Lying in bed, Wulfstan stared at the ceiling and listened to Leofric's steady breathing. If Wulfstan could tell his younger, confused self the way he would be living in the current year, he was certain that he would not have believed it. None of the events of recent times had been something he'd considered.
They'd been sharing a room since a few days after the funerals, though Wulfstan remained on edge about when this arrangement would end. It didn't seem sustainable in the long run, as Leofric was a man who was conscious of how he was viewed by the other people – he was already ceaselessly apprehensive about his unwed status and how the village had thoroughly isolated him and Wulfstan from being able to bring in any income. They'd long been used to the social isolation, that was negligible, but financial isolation was a death sentence. At the very least, when the rare passerby came through, they would buy from their stall so they still set it up at the market when they could.
On top of that, Wulfstan, while adept at the charade of pretending to be a living person, was not sure how long he could keep up the act. With Leofric around him all hours of the day, he only had the few hours that the man slept to entertain himself and, finally, relax. He may not be a very noisy presence, but he had to be extra careful navigating his room for his books, boardgames, or if he was working on cracking the stone tablet translations, he had to make sure they were easy to stash if Leofric were to wake in the night. While he knew Leofric wasn't the time to demand Wulfstan explain what it was, he'd rather not have to worry about Leofric snooping and finding the rest of writings. Even if the man couldn't read, he could learn to if he was curious about what Wulfstan was hiding.
More eggshells to tread on was irritating.
Manageable, but irritating.
At least, for tonight, Wulfstan didn't feel the need to do much but lay on the bed and wait for morning. He may not get tired, but he simply could not find it within himself to do anything at all so there was no need for that worry.
Leofric snorted, his snores eerily similar to the noise pigs made, and shifted in his bed so he was laying facing Wulfstan's side of the room. Moonlight tumbled through the window and caught on his lashes, dancing off his temples, sparkling off the smattering of silverish hairs that Leofric had been growing the past few years.
Unable to tear his eyes away – not even needing to, as the man was dead asleep – Wulfstan gazed at Leofric, their faces less than an arm's length away. It took everything in him to not close that distance, to crawl into Leofric's bed, to scoop him into an embrace, to—
To what?
He didn't know.
Wulfstan couldn't think of what came after that. Even in his dreams, in his fantasies, there was nothing after that. What could the coupling of two men even mean? He didn't even know how any of it worked with women and men, and that was the natural order, how it should be.
Kissing. He knew that. Fingers entwining and arms wrapping around another, an embrace. He'd seen that, he knew of that. Desiring to press his lips to Leofric's, the images of it flashing across his eyes, Wulfstan knew that was something he wished to do.
The sin of taking pleasure in one's own flesh; he knew that too. The outcome of it, the mess, the aching relief. The bliss. Could that be shared between men, not just something one did quietly in the dark, alone?
At the thought of it, his eyes still locked on Leofric's face, Wulfstan felt the cloth of his trousers tightening around his groin. Heaviness pooled low in his stomach, aching desire. It startled him, shame flooding his body.
It was disgusting that he could react like that in the presence of Leofric. He was revolted that his body reacted in ways his mind didn't want it to. Like he was a base creature, working on instinct only. Even if the man was asleep and would never know if Wulfstan relieved himself of the straining in his pants, Wulfstan couldn't bear the stain on Leofric's good name. He'd don't something like that once, and while it had ended up enlightening him to a lot of truths, he was still ashamed that he had done that. Violated Leofric's privacy. Closing his eyes, Wulfstan dug his nails into the flesh of his thighs, ripping through the fabric there and puncturing deep crescent moons into the skin.
Fortunately, the stirring of his nether parts ceased. Any desire clouding his thoughts was put to rest. He knew it was pointless to feel, whether it was privately or not, so it was best to nip the intense perversion in the bud.
While he could not stop the way his heart ached for the man who was snoring like a boar, face scrunched tight in his sleep, hair a rat's nest upon his brow, that slept so close to Wulfstan, he could stop himself from making a mistake.
-
"Wulfstan! Look, the dandelion's dried out now!"
Leofric held out the flattened, crispy yellow flower in the palms of his hands. He beamed up at Wulfstan, standing as close to him as he could.