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In a city full of traditions, those past and new alike, none were joined so seamlessly as the annual Remembrance Ball. As if woven with arcane thread, old customs met a revived penchant for celebration.  Ravaged lands had healed, and the once abandoned celebration arose from the ashes of its past to find new life. Newfound normalcy and hope for the future merged on this singular night. 

Though galas and balls had reclaimed their place in society, the breathtaking excitement of the most sought after event set the city abuzz in anticipation. It was no wonder, then, why all of Silvermoon was bustling in the weeks approaching the ball. Ambition for politicking was tossed aside for the excitement of the most sought after invitation, all vying for the best the city had to offer—robes, suits, jewels. Tailors and seamstresses burned midnight oil to fulfill the exacting tastes of those looking to impress. Farmers harvested and sorted ripe, unblemished fruit from prized gardens, each guaranteed to impress discerning tastes. And the Council for Cultural Affairs, tasked with preserving and promoting their heritage, worked tirelessly to ensure every detail would meet the unwavering expectations of the triumvirate. 

As the evening of the Remembrance Ball arrived, the city was imbued with breathtaking magic—from the peaks of spires piercing at the inky night sky down to cobble-lined streets carrying countless soles reserved specially for the most elegant of affairs. When the harmony of a chamber orchestra spilled into the streets from the palace doors in welcoming invitation and candles flickered through Sunfury Spire, bright silks glowing with their golden warmth, a night of simple celebration was all Halduron and Rommath wanted with another. And for tonight, they nearly had it. 

But unlike the nobility in attendance, the Farstriders and Magisters joined in diplomatic unity, or even the palace guards given leave from their posts to embrace peace reminiscent of an age that was an echoed memory for all sin’dorei—unlike them all, the job still hung over them both. Though as thin of an obligation as bolts of sheer drapery lining every wall and nook of the palace, it was equally unavoidable within even in attendance at the grandest gala the city had to offer. As always, duty called.

After all the careful planning, the night began with the opening dance, as it had for every Remembrance Ball under King Anasterian’s reign.

Rommath allowed Halduron to lead them in a sweeping waltz. He, of course, did so with confidence and grace. Movement smooth and steps controlled, they moved to the sway of strings while tucked in the gentle sea of couples. As if one living, breathing entity, the dancers fanned in and out in perfect unison, revolving and twirling to the rise and fall of the composition. The only thing finer than the palace décor was flowing robes and tailored suits, a dragon’s hoard of tasteful jewels and gold dazzling beneath flickering lights. Even Rommath’s own caught the light and eye of Halduron alike.

Resplendent and elegant, they drew envy from more than simply their station. Tonight, power wasn’t held in titles, brute strength, or strategical prowess, but in something far more powerful still within the walls of Silvermoon: fashion. And in that, they proved at their pinnacle.

On Halduron’s insistence, Rommath had forgone a high collar, choosing robes intended for a special occasion. Easy access offered rewards—a quick kiss before their dance that encouraged strong hands to curl possessively around him and edge at the hem of appropriateness. Not that it seemed to dissuade Halduron, whose fingers brushed over Rommath’s bare back before reluctantly settling for his shoulder. 

It was their third attendance at the Remembrance Ball, together in the public eye. There had been a time Rommath refused attendance, breaking from tradition for unseen wounds that hadn’t healed. Though nights like this could be tender, each year they reclaimed more and more of a celebration he once believed he’d abandon for the remainder of his years. It became easier with Halduron’s steady hand and boundless understanding. Rommath had wished they could dance alone, just the two of them together and a clear sky holding twinkling stars overhead as they had during their first Remembrance Ball. The next best thing twinkled overhead in the form of magic motes imitating the starry sky they had danced beneath those years ago.

The tender start of new love had been shielded since then; guarded for them and them alone. This, as with all that came alongside the obligations of their station, lived and grew and loved outside of the spotlight. But nights like tonight witnessed the loosening of obligation, the blurring of political and personal. For nights like this, when music spun an electric buzz in the air, Rommath and Halduron found themselves playing the rare role of couple in place of stringent expectations as commanders.

Their relationship was as much a secret these days as their prior disdain for another. Whispers always swirled amongst sin’dorei elite, particularly in cases of consolidation of power—the merging of two great houses in marriage, new heirs, redrawn wills, and of even more of interest tonight, the reserved courting of two heads of state waltzing before them. Curious scrutiny peered on to see for themselves what most had thought impossible.

This opening dance—the only one they’d join tonight—was reserved for the most distinguished guests and heads of great houses. As the final chord resolved, they’d bow. They’d leave each other’s side, bound for diplomatic discussions serving the interests of Quel’Thalas while the remainder of the guests celebrated. But for now, they waltzed in unison, joined in a regimented custom steeped in millennia old tradition, all while Silvermoon watched on. 

Halduron leaned in until warm breath brushed against Rommath, ensuring what came next didn’t come under the scrutiny of a keen ear.

“When we end, meet me in five.” His voice was a low rumble heard just above the sweeping melody guiding them. “That alcove in the eastern corridor—you know the one.”

Rommath bit back a smile. “Already?”

He pulled back enough to catch Halduron’s eye. The mischievous twinkle he received told him all he needed to know: yes, already. Understanding simmered between them, a spark that had been ignited earlier in the privacy of their home suddenly found itself flamed. 

With a shared look, a secret game had begun.

Usually these events would drag on for at least an hour before they’d flash each other  a knowing look then excuse themselves separately for a private celebration. Anything to break the monotony of sycophantic nobility and endless official affairs. The thrill of a secret rendezvous coursed through Rommath, suddenly wishing the musicians would accelerate into a dervish that might leave them dizzied but closer to what he desired. 

