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Badeni’s hands were like the softstem bulrush that grew near the water’s edge. His palms were pliant yet strong, purposefully pressing against the knotted muscles in Oczy’s back. His fingers, however, were rough, calloused from years of writing and nail-picking, jagged edges dragging along Oczy’s skin.
The massage, nonetheless, was pleasant.
Of course, Oczy had not meant to strain his back that morning. He had thrown his muscles beyond the breaking point with a simple, rhythmic shovel-full of dirt dug from their blossoming escape tunnel. It was strange – such a casual action, one that he had performed hundreds of times before, had worn him out so deeply. Wasn’t exercise supposed to build one’s stamina?
“You need rest and nutrition,” Badeni mumbled as if he had read Oczy’s mind and decided to fill in the gaps that were left in his line of thinking. “Think of a kiln. It doesn’t simply stay hot without maintenance. You need to feed the fire so it can remain powerful. You can’t go and give all of your wood to beggars and leave yourself with dying flames.”
Badeni pressed his thumbs into a particularly tense area on his right shoulder, prompting a hiss to escape through Oczy’s gritted teeth. “Trapezius,” he whispered, more to himself than to Oczy.
“I don’t,” Oczy retorted, hesitant to debate but empowered by Badeni’s candidness and the helpful hands that grazed his naked back. “-give everything to the beggars, I mean. I give them what I can.”
“Then you need more rest,” Badeni said, not wasting a breath. “Rest is a type of food, too. Perhaps you should sleep instead of staying up and writing well into the night.”
Oczy narrowed his gaze only because Badeni would not see him do so. His face was to the rough wool blanket that rested atop his bed of hay. Dark hair cascaded over his cheeks, shielding his expression like the billowing tapestries that adorned castle walls. He wanted to write – why was it so hard for Badeni to accept that?
“Adding to my journal makes the day feel more fulfilling and purposeful. It gives me inspiration,” Oczy said quietly, but he could tell that Badeni had heard him from the stilling of his hands, from Badeni’s deep inhale and the silence that followed. He was thinking, willing his lips to remain shut as he mulled over new information and ideas. Oczy always liked when he did that – he felt proud when he could make Badeni doubt.
The massage had been Badeni’s suggestion, surprisingly. He had taken one look at Oczy, hunched and clenching his teeth from the pulsing ache that had expanded along his back, and he demanded that Oczy discard his mud-stained tunic. After examining his skin with enough confidence to suggest that he possessed medical knowledge, Badeni had positioned Oczy along the bed and got to work, leaving no room for argument.
“We cannot continue without the safety of an escape tunnel,” Badeni had said in response to Oczy’s curious glance. “You must be in good health.”
And that was that. Oczy allowed the hands to roam, to squeeze and sink into flesh with enough pressure to make him feel blissfully tender. At first, Badeni’s hands had been as cold as the morning frost that crept along nearby grass, but a warmth had eventually seeped into his palms. They pressed, confidently and sometimes curiously, it seemed, lower and lower, from his shoulders to where back met bottom but never beyond the jut of his tailbone.
The longing for Badeni’s fingers to roam further, the anticipation that, by some slim chance, he might break the tension that had settled around them with an enticing touch – it was exciting.
If Oczy would have said that he had never fantasized about Badeni, it would have been a complete and utter lie. He thought of him, back against his desk, papers strewn carelessly about, ink dribbling down onto the floorboards, knocked over by the force of their passion. He imagined Badeni being too consumed by desire to care, instead gripping at Oczy’s back, raking fingernails down sweaty skin as he drew him closer and deeper. Dwelling on such inventions of his aroused mind brought him a type of shame that sat heavy in his stomach, urging him to slam his eyes shut and shake away the temptations.
Withstanding any attempt he made to clear his mind was the vision of Badeni burying his face into Oczy’s neck, panting breaths tickling his unguarded nape. “Don’t stop,” he imagined Badeni moaning into his ear. “Don’t you dare stop.”
Oczy shot up, groaning from the sudden forceful motion. The renewed pain fanning over his back was luckily a distraction from his spiraling sensual thoughts. He hunched forward, inhaling sharply through gritted teeth, bracing himself against Badeni’s sturdy shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Oczy said. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Badeni asked, gawking. “Your dramatics?”
“No, I…” Oczy straightened his back with a hiss and moved away, sitting on the far end of the hay, his bottom sinking uncomfortably into the pliable pile. Elaborating truthfully was not an option. “I thought you didn’t want to touch me…that I smell too much of blood.”
“Yes, you reek,” Badeni blurted out, “but I am sure that I do too at this point. I have not bathed in days.”
