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The first watch seemed longer than usual to Hardin, for the night was quiet and still around the sleeping forms of his brethren, camped in a cluster of oaks at the foot of a hill, on their way to a village where Sydney had told him they had sympathizers. Yes, a long watch indeed - for the second watch had fallen to him rather than the first, yet sleep eluded him now, no matter how he tried.

Part of it, he supposed, was that Sydney had not returned yet from wherever he'd vanished to just before the rest of Müllenkamp had turned in for the night. He was not intrusive enough to spy him out with the Sight, for he knew that Sydney deserved his privacy just as any other man - even if Hardin did often have trouble tearing his eyes away from the mage.

It did not help, he thought as he lay in his blankets - unfortunately alone for the time being - that he knew where Sydney used to go when he vanished for the night. He steadfastly refused to be so petty as to count heads of the other brethren in the camp, to see if any were missing. And in particular, any who he knew Sydney had slept with in the past. It was the childish act of a suspicious lover, and despite what he might feel for Sydney, that was one thing which he was not, exactly.

Which, of course, was why he was suspicious.

Several times now, they'd come so close that it was nearly painful, but each time, Hardin found himself confronted with yet another fear or old prejudice from his upbringing, and he couldn't help but shy away. He couldn't be sure which shamed him more - the fact that he wanted Sydney so badly, despite the stigma that such relations carried, or the way that his uncertainty caused him to let Sydney down time and time again.

Not that Sydney voiced a complaint. When Hardin suddenly froze up beneath him, or even backed away, Sydney simply paused, nodded, and quietly put his garments back in order, composing himself once more with the serenity that carried over into everything he did. Hardin knew he understood, though no expression whatsoever was in his face, but he also knew by this time that Sydney's apparent serenity was all too often a mask for the frustrations he did not voice. Considering how frustrated Hardin was already, despite the fact that it was his own fault, it was not much of a stretch of the imagination to think that Sydney must feel the same way, especially as Sydney had been so accustomed to taking his pleasures from any number of people among his followers. There had never been a lack for those willing to offer themselves to him, and Hardin didn't imagine that he'd ever had to go without.

Yes, he might well be finding release in the arms of another, Hardin admitted, a slight frown the only outward sign of his discontent as he restlessly turned over yet again. It was none of his business if it were so; he did not own Sydney. Rather, by the oath he had offered, Sydney owned him. Sydney himself belonged to the gods first and foremost, and as much to any of the others that lay within the cover of the trees this night as he did to Hardin. They were all his followers - moreover, his family and friends. Despite the closeness the two of them might share, which Hardin was quite certain was unique to him, Sydney had never spoken a word that so much as implied anything deeper than the relationship he had with any of the brethren. The assurance Hardin had was merely in the way Sydney seemed to speak more freely in his presence, the way he allowed himself to show vulnerability, on rare occasions. If nothing else, Sydney trusted him, and in turn, he trusted Sydney.

This was not a matter of trust, however, as nothing had ever been said that bound the two of them together in a way beyond leader and follower, perhaps friend. If Sydney was, in fact...

Hardin shook his head slightly, sitting up and pushing the blankets away. He'd been over this argument in his mind dozens of times now, at the least, and it did not appeal to him to go over it again; he would simply go for a short walk, and hope that it made him tired enough to sleep despite his restlessness. And, he admitted grudgingly, if he happened to come across Sydney, he would at least know for certain.

The area surrounding their campsite was full of rocky, rolling hills, and Hardin had seen before they stopped for the night that a narrow stream wound among them. He'd taken to sleeping in his clothes after the first few times he'd been roused by an unexpected attack in the night, and he picked up the sword which lay near his right hand, just in case. Giving a vague nod to those who were responsible for the first watch, to let them know all was well, he rounded the curve of the hills to the east, and it was to the stream that he went.

Hardin found that the sound of the rushing water calmed him somewhat, and he lost track of time as he wandered along the banks by moonlight. The stream grew wider as he followed its curves downstream, until he passed through a line of trees and found that it emptied into a lake just beyond. The moon reflected silver on the still surface, and after a moment's hesitation, he continued along the shore.

There was the sound of water moving somewhere down the shoreline - nothing more disruptive to the night's quiet than perhaps some aquatic bird looking for fish, but Hardin knew by now not to take the slightest chances, and scryed ahead to make certain. A slight smile touched his face as the vision shimmered and became clear - against the dark water, a pale figure stood out rather plainly, metal limbs gleaming and hair glittering with droplets of water , thrown off in an arc as he rose, tossing his head back to keep the wet hair from clinging to his face.