He pulled Halduron closer.

“You’re usually far more patient,” said Rommath.

Halduron’s hand had been wandering from chaste placement on his shoulder, sliding lower. Warm fingers brushed over Rommath’s back, the feel of them electric against bared skin. It was subtle—an innocent shift in the midst of a spirited dance.

But Rommath knew better. 

It was provocation. A declaration of blatant desire unwilling to wait calmly on the side of the dance floor with the rest of Silvermoon.

Halduron laughed. “I told you these robes would be the death of me.” 

Rommath smiled knowingly—a small, coy thing intended for Halduron alone. There and gone for only the lynx-eyed to witness, yet surely lost in the whirling spin of their dance. More easily attributed to a trick of the light than an impossible smile from a normally impossible man.

Halduron had, in fact, warned him earlier.

Before they had even left their home, Halduron had swept him into a hungry kiss the moment Rommath stepped foot from their bedroom, dressed and ready to depart. It left him with hardly a chance to take in the fit of Halduron’s sapphire uniform before he’d descended. Unable to keep his hands off, Halduron pawed at new entrances from bold robes, offering wordless appreciation. 

Dalinna, Rommath’s personal tailor, had outdone herself. She’d selected bolts of deep green reminiscent of shady forest banks—a shade that fought definition just as it had when used for a cloak he’d commissioned years prior. The tasteful embroidery of his robes complimented the cloak far too well for mere coincidence, its subtle motifs graced the hems sweeping at the floor. From anyone else, a lucky coincidence to achieve without instruction nor reference, but from her, a keen eye and sharp memory for exacting tastes had pulled inspiration from a gift still cherished by its recipient to this day. 

Halduron and his gifted cloak had become synonymous. He never traveled without it. Still as dashing beneath its well-tailored stitching as the first night he’d donned it and fabric as comforting as the feel of it draped around them both in the autumn cold. But tonight, he’d forgone the daily garb of a Farstrider who was always readied for conflict at a moment's notice. His bow had been cast aside; prudent armor packed away. Stealthy greens traded for eyecatching blues of which even royalty would be envious. Atop the crown of his head, a tasteful circlet of tiny laurel leaves adorned in gold emerged from sleek blond hair. 

Tonight, they had slipped into fine clothes tailored to impress. And just as the prior year and year before that, Halduron looked as captivating as only he could manage. He was the very picture of nobility—perhaps what his parents had surely envisioned for their son, wild mischievous spirit tamed by stitching and adorned for the sole purpose of standing out from the crowd.

From the appreciative noise Halduron had first given Rommath, the feeling was mutual.

“I like you in this color,” Halduron had said simply, arms wrapped around him and exploring where Rommath’s bare back peeked through. His fingers nudged a thin golden chain that draped behind him.

“I know,” Rommath had responded, matter of fact. “Why do you think I chose it?”

“And the chain—is there more to it?” He eyed over opaque panels, seeking to understand how the chain draped and trailing down his spine was connected to the rest. 

More delicate chains wrapped over Rommath’ bare arms reminiscent of extravagant epaulets, clasped at an ornate golden collar at his neck, but neither revealed where those chains snaked to whilst beneath the cover of robes. Though encircled and clasped snugly around Rommath, it was Halduron he’d hoped to catch. And already, he’d ensnared him.

“It’s a surprise—for later.”

Halduron’s face lit up at that, and he pulled Rommath closer, testing both of their wills to make an appearance.

“Show me now, and I’ll act surprised later?”

Rommath laughed, an easy thing that always came freely like this, the two of them. They'd go noticeably missing from the ball if they humored such desires—they both knew it.

“It suits you,” Halduron had rumbled against his ear, voice hushed and sounding pleased at having stolen a laugh so easily. “But perhaps it might look even better on the floor.”

Halduron leaned in for another kiss, thinking himself wise, only for Rommath to stop him.

“This is couture,” Rommath snapped, struggling to feign an exaggerated scowl. “Don’t be an animal. You’ll hang it neatly where it belongs before you fuck me senseless.”

“Of course, of course.” Halduron laughed softly, thumbing at the thin gold band clasped at Rommath’s neck, already discovering it was more than what it appeared as it peeked from beneath his robe’s low collar. “And the chain beneath it?”

“It stays on.”

The twinkle in Halduron’s eye was a mischievous siren that hinted of neither making it beyond the wards of their apartment, but somehow they managed. Shoulder-to-shoulder, they’d arrived at the ball. The untamed fire from their home quelled but still smoldering.

Following the opening dance, they celebrated between obligation. Influential mages and allies required attention, careful discussions that would lay groundwork for future agreements that ensured peaceful nights like tonight grew plentiful.

Through it all, the public’s prying eyes proved to be inconsequential. A curious finger trailed over that chain whenever Halduron found himself at Rommath’s side. He’d follow it with a ghosted finger until it disappeared behind silk. But he behaved, surprisingly so. Rommath, too for that matter. 

That was until the wine began to flow.

The collected start of early evening shifted as the night grew long. The musicians set a rousing tune, enticing all to drop their inhibitions. To dance in revelry. To wet their tongues in overindulgence of a well-aged, suntouched vintage.

The evening had succumbed into a game held between them, rules known to them alone. True to Halduron’s word on the dancefloor, it began in an alcove immediately following the opening dance. He’d pulled Rommath behind sheer drapes, pinning him against the wall as hungry lips crashed together. Breathtaking in its own right the kiss stoked desire for having slipped away in secrecy while the sounds of the party filled the air. His hands roamed over silken fabric, mapping paths he’d certainly take when they returned home. Making promises with every caress and squeeze. And as quick as they’d disappeared, they reclaimed their place amongst the party, none in attendance any wiser.

