Page 11 of Mytho Investigations: Side Stories

“No idea.” He hadn’t worn a watch last night, hadn’t needed to. His mouth tasted like something had died in it. And he hoped that he’d dreamed sticking his head out the door and demanding a second bottle of mead. “I need to find some water.”

“Yeah and aspirin.”

“I can do better than that.”

“More magic?” Mason peered at him.

“I don’t hear you complaining about the magic last night.”

Mason frowned. “How is your ass?”

That he was overly aware of it meant it was too tender to do anything this morning. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He’d wanted it because it was something he hadn’t done in close to a century, but also because he didn’t think he was ready to slide into anyone else. For a moment, memories of his wife were a little too close. He sat up and regretted it. He had not been hung over in at least thirty years.

Gods, he wanted to lie down and pull the blanket over his head. But now he was upright, he needed the bathroom, and he needed water so fucking badly he’d kill for a glass of it. He’d killed for less.

His gaze landed on the empty bottle near the end of the bed. Only one. That was good.

He started extricating himself from the blankets and kicked something hard. Fuck. That was the second bottle. He might be regretting the second bottle. Mason sat up and swore.

“Shit. I found the lube.” He held up a slick hand. “It’s all over your sheets.”

“They’re going in the wash, anyway.” He couldn’t sleep on these again, and not just because they smelt of Mason and sex. If even half his memories were correct, everything needed washed.

Mason tugged his legs free of the sheets. “Were we fighting over the blanket or something?”

“I don’t know.” He couldn’t remember the last position that they’d been in. Only that there been a lot for which he was blaming the candle. The only good news was they wouldn’t be the only ones suffering the aftereffects of the party. Unlike the rest of the soldiers, he at least had his own bathroom.

Mason stared at the two empty bottles. “I don’t remember getting the second one, but I feel as though I drank it.”

Vlash nodded and winced. “I want to shower before I go out there to find painkillers and food.”

Mason shook his head. “I can’t face food yet, and my change of clothes is in the car.” He looked up at Vlash. “This wasn’t part of my plans for the night.”

“Same.” Part of him wanted to kick Mason out so he could clean up and move on. The rest of him, the part that was winning, wanted to draw out the morning as long as possible.

He held out his hand. “Come on. You’ll feel better after a shower.”

Mason took the offered hand and slid out of bed with a wince. “Fuck, my back.”

That Vlash did remember. Because Mason had had him up against the wall when he’d wanted to see how light elves were. Apparently, light at the time, but not the next day.

Vlash opened the door and led him into the bathroom, though there was no actual bath, just a toilet and a shower. It was still an upgrade from what he’d had before. There he was, neatly dividing his life into before collapse and after collapse. The two were so different they belonged to two different men.

He strode over to the toilet, unable to wait any longer.

“I can wait if you want to go first,” Mason said.

Vlash let his gaze skim over his lover for the night. “I’d rather shower with you.”

This time, there was no alcohol and no magic, but he wanted to see the lust in Mason’s eyes again. Because when Mason walked out, that would be it, and all that waited for him was more of how he’d been living for the last decade.

Alone.

He didn’t think he could do it, but what other option was there? He was a head archer. How could he be fucking around with a human?

It was bad enough that the king had noticed and sent the candle and lube. By Pan, he was never going to live that down.

Had the cheeky little shit had something to do with this?