Some said Ailuin had groomed his Strýchnos like a deadly flower in his garden. Most, however, gave him the benefit of the doubt, believing him to be an honorable elf—a prince, a king, a priest, a dragonfriend. And there had been no outcry from the princes of Val'Kor; the young elf acquitted himself well enough to remain an envoy from their court as well as a trusted envoy for Ailuin.
The Hytori were not above gossip, but more people viewed the relationship now with approval and affection. They did cut a striking image together and separately. But, of course, opinions might change when the time came for the king to marry once more.
But none of that existed here. If they weren't entirely safe and isolated in the Land of Nod, they were a good sight safer and more isolated than in Silfanore. And so, there was only connection, heat, and pleasure. The dream might last only a few minutes in the waking world, but they took their sweet time within the dreaming.
When it was done, they found themselves similarly arrayed, Rhydian leaning back into Ailuin's chest, the king's hands running over his skin as if he hadn't mapped the topography of his body countless times already. The afterglow was as lovely here as elsewhere, though it could be banished with a thought. Weariness and other such things worked differently as well, but the young prince was used to some of those rules by now, as well as how his dream king bent them to his will.
Everything bent to his will in the end. Some things, some people, like Rhydian, were just eager and willing to bend to him.
"What are you thinking?" he asked finally. There were sometimes insights to be had in post-coital clarity, but then, the king had always wanted to know what was one Rhydian's mind. Perhaps that was one of the stepping stones that had led them to this path together.