Diplomacy, drink, disappear. 

Diplomacy, drink, disappear. 

It in itself became a well-practiced dance between the two over the years, obscured to all others. Though most parties presented this hidden game, they had indulged tonight. In wine. In another. Even now, having been separated for no more than a half hour, Halduron was already making eyes at him from across the room, and Halduron of course, was all too easy on the eyes. More than usual for having shed the trappings of a ranger for the elegance dictated for such an affair. To say Halduron cleaned up well would be a disservice to the rugged handsomeness he always sported, but on nights like this—dressed to the nines in tailored fashion that would be the envy of Silvermoon and possessing boundless confidence fortified by wine—there might as well have been no others in the room.

And Halduron knew exactly what he was doing. Attention trailing from the conversation at hand with two Farstriders, he shot that sly smile of his from across the room that, when turned on Rommath now, made it far too easy to love him.

Rommath found himself intoxicated on the thought, the desire, the wine. His face was flushed with it; a heat held between them seemed hot enough to set the room ablaze. Rommath’s attention was drawn like a moth to the flame, thoughtlessly seeking him out to steal a heated glance and wonder when  he could slip away again. It was all terribly distracting. As if it might consume him from the inside out, he suddenly found it unacceptable to have the distance of a room separating them.

An awkward pause gave rise to uncomfortable silence from the three magisters at Rommath’s side. Before Rommath caught sight of that intoxicating smile, they had been discussing the finer points of a new treatise on inscription. In the weeks leading the gala it had been flaunted by the Kirin Tor in an attempt to remain relevant, but his opinion on the matter had fled the room with one flustering look from Halduron.

“You were saying, Grand Magister?" prompted Magistrix Dawnstrider, the boldest of the three. Even she spoke as if she walked on eggshells. 

Rommath reluctantly turned from the annoyingly captivating man still occupying his thoughts, mind made up that he wouldn’t wait a moment longer. His fleeting attention returned to the hopeful faces surrounding him, each vying for attention he was disinclined to offer tonight. 

“The analysis was lacking and unfounded. Quite uninspiring all around. At most, a helpful example of what shouldn't be tolerated, not even from hopeful upstarts. At least not any that wish to make a name for themselves, but—you'll excuse me, I’m reminded I have matters to attend to,” he added, turning before any response could be uttered between the three.

His feet carried him across the large ballroom, pace more relaxed than he felt. Each step brought them closer; closed the distance. Halduron’s gaze burned over him, hotter than the memory of his palm pressed against his back. Ever the tracker, he watched, still, camouflaged by the obligations of society. His merry conversation echoed, ease clear to Rommath even from across the room, but he didn’t miss a step. Behind poised composure, he waited  to pounce on an opportunity they both desperately wanted. The conversation at hand would surely be let loose on Rommath’s mark as quick as a nocked and drawn arrow.

Two farstriders stood at his side, oblivious to the tension so evident to Rommath. Their names he never bothered to learn—perhaps told then forgotten—but he knew their faces. The blonde woman had been present at his first visit to the Farstriders Retreat when the circumstances of their rushed visit had narrowly avoided misfortune. And if he wasn’t mistaken, the man at her side was the scout they’d traveled with whose nasty temper had grown ambivalent in the following years. 

Their conversation muddled together, lost in the murmurs and music, but Rommath suspected whatever matters they discussed could wait. 

Mind preoccupied behind wine and that intoxicating smile across the room, Rommath missed a sprung trap that seemingly appeared with the speed of a blink. A lanky pole cloaked in purple velvet appeared in his path. It was all Rommath could do to avoid colliding into him. The soft gaze used for Halduron hardened as Rommath laid eyes on his newfound obstruction—Aethas.

Rommath strained over his shoulder, mind calculating how long he had before Halduron’s window narrowed. “Now isn’t a good time, Sunreaver.”

His attention returned to the hopeful man before him.

Aethas stood out like an elekk in the garden, but not for his robes. Miraculously, he had cleaned up for the event. Tailored robes made of the finest fabric Dalaran could offer hung from him, proving he could respect some expectations within these walls. He’d even managed to leave that helm of his behind, a golden band donned in its stead. However, he’d been unable to go one night without his allegiance plastered over his forehead like a warning cast in glowing violet.

Rommath wondered how long he’d waited to catch him unaware. This was the first he’d noticed Aethas separated from his Sunreaver cohort. Flashing the Kirin Tor crest at a gala proved unforgiving to the sensibilities of Silvermoon’s elite, Rommath included. He’d assume sparse few would risk association lest they become marred by the faux pas in association.

Rommath sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

“You’ve been an attentive host,” Aethas started, an appeasing smile over his face. “I kept wanting to get your attention, but of course the Grand Magister is in high demand. There and gone before I could have a chance. Even at a party, you stay busy.”

Rommath’s gaze narrowed on Aethas, sharp and searching. “But not this time.”

Such words spoken from the mouth of the politically savvy would carry the weight of a threat. In Silvermoon, secrets had a way of slipping out when inconvenient. Bartered for power. Traded and hoarded as something far more valuable than gold.

Rommath took a slow drink of wine, searching Aethas over the rim of his glass for indication he’d discovered the hidden game underfoot. His face was earnest, eyes soft. The only thought more surprising than Aethas having finally learned to leverage hidden knowledge was the fact that he had spoken plainly.

