Isolation
By Forbidden Donut
Characters from the Stormbringer Trilogy by Kerry Greenwood
Summary: Scathe doesn't see himself as a prisoner
Author's note: Alas, it appears this wonderful trilogy is only sold in Australia and NZ. Also, canon m/m so don't give me any grief please.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or profit from their use.
Bran found Scathe deep within the stacks of the University library, head bent forward as he read another musty old book, long silver blond hair a curtain obscuring his face. His thin shirt had slipped, showing the angular bones and pale flesh of his back.
Trailing his fingers across those pale shoulders, Bran sat down in front of his lover. Scathe's eyes were closed for all that he was reading, and the barest of smiles stretched his lips. He put a nectarine in Scathe's expectant hand, watching him raise it to his nose and inhale, nostrils flaring delicately. The ripe smell filled his own nose even as he knew it was not a real smell but the illusory connection between them that supplied it.
There was a flicker then, from Scathe, of hunger and desire sprinkled liberally with profound love.
"We need a new quest," said Bran morosely. "I hate that this place is both a torment and your prison while we're here, and I swear, if I have to rescue Mill from one more of Dismas's schemes, I'll scream."
"Mill knows that Dismis is using him, and allows it. Friendship drives you takes chances, again and again, as well you know, Raven." Scathe opened his eyes, favouring him with an ancient gaze. "And this is a prison of my own choosing, though circumstance and environment dictate it." He waved his long slender arm and hand in the direction of the deafening emotional chatter from the vast community above. Bran experienced it through their empathic connection every time Scathe sought him out in his world, past the concrete buffers. "I am perfectly happy with my books and the occasional cat visiting me, I know where you are when I need more."
"I don't like to think of you being so isolated when I have to attend matters up there." Bran reached out to touch his cheek and Scathe leaned into the warmth of that small contact like a plant seeking the life-giving sun, the deep open neckline of his shirt revealing the plunge of his small cleavage, giving rise to Bran's desire for proximity of a different kind.
In the distance, a cat meowed, answered by a dozen others, and distracted, they both looked in the direction it came from.
"See," Scathe murmured, sitting back. "I'm not so isolated." He bit into his nectarine, the ripe juices overflowing his mouth and spilling down his chin. He wiped them away casually with the back of his hand.
Bran swallowed the insubstantial taste down, wishing not only for a bite of the real fruit but of Scathe himself.
"Then take what you desire," murmured Scathe, offering him both.