Oczy shook his head, overcome with the immense desire to comfort him. “No, you smell fine. Like incense from the church.”
Badeni scoffed. “The incense stinks.”
Oczy fought back the urge to laugh at Badeni’s unshakeable urge to argue, even in the face of a compliment. He knew that such a hardheaded personality grated on many of those who encountered Badeni, but Oczy could not help but feel endeared. Badeni wanted to speak with him, to hear Oczy’s responses to his absurdities and blunt remarks. He wanted to learn and form connections, no matter how much he tried to hide that fact. “Anyway…why are you doing this?” Oczy asked, cutting to the chase. “This is a typical injury. I will be fine.”
“Like I mentioned,” Badeni said, waving his hand dismissively, “we’re too far along in our research to be held up by back pain.”
Oczy blinked. “Our research?”
“My research,” Badeni said, correcting himself. Even in the growing darkness, Oczy spied how his face grew red. Badeni quickly hid his expression by whirling to face the door, standing with his back to Oczy. He let out a sigh, and as he shook his head, Oczy watched the blond hair that puffed out from beneath the string of his eyepatch bob left and right. “This is useless, me sitting here talking with you. I’ll be leaving. Sleep in a comfortable position, one that does not strain your back. Good night.”
He moved to leave, booted foot stepping forward along the knotted wood, unfurling the base of his scapular until it resembled the circular bloom of rose petals. Oczy surged forward on instinct, acting as quickly as he would while dodging a sword strike, but when he clasped Badeni’s wrist in a light fist, it was not forceful. He only sought to still his retreat with a whisper of a touch, to draw him back with a calming caress. Immediately, he regretted it.
“Sorry!” he shouted, pulling back his hand as if it had scalded Badeni’s skin. Oczy half expected to see the red outline of his hold staining his wrist like sunburn.
Badeni turned and stared, mouth agape, his grey eye looking Oczy up and down. Oczy had never seen him at a loss for words around anyone else – he was always quick-witted, even with a few tankards of beer in him. Stumbling and drunk, clinging to Oczy’s shoulder for support, he had once recited something about Heraclitus and the unity of opposites that left a taunting nobleman in stunned silence. It was only with Oczy that Badeni fumbled for order and logic. Oczy did not know if that should have made him as proud as it did.
Then, after a moment, Badeni spoke not with frustration but with quiet curiosity. “…What is it?”
“Nothing, just…” Oczy cleared his throat and swallowed away the nervous sheen of spit that coated his tongue. Stay here?” he dared. “With me.”
“I am a priest.”
Oczy thought that it was odd how Badeni retreated behind religion, for he had mentioned before that the church meant nothing to him, that he would leave without a second thought when all was said and done. Nonetheless, he hid behind the cloth, shielding himself from unfamiliar thoughts and feelings. It was a lazy argument, one that Oczy could see through with ease. Badeni was scared.
Even still, Oczy had never even mentioned the idea of sex, so why was Badeni jumping to arguments about his own holiness? Had he been having carnal desires too?
Oczy blushed, waving his hands defensively in an effort to bring Badeni some solace. “I mean, you can sleep here is all! It’s easier than walking back to the church.”
“I can’t,” he said softly, longingly, before correcting his tone to something harsher. “No, I won’t! How dare you even ask me?”
Oczy folded his hands in his lap, eyes downcast. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
There was silence as Oczy reclined against the bedding, his sore back screaming at the movement. The hay crunched, like crispy snow under one’s boot, as he shifted. Badeni stood still, the moonlight that spilled in from holes in the walls shrouding his shoulders while his lone grey eye followed Oczy.
Oczy wiped stray strands of hair from his face to give him a clearer image of Badeni’s expression. His brow was furrowed and laced with contemplation. He looked down at Oczy’s resting form without tilting his head, maintaining a regal posture with which he could have balanced a stack of books upon his scalp. Normally, when Badeni sat, his shoulders slumped forward and his neck craned over his papers – now, though, Badeni seemed to find value in manners. It gave him some semblance of poise and control, Oczy thought.
“You will have to move over to give me space,” Badeni finally said, nodding at the makeshift bed.
Oczy stopped himself from smiling. His efforts to hold back anxious excitement prompted beads of sweat to form along his temples, one particularly large droplet dribbling as he moved to the far end of the blanket. “O-oh, right…okay.”
Badeni quickly untied and removed his dark brown scapular, unceremoniously tossing it onto the back of a wooden chair. “Turn your head,” he barked, just as Oczy spotted him reaching down to unlace his trousers. Oczy followed orders, whirling around to stare at the wall. He heard Badeni kick his pair of boots somewhere across the room, followed by the softer falling of his pants. It left him in his underwear and his long, white robe. A spark of giddiness ran down Oczy’s spine, like lightning striking a tree – he was unsure how he would be able to fall asleep.
