Bird of a Flock (Bow 2) - Chapter 33: Chapter 33

The grip Yerir'o had on Fetmar was tight, almost painful as he half carried, half dragged the man down the corridor. Either of them able to walk perfectly as they limped together, Fetmar thankfully not struggling. The Winglord's parting words still haunting his mind. Fetmar let out a grunt of pain as he was led to the bathing chambers and a particularly nasty bruise on his ribs was jostled. Yerir'o paused, letting Fetmar get his footing again before continuing the sound seeming to almost pull Yerir'o out of whatever daze he had fallen into as his grip lightened but shifted to be more personal somehow.
"Never do that again," Yerir'o ordered, his voice still shocked but now also turning to his more normal scolding when Fetmar did stupid things. "If you were anyone else, you would have been killed today. Why did you think it was a good idea to question the Winglord's authority in his own city?" he demanded.
"Why do you care?" Fetmar grunted, unhappily, looking to the side.
Yerir'o had a strong desire to drop the human there and make him walk the rest of the way on his own power. "You are an idiot if you don't know," Yerir'o growled, instead sitting the man on a bench and shifting so they were face to face. "Boy, I have fought you and with you for a long time now. I would have killed you many times over if I did not like you to some respects," he declared, looking Fetmar square in the eyes. Something was shining in them that Yerir'o couldn't read but Fetmar nodded and lowered his head. Yerir'o reached forward and pressed their foreheads together. "Fetmar," he murmured.
They remained in silence for a little while longer before Fetmar took a deep breath. "Thank you," Fetmar breathed in the end, pushing up and more firmly in the hold. "For defending me," he added softly.
"You have returned the favour many times," Yerir'o shrugged, a brief instant holding him closer, his hands holding Fetmar's head tenderly. "I will miss fighting against you," he admitted, "You were always a challenge."
"There will be others to fight," Fetmar replied, his own hands hesitantly reaching up to hold Yeriro's own head.
"Maybe," Yerir'o murmured gently. "But it's not the same." Yerir'o gently let go of Fetmar and pulled away. He offered his hand and pulled Fetmar back up to him and started the rest of the stumbling to where they could clean up. "Please, Fetmar, don't fight. Don't struggle. Not until you are branded and under protection. The Winglord's patience only extends so far," he warned, leading him into the room.
It was a preparation room before going into the main chamber. It was rather small and clearly a private room. It was hot and almost hard to breathe in, steam coming from a fire in the corner. Yerir'o placed Fetmar down on a stone ledge and started pulling some of glue and feathers away from his face, the heat making it easier to remove the muck before they went into the shared area.
"Fetmar," Yerir'o said sternly, as he unbuckled some of the armour straps Fetmar had on.
"I'll try but I make no promises," Fetmar said quietly, letting Yerir'o gently began to tug his armour off. The gloves and boots were now disengaged from his skin and easily removed. Yerir'o glared at them and threw them behind him. Fetmar helped pull the clothes off, chuckling at the look Yerir'o gave the alchemist boots. "Oira is very proud of those," he commented softly.
"I'm sure," Yerir'o said dryly. "I'm sure the scientists will also want to study them but you should not be using something that if the magic failed, you would plummet to your death," he said darkly, before tugging at the waist of Fetmar's trousers. "Up!" he ordered.
"No," Fetmar said firmly, glaring at Yerir'o, feeling slightly unbalanced at the moment. He was almost naked and Yerir'o was still fully armoured in his glittery feathered mess. "You take your armour off first."
"Don't be childish, Fetmar," Yerir'o rolled his eyes and tugged again.
"You need a bath just as badly as I do," Fetmar pointed out flicking a few scraps of paint off Yerir'o's armour. "And I remember what happened the last time I was naked and you were fully armoured!"
"That was..." Yerir'o trailed off and sighed tiredly. That particular incident ended up with Fetmar over his knee, his ass blistered and tears running down his face. Yerir'o had held back from actually fucking the man into submission because he had still been young enough the sight had tugged his heartstrings. "Stubborn youngling," he grumbled, before yanking his cape off. "You never got over that did you?" It had been back before Fetmar had been made a commander when he was just a clever than average grunt.
"I was doing what I was expected of me," Fetmar grumbled, reaching over to help Yerir'o as well.
"You've grown a lot since then," Yerir'o commented smiling slightly at Fetmar's grumble. "You're no longer a massive brat. Your brothers on the other hand..." He shrugged, pulling his tunic off, and kicking his shoes off.
"Eyeri and Oira aren't brats. Makio and Kanan are admittedly," Fetmar shrugged, "Aw'endo is too, thinking about it"
"You count Aw'endo as a brother?" Yerir'o said mildly surprised.
"Eyeri does. Ry's pretty much turned into our father figure and Aw'endo is also his," Fetmar commented, rubbing his arms the paint itching.
"I wouldn't call Ryraso that in front of the Royal Triad. They are more than a little upset that Ryraso won't let them call them," Yerir'o commented, pulling his pants off, leaving himself naked. "Your turn," He said firmly. Fetmar sighed but allowed his trousers to be yanked off him.