Aethas mistook his pause for interest, clearly pleased. He stood tall, as proud as one could be with the dull purple glow of the Kirin Tor clashing against red hair.

“Have you heard the news?” Aethas took a step closer, oblivious to Rommath straining over his shoulder to track Halduron again. “I published an article on inscription, and—”

“You authored it?” Rommath nodded slowly as realization dawned on him. “I should have expected as much.”

Aethas’ chest puffed up, finding a compliment where none resided. He opened his mouth to seize his opportunity, but Rommath had squandered enough time.

“You should speak with Magistrix Dawnsinger.” Rommath nodded over his shoulder, already sidestepping Aethas to continue on his way. “She might find it of interest to….inform her upcoming curriculum.”

No sooner was Aethas out of view did Rommath resume his steadfast pursuit, leaving Aethas to hunt down the Magistrix. The long flowing sleeves of his robes flapped behind him as he disappeared into the crowd.

Rommath took a final sip of his wine as he approached a long banquet table for the fourth, maybe fifth time that night. It was filled to the brim with refreshed food. Sweets and fruits and artisanal preparations to nourish the revelers; all manners of delectable recipes featuring the finest that Quel’Thalas had to offer. The sweetest peaches, the richest of well-aged cheeses. Enough to entice even the most refined palettes, half a dozen or so crowded around it now, clutching at plums and cheese and delicate pastries.

Rommath, however, took nothing from the table. Instead, he abandoned his half-emptied glass. One final glance over his shoulder was all it took; an intense, meaningful expression. It held a silent call as clear as the ones those two Farstriders at Halduron’s side used while tucked in trees. But only Halduron noticed, answering with a devilish grin that sent a thrill coursing through Rommath as their eyes met.

One shared look was all it took to confirm that the Farstriders would find themselves waiting after all.

Freed of obligation and wine, Rommath strode through the bustling room. Head high and pace smooth, he betrayed nothing behind cool indifference. He ascended spiraled stairs, pleased to find a golden glint of laurel making its way through the crowd below, before he ducked behind a curtain. It had been drawn loosely in attempt to curtail curious guests from wandering corridors. From the empty corridor Rommath found himself in, it would seem it succeeded. 

Far better than the first corridor they’d sought reprieve within after the opening dance. It had been too busy, and they nearly found themselves caught while returning to the party. But this one was quiet, secluded, and presented no disruptions beyond the occasional swell of music drifting up spiraled stairs.

The hurried falls of footsteps echoed against the stairs. Rommath turned as long confident strides closed the distance and found Halduron nearly in arms reach. Soft lights glinted on the golden circlet peeking from behind his tamed hair, gaze holding a wild desire. It was tempered by boyish charms—a quirk of his lips in a lopsided smile that compelled Rommath to claim what they both desired. As always, he looked more than worthy of worship, the look promising to give Rommath anything he’d allow. 

And waiting a moment longer was unacceptable.

Rommath nearly lurched forward, hands clenching at the front of Halduron’s uniform to draw him into a heated kiss. He was answered in turn with an ensnaring embrace, palms hot against bared skin. 

“So unlike you to be impatient.” Halduron kissed down his neck, hands trailing in sightless exploration. “Here I thought I’d be the one to pull you away.” 

“When you kept watching like that, what did you expect? You knew what you were doing.”

“You can’t possibly blame me,” said Halduron between trailing kisses. He broke away as if it pained him to stop. “Tell me, you had your back turned on purpose, didn’t you?”

Rommath smiled, caught. He had.

“See?” He brushed a sharp kiss punctuated with a nip. “It’s your game, Rom.”

Rommath slowly backed to the cover of fuchsia drapery, Halduron in tow. Both were unwilling to release the other and shuffled slowly. The earlier escapades of the evening had been made in haste, the thrill of getting caught driving them to seek shelter. But they’d grown bolder as the night grew long and inhibitions were drowned behind wine.

The cinched fabric hung in the corner well enough to hide them both should anyone happen past. All the lush drapery around the city made it too easy—Sunfury Spire was no exception. With the light effervescence of the evening, they suddenly felt closer to their youth while creeping behind them, hoping their outlines were obscured enough for deniability. 

“That’s your defense—you started it—really?” asked Rommath with a laugh.

Halduron shamelessly mumbled agreement into his skin, hands pulling gently at offending fabric between them. 

The vibration alone was enough for his head to fall back for more, willing to cede his questioning so long as Halduron didn’t stop his exploration. Neither had long before someone would begin to wonder. To go looking. The entire evening they’d edged towards maddening tension, each hidden rendezvous adding oil to the fire kindled before they had even left home.

Their secret dance was joined by a swell of strings from a slow song echoing into the corridor. It called like a gentle reminder of the party below gone ignored. Obligations even seemed a world away, their shared want dulling any urgency to return to the sweeping melody.

“You wanted me, so here I am,” Halduron whispered against him in a final provocation, words mirthful.

Their indulgent approach ended with Rommath pushing Halduron against the stone wall, his back colliding with a soft thud. The filtered shadow of draped fabric embraced them, near opaque from where it bunched and offering just enough room for their movements to be obscured in the tight alcove.

Rommath pinned Halduron to the wall, lips pressed against him in passionate need. One hand cupped his jaw, deepening their kiss. The other teased at unfastening layers separating them just as Halduron hands gripped at fabric to feel over the curve of his ass. The soft chimes of delicate chains jostled against Rommath’s arms, his back, even around his waist. It accompanied heavy panting and rustling fabric, each holding onto flimsy decorum despite their combined power to toss it aside. 

