Elf Defence (Adventures in Aguillon #2) - Lisa Henry Page 0,73

the prospect of Lars’s calves not being on display, but his mood brightened when he remembered that there were lots of times when he got to see Lars with no pants at all.

His stomach grumbled, and Benji looked up at the sun in the sky, as if that would give him any idea of the time. It didn’t, but it felt like hours since he’d eaten so he called, “Lars!”

Lars’s head snapped up and his face lit up with a smile that made Benji’s anarchistic little heart melt. What? He could still be a political agitator and an agent for change and find his boyfriend’s smile heart-meltingly attractive, thank you very much.

“I’m hungry,” he called down the slope. “Can we go back for lunch and then fuck like bunnies?”

“Ooh yes, good idea!” Calarian agreed, standing and dusting off the arse of his shorts.” I think Hannah was making finger buns.”

“Finger buns,” Benji snickered. “It’s funny, because fingers, get it?”

“Not yet, but I will after lunch,” Calarian said, grinning. “Hurry up, Lars! We’re hungry and horny and there are finger buns that need our attention, and then fingers!”

Lars stood and stretched, and Benji sighed happily as he watched the fabric of Lars’s shirt strain across the breadth of his shoulders, enjoying the way his biceps bulged and rippled and the way the leather shorts hugged the curve of his arse so perfectly.

Benji never thought he’d find a human that rivalled an elf for attractiveness, but Lars managed it, somehow. Maybe Lars could bring the shorts with him to Callier, he mused, just to wear around the palace. He took a second to try and picture Lars at the palace. Somehow, the image wasn’t quite right.

He shrugged the thought off at another growl from his stomach, and meandered downward, taking Lars by the hand and leading him down the hill, Calarian trailing behind. Benji slapped Lars’s arse lightly, the leather making a satisfying thwap. “Lunch, then bed,” he said with a wink, and let his mind wander to thoughts of peeling Lars out of his shorts.

“Lunch, then bed,” Lars agreed, and if his smile was a little strained, Benji decided to blame it on the stress of packing.

Gretchen looked completely magnificent in her fur-trimmed cape of forest green, and the proud smile on Hannah’s face as she watched Gretchen be sworn in as Duchess of Tournel made Benji experience all sorts of previously unknown emotions. He couldn't quite untangle them all, because feelings were still, for the most part, stupid and incomprehensible, but he thought that maybe he was... happy for them? Seemed weird, but okay.

And what’s more, he was happy for them on a personal level, not just from his politically driven belief that all people deserved a measure of happiness. Benji had a horrible suspicion that this was what caring felt like, and he further suspected that it came from hanging around Lars and his sunny disposition.

He didn’t exactly hate it, but it was very confusing.

Next to him, Calarian was applauding loudly as Quinn shook Gretchen’s hand and handed her the ducal staff that she’d hold for the next five years, metaphorically of course. Standing on his other side was Lars. Benji was fairly sure he saw him poke his tongue out at his sister but he was grinning as he did it, which was something of a relief.

Lars definitely hadn’t been his normal cheerful self the last few days, so it was good to see him happy.

Except as quickly as Lars’s cheeky grin had appeared, it was gone again, like the sun vanishing behind the clouds. Benji looked at Calarian and found his own concern reflected in his expression. Benji’s worry grew when, after the ceremony, Lars declined Loth’s invitation to go on a pub crawl, and silently slipped away instead.

“Should we check on him?” Calarian asked, gnawing at his bottom lip in a way that betrayed his concern.

Benji was torn. On the one hand, there was talk of Loth and Gretchen going stein for stein with all twelve of the local lagers, and he desperately wanted to be there when Loth inevitably fell victim to Gretchen’s superior everything, but on the other hand, Calarian wasn’t the only one concerned.

Benji couldn’t shake the little kernel of worry gnawing at his insides—for a Tournellian to miss a pub crawl was unthinkable. He huffed out a sigh, knowing he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the night without at least reassuring himself that Lars was okay. Perhaps he’d simply been overcome with