Carefully brushing his dangerous fingers through his hair, bringing it to a semblance of its usual order, he paused after a moment, and behind the raised arms, Hardin caught a glimpse of a knowing smile. "I see you've found me."

He was not much further ahead, from the sound of things, and Hardin quickened his pace, treading carefully as the rocky shore gave way to a sandy beach. "I was not looking for you, to be honest," he called quietly as he approached.

Half-turned away, Sydney smirked. "Oh, were you not?" Shaking out his hair once again, he turned to face Hardin, an amused look upon his face. "Then, pray tell, what were you hoping to find?"

"Sleep." Granted, he would choose Sydney over sleep in most circumstances, he admitted to himself. "And you - you've come quite some way to bathe."

"I could use the time alone as well." Sydney held up a hand to quiet Hardin as he opened his mouth to apologize. "No, Hardin - your presence does not trouble me. It seems that you could use some quiet solitude in which to think things over as well. Am I correct?"

He certainly must have known that had been what Hardin originally sought. Given that the things he'd been intending to think over included Sydney's whereabouts, it was no longer so necessary. Hardin humored him and nodded anyhow, seating himself wordlessly just beyond where the small waves broke on the sand. Sydney tilted his head slightly, curiously. "Why don't you join me? It's been some time since any of our number has had a chance to truly bathe, after all."

Hardin stretched out his hand to test the water, and drew back, shaking his head. "I think not. Unlike you, I could perish from exposure."

Sydney laughed. "The water is perfectly fine, Hardin. Yes, a bit cold - but that is how it is, and it will not trouble you if you simply accept it as such."

Sydney was probably not speaking only of the water, and Hardin knew it. That was the exact philosophy that Sydney preached to him so often - simple acceptance of the truth, about the world, the gods and their actions, and himself. For regardless of the discomfort it may cause, truth it was, and wishing things were different would not make it so.

And Sydney, like the water, was often cool at best, other times cold... but it was how he was, and it had become a part of what made him so fascinating to Hardin.

With that in mind, Hardin stood reluctantly, removing the shirt he wore. They had been traveling for some time now, and although he'd become accustomed to the dust of the untraveled paths Müllenkamp followed to avoid the knights, he did not particularly like it. Though cold, at least he would be clean.

Sydney watched with mild amusement as Hardin folded his clothing, placed his sheathed sword atop them, and gingerly stepped into the water, wading further out. "Perhaps you should remove your smallclothes."

"I believe I'd rather not." The last thing that they needed at the moment was any potential for an attempt at doing more than bathing, and as he'd guessed that Sydney was most likely wearing nothing already, he thought it best to at least cover himself somewhat. Any such thoughts were driven out of his head, however, as he stepped into deeper water, past his waist now, and flinched; although it was not so late in autumn yet, there was more of a chill than he cared to completely immerse himself in.

"I don't imagine they'll keep you any warmer," Sydney mused, turning and wading out a bit further himself, "but as you wish..."

His muscles tensing against the cold, Hardin scowled slightly at the words, pausing where he stood as his body tried to accustom itself to the temperature. He'd grown up in the north of Valendia, and he knew better than to go bathing in a lake at this time of year, even in the more temperate climates here in the southern regions. As he slowly adjusted, he cupped his palms, tentatively pouring the water over his upper body to rinse away the dust and dirt, and found himself shivering anew.

"You're still fighting against it." Hardin glanced over at Sydney, who stood shoulders-deep in the water further out, watching him with an intent, almost stern expression. "Just as you fight against everything which displeases you. The cold is only a small, inconsequential matter, Hardin - let it take you. Let it surround you with its embrace... You may learn to embrace it as well."

Hardin recognized the look on Sydney's face. "Is this another of your lessons?"

"Perhaps it is." Sydney gave him a small, somewhat sly smile, though his gaze remained firm. "Relax your muscles, Hardin, and come a bit further out."

Hardin obliged him in the latter, but he found the former far more difficult, for he could not help but brace himself, clenching his jaws together to keep his teeth from chattering as the water rose to his chest. "Exhale, Hardin," Sydney told him, wading further out still. "I promise, you shall indeed draw another breath, so you needn't hold it so tightly."

He did so, and shivers convulsed his body. "Relax," Sydney repeated. "The water is not the enemy, but one of the elements the gods have given us - cooled by the wind, which they have also blessed us with. The cold is their work, just as you and I; though an excess may be dangerous, it is nothing to struggle against."

