💎A Collision of Fates💎 (Straight to Gay) (MxM) (18+)

79 - Breck

When Breck woke up, he didn't feel a weight pushing down on his chest. Usually, that would've been normal. He hadn't slept with another man in quite a while, but, after what had happened in that tent, he was a little disappointed. It had been nice, weirdly, to feel someone close to him.

Instead, Nick was on the other side of the bed, wrapped up in the blankets, breathing gently.

That night in the tent would be the first and only time the outsider would make that mistake, and Breck understood why. Nick Fulton had made it very, very clear that he did not like men. Even though he had been turned into a back-jewel, he was only attracted to women, whatever they looked like.

Breck sighed and considered the back of the other man's head, his dark-brown hair. In his half-asleep, early-morning haze, he watched the rising sun slowly envelop the bed in its warmth.

It was time to get up.

Breck pulled himself out of bed, and trudged his way to the corner of the room. He splashed his face in the washing basin, and looked at himself in the small, circular mirror that was perched above the bowl. He rubbed some water on his face and beard, trying to massage the heat out of his body.

Goddess, he always forgot how hot it got in the South. Even the southern coast of Sesstria was almost unbearable.

But he needed to be grateful. He needed to take the blessings where they fell. How many more inns or taverns would there be? How many more beds would they be sleeping in? One more, maybe, in Garretz, and then it would be The Spread and the hrew and whatever they had to offer. He needed to enjoy the luxuries of a real building when he had the chance. He could ignore the heat, at least he could try.

Nick groaned. Through the mirror, Breck could see the covers shifting.

"Have a good sleep?" Breck asked.

Nick was silent for a moment, and then, "yes." He sighed and slowly pulled himself up. His hair was tangled, standing up in the air. He rubbed his eyes with brutal fingers and then shook his head. "Jesus. I slept good." He pushed on the mattress. "What is this thing stuffed with?"

Breck shrugged. "Feathers."

Nick kept slapping the mattress, pushing down on it, feeling it. "Well, those are some soft feathers."

💎💎💎💎💎

The Hearty Brawj served a good breakfast. Some sort of smoking sausage, coupled with a healthy amount of fruit and juice, and a side of freshly baked, crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, bread.

Geer and Henrov ate at their own table. They made sparse conversation. The rest of them, including Mikh and Warlan, sat at a round table near the corner of the common room. Beside their table, a window looked out over the boat-bobbing harbour. The wide street that bordered the sea was already bustling, sailors and travelers, merchants and beggars, they were out in force, getting an early start to the day.

Everything had gone back to normal between Nick and him, and that didn't stop at breakfast. If anything, the man was more comfortable with him than he had been before. A few times, when he laughed at something Warlan said, he reached up and smacked Breck on the shoulder.

Breck could almost believe that he was eating out with some friends, that everything was normal. This mission had been strangely enjoyable so far. Everything about it, the company, the journey, the food, had been decent. But Warlan's backpack never left his side, and whenever Breck's eyes fell upon it, his mind would snap back to their mission. There were bramblaws in there. Bramblaws they were going to use to destroy The Golden Spire.