4I said, I wanted Caldarn. Okay, I get Caldarn. By me, for me (and for other co-shippers too).
Shoutout to Drag for giving me the idea to write Caldarn.
It was scorching hot.
It was so hot and the humidity had never seen a better high, and it made things even hotter.
Sweat ran down the bodies of the sparring soldiers. Sweat ran down his body.
Him. Aldarn.
And Caleb watched. He watched carefully; he watched like a calculating predator.
Swords clashed. Men shouted and grunted and fought. Bodies rippled, dancing to the hymn of makeshift battle. Sweat ran down skin. Sweat ran down body.
Then a sword flew to the side. Its opposing sword pointed to the losing man's neck. Both men panted like beasts, their eyes never straying from each other.
"It's not like you to lose." Aldarn withdrew his sword. "But I don't hate winning to you either."
Caleb's gaze lingered on his partner. "You're right."
"What's on your mind?"
"...it's hot, that's what."
"I know you, Caleb. I knew you from when we were children."
Aldarn stepped sideways to pick up the fallen sword. Whatever he was thinking, Caleb was sure the galhot was right.
"...I need a quick bath," Caleb announced and reached for his sword.
While their eye contact was broken, Caleb's hand lingered a little more over Aldarn's. (Or, was Aldarn's lingering a little more under Caleb's touch?)
The two put their swords away. They went to the bath area. They locked the door to the bath area while giggling like stupid teenagers. (They're already more than that. They're already adults for Imdahl's sake for a few years now.)
The moment shirts were off was also the moment Caleb splashed a bucket of water onto Aldarn's face.
"Hey!"
"Hah! I got you!"
Two grown men, sharing in a secret.
Splash, splash, splash.
They've gone back to a time when they were truly children, when they didn't bear scars and all they wanted to do was battle the summer heat. It was hot, but relishing in the feeling was more bearable with another person.
Splash. Splash.
They threw water into each other's faces and heads and stomachs until they were simply lying on the ground, laughing at their own stupidity.
"You stink, Caleb."
"So do you."
Aldarn rolled over until he lied on top of Caleb. Caleb only grinned.
"Your hair's sticking to your face," said the Galhot, "How's that even comfortable?"
"Eh." Caleb wrapped his arms around his partner. "I got used to it."
Their noses touch. "It's long..."
"Yeah."
"Won't you cut it?"
"If you want to."
"I don't want to."
Caleb's grin widened.
Their lips pressed against each other. Aldarn's fingers dug into Caleb's long hair, and Caleb pulled him to a more comfortable seated position.
"You should tie your hair," Aldarn whispered, pressing kisses along his lover's jaw.
"I will, when you're finished pulling on it."
"Pfft. So, is it still hot?"
Caleb ran his hands up Aldarn's sides, feeling every curve and edge (mostly edge) of flesh and skin and stone-like protrusions. "I feel a different kind of hot."
"Me too."
Their lips met again, hungrily seeking and wanting. Green and brown orbs met, as well, secrets being passed, like children planning pranks together.
"Let's... go somewhere else."
"Let's."