With that, Sydney kicked off from the bottom of the lake, letting himself drift out further still, and Hardin watched in amazement. Sydney might be blessed with immortality, but Hardin knew he still felt the same sensations that any mortal man would feel, and he could not imagine how Sydney could be relaxing leisurely in this cold lake as if it were one of the large heated baths at Duke Bardorba's manor.

"I accept the water and the cold for what it is," Sydney said, answering the unspoken question as he floated on his back, gazing up at the sky. "There is nothing mystical about acceptance - it is something we all must learn."

Hardin let out a laugh, made sharp by his body's tension. "So this is indeed a lesson."

"Yes." Twisting his body upright to face Hardin again, he met the taller man's eyes with satisfaction, and without the slightest hint of discomfort. "Are you willing to learn?"

"...I am."

"Good." Sydney gave him an approving nod. "Then, as I have told you, relax."

Taking a deep breath, Hardin let it out slowly, forcing his tightened muscles to loosen, but immediately was once more overcome with shivering as the cold washed through his suddenly defenseless body. "I am trying..."

"Let yourself feel it, Hardin. Let yourself feel the cold - greet it as an old, dear friend." Sydney's soft voice soothed him somewhat, and Hardin focused on the sound, closing his eyes as he tried again to lower his barriers. It was near impossible not to tense up again immediately. "It is of the gods, and so are you. The very same lies within you, for all of creation is one - it will not trouble you if you welcome it as you would a brother."

It was an effort for Hardin even to keep his breaths full and steady as the water washed around him, but he did as Sydney instructed, keeping his muscles slack and trying to ignore the chill seeping into his bones. The wind was beginning to pick up, stirring up waves that lapped around his neck and chin, only to leave him even more frigid from the breeze when they receded again. Finally, nearly overcome, he could ignore it no longer...

And suddenly he realized that he didn't need to.

He opened his eyes again, mildly startled at the change in what he felt. The cold was still present, true, but it was no longer a hindrance to him - only one of many aspects of his surroundings. A faint, wondering smile touched his lips as he raised his arms from his sides, letting them float to the surface of the lake, which no longer seemed unbearably cold, but merely cool and clean.

Sydney answered his smile with one of his own, quite satisfied with his pupil. "Very good, Hardin. Keep this principle in mind, that of simple acceptance, and many things will not trouble you."

"Yes... thank you." Hardin was somewhat distracted, still wondering at this small revelation, and finally he shook his head in pleased disbelief, cupping water in his hands to splash it over his face and hair, the only parts of him that had not yet been submerged. Rather than freezing, it was invigorating, and he ducked under for a moment, immersing himself completely. He still felt no discomfort when he emerged, and he chuckled a little as, like Sydney had done earlier, he pushed off from the lake's sandy bottom, letting the water take him.

Floating on his back in the cool water, Hardin nearly forgot about Sydney's presence as he gazed up at the sky, letting his mind drift. The night was so beautiful and still, and with the moon only half full, the number of stars was astonishing. After all that had happened, it was reassuring to see that some things never changed. And the gods Sydney had been teaching him of... if they truly lived in the elements of life, he was resting in their arms now: supported by the water, covered by the air, staring into the fire of the stars. It was a peace unlike any he'd ever experienced, and he closed his eyes in meditation.

Thus, he never heard the splash a short ways off, and was quite startled by the sudden tugging on the fabric around his waist. It came from below, and before he had the time to react, he found that he was completely naked.

Sydney surfaced behind him with a splash as Hardin floundered to become upright again. "Oh my, what's this?" Sydney said with a sly smile, holding up Hardin's smallclothes in one hand as he turned to look.

"Very amusing," Hardin muttered, making a swipe for the stolen garments, which Sydney held just out of his reach. The water was only just to his chest here, and so he lunged at Sydney again, but the mage stepped aside easily. "Damn it, Sydney..."

"How badly do you want these back, dear Hardin?" Sydney teased him, moving just out of Hardin's reach again. "Quite badly indeed, I imagine. How dreadfully modest you are..."

"At least I have some modesty," Hardin shot back, grabbing at his smallclothes again. In truth, he was more startled than embarrassed, and of course he was accustomed to Sydney's propensity to occasionally tease, but this manner of teasing seemed particularly juvenile.

