Harou made his way to Brise’s dressing room, while keeping his ears and nose alert for signs of the goblin doubling back.  It didn’t seem likely that Sangrasp would just take his presence in stride or overlook him like that if he was as cunning as Brise said.

The lycan hesitated by the door to the dressing room, feeling unsettled by the situation for the first time.  Abrupt trysts with relative strangers was not so uncommon for a soldier on the road, but Harou felt an attachment to Brise that he hadn’t felt with others.  That was what unsettled him, because he didn’t feel like having sex with the man once and having all of two conversations should be enough for him to feel any attachment yet.  Harou took a moment to examine his own motives.

He couldn’t deny the sylph was attractive, and he felt drawn to him.  There was something different about him that Harou’s former lovers lacked.  The lycan was a bit worried that it was simply that Brise made him feel like he could still be a hero, even with a bum leg.  The sylph needed him.  Harou’s past lovers, while mostly submissive in bed, had been generally independent types.  They were either army-chasers, travelers met in bars or inns, or even members of his unit.

Harou’s head bowed as his chest squeezed at the sudden reminder of Solomon’s death, and the deaths of the others in his unit.  He still wasn’t sure who the ‘couple’ of survivors Paimon mentioned were.  Perhaps he should write the djinn a letter… Harou shook his head, clearing away the mental tangent.

Did Harou just want to feel needed?  Just feel like a strong, admirable hero again?  Was he interested in the attention or the person?

The lycan liked to think he wasn’t so shallow as that, but he didn’t feel fully confident about his own feelings and motives since his discharge from the army.  He took a step back from the door, his left hand squeezing the handle of his crutch until his knuckles went white.

“Harou?”

The sudden sound of Brise’s voice made Harou jump, his heart pounding in his chest at the shock.  He took a steadying breath as he realized the sylph wasn’t suddenly upon him, but rather, was calling for him from the dressing room.

“Is that you out there Harou?” Brise sounded nervous.

“Uh, yeah, it’s me…”

“Thank the spirits,” Brise breathed, greatly relieved it wasn’t his master set about to trap him.  The fluttering in Brise’s chest remained, albeit with a different cause.

“Sorry I’m late, I waited for the whole crowd to clear out.”

“Mmm, I see.  It would be better to slip through the crowd so Master doesn’t notice, but I understand that’s not so easy with your leg.  What are you waiting around in the corridor for anyway?  Come on in!”

Harou still wasn’t sure of himself, but he hesitantly entered the dressing room anyway.

He found Brise sitting at the dressing room vanity, unbraiding his long, white hair to brush it out.  The silken tresses had been plaited for so long, they held the soft waves of the braids.  Harou’s fingers itches with the desire to run his fingers through those beautiful locks.  Brise flashed him a mischievous smile, as if he knew exactly what the lycan was thinking.

The lycan cleared his throat and looked away, face flushing a little.

“I actually spoke to Sangrasp on my way back,” Harou said, peeking at the sylph in his peripheral vision.  Brise stilled, his eyes flying to meet Harou’s in the mirror.

“Y-you did?  What, uh, what did he say?” he asked, sounding a little breathless, his voice low.

“Nothing really.  Just asked if I enjoyed the show and recommended another.  He didn’t act rude or suspicious of me, but I still felt uneasy.”

“Hm..” Brise contemplated the news while pulling his long white hair into a low ponytail.  He put some kind of foam in his hands and ran them down the ponytail several times, smoothing out the kinks from the plaits.

“He didn’t follow me; I’ve been listening for him and trying to catch his scent,” Harou offered for reassurance.

“Maybe,” Brise shrugged, turning his chair around to face Harou, “but he is still a fae, and it’s hard to say what kind of magic he’s picked up over the centuries.  Goblins are able to lie, and they can sense lies in others, making them particularly dangerous to try and fool,” he said, looking worried.

Harou nodded, not unfamiliar with fae rules, or goblins specifically.  They were not an allied race, but they were still relatively common in the cities of the allied races, usually as merchants and traders.

“We shouldn’t linger,” Brise said, standing abruptly.  “It would be better to go to my private quarters.  I’m allowed to lock that door so that I can avoid harassment or worse from unruly guests.  Even Master won’t enter the room unannounced when it’s locked.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call him that,” Harou said softly.

“I have to.”

“When he’s around, I understand, but when it’s just us?” the lycan asked, looking at the sylph with what Brise could only describe as puppy eyes.  The sylph sighed.

“I can call him ‘Master’ or ‘Master Sangrasp,’ and that’s all, unless he gives me permission for another name,” he said, regret and resignation heavy in his lilting voice.

“He wouldn’t know if you let go of such formalities when you’re with me, would he?” Harou asked, puzzled.

“No, but…” Brise sighed again, “If I just call him ‘S-sangr-rasp,’ then…” The sylph was cringing before he even started saying the goblin’s name, and once he did say it, the cuffs on his wrists lit up a bright red, and there was a sizzle.  The sylph gasped and fell to his knees, wrists in the air.  His porcelain complexion looked a bit gray, and his breaths came shallow.

“Brise!” Harou dropped his crutch to lunge forward and grab the sylph’s elbows, falling to his own knees in front of the dancer.  “Why did you do that?!  You didn’t need to cause yourself harm to get the point across, you could’ve just told me what would happen!” he cried, sounding almost frenzied, and looked into the sylph’s sky blue eyes with a wild look in his own amber gaze.

Brise regarded him with a mixture of emotions, ranging from confusion to surprise, mixed with gratitude and a few other emotions Harou couldn’t analyze.  He glanced behind Harou at the fallen crutch and back.

“Y-your leg-!”

Harou shook his head and said, “It doesn’t matter.  I’m a soldier, this pain is nothing compared to this,” he said, tentatively tapping the sylph’s slave bands to see if they were still hot.  They were cold to the touch as if they’d never been hot.

“But I don’t want you to hurt yourself for my sake, either,” Brise countered, looking at his wrists remorsefully.  He wasn’t very surprised that Harou scolded him for the demonstration, but he had not expected the lycan to throw himself at him like that!

“Can these bands slide down?  Can I see your wrists?” Harou asked, ignoring the sylph’s comment and trying to gently push the wrist cuffs down so he could see how badly Brise was burned.  The sylph let out a startled chuckle and pulled his arms from the lycan’s grasp.

“No need, they don’t do actual damage, they just cause pain as if they had.  I’m sorry for startling you.  I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known you’d throw yourself down like that!” Brise said, reaching out to cup Harou’s face, stroking his thumbs across the soldier’s beautiful cheekbones.  “We should go, before we get caught.”

Harou nodded and shifted to try and pick himself up off the floor.  To his surprise, Brise’s slender arms wrapped around his chest and lifted him up.  Harou turned his head to look at the shorter man, and was only a little surprised to see him floating.  It did make sense, after all, that to lift him all the way to his feet, the sylph would need to fly.