let me see it. That's it, take what you need." The motion of Qifrey's hips went erratic, rough jerks up against Olly's body that ended with a shudder that shook him head to toe, the spurt and smear of heat between smooth and hairy skin, a gasp that might have been the start of Olly's name or might have simply been all Qifrey could manage at his peak. "Yes," Olly whispered, "yes, just like that, sweetheart. Fuck, you're gorgeous."
"Fuck," Qifrey agreed, one breathless curse the only word that escaped him before they were kissing again, slow and searching kisses that all found what they were looking for, the easy give and take between two people who were finally, finally getting everything they'd wanted for so long, nothing more or less than each other.
Later, they'd unstick from each other with winces and chuckles at the mess; later, they'd feed each other morsels of cake and fruit from fingertips then licked clean; later, they'd settle into each other's embrace on the couch, reveling in the closeness, the quiet bliss of companionship the way they'd dreamed of for so long.
Just then, they nuzzled each other as breath returned, whispering like a prayer, "I love you."