This time, Sydney simply ducked under the water, surfacing a short distance away. "An exhibitionist, am I?" his voice drifted back to Hardin as he swam out towards the center of the lake. "It is not much of an exhibition if no one is watching, is it? Ah, the measures I must go to, simply to get your attention..."

...Surely he wasn't trying to... Hardin decided it was best not to think about why. Definitely best not to assume anything, other than Sydney being as mercurial as ever. Hardin pushed off in pursuit of the mage, who fortunately was not a particularly fast swimmer, most likely due to his metal limbs. ...Or perhaps he was wanting Hardin to catch up?

Or perhaps not. Hardin caught up quite quickly, but just as he was about to overtake him, Sydney vanished, only to reappear a short distance away, treading water patiently. "Now that just isn't fair," Hardin pointed out.

"No, not at all," Sydney agreed, giving him a mischievous grin. "But it's all a part of the game, isn't it?" With that, he cheerfully struck out again, heading towards the shore. "You'd best hurry, or you will have to come out of the water to get them."

A game, was it? Well then... "A game," he said, forcing back a rather smug smile in favor of a more bitter expression. Thoughts of the rampage the cardinal's knights had been on in the past months, murdering guilty and presumed guilty - even young childen who were simply associated with the "sins" of their parents - worked quite nicely. "I'm afraid I'm seldom in the mood for such childish games, and certainly not now."

As he'd hoped, Sydney paused to look back at him. "You must learn not to be so serious all the time. It would do you good to cast your troubles aside for a time - let them be washed away by the water."

Hardin shook his head and turned away in purposeful misery. The mage was playing right into his hands, but he could not let himself feel satisfied about that just yet. Sydney would feel it. "Sydney, all I wanted was a moment's peace - and just when I thought I'd found it, you decide to play some childish game."

Behind him, he could hear the mage sigh. "Hardin..."

He had no need to scrye, for the sound of light splashing told him that Sydney was making his way back out to him, just as he'd planned. Seeing as he was fairly tall, Hardin's feet touched the bottom of the lake with his head and most of his chest above water, which meant he had more control than Sydney did. Between that and the fact that Sydney was caught completely off-guard, it was a simple thing to grab Sydney's head and shoulders when he drew within an arm's reach, and shove him below the surface.

Hardin held him there for a moment, bubbles rising to the surface as the mage struggled in his grip, then Hardin let him back up. Sydney's eyes were wide with surprise. It was not a look Hardin often saw on his face. "Hardin!" he exclaimed, indignant. "You-"

By way of reply, Hardin dunked him again with a grim smile. If Sydney wanted to involve Hardin in such juvenile behavior, he was willing, at least at the moment, to reciprocate. "Are you trying to drown me?" Sydney sputtered when Hardin released him.

"You're immortal," Hardin pointed out before he dunked him a third time. This time the mage simply stared balefully at him when he was released, his fine blond hair plastered haphazardly across his face, and Hardin couldn't hold back a laugh at the sight. Always so much in control, always so graceful, and now the voice of the gods looked like a drowned rat.

Bedraggled or not, Hardin found that Sydney was still as quick-thinking as ever when the mage took advantage of his mirth to put both hands on his chest and push him over backwards with a splash. When he'd finished flailing around embarrassingly and coughing, he found Sydney regarding him with a smirk. "And you said that you were not in a mood to play games."

"Not often," he replied, still trying to catch his breath, which was made more difficult thanks to the whimsical sight of Sydney's sopping hair still hanging in his eyes.

Sydney chuckled, reaching up to try to push his hair out of his face with one metal claw. "A pity - you play them quite nicely."

His wet face shone faintly, reflecting the dim light of the half moon, which glinted off the metal of his shoulders and hand as well, and Hardin was struck again by how beautiful he was, even completely soaked. In fact, it gave him a certain look of vulnerability that made it even harder to resist the sudden strong urge to reach out and touch him. The mage looked like one of the fey creatures he had told Hardin of during his teaching, a wild, watery spirit that could be seen for only a moment before it vanished, never to be touched or tamed by a mortal. Sydney's head rose to meet his eyes curiously, telling Hardin he'd broadcast that thought loud and clear, but he didn't much care.

Even in the dark, Sydney's eyes seemed to peer into his soul, but Hardin opted not to take the time to do likewise this time; he'd done enough self-examination in recent weeks. His hand rose to Sydney's face, brushing the wet hair out of his eyes and then fingering the fine, smooth line of his jaw, slowly tracing it back to where it met his neck and then down to his shoulder. At the same time he seemed so fey, somehow Sydney had never felt so human - so fascinatingly real, and... solid.