Wine lingered on Halduron’s lips, much as it surely did on Rommath’s own. They’d each had more than they should. On any other occasion, politics and delicate diplomacy—both of Quel’Thalas and beyond—necessitated clear minds and closed hearts. But not tonight. Their thoughts were ensnared by the other; hearts leading them here, into filtered light behind silks, like they were nothing more than hormonal youngsters. 

Again. 

More intoxicating than wine was the heat blazing from beneath him. Halduron returned the kiss with fullhearted desperation. Their breath was joined—skipped for passion or shared in heavy gasps. Skipped or shared, each breath counted down to the moment where they’d be forced to separate again. No longer cool and collected, he held Rommath in such a way he wondered if they’d make it back downstairs, or might instead creep through Sunfury Spire, shadows passing in a drunken blur until Rommath’s own office door was closed and locked behind them.

Beneath sapphire layers, heat radiated, carrying a heady fragrance of spiced sweetness synonymous with the infuriatingly captivating man. Already, it promised. A sense of rightness. A certainty of belonging when pressed against Rommath, bared skin against bared skin. The intimacy of it was boundless. When he was wrapped in him, it was as bottomless as the power of the Sunwell, transcending the physical into something Rommath couldn’t put into words. Mind, body, and soul, it felt right. Banished was the past that lingered over their lands. Over their hearts. It was honest. Safe. More warming than any magic he could bend to his will.

And its honesty enveloped them. It filled each lungful, overflowing cupped palms, mind spun in white-hot desire to return to that state.

Curved lips were soft, yet unyielding, certainly capable of feats more powerful than the combined influence in the room below, for without a single syllable uttered aloud, those full lips could sway the steadfast determination of the Grand Magister. To say they held Rommath captive would be unfair—it was him, after all, who pinned Halduron to the wall. But skilled hands and a sharp mind knew what chain to pull to ensure any thin sense of obligation waiting downstairs was lost behind simmering desire. Forgotten beyond those sheer, obscuring silks.

Trailing from his cupped hold at Halduron's jaw, a finger brushed over the cool metal clasp of his cloak. Rommath traced over the ornate engraving, considering the repercussions of unclasping it. If he pushed it over Halduron’s shoulders to pool at their feet, would he stop there?

No.

Not while his head swam in the need to be closer still. The buttons over his jacket would be unfastened. Layers flung open. Belts unbuckled, robes rucked up if only to relieve the heavy tension he’d grown dizzy on. All to the accompaniment of a swell of soft strings and oblivious joy echoing from the party below. The train of thought nearly departed, the spark seeking to catch and burn until they gave into the promising heat between them. 

And in the midst of it all was certainty that if Halduron’s cloak should fall, so too would their flimsy restraint.

Rommath’s hand trailed from engraved temptation and instead hooked behind his back to keep him as close as prudent sensibilities would allow.

Halduron pulled back enough to break their kiss. A charming grin curved over his lips.

“Do you think anyone would notice if we leave?” he asked, giving voice to their combined desire. He still held Rommath close, neither moving. “You could portal us home…let us have what we've been dancing around all night.”

Rommath laughed. “We’re in no condition to portal, lest you wish to find yourself stuck. Besides, Lor’themar might have need for us here.”

The three of them had prepared the celebration. Certainly there was an old protocol dictating hosts shouldn't leave before their guests.

“Have you seen him?”

Rommath said nothing because, no, he hadn’t. All evening he’d been too preoccupied with the man in his grasp.

“He hasn’t left Thalyssra’s side. Honestly, I don’t think either have left the dancefloor.” Halduron paused. “And wasn’t it he who said we should try to have fun tonight?" 

Halduron resorted to an old claim that had wooed Rommath to his way of thinking before, twisting Lor'themar’s words to fit his agenda. The glint behind his eyes proved it was no accident. Back then, it was encouragement to partake in his company for a second time. Another not-so-innocent night of smoke and exploration, agreed to when hidden in an alcove much like this one. Though Rommath required no encouragement for that these days, the strategy was just as effective.

Rommath's eyes narrowed, inebriated mind already stumbling over itself to agree.

Halduron leaned in for another kiss, and Rommath’s eyes fluttered closed, certain those lips would be all the argument he'd need. And he was ready to fully consider it, his own lips parting to meet him. 

But Halduron stopped short. Breath, hot and heavy, was all that brushed against him.

“Hasn't this been fun? Alone like this." 

Murmured agreement was muffled by a firm kiss. It melted against his jaw, lips nibbling at Rommath's ear.

“Just think, when I get you home…” said Halduron, voice hushed. His words dissolved into more tender encouragement, leaving Rommath to imagine. “All to myself…”

“Go on.” Rommath’s voice cracked.

Halduron hummed, hands toying with the delicate golden chain draped over his back. “You have no idea how badly I want to see the rest of this.”

He breathed a laugh in response, feeling Halduron’s growing excitement between them. “I have an inkling—more transparent than you think. What else?”

“Well, I’ll bring you to bed and won’t—”

Footsteps stumbled into the corridor, followed by drunken laughter of two elves. Rommath needlessly shushed Halduron as they both quieted. Uneven steps receded, and the silence of the corridor was restored.

An ear twitched as Rommath strained to listen. For the first time that evening, he managed to think of something other than the beguiling charms of the Ranger-General.

Halduron’s mouth fell against his ear, sending a startled thrill through him.

“Once I get you in bed,” he continued. His voice was softer than before, encouraging Rommath's focus to return to where it belonged. “I'll tease you—the way that pulls such pretty noises.”

Recognition registered over Rommath, answered with a breathed laugh. Of course he would. Halduron had long learned all manners of secrets to get what he wanted, desperate moans and whimpers alike.

