Once Mia had settled down in one of many cushions laid out for her, Horwell trotted briskly into his neighbor's room, fumbling with the door's lock and making sure the knob didn't twist even though he'd checked and double-checked multiple times. They didn't have long.
Not that time was something either of them needed to worry about—they had perfected their private encounters over the years and whether they were granted a few minutes or a few hours, neither left the other unsatisfied. Owlan and Horwell knew each other well in more than the common sense of the word and no amount of time was too short or too long for either of them.
Sometimes they toyed with one another like the young, inexperienced lovers they were many years ago. Sometimes they treated one another as loveless strangers. No matter what they did, though, there was always an air of familiarity, of courtesy, of understanding.
Today, they did not think of any of those things. The only matter that truly concerned them was staying utterly silent: another thing they had practiced to perfection over the years.
They kissed and undressed with noteworthy swiftness, their movements practically symmetrical with one another as they tossed scarves to the floor, untied sashes, opened robes—even with noticeable differences from one another entirely visible now, the duality continued with similar gestures, touches, and glances.
Owlan toppled backwards onto his bed with Horwell hovering over him, his usual gentleness replaced with something that rarely emerged even behind closed doors. There was still that lighthearted playfulness even behind his rough touches and kisses, though, and Owlan vocalized amusedly when the dark-haired man's lips sucked against a vein in his neck, one large hand running down the length of his torso and between his legs. Owlan parted his thighs willingly, focusing his attention on the first flickers of post-rainy sunlight shining through the window.
"Owlan," Horwell murmured against his chest, hand trailing upward to play with a nipple, "What are you thinking about?"
His gaze flicked down to the scene before him and their eyes met very briefly as Horwell rubbed his clothed lower half against him. "Outside?" Owlan half-guessed, unsure of what had been on his mind now that his senses were suddenly (finally, rather) beginning to deviate to his more carnal needs. "The sun came out..."
The other man didn't bother checking for himself, but he smiled against Owlan's chest as he batted silvery hair away from his collarbone. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"For once, I'm not cert—mm, Horwell, careful..."
Horwell's rough stroking ceased and he opened his hand, settling for two fingers instead, giving the head of Owlan's cock an apologetic stroke. "Outside... Perhaps one night..."
Dangerous as it was, Owlan already found himself thrilled by the idea, a shudder running along the length of his body. "Monsters, Horwell," he drawled, tentatively tangling his hand in Horwell's hair as the other man's tender lips kissed down his chiseled torso toward his abdomen. "Not to mention the night watch... But... Maybe..."
Horwell lifted up and silenced him with a clumsy, weighted kiss, keeping a hand pinned on his shoulder while the other continued to work him to hardness. Owlan smoothed the other man's hair back behind his ears, running his hands along Horwell's jaw, down his neck, toward his chest. A right shame that they couldn't savor the moment as long as either of them probably would have liked (damned impulsivity...), but the two men began resolving their sudden lust for one another in a matter of minutes.
Now fully unclothed, they clung to one another, legs intertwined, skin moist and sticky with sweat. Their limbs shook and trembled with careful fragility—the slightest creak of Owlan's bed was enough to spur white-hot panic through both of their minds, and they inverted their positions quickly and quietly, blood thumping at a deafening roar in their ears.
Horwell sucked him forcefully and Owlan found it rather difficult keeping his lover's cock in his mouth in return, his lips quivering uneasily around it. His jaw already felt tired, but he moved his head in unison with Horwell's once the pleasure became a steady constant, teasing and tasting his lover with his usual familiarity. He enjoyed a certain level of Horwell's roughness now and then. At the very least, it was an entertaining change from his usually gentle nature.
A dry finger pushed against his anus and Owlan smacked Horwell's hand away violently two or three times, his hips jerking out of alarm and unexpected arousal. No, the gesture warned, and Horwell laughed around him, the vibrations against his tongue sending a tremor of pleasure up Owlan's spine. It was enough to finally draw a single, audible gasp out of him.
The thought of someone walking in on them both terrified and excited him, and when he became of dim, deep voice of Headmaster Gaepora somewhere in the hall, Owlan gripped Horwell's thigh tightly, digging his nails deep into the soft, pale skin, his entire body going rigid. Horwell drew away with the same suddenness, panting softly, the both of them on the verge of mutual climax.
"Instructor Owlan?" Gaepora asked, rapping at the door.
Owlan felt his soul slither out of his body like a terrible serpent. Cautiously, the white-haired man fumbled around on his hands and knees, gently straddling Horwell's thighs, barely able to resist humping away into oblivion. Deep breath. Horwell began stroking them both together and Owlan almost moaned his response. "I'm listening, Headmaster," he replied, biting down on his lip as he slowed his movements. Horwell did not express the same courtesy.
"Have you seen Horwell? I just saw the strangest creature outside and I wanted to ask him about it..."
Horwell grinned up at him devilishly, stroking faster.
"N... no... I haven't. I think he went to look for Mia since she didn't—H-Horwell," he hissed, pressing down hard on the man's shoulders, reciprocating his touch by grinding along rhythmically. "Excuse me—Horwell, er, h-he aaah—" He caught himself with a feigned sneeze, squeezing his eyes shut. "He didn't let her in this morning!"
The following pause lasted an eternity. Thankfully, Gaepora expressed his disappointment and shuffled away. Owlan's golden eyes snapped open and he glared daggers down at the smirking Horwell, raking his nails down along the other man's collarbone to leave marks for all to see. "Fuck you," he snarled, throwing his head back as his movements suddenly became loose, erratic, beyond his control—
He toppled forward with his lips suckling and biting blindly at Horwell's chin as they came together, riding out a pulsing orgasm for as long as they could. The bed squeaked beneath them and they disregarded it, moaning quietly into and against each other, shivering, trembling, their skin hot and slick.
The sensations died away and Owlan glanced down at the mess on Horwell's stomach, stroking his lover's softening erection gratefully until he finally rolled off to the side, spent, draping an arm over the other man's chest.
"That could have ended badly," Horwell said simply, grinning.
Unable to do much else, Owlan huffed a sigh.