Sydney continued to regard him with that intense gaze, his mouth small and serious. "...So, then," he murmured.

Hardin nodded, his other hand reaching out impulsively below the surface of the water to lightly touch the unseen curve of Sydney's hip. "So..."

They stayed frozen like that for a moment longer, until finally Hardin took a step towards Sydney, close enough so that he could slip his hands around the mage's slender waist, and Sydney draped his arms around Hardin's neck, carefully placing them where the claws would not harm him as the mage leaned back to look into Hardin's face, waiting.

The warm feel of Sydney's back beneath his hands in the midst of the cool water thrilled Hardin so that he drew the mage closer, craving more, and Sydney reached up to pull Hardin's head down into a kiss. His lips, still damp with the water of the lake, were cool, while the inside of his mouth was warm and inviting. The warmth of Sydney's skin pressed against Hardin's chest and stomach, and Hardin found he wanted to gather Sydney up in his arms, bring him closer still... be engulfed in the warmth of his skin, the heat of his mouth as the kiss they exchanged grew deeper, wilder...

Dizzy with desire, Hardin nearly stumbled as Sydney gently broke away and began leading him back towards the shore. For once, he couldn't wait to let Sydney do with him whatever he wished.

Small and slight as he was, Sydney was the one who had the control necessary to gently lower the two of them to the sand at the water's edge, not quite beyond the reach of the waves. Hardin's skin tingled with anticipation, and even the feel of the cool water as the waves broke around his body seemed electric. And the feel of Sydney's smooth skin, as he stretched himself out atop Hardin's body, was nearly unbearable. He had thought he had known desire before, that he had been overwhelmed by need. He hadn't had any idea that he could be this close to anyone, hips rising and falling as they pressed together, and yet still be desperate for more.

Nestled between his thighs, the mage's slender frame heightened the excitement with its slight, soft movements as his lips caressed the larger man's throat, shoulder, and chest. "As you know, I have exceptional control over these hands of mine," Sydney murmured breathlessly, as Hardin's own hands roamed over his back and down to his hips, "but I don't suppose you relish the thought of them being involved in... something so delicate."

Hardin chuckled faintly - it wasn't something he'd even thought of, but Sydney was right. "Indeed... but I trust you, Sydney," he said, reaching up to touch the mage's face. "You know your limitations. And I..." he admitted, "I am inexperienced, especially in..." He still shied away from saying it in so many words - could he really go through with it this time, at last? Both of them unclothed, Sydney lying atop him... it was further than they had ever made it before his uncertainty had caused him to draw back.

Sydney smiled back at him, taking one of Hardin's hands in his own, pressing his lips to his palm. "It matters not," he said softly. "You have good hands, if a bit uncertain; strong, but gentle. I expect you will know what to do with them... I will provide direction if I must, but I know you are a fast learner."

"Good," Hardin murmured. "Because whatever you intend to do to me, you'd better do it quickly."

Sydney regarded him with a thoughtful look upon his face, almost perfectly composed, but for the quickness of his breathing. "I had not expected that this might come to pass tonight," he acknowledged. "Without the proper preparations, this could hurt a bit."

Not that Hardin was terribly familiar with the details, what sort of "preparations" Sydney might have had planned if they hadn't taken each other by surprise - but he did understand the basics of what was about to take place, and he drew a deep breath. If he thought overly much about it, his insecurities would overcome him again, and he didn't want that to happen. Not again... not when he wanted Sydney so badly, and they were so close. "I don't think I mind."

Sydney tilted his head to the side, giving Hardin a more serious look, if still breathless. "Are you afraid?"

"Yes." Hardin was putting too much effort into speaking in words, rather than groaning, to waste any energy on lying. "Get on with it, if you please."

Sydney nearly laughed, but for his breath coming too fast. "John Hardin..." he murmured fondly, and pressed Hardin's palm to his lips again before letting go, using his metal arms to push himself up. Hardin couldn't suppress a moan at the sudden absence of warmth, the blissful pressure atop him replaced by the cool water of the lake as another wave broke around them.

Sydney was not going far, though, merely enough to reposition the two of them, coaxing Hardin to draw up his knees a bit further, his clawed fingers resting lightly upon the muscles of Hardin's chest and stomach, which rose and fell with his anticipatory breath. Although Hardin had wanted him to hurry, he might almost have been willing to wait, just at the sight of Sydney kneeling there between his legs, fully aroused and nearly as breathless as he was.

