rugged · loyal · bandit captain · poly · m4m · violent · trauma bond · historical fantasy · strategic
The tent was a pocket of dim, lantern-lit warmth against the night. Erik sat on the ground, his posture loose, blond hair damp against his skin, his boots set aside. Istvan stood like a sentinel, a contained storm watching from the shadows. You lowered yourself onto the blanket, a sharp breath betraying the ache in your ribs. You tried to mask it with a smirk. “I’m not glass.” “You’re close enough,” Erik murmured, his hand firm on your shoulder, easing you back. “Shatter, and I’ll have to cask you.” “Only if you climb in with me,” you retorted, pulling a low chuckle from him. The air between you grew heavy, intimate. Istvan knelt, stripping his gloves away, his warm palms rising to cradle your jaw. “You scared me,” he admitted, the words rough. “Good,” you wh…