“I won’t let you leave until you’re begging for more.”

His voice had grown deeper, carrying promises in every syllable that Rommath knew he'd keep. 

Rommath swallowed, already imagining it, adrenaline and lust coursing through him. He leaned his weight into Halduron’s embrace, welcoming the ceaseless caress in a bid for more.

“It’s going to feel so good to finally slide in.” Halduron pulled him closer. 

Rommath nodded needlessly in agreement to an unspoken question, lips seeking Halduron again out of need to do something. In a kiss, he offered acceptance. Diplomacy and politicking were non-existent, suddenly finding himself convinced they'd done enough already. Lor'themar wouldn't mind if they left early. And he had told him to loosen up for once…

When Rommath pulled away from Halduron, he was met with a teasing look he knew too well.

“But—if you’d rather we stay here,” Halduron started, pausing only to flash a shit-eating grin. He offered a half-shrug. “Then we stay.”

Rommath scoffed. “Let’s go, you incorrigible fool.”

Halduron placed a chaste kiss against his forehead, chest rumbling with a gentle laugh.

They pushed aside silk drapes and reemerged in the empty corridor. Palms soothed wrinkles from Rommath’s robes, same as Halduron’s uniform. Turning their back on the party, they left, Halduron’s arm slung over Rommath’s shoulders.

With luck, they’d slipped through the party without incident. Joyous laughter was drowned in a merry tune that even obligation was lost within. But only when the crisp, cool air of night swept over his arms did Rommath breathe a sigh of relief. It released from tense muscles as his entire body relaxed against Halduron’s side. With it, the stern façade of their station slipped away. But the thrum of desire remained, revealed to the man at his side alone.

He looked out on the streets leading home, empty but for a few yellow windows aglow. Evenly spaced lamp posts lined the corridor. Each emanated a circular ring of warmth that faded into shadows mere steps before the ring next appeared. They flickered gently from swaying flames, washing the street in a warm glow that drew Rommath’s eye to alleyways he’d never given thought to before.

Their path home should have taken no more than five minutes to walk. 

But not like this.

The walk took longer with a Halduron who no longer wished to behave. They descended the stairs leading from the palace, a gentle roar of a fountain covering their footsteps. It misted the air with a refreshing chill against heated skin. They’d only just cleared its misting roar before Halduron pulled Rommath to his lips, using one such lamp post to lean against, supporting their descent into another. His hands cupped Rommath’s jaw as Halduron drank his fill, a teasing tongue alighting every nerve with a flush of arousal.

If any had been there to witness them between the unyielding light, they would have seen the Grand Magister cling to Halduron, looking as if he depended on all his strength to keep from melting in the street. But breath was effortlessly stolen for none but the moon and stars to witness.

Rommath’s lips tingled, feeling more sensitive than he remembered. The force that met him might have well have seared with the heat between them. All brought by wine stained lips that pulled away into a coy smile.

“We should go before we do something unwise,” said Halduron.

They resumed their walk, each with an arm around the other.

“Of all the unwise things you’ve done—”

“That I’ve done?” Halduron interrupted in exaggerated outrage. “That’s nonsense.”

“Only saying—it wouldn’t be the worst.” Rommath bit back a smile, continuing. “What if I didn’t mind…”

Halduron craned his neck to search the street behind them. Once satisfied, his attention returned, ushered by his arm squeezing him closer.

“You're playing with fire,” he warned. “Only half way there and…”

Rommath eyed another secluded corner of a curtain-lined alley. Cinched sapphire billowed on a gentle breeze as if welcoming their game. Untangling himself from Halduron’s hold, he took his hand and led him from the warm round glow of another lamp. 

“And what of it,” he asked, voice low, as the tamed flames above were traded for a wild, pale glow. 

They ducked into the mouth of the alley, Rommath backing himself against the silk-lined wall. He pulled Halduron to him, shivering in want as strong arms pinned him to the wall, needing no further encouragement for the detour.

Rommath’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “I might get burned, is that it?”

“Something like that.”

They shared a breath, on the precipice of giving in to what they’d built all evening. They'd played this game before but never had it escalated to this point. Their foreheads pressed together as gossamer fine restraint suspended them above the depths of fucking like animals right here, right now.

“Lucky us—haven’t been burned yet.” Rommath brushed his lips over Halduron’s, teasing him while he gripped his ass to pull him closer.

The coolness of the night seeped from silk covered stone, but it was powerless against the aching fire stoked between them.

“Here?” said Halduron with an incredulously that Rommath couldn’t fault him for. He searched him, heat simmering behind a fel blaze. “I don’t believe you.”

Rommath didn’t believe himself, having never cared for such conduct visible for any to see. However, something about sneaking away all night, well, it certainly appealed to him now.

“You’ve never done this when you were younger? I thought it was time-honored tradition.”

“No—have you?”

“Not yet,” Rommath whispered against heated skin, pleased at the response it pulled from Halduron.

Halduron let out a conflicted sigh. He could feel his excitement pressed against him. 

“Are you thinking about it now?” 

Halduron murmured a noise of agreement against his neck that was felt more than heard.

Rommath’s hand found him straining and rubbed through his pants, light enough to tease. “Fucking fast and hard before anyone else stumbles through the streets.”

The alley was lit enough to make out a scattering of freckles over Halduron’s cheeks, made more endearing by a rosy blush. The wine, the walk, the whispering promises of the evening joined together in that flush. He wanted to reach out. Trace that constellation.