Hardin was certain now, no longer having to push past his insecurities, or merely accept it - he craved it. "Sydney," he breathed, resting his hand atop Sydney's, wrapping his fingers around the cold steel of his palm. "Please..."

Sydney's eyes darted up to meet his, and Hardin half expected the mage to make some sort of teasing comment. His eyes were just as hazy with desire as Hardin's, however, and instead he leaned forward again. His hand turned within Hardin's light grip, caressing carefully, then resting briefly on Hardin's hip before Sydney braced himself, his hands on either side in the sand. He paused then, though, and gave Hardin a soft smile. "Remember," he murmured. "...Acceptance."

It seemed an absurd thing to say, for if Hardin had not already accepted what was to come, he would have put a stop to it, as he had several times prior. But then Sydney moved, and instinctively Hardin's body tensed and tightened against the unfamiliar sensation of penetration. He drew a deep breath - and then, recalling what Sydney had just told him, forced himself to hold it until he could let it out slowly, letting go of the tension with it.

Sydney must have been picking up some sense of it, for the instant Hardin's body relaxed enough, he pulled back, then pushed in again, further. It might have been easier for Hardin to relax if he closed his eyes, but then he would have missed out on the sight of Sydney atop him, eyes half-closed, pale hair shining in the moonlight. He tried his best to muffle the cry that burst forth as Sydney thrust into him again harder, borne of both pain and the somewhat unexpected euphoria of Sydney, touching him deep within. He had known that some men obviously found such acts pleasurable, but never had he understood how, other than the intimacy it required. Each movement Sydney made was a burst of ecstasy, enough to overcome his unease, and he spread his legs wider, tilted his hips upwards, eager for more.

It did not escape Sydney's notice, and he looked down to regard Hardin with an almost lazy smile, unlike the shrewd looks he usually wore. "How fortunate," he murmured, "that you learned our earlier lesson so quickly."

"Yes..." It was all Hardin could manage through clenched teeth, in gasping breaths. One of his hands clutched at the sand they lay upon, the other had risen to the small of Sydney's back, barely refraining from pulling him down closer, harder. How Sydney could still manage sentences was beyond him, but barring a few circumstances, Sydney had always been much better at maintaining control than he.

His own arousal throbbed between his legs, aching for more than the incidental touch of Sydney's stomach as their hips came together. Sydney paused for a moment, his weight shifting as he rolled slightly to the right, lifting a hand to trace down Hardin's cheek lightly, then resting it upon Hardin's hand where it clenched in the sand. "There are other things that might be done about this, at later times," he suggested, his breath hot and heavy against Hardin's neck. Hardin's mind was already imagining the possibilities as with a careful touch, Sydney's hand lifted his, guiding it between them. "But for now, if you wish to be touched, it must be by your own hand."

The suggestion made Hardin a bit self-conscious, somehow despite the intimacy of their current position. "Seems ch... childish," he managed to stammer out.

"I do not expect," Sydney pointed out, "that the touch of my hands would be welcome." in fact, the cold metal of his wrist brushed against Hardin's heated skin as it coaxed Hardin's hand downward, and Hardin drew in a harsh breath between his teeth. "Yet I am pleasuring you, and you are pleasuring me. This is but one facet of our pleasure," Sydney told him, and then gave Hardin a knowing look. "Besides... am I to believe that never, in all these months since we met, have you dreamed of this and indulged...?"

Hardin found that he was unsure of whether he was embarrassed or intrigued by the thought that Sydney might have known. It had not been often, in part because Sydney would likely be able to tell... but that thought was forgotten as Sydney gave him an impish grin, and he leaned in closer. "Or was it only me?" he whispered.

...And Hardin had thought his arousal was overwhelming before. The thought that Sydney might have been thinking of him, and... given his hands, Hardin was not sure exactly how that worked, but it didn't matter. Giving in, he wrapped his fingers around his shaft, stroking with Sydney's movements, letting forth a loud groan as Sydney pressed in again, harder than before. There was still some discomfort, even pain as Sydney had warned, but between the work of his hand and the way it felt to have Sydney within him, it mattered very little.

Atop him, Sydney's smirk had all but vanished as, having instructed Hardin on how to claim his pleasure more fully, he turned his attention somewhat more towards his own. Not wholly, of course, for as he closed his eyes, his lips slightly parted in a soft gasp, he was feeling out a rhythm amenable to them both, careful as he moved in and out. He tossed his head restlessly, his hair spraying droplets of the cool lake water over them both, and Hardin pressed his head back into the damp sand, not quite able to stifle the cry that burst from his lips as Sydney reached just the right spot inside. "Oh gods, Sydney..."

