He waited a moment at first, sure that Kristoff would start thrusting in his throat the way Volkes had. But he didn’t, merely breathing, his quiet voice saying Rowen’s name.
When Rowen was allowed to lead, moving his head and licking, taking Kristoff all the way down his throat on his own terms, it was even better than he could have imagined. He pulled with his lips, listening to Kristoff’s gasps and moans, guiding the movements of his head and mouth to make sure each thing he tried was better than the last.
Suddenly Kristoff pulled away, Rowen holding his mouth open in confusion. When he looked up, Kristoff smiled down at him, his face and neck flushed red.
“Not yet, Rowen. Don’t you want a turn?”
Volkes hadn’t done that. But this was Kristoff. Rowen nodded. He stayed still when Kristoff knelt down next to him in the grass, not sure what to do.
“Lie back, Rowen. It feels good this way.” Rowen leaned back on his hands, spreading his legs when Kristoff touched him, unlacing Rowen’s pants.
His fingers coaxed Rowen to full hardness in moments, Rowen gasping. Then Rowen’s heart leapt, his body tensing, as Kristoff returned the favor Rowen had just given.
It felt so good. Nothing Volkes had done, harsh strokes with his hands or rubbing his body against his so hard that the bed shook, could compare to the sensation of Kristoff’s mouth on his cock. Rowen’s toes curled, his eyes rolling back, heat kindling in his entire body like a soaring flame. He breathed in short pants, each pull of Kristoff’s lips overwhelming pleasure. He looked at the trees overhead, spreading his legs wider, unable to process anything other than the sensations that were coming directly from his aching erection.
Then Kristoff hummed, his voice making Rowen shake, the heat suddenly a rushing, burning need that threatened to spill. He wouldn’t last, and he put a hand on Kristoff’s shoulder.
Kristoff let him go, necessary but agonizing. Rowen gasped, and then Kristoff was by his side, leaning next to him on the grass. They kissed again, more frenzied this time, and their hands were on each other’s bodies, removing each other’s clothes, revealing themselves to each other.
“You’re gorgeous, Rowen,” Kristoff said, and Rowen huffed a silent laugh. He pointed to Kristoff, who just smiled back, his eyes half-lidded. “I really want you, right now. Are you ready?”
Rowen nodded, but he was surprised when Kristoff guided him closer so that Rowen was the one leaning over him, Kristoff lying on his back in the grass, legs spread. Kristoff stroked himself, then Rowen, causing more heat to build in Rowen’s core.
“Do you know what to do?” Kristoff asked.
When it was Volkes, he had just entered Rowen hard, the pleasure mingling with pain. But he didn’t want to do that to Kristoff. Rowen shook his head, even as the thought of entering Kristoff, of feeling his gorgeous, powerful mentor from the inside, made his erection throb with need.
Kristoff smiled. “That’s all right. Give me a moment. I’ll show you.” Rowen sat back as Kristoff got up, heading into the cave they both shared. Kristoff grinned when he returned, holding a small vial, his erection bobbing as he walked.
“I figured we may need this eventually,” he said with a grin. Rowen tilted his head, raising one eyebrow.
“Volkes didn’t use this?” Kristoff frowned when Rowen nodded.
“Come here, then,” Kristoff said, and Rowen strode forward, letting Kristoff pull him into another deep kiss that chased away any memory of Volkes. Then he shuddered, gasping when Kristoff began stroking him, slicking him with oil as he did.
“This will make it feel really good,” Kristoff whispered, his voice sending shivers down Rowen’s spine. “I want you inside me, Rowen.”
Rowen nodded, his breathing coming in fast pants. He put a hand on Kristoff’s shoulder, and Kristoff knelt down, lying once again with his back on the soft grass. He held the vial in one hand, and while Rowen watched, he put some inside himself, scissoring with his fingers, the sight maddening and making Rowen agonizingly hard.
“Do you want me too, Rowen?” Kristoff asked, his voice soft.
Instead of nodding, Rowen leaned down and kissed him. Kristoff spread his legs, inviting.
When Rowen entered him, his world narrowed, focusing on two things—how good he felt, and how good Kristoff must feel, his mentor squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back with a moan of pleasure.
“Yes, Rowen,” Kristoff said, moving his hips, driving Rowen in deeper. “Yes.”
If Rowen could speak, he would have said the same. He began to move, every bit of friction on his cock made even better by the sight of Kristoff below him, his body jolting with every powerful thrust. Kristoff smiled, and when he opened his eyes, Rowen couldn’t look away. Kristoff’s hands moved on to Rowen’s shoulders, then over his nipples, and Rowen breathed deep against the rush of pleasure.
This was every fantasy he had ever had. Ecstasy rebounded in his body, reflected in Kristoff’s expressions and moans. It was just the two of them, the only two people on the entire island, and Rowen’s world suddenly felt both enormous and small, everything he had experienced in the past few weeks contained within sex with the man who had saved his life. All he wanted in that moment was to make Kristoff feel good.
He thrust deep, muscles in his shoulders and back bunching as he gave Kristoff what he had been asking for. Kristoff spread his legs wide, his smile never leaving his face even as his eyes began to glaze over, his enjoyment obvious in his quick breaths and half-begun words. Rowen dug his hand into the grass beside Kristoff’s head, angling and thrusting at the spot that made Kristoff moan the loudest and shudder the most.
Rowen fought to keep his eyes open, his heart pounding and his chest heaving with a combination of effort and his own looming orgasm. The sun shone down through the trees, warm and not burning the way it would have in Rowen’s desert home, illuminating the sheen of sweat on Kristoff’s body.
“R-Rowen….” Kristoff managed, and he moved his hand, stroking himself as Rowen thrust. Rowen got the message, moving Kristoff’s hand away and stroking Kristoff in time with his own thrusts. Kristoff tightened around him, moaning Rowen’s name, and Rowen stroked him faster, snapping his hips. Kristoff’s expression was slack with pleasure, but he still met Rowen’s gaze with a look of utter trust, desire, and love.
This was what Rowen had dreamed of. He had wanted to be a Storm Lord, to start life over and save the world with power he now knew he didn’t have. But being like this with Kristoff made all the hardships he had faced feel worth it.
“Oh….” Kristoff shuddered as he spoke the name “Rowen,” and he pulsed in Rowen’s hand and tightened hard around Rowen’s erection, cum surging over his chest. Rowen’s own pleasure answered at the sight, and his body shook, ecstasy overflowing and spilling into Kristoff. He gasped as he came, the pleasure overwhelming, and afterward he lay wrung out and panting next to Kristoff.
They lay together on the grass for a time, the cool air of the sea washing over them. Kristoff stroked Rowen’s hair, a smile on his face, and Rowen smiled back. They didn’t need words. Clouds scudded across a blue sky. Later, Rowen knew, Kristoff would take those clouds and shape them into a storm, saving the world a little bit at a time. And then he would come back here, to Rowen.
Life could always start anew. Whether Kristoff had been aware of the