<i>Brute</i>?  He’d been called that many times, but none was as enjoyable as this.  He laughed at Ryland’s fighting, the blond holding significantly less strength and at his mercy.  Until the splash of his own wet hair caught Kethaias by surprise.  That had him wide-eyed and gasping at the sudden chill, his sleeve coming up to make a hasty swipe at his face.  He tried to use his braids against the other then, laughing no less than before, perhaps even louder.<br/><br/>The moment Ryland’s leg met with heat was when their games ended.  Keth froze, glancing down at the brazier that was almost overturned in their play.  He saw the burn mark and wondered if the delicate skin underneath those ruined, expensive pants was scorched red in irritation.<br/><br/>“Truce, then,” he agreed with a sly smile, nudging Ryland flat onto his back.  He reclaimed the cloth, slow and careful, and arched back to ring out the remaining oversaturation over the side of the boat.  Keth even cupped it in his hands and breathed hot against it in a halfhearted attempt to warm it a little before bringing it to Ryland’s stomach.  “I’ll kiss that leg later.  And whatever else you’d like.”<br/><br/>The moment he deemed the man clean enough, he tossed the cloth aside and stared down at him, curling some of those blond strands through his fingers.  Ryland’s hair was wild, from wind and riding and roughhousing, and he looked more a creature of nature in that moment than one who belonged in a palace.  His personality was like that, too, wild and without regard for rules that men would place on him.<br/><br/>“You would look striking in a bed of wildflowers,” he commented, seemingly from nowhere.  Keth’s eyes went from golden curls to the more sinister curve of lips, and he was only barely resisting the urge to nibble at them.  “Or half hidden in a field of wheat on a sunny day.  It’s a shame you’re such a spoiled kitten.”