Gasping slightly, Sydney chuckled. "You're rather louder than I'd expected, John,"
The first time Hardin tried to get out the reply, it came as more of a whimper. "S...Sorry..."

"No, no," Sydney assured him breathlessly. "...I find it quite pleasing..."

Indeed, the look on his face was nothing short of bliss as he threw his head back again, eyes closed and back arched. The mere sight of him posed thus, shimmering in the moonlight, was enough to drive Hardin nearly past the point of control, and with his free hand he pulled Sydney closer, driving him deeper yet within him. Sydney's eyes opened then, looking down in mild surprise, and he responded to the gesture by quickening their pace.

Despite Sydney's assurance, Hardin was by nature quiet, and he fought against the urge to gasp or moan louder with each exhalation, as their lovemaking grew more quick and intense. It was a losing battle, especially as Sydney reached the point within him that made his pleasure flare to heights such as he'd never experienced before. There had been a few women in his past, but they were far between, for he'd always been a gentleman when it came to courtship, and never gotten far in proper courting. His few indiscretions had been when he was too young, too far from home, too desperate for any sort of comfort. Never had any of them known how to handle him with such precision, touching him exactly how and where he wished to be touched without the slightest hint of guidance, regardless of the odd nature of Sydney's touch. No doubt his talent gave him the edge needed to be the perfect lover for anyone, Hardin thought in a haze, but that didn't matter in the least to him as he sought to keep up as well as he could, handling Sydney carefully, cautiously testing him to uncover what he liked best.

Sydney gave him little in the way of affirmation, responding with a quick intake of breath rather than the sounds he coaxed so easily from Hardin with every movement; even in this, he remained serene, controlled, perfect, as if he were sculpted from marble. But he did respond; his half-closed eyes were sharp, bright as Hardin's fingers traced over his throat, rising to caress his cheek. His lips parted as Hardin's thumb grazed them, and he turned just a bit, capturing it between his teeth and worrying it gently.

Hardin gasped at the sudden sharpness, but did not pull away. Sydney smiled down at him, almost devilishly, as the gasp became a deep groan, and he continued to suckle at Hardin's thumb, letting his tongue play over the callused pad, then suddenly biting down harder as he thrust their hips together firmly.

Already pushed to the brink, Hardin couldn't stifle the cry that burst from his lips as his body went rigid. Closing his eyes, he let the pleasure wash through him in waves, drifting into near-unconsciousness as it overtook him. Yet even then, his heart cried out for the sight of Sydney - and the Dark answered. His talent awakening, he watched with closed eyes as his body trembled with pleasure in Sydney's arms, and Sydney reached his climax also; unlike his own uncontrollable shudders, Sydney simply tossed his head, his eyes closing and his lips parting slightly as he took deep breaths and finally held one, releasing it slowly with a soft sigh as the moment passed. Hardin raised his hands instinctively to encircle Sydney in his arms as the mage relaxed, catching him as he dropped his head to rest upon Hardin's chest, waves still lapping gently around them.

Shortly thereafter, Hardin took a deep breath as Sydney rolled to his side, leaning upon his left elbow as he looked Hardin over. "I don't believe I've ever seen such a smile on your face before," the mage commented with gentle amusement.

Hardin opened his eyes drowsily, peering back at Sydney. "You don't look particularly miserable either," he pointed out, unable and unwilling to keep a straight face. It had been a new experience for him, and certainly different, but very satisfying.

"Not at all," the mage agreed. "But you... you're always so dreadfully serious."

Hardin slipped an arm beneath Sydney's head as the mage lay down next to him, his head resting comfortably on Hardin's shoulder, but the smile faded a bit at the reminder. "The gods know I have reason enough to be."

And so did he, Hardin recalled with sudden self-consciousness, reaching over with his free hand to squeeze one of Sydney's, whether he truly felt it with his metal limbs or not. "It's a pity that I..." He broke the thought off, knowing it sounded foolishly sentimental.

On his shoulder, he felt a movement that told him Sydney smiled. "I would not have you bear my burdens anyway. You've enough of your own to last a lifetime, I imagine."

"True that I would not complain if there were no more," Hardin murmured. In the last two years, he'd lost more than he'd ever have thought possible, including the hopes and dreams he'd once had for the future, and it seemed unlikely that even they would return. Sydney had given him new hopes and dreams, of course, and yet...