"Until they earn it, he won't allow it," Fetmar pointed out, shifting to grab a bowl from next to him and dip it into water that was sitting behind them. Yerir'o shifted to sit next to him with a cloth and started wiping the paint off his own arms. Most of the mess had been on their clothes so now they had stripped most was on his wings and in his hair. Fetmar poured the water over his head and pulled a few last feathers from his hair before shifting to help Yerir'o with his wings.
"Let's get you cleaned first," Yerir'o smiled, pushing Fetmar away from his wings. "We need to clean a lot more before going to the baths. They are communal after all. Now come here," He cooed, patting between his legs. Fetmar backed away not trusting the k'nairi. Yerir'o shifted and tackled the human, pinning him to the side of the baths and bear-hugging him. "Come on," he teased, tugging a bright red Fetmar to where he wanted him. Fetmar struggled lightly, blushing brightly as he was placed next to Yerir'o's member. Yerir'o was seemingly obvious to Fetmar's embarrassment and washed him down with a brush. Fetmar relaxing as Yerir'o was business like.
"See, that was easy," Yerir'o teased, grinning as he finished. His hands resting on Fetmar's shoulders and his lips pressed against Fetmar's ear, and suddenly Fetmar was hot for a different reason. "Now my turn," Suddenly the heat was gone. Fetmar turned and found a brush being forced into his hands, an expectant look on Yerir'o face.
Complacently, Fetmar began to wash the other down, trying to keep his face from going red. He was not naïve or innocent but even so. Slowly, the paint and feathers peeled off the two of them, leaving them clean and their normal colour. Fetmar spent longer cleaning Yerir'o as he also had to clean the man's wings.
"Fetmar?" Yerir'o said gently, as Fetmar had been quiet for a while.
Fetmar humming lightly as he gently cleaned wings of paint. His hands running over soft feathers. Enjoying the feeling under his fingertips. It was rare that anyone was trusted to touch a k'nairi's wings. Some unfortunate humans had even been killed for the insult of touching them. Never a child mind you. The k'nairi seemed almost amused by children touching their wings, understanding completely what a child's curiosity was like. Fetmar had cleaned Yerir'o wings several times before. He seemed to have gained that trust despite being on opposite sides. Then again, no Caw, K'nairi or human, would ever associate with someone who was known for harming a k'nairi's wings. The Namya side did not take well to people who pissed of the Caw.
"Do you trust me?" Yerir'o asked.
"Umm," Fetmar tilted his head, hands stopping and he thought over that. Yerir'o twisted, facing Fetmar with an odd look on his face. Yerir'o pushed himself up so he was level with Fetmar, still between his legs. "I suppose I do," Fetmar admitted. "Do you trust me?"
Yerir'o smirked, "With my wings," he commented with a teasing jibe in his voice but it was a statement Yerir'o knew Fetmar would understand the full truth of.
Fetmar smiled lightly, "Why do you ask?"
"Fetmar," Yerir'o paused, swallowing his mouth suddenly dry. Fetmar watched with concern, frowning as he watched the man's wings shake. "I have feelings for you. More than just as a friend," he clarified.  "I understand though if you..."
"Shut up," Fetmar ordered, before leaning forwards and kissing Yerir'o on the lips firmly, not about to be lightfooted about this. He had no time for it, and he gripped Yerir'o's shoulders to hold him in place as he kissed the older man. When he finally moved away, Yerir'o just looked slightly confused. "I care about you too," Fetmar admitted, part of him knowing he was selling his soul as he said those words. They were true but he knew what would happen next.
Yerir'o was a k'nairi first and Dmar second. If Yerir'o thought those feelings could grow maybe, just maybe, it would stop him being sent to Fiant, but if Yerir'o decided to keep him. Fetmar would never be leaving Navat again. He couldn't imagine the k'nairi would let go of someone easily, especially given what had happened to Ryraso. If it was worth the risk though.
Something passed though Yerir'o eyes before Fetmar was being kissed again, deeply and passionately. Fetmar wrapped his legs around Yerir'o's waist and let his arms fall on Yerir'o shoulders, kissing back just as strongly. Fingers wrapped themselves in Fetmar's hair as Yerir'o pressed up against him. When they parted, Fetmar quickly buried his face in Yerir'o shoulder, catching his breath back.
"Yerir'o", Tai-ray's voice warned over the link before he could go any further, "If he does not submit, he will be sent away. Regardless of your feelings for him. I will not back down."
Yerir'o flushed embarrassed, not sure how the Winglord knew what was happening but not questioning it. "But..."
"A warning Yerir'o. Scent mark him all you want, but until his lips have kissed my ring, don't claim him. You will only get yourself hurt," Tai'ray warned.
"Fetmar. Please swear to me that you will submit to Tai-ray when he comes for you," Yerir'o whispered into the man's ear, sounding serious but also desperate at the same time. He didn't want to lose Fetmar. Not now, not when he was so close.
The words hurt, but Fetmar knew why they were being said. If he didn't submit... He had to submit. No sane person would willingly go to Fiant... "I will. I swear," Fetmar promised, tightening his grip for a moment. He was going to have to. He couldn't let his pride get in the way of doing what was right. He came to save his brother. Leaving without him was not an option. He was going to have to play a dangerous game here.
"Thank you," The joy and relieve in those words were almost too clear, making something inside Fetmar twist. He had well and truly trapped himself now.