Hay crackled and sank as Badeni slotted himself next to him, the side of his shoulder just barely grazing Oczy’s naked back, the fabric tickling his skin, giving rise to goosebumps. Badeni sighed, ankles popping when he stretched his legs.
“Lay on your back,” Badeni said, and Oczy felt his eye boring into the back of his head, gaze unbroken. “Resting on your side like that will strain your shoulder.”
Wordlessly, Oczy maneuvered himself onto his back, his ache still present but much more bearable than any wound he had acquired from sword fighting. He resisted the urge to look at Badeni, instead staring upward through a hole in their roof, eyes tracing the spattering of white stars against the night sky’s inky canvas. He let out a breath that he had been holding for far too long, the air deflating from his lungs with a heavy huff.
It was then that a star shot past, flying across the sky like a bird of prey diving for its dinner. He had never seen a falling star before, although he had heard stories about their beauty and the wishes that were granted after the celestial objects cascaded. He had spent far too long fearing the all-seeing eyes of the heavens to ever spy one for himself. Tonight, though, that had finally changed. Oczy’s eyes grew wide, his lips curling into a smile as he pointed up to the sky. “Badeni, look! Did you see that?”
He caught his mistake quickly, his mind reminding him that Badeni likely could not have observed the spectacular sight. A frown growing across his face, Oczy snapped his gaze to Badeni, an apology already ripe on his lips. The words caught in his throat, though, when he saw that Badeni had not been looking up at the sky at all – his eye, so bright that it almost seemed to be sparkling, had never left Oczy.
“What?” Badeni asked, and he made no move to back away, even though their noses were nearly touching.
“Nothing,” Oczy whispered, simply allowing himself to take in the intricacies of Badeni’s features. He spied thick blond brows beneath the breaks in his bangs. Further down, his eyepatch had become crooked, its strings loosened so that it was moments from falling loose, held up only by the bridge of his nose. The eyelashes that shielded his lone dying eye were gracefully long, and below, Oczy followed the deep groves of Badeni’s scars, wondering how much they had stung. The one that was etched across his dry lips, nearly deep enough to have reached his teeth, compelled Oczy in particular. He wanted to feel it, to drag his thumb along the skin and watch the way Badeni’s lips moved.
It was then that Badeni surged forward, not in aggression but with an undisguised hunger, lips guiding him as he sought out Oczy’s embrace. His movements were like those of a puppet on a string, sudden and subject to the will of emotions that he seemed to not quite comprehend. He kissed Oczy like he spoke to him: rough and curious with an underlying uncertainty. It felt like he wanted to pull back, to lash out and push Oczy away, but he instead slammed his eye shut and pressed forward.
Oczy could not comprehend the desire either. It felt so natural to kiss back, to wrap his arms around Badeni’s back and hold him close, to part his lips and accept him in. Was it natural, though? If a shooting star – a celestial rarity brought on by some heavenly will that Oczy could barely begin to understand – was natural, then how could this not be?
How could it possibly be unnatural? It felt like they were two books, perfectly placed next to one another on a library shelf, held up by each other’s weight, enclosed in a balanced embrace.
Their kiss was long and passionate – desperate, even. Badeni cupped Oczy’s cheeks, hands then gliding to clutch the back of his neck as fingers tangled with black hair. He panted, pulling Oczy closer, continuously parting scarred lips and intensifying their dance with red-hot fervor.
By the time Oczy pulled Badeni on top of his chest, soaking up the warm weight against him, he had nearly forgotten about his back pain. Almost simultaneously, Badeni’s kisses had slowed, becoming lazier even as he moaned contentedly. He dragged his lips, wet and sluggish, along Oczy’s jaw, down his neck, until he finally rested his cheek against Oczy’s shoulder.
A light snore followed, and it took Oczy a moment to comprehend that Badeni had fallen asleep so swiftly. Had he truly been so exhausted? Was it his tired mind that had given him the courage to pull Oczy in for a kiss?
Oczy smiled, although he would likely have to move Badeni into a more comfortable position eventually. For now, though, he simply let out a sigh and ran a comforting hand up and down Badeni’s back, smoothing out the wrinkles of his robe. His knees framed Oczy’s sides, fanning the white fabric over Oczy like a blanket. He was warm, so incredibly warm.
After one final, thankful look up to the stars, Oczy closed his eyes and let the last of his tension melt away.