“That’s not fair.” A grin reclaimed its rightful place while Halduron roved over him with sight alone. His hands were still pinned to the wall as if brushing over him would melt lingering resolve in the fiery blaze that was Rommath. “You should know better by now. Nothing quick about what I’d do with you.”

“No?” Rommath bit his lip, gaze narrowed as if he could perceive something contrary behind cover of honesty.

Even if his head spun from the wine, he knew the truth of his words. Everything he did he took his time with, even in the roar of passion more hungry than the flame, he teased. He withheld. He took no half measures.

Neither made an effort to move, suspended on the precipice of where fantasy demanded to be enacted. If Rommath gave in, Halduron would surely follow. 

Rommath brushed his lips against Halduron—light, as teasing as Halduron himself was capable. It was enticement to give chase, to follow his lips to danger, where restraint and good sense fell away like the cloak Rommath wanted to push from Halduron’s shoulders. 

Open me, take what you want, its sapphire lining taunted. 

It stayed on, that clap catching in the silver glow like a teasing beacon. But he wasn’t alone in wanting to lose himself in the fantasy.

“What would happen if we had it your way?” Halduron asked. Though his hands were still pinned on either side of him, the question brushed over heated skin. 

Rommath shivered against him, finding even withholding touch to be enticing.

“You’d push me against the wall,” Rommath began, pleased as he watched a hot look form over Halduron’s face as he imagined it. “Slide my robes up slowly until I tell you to hurry up. But, of course you won’t.” Rommath fought a smile, remembering all the times Halduron had withheld, claiming things like this should be savored. “No, you’d take your time.”

Halduron pulled away, the suffocating heat between them cleared by the night breeze. The suddenness of it allowed hardly any disappointment to form before he was flipped around. Pushed against the unrelenting wall and unyielding passion, outstretched hands caught himself between the two. 

“Like this?” asked Halduron. His hands gripped at his hips, teasing at rucking up the fabric.

Rommath craned to look over his shoulder, face flushed with excitement. He could feel Halduron through layers, hard and in reach. The fantasy they spun was powerful enough to forget any concern other than how to remove the offending garments between them.

The dim silver light must have caught in that golden chain over his back.

“Still want to see this though.” Halduron thumbed over the chain. “And you’ll want to be laying down for what I have in mind for tonight.”

Rommath was breathless in the fantasy, arching beneath Halduron, unable to move from where he’d been pinned. 

“And wha—” 

Before he could even finish his question, Halduron answered.

“Devouring you until you quiver around my tongue.” Halduron sighed heavily, hips jerking forward in search of friction. “All relaxed and waiting. You’ll be so good for me, won’t you?”

Rommath nodded quickly, uncertain exactly what he was agreeing to but knowing he wanted it all the same. 

“You’ll be begging for more. Only then will I slide in—fill you the way you need.” Halduron sighed. “ So tell me, do you really want a quick fuck here?”

Rommath swallowed, panting against the wall. He envisioned it, veins flooding with desire he could lose himself in. Another two blocks separated them from what he wanted, but he wanted it now. 

He scoffed, fighting the urge to pout. It was a battle lost from the playful glint behind Halduron’s eyes.

 “No, I suppose not…not fair,” Rommath grumbled.

“Like I said, it’s your game.” Halduron gave a soft laugh. “Let’s try to make it home, shall we? You know I’ll make it worth the while.”

He pulled Rommath from the wall. Unable to keep his hands to himself, his arm snaked around Rommath to pull him close.

“That goes without saying,” said Rommath moments before Halduron leaned in to steal a kiss that wiped away his scowl.

The walk took another five minutes, Halduron proving he couldn’t wait. All the while he whispered the things he’d do, passion reignited by Rommath’s teasing. He flirted with the danger of succumbing to the fantasy of the evening, every lamp post from the palace to their front door bearing witness to the luminosity of their desire.

They had barely crossed the threshold, the door still swinging behind them, before the engraved metal of Halduron’s cloak was unclasped. Pushed aside for desire, it slid to the floor and fell at their feet alongside faint wisps of inhibition that had managed to withstand flowing wine. Buttons were unfastened, layers pushed open by desperate hands in an uncoordinated push into their apartment.

Halduron pulled at Rommath’s robes as if he debated pushing them high enough to have his way with him like they’d fantasized about in the street.

“The clasp,” Rommath directed between heavy breaths.

Halduron obeyed. 

His fingers found the hidden pearl buttons held snugly in rouleau loops at the nape of his neck. The first he fumbled with, attention stolen by searching lips. In a synchronized dance down the hallway leading to their room, a jacket was hastily pushed from his shoulders, Halduron pausing his effort long enough to toss it to the floor before returning to the hidden closure. The second and third came quickly, smooth pearl buttons gliding through to loosen the robes hold. Meanwhile, Rommath made quick work of Halduron's belt. With supple leather beneath his fingers, the slow slide filled the air in anticipation. By the time they’d freed another from fabric, they’d made it to the foot of the bed.

Rommath pushed the robes from his shoulders, hands guided by Halduron. The fabric slipped over his physique, its path carefully cleared of chains that might snag, until it laid pooled at their feet.

Before Halduron could even take in the sight of him, he deepened their kiss, pulling Rommath closer still. His hands first explored in a victory over robes he’d wished to do away with all night. He trailed the fine chains, following them from the teasing drapes over Rommath’s back and down over his chest in appreciation of his surprise.

Rommath returned his passion, riled up from his relentless teasing. He pushed Halduron towards their bed and led them from their abandoned restraint, stopping only once the frame stopped them.

Halduron’s lips left him long enough to tsk. As he pulled away, a playful glint shone in his eyes, undulled by wine. 

