For a moment, Ryland couldn't think beyond a giddy,<i>Finally. Finally!<br/>
<br/>
Utterly miserable. You should work harder to distract me...</i><br/><br/>Ryland was smiling at him, softly, lips just barely parted, as he wound the braid further around his wrist, like he was reeling Kethaias in by it. Fingers had gone to his hip, slipped beneath his jacket to where the fine linen of his shirt was tucked into his pants, pressed warm and close to his skin from their ride out. Kethaias' hand tucked coolly between the layers, still seeking. His stomach hitched with a breath, his cock below giving a twitch of hopeful interest.<br/><br/>The boat ride so far from the castle seemed to have taken Kethaias away from everything: his status, his duties, his grievances... his sense of propriety.<br/><br/><i>Careful, now</i>, Ryland reminded himself. If he moved too quickly, Kethaias might withdraw, slink back into his mood. He could bait as he pleased, but this had to be<i>Kethaias</i>' decision, each step of the way. He couldn't bait too far, or they might end up like they had on the couch.<br/><br/>He pressed another kiss to the braid, turning his wrist up to do so. He hadn't thought to pack smoke, but the wineskin was still in the bag, not too far away. Ryland discarded the idea, though, imagining it for when they're both breathless and thirsty, sharing quiet intimacies after. Success might mean Kethaias will give him that smile.<br/><br/>In another languid stretch, Ryland shifted his hips a little closer as he settled. The motion forced Kethaias' hand to skim the top of his pants underneath the cut of his jacket, and Ryland sighed, closing his eyes.<br/><br/>"Perhaps," he said, "if we're going to keep this curtain open just enough to see and not any further, the brazier has made it warm enough in here. If you aren't offended, I'd like to take off my jacket."<br/><br/>One eye fluttered open, inviting Kethaias into the joke. He was being polite, as though Kethaias' hand wasn't still inside his clothes. Not waiting for an answer and one-handed, he pushed small, silvery buttons through. The jacket parted in a widening V, exposing the crushed linen below--and Kethaias' hand. Ryland's fingers just brushed over his knuckles as he worked, and then the jacket was laid open. The linen shirt was fitted close, as an undershirt was meant to be, and Ryland arched his back and wriggled to get the jacket off his shoulders, at the same time exposing the lean lines of his chest and abdomen.<br/><br/>Cooler air invaded over his skin, and he suppressed a shiver.<br/><br/>"You don't find Banque cold? So many of our visitors do," he said. He turned his head to look at Kethaias, his casual clothes. "Are you the type of man lovers complain of being your own little fire when you sleep?"