There was a long pause. "John?"

"Yes?"

"You seem to be thinking again. Stop that."

Hardin smiled slightly at the reproof. "I suppose I should at that."

"Indeed, thought has little place in frenzied lovemaking, nor in the aftermath," Sydney murmured against his chest, his arms curled against Hardin's side. "In fact, it usually indicates regret... But you do not regret this, do you?"

He knew better, of course. "No, certainly not," Hardin replied. "It's just that..." It seemed rude to be thinking about it now, he thought with a sigh, and embarrassingly sentimental to have to admit to. "I always thought that someday I might have a son."

"Ah." Sydney's hair brushed Hardin's neck as he nodded slightly. "You may yet, of course. It could be that I am more the exception for you than the rule... and I would not deny you something so important. I know of at least one woman who finds you attractive..."

"No, never!" Hardin protested vehemently, following Sydney's train of thought. How could he suggest such a thing so frankly? Even if Sydney had the habit of taking multiple lovers at a time, the idea was alarming to Hardin.

"Oh, of course not - just look at who I'm speaking to. For an 'evil dark cultist'," Sydney said lightly, "you're terribly pure and righteous. Practically a choirboy."

"Which would make you a very perverse priest."

"Indeed." Pushing himself up to lean upon one shoulder, Sydney raised a hand to trace Hardin's lips with a single claw. Hardin shivered as the edged metal slid across his face, just light enough not to break the skin, and Sydney regarded him with another mischievous smirk. "So, now that you have experienced both, which is it that you prefer? The perversity, or the priest?"

"Neither - it is the combination of the two that makes you remarkable," he replied easily, folding his arms beneath his head as he lay back, looking up at the moonlight filtering through Sydney's hair. It gave him something akin to a halo, despite the eerie feeling his bladed finger now inspired with its strange touch. Somehow, even at his most devious, the mage could never quite escape the appearance of an angel. "Perverts and priests are both plentiful in this land, and if one were taken away, I could not say if the other would be enough to hold my interest."

Sydney gave a mock gasp of astonishment. "What a cruel thing to say," he said with a smirk. "That you would ever find me boring..."

"If you were boring," Hardin pointed out, "you would not be Sydney Losstarot, for Sydney Losstarot could never be boring even if he tried."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that," Sydney replied casually, the claw going to toy with Hardin's hair. "I've been known to read mathematical texts for entertainment."

"That simply means that you're both intelligent and analytical. I find such traits to be of great importance, and therefore not the least bit boring."

"Philosophy texts?"

"Thoughtfulness and curiosity. More traits which I highly value in a person."

"When I was a child, I used to collect coins..."

"Knowing you, it was probably not anything so mundane as an intellectual pursuit, but a gluttonous greed for pretty, shiny things."

To his bewilderment, Sydney burst out laughing, and fell onto his back in the damp sand. "...What did I say?" Hardin asked.

"The utter truth," Sydney admitted. "By the gods, John - in your own way, you're as shameless as I."

The use of his first name still sent a small thrill down Hardin's spine - Sydney was the only one who ever used it, and only rarely. "Then perhaps I shall be lucky enough to be as boring to you as you are boring to me," Hardin told him, wrapping his arms around the mage's lithe frame. "That is, not at all. Though I confess that I am neither pretty nor shiny..."

"You're shiny enough when wet."

"Ahhh," Hardin mused. "So that's what brought this on."

"Naturally. You know I would never look twice at you otherwise."

Hardin snorted in mock annoyance, and Sydney rolled them both onto their sides, bringing them nose to nose as he gave the larger man a devious grin. Something occurred to Hardin suddenly, and his own satisfied smile faded. "Sydney?"

"Yes, John?" The mage sobered as well, seeing the curious look upon his face.

Hardin hesitated, knowing that there was probably no point in asking. "...Whatever did you do with my smallclothes?"

Sydney stared at him for a moment, obviously trying to remember what he was talking about, then began laughing. "Oh, yes - you would find it hilarious," Hardin grumbled as the mage confirmed his suspicions - they were undoubtedly somewhere at the bottom of the lake, far beyond retrieval. "You're not the one who will have to walk back to the camp without them, in leather trousers."

"Just as the cold and the water," Sydney told him, not quite straight-faced, "leather is also a part of the gods' creation. Yet again, I recommend simple acceptance."

"Of course..." Hardin sighed. He'd already come to accept a great many things that night, and damp leathers was a small thing indeed, in comparison.