“Who’s the animal now?” Halduron admonished. “That’s couture. Shouldn’t that have been hung neatly?”

Rommath gave him a gentle shove onto the bed, and Halduron sprawled out in invitation for Rommath to crawl over him, shedding his teasing here as easily as he had his cloak at the door. His chest peeked through his flung open shirt, pants ready to be slipped off. 

Confidence gazed up from the bed in adoration, patiently anticipating Rommath to dictate the pace. He’d propped himself on his elbows to take in the sight that had laid beyond view all night. The heat of his appreciative gaze brushed over Rommath, taking in the glint of gold left behind in adornment. The thin chain draped elegantly over his chest, light flickering in the facets of tiny rubies. A hungered look reclaimed its place over Halduron as he met Rommath’s gaze once more, teases forgotten to lust. 

It was a look Rommath knew well; could find himself lost within. 

“Come here,” Halduron ordered in a low breathy voice.

Stepping between sprawled legs, Rommath pulled at Halduron’s shirt. He brought their lips closer together, Halduron parting his in expectation of another kiss, that was stopped short. Rommath grinned, watching as Halduron tried to follow his lips.

“You’re right,” Rommath agreed.

“Mhm,” Halduron wordlessly agreed, nodding. His eyes snapped open, eyes narrowed in confusion. “Wait, about what?”

“Get comfortable,” said Rommath, stealing Halduron’s teasing smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Rommath watched as Halduron found a way to sprawl even more invitingly on the bed, propped up by pillows. Shirt now tossed aside, he laced his hands behind his head, a smile on his lips. He knew he looked good. The sight was enough to have Rommath second guess leaving.

But he scooped up the robe and left Halduron waiting. After he’d put the garment aside, an idea came to him. He hunted down a small engraved box, smiling to himself at the promise held within then hurried back. 

“Thought you might enjoy this,” said Rommath as he entered their room.

He didn’t receive an answer.

Rommath looked up from the box. And there on the bed was Halduron, freed of his pants and gently sleeping.

He frowned, then considered crawling over him to wake him. Instead he watched Halduron’s chest rising with each even breath of exhausted sleep. 

The box was set aside. His hair was unclasped and chains were silently removed; exchanged for two potions for the inevitable hangover that would follow in the morning. Rommath pulled a blanket and climbed into bed. Movement slow so as to avoid waking Halduron, he snuggled aside him.

No sooner did he press against him did Halduron shift in response, rewarding Rommath with a heavy arm that wrapped and pulled him tightly against his chest. A satisfied hum resonated in response, as if all was right and he could finally sleep peacefully.

Rommath smiled to himself while tucked in the warm embrace. Eyes heavy, it didn’t take long for him to follow Halduron to sleep.

He slept deeply, out the moment he found himself tucked at Halduron’s side. Inevitably, they’d shifted as they slept, Rommath rolling over onto his side. He was awoken gently some time later—a soft kiss over his shoulder.

It roused him just enough to register the slightest feel of stubble nuzzled against his neck; an arm wrapped tightly around him.

Rommath blinked his eyes with a low groan—the bright light of late morning filtered in through curtains that hadn’t been fully closed. It formed a column splitting across the room. Without thought, he lifted Halduron’s hand to his lips and placed a kiss against his knuckle, pulling him like a blanket around him as if he’d protect them from the pestering sun.

Another kiss tickled over him—his neck, his ear. Rommath bit his lip, sighing into the feeling as he melted in the comfort of morning.

“You should’ve woken me last night,” Halduron murmured.

Rommath yawned. “You looked tired.”

He was answered with another press of lips. The hold tightened around him as drowsiness clung to his lashes and the warmth of bed encouraged him to spend the rest of his day like this.

“I believe I owe you something,” Halduron rumbled against his ear. Voice low and tempting, the promise of it pulling Rommath from sleep. “Made you a promise last night. I intend to keep it.”

Even drowsy as he was, he hadn’t forgotten.

Rommath rolled in his arms, Halduron shifting to accommodate him. He offered a groggy smile, trying to blink away the sleep. Blurred colors became the form of Halduron, that smile that made it so easy to love him plastered over his face.

“What is it?” Rommath asked without thinking. He raised a hand to his hair, wondering what kind of unkempt mess he’d awoken with.

“Just thinking how much I love this.”

Rommath relaxed against him again. His brows furrowed in difficult thought. “Sleeping in?”

Thoughtful silence answered. Like this, wrapped together, limbs entwined—he almost forgot he waited for anything at all. The moment felt full. Right. Comfort called him back to rest, but not before Halduron cleared his throat.

“Waking up with you,” he responded simply.

Rommath smiled, squeezing him closer, even as grogginess pulled him to the brink of sleep again. “Love you,” he mumbled against his neck, the words slipping past as naturally as the soft sigh that followed as he nestled closer.

“Sleep,” Halduron encouraged, arm encircling him in promise he’d be there when he woke up. “You’ll need it for later.”

Rommath melted in his hold, content to rest in arms that he knew would never let him go. He tilted his jaw, seeking a short kiss, certain his dreams would be filled with what later would entail.

Halduron obliged as he always did, unwilling to deny him like this.  

When he pulled away, Rommath was reminded of that hungered look last night. How badly he wished for it to return. The need to feel him closer banishing such frivolous things as sleep.

“Alternatively…we can sleep later,” Rommath said with a sly smile, pleased with the breathy laugh he received in turn. 

True to Halduron’s prior promise, they wouldn’t leave the bed for long, not until morning melted into afternoon and Rommath's desperate begs were answered in full.