Chapter 69 Aslan
Aslan
Equestrian class was the one subject I normally never worried about.
Horses made sense to me. They were honest creatures. If something went wrong, it was usually because the rider had done something wrong first. The jump we had to perform for the midterm test wasn’t even particularly difficult, and I had been practicing it every chance I got.
Still, something at the practice field had been bothering me lately.
One of the horses—Tempest—had a strange energy to him. Not aggressive exactly. Just restless. Unpredictable. The first time I rode him, he nearly threw me before the second jump. The second time he simply refused the obstacle entirely, stopping so abruptly I almost flew over his head.
I had mentioned it casually to the new instructor.
“Tempest just needs a confident rider,” he had replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Maybe.
But something about the horse’s movements still made the back of my neck itch.
The real distraction, though, had started a few afternoons later.
Garrett. A few times that week when I arrived at practice, he was already there.
Which was… surprising.
Garrett hated horses. Yet there he was, stiff in the saddle of one of the calmer ones, trying to clear the smaller practice jumps.
And failing. More than once.
The last time I saw him, I stayed by the fence longer than I should have, watching him struggle through the same jump again and again.
At one point, he saw me. I could tell by the way his shoulders stiffened immediately.
Still, I stepped closer and tried to help him.
His scent hit me first, and my heart started racing immediately, my body reacting before my brain could remind it that this was a terrible idea.
For a second, our eyes met, and I could have sworn he leaned forward slightly.
Then he punched me in the gut.
Not literally. But somehow worse. With his usual hurtful, lashing words.
That should have been the end of it.
Instead, I lingered for a moment longer, because being that close to him was like sticking my hand into a fire and hoping this time it wouldn’t burn.
But it did.
I walked off, mentally slapping myself across the face for even trying.
Screw him.
I didn’t give a shit about his safety.
…Except I did.
I clenched my fists, glancing back just in time to see him attempt the jump again and nearly eat dirt in the process.
My chest tightened.
Damn it. I did care.
I needed him safe always.
With or without me, but safe.
Anger and grief threatened to take over again, but I forced myself to redirect my feelings.
That evening Aitor and I met in the rehearsal room again.
The quiet there felt like stepping into another world. His kindness, his beauty, the way he looked at me, the way he touched me, his soft voice, his lips against mine.
I needed that. I needed it all.
We played through the piece once. My voice rose to his music, meeting his emotion as I closed my eyes, singing for him.
Then again.
Then again.
Like in a dream.
All performances were spread across the three weeks leading up to the holidays, and ours had been scheduled for the following Wednesday night. One day before Thanksgiving. That meant we had exactly four days left to perfect it.
This Sunday there was another duet scheduled—cello and piano—the pair everyone considered our biggest competition.
The goal wasn’t just a good grade. The best performance of the quarter would represent Crownwell at the regional arts competition between elite schools.
For Aitor, that mattered more than anything. Music wasn’t just a hobby for him.
It was his future.
Which meant the last thing I wanted was to mess it up for him. So I practiced like it was a personal mission.
Another challenge.
God.
I was exhausted.
“I’m dying,” I muttered after the fourth run-through, dropping onto the couch beside the piano.
Aitor chuckled softly and sat beside me, pulling me closer until our foreheads touched.
“I know, my angel,” he murmured. “You’re tired.”
I exhaled slowly.
“But tell you what,” he added with a small smile. “After tonight’s rehearsal, how about we go out? Take the night for ourselves. Maybe a club, karaoke, a game of pool…”
The truth was, I really did want a night just for us.
But the last thing I wanted right now was to run into Garrett somewhere in town.
“What if we stayed in instead?” I suggested. “Dinner in your dorm, some music, maybe a bath… just relax for once.”
Aitor blinked.
Then his face lit up like I had just offered him the greatest idea in human history.
“Oh,” he said, leaning in to kiss me softly. “I would love that.”
We made it to his room just after sunset.
Aitor kicked the door closed behind us while I dropped onto the couch with a dramatic groan, stretching my arms over my head like I had just finished running a marathon.
“Food first,” I declared. “Or I will die.”
“That would be inconvenient,” Aitor said dryly, already pulling out his phone. “We have a recital next week.”
Ten minutes later we had pizza, two beers each, and the kind of peace that only came from being far enough from the rest of Crownwell.
We ate straight from the box, sitting on the floor between us, arguing over toppings like children and stealing slices from each other when the other wasn’t looking.
After that came video games, which, apparently, Aitor took very seriously.
“You cheated,” I accused when his character knocked mine off a digital cliff for the third time.
“I absolutely did not.”
“You did.”
“You’re just slow.”
“I will throw this controller at your head.”
He laughed, bright and unguarded, the sound filling the room in a way that made something warm settle in my chest.
Eventually the game music faded into the background as he switched on a playlist, something soft and instrumental that hummed quietly through the speakers.
We sank back against the couch cushions, the adrenaline of competition gone, the room dim except for the small lamp near the window, and for a while, we just listened to the music.
Then his fingers brushed mine.
I glanced sideways just as he leaned closer, his dark eyes soft in the low light.
The first kiss was gentle.
My hand slid to the back of his neck as his lips moved against mine again, deeper this time, the quiet music filling the pauses between breaths. He tasted like beer and something sweet from the pizza sauce, and the warmth of his body pressed against mine made my thoughts go pleasantly foggy.
His fingers traced lightly along my arm, then my shoulder, the touch barely there but enough to make my skin wake up everywhere at once.
Another kiss.
And another.
Somewhere between one breath and the next, our shirts ended up on the floor.
His hands were warm against my back when he pulled me closer, my chest brushing his as we shifted on the couch.
My mouth found the curve of his jaw, then the space beneath his ear.
He exhaled softly. “Aslan…” The way he said my name made something in my stomach flip.
His hands slid slowly along my sides before resting at my waist, thumbs brushing lightly against my skin as if he was still deciding how far we were going tonight.
He must have made his decision because his fingers hooked into the waistband of my sweatpants. I lifted my hips, and he pulled them down, along with my underwear. I was naked on his couch. He stood up for a second, shucking his own clothes before he was back over me, his body covering mine.
The skin-on-skin contact was electric. His weight felt good, solid, and real. Lying over me, he kissed a slow path down my chest. Our cocks brushed against each other, a dry, hot friction that made us both gasp. We were getting hard fast. Then his hand moved between us, his fingers wrapping around my dick for the first time. It was a hesitant, questioning touch, but it sent a jolt straight through me. He stroked me once, twice, a slow, deliberate movement that made my breath catch in my throat. The room was filled with nothing but music and the sound of our harsh breathing and the frantic pounding of my own heart.
I leaned back just enough to look at him.
His hair had fallen into his eyes, his lips slightly parted, his breathing just a little uneven.
He smiled softly, brushing his nose against mine.
“How about that bath?” he murmured between kisses.
And the way he said it made it sound like the most dangerous idea in the world.