By afternoon that day, Tandoril had not gotten anything done. Now that he was frustrated and uncertain it was far more difficult to concentrate properly on anything. He stumbled over words when he spoke and air when he moved, dropped things, and blushed every time Aicantar spoke or got close to him.
"Whatever is the matter with you?" Aicantar demanded at last, grabbing Tandoril's wrist just short of him knocking over a few delicate pieces of deconstructed Dwemer machinery.
"I--I, that is, you--"
"Are you sick? Your face is flushed. It has been most of the afternoon."
Aicantar was frowning with concern now rather than annoyance, and the grip he had on the wrist grew gentle as he laid a hand on Tandoril's forehead.
"You're warm, but not feverish." Their faces inches apart, he studied the other elf's nervous expression for a moment, and smiled, only kindly, but it made Tandoril's heart beat quicker. "Don't rush," he said, stepping away, turning back to his research. "It's not like studying plants or insects. They're not going to rot. Feel free to take time to appreciate the nuances of their construction."
All this advice was lost on the poor sorcerer. Just the proximity of the other elf had him hot and frustrated. Inconveniently he was half hard, and flushed now with embarrassment as well as arousal. It was such a strange situation; he felt so confused, so wanting, so out of his depth that for a moment he had absolutely no idea how to proceed. He sat at the desk and looked at the schematics and sketches, hoping their clean mechanical nature would calm him. It didn't.
"Aicantar," he said suddenly. "Aicantar, I want you, I can think of nothing else."
The other elf had been busily tinkering with the gadgets on the desk, but the noise behind him abruptly stopped. The silence was agonizing and he hung his head, wishing he could take back his words.
"This is sudden. But not unwelcome. For the longest time you seemed to be totally unaware of how you look, of the effect you have on people...and on me. I've been trying to show you, in roundabout ways, and in truth, I was wondering if you'd ever catch on. But enough of this. My quarters are in the next room, if you're willing."
Tandoril looked up at the other elf, who was leaning on the table, grinning naughtily down at him. "I've never done this before. I don't know anything."
"I can teach you. We can see what you like." He leaned over and kissed Tandoril, gently at first, then slowly pressing apart the lips with his tongue, running his fingers over the other man's jaw, and into the hair, carefully pulling out the pins and letting the locks down. Tandoril was much too surprised to do anything; he had not expected kissing to be so arousing--it had always looked somewhat awkward and sloppy whenever he'd seen it done. Aicantar pulled away and asked,
"Enjoying yourself so far?"
"You're--you seem really good at that. Can we do it again?" All his usual eloquence had left him.
"We'll do so much more. Come on. To my room, before some guard or researcher walks in on us."
1/?
By afternoon that day, Tandoril had not gotten anything done. Now that he was frustrated and uncertain it was far more difficult to concentrate properly on anything. He stumbled over words when he spoke and air when he moved, dropped things, and blushed every time Aicantar spoke or got close to him.
"Whatever is the matter with you?" Aicantar demanded at last, grabbing Tandoril's wrist just short of him knocking over a few delicate pieces of deconstructed Dwemer machinery.
"I--I, that is, you--"
"Are you sick? Your face is flushed. It has been most of the afternoon."
Aicantar was frowning with concern now rather than annoyance, and the grip he had on the wrist grew gentle as he laid a hand on Tandoril's forehead.
"You're warm, but not feverish." Their faces inches apart, he studied the other elf's nervous expression for a moment, and smiled, only kindly, but it made Tandoril's heart beat quicker. "Don't rush," he said, stepping away, turning back to his research. "It's not like studying plants or insects. They're not going to rot. Feel free to take time to appreciate the nuances of their construction."
All this advice was lost on the poor sorcerer. Just the proximity of the other elf had him hot and frustrated. Inconveniently he was half hard, and flushed now with embarrassment as well as arousal. It was such a strange situation; he felt so confused, so wanting, so out of his depth that for a moment he had absolutely no idea how to proceed. He sat at the desk and looked at the schematics and sketches, hoping their clean mechanical nature would calm him. It didn't.
"Aicantar," he said suddenly. "Aicantar, I want you, I can think of nothing else."
The other elf had been busily tinkering with the gadgets on the desk, but the noise behind him abruptly stopped. The silence was agonizing and he hung his head, wishing he could take back his words.
"This is sudden. But not unwelcome. For the longest time you seemed to be totally unaware of how you look, of the effect you have on people...and on me. I've been trying to show you, in roundabout ways, and in truth, I was wondering if you'd ever catch on. But enough of this. My quarters are in the next room, if you're willing."
Tandoril looked up at the other elf, who was leaning on the table, grinning naughtily down at him. "I've never done this before. I don't know anything."
"I can teach you. We can see what you like." He leaned over and kissed Tandoril, gently at first, then slowly pressing apart the lips with his tongue, running his fingers over the other man's jaw, and into the hair, carefully pulling out the pins and letting the locks down. Tandoril was much too surprised to do anything; he had not expected kissing to be so arousing--it had always looked somewhat awkward and sloppy whenever he'd seen it done. Aicantar pulled away and asked,
"Enjoying yourself so far?"
"You're--you seem really good at that. Can we do it again?" All his usual eloquence had left him.
"We'll do so much more. Come on. To my room, before some guard or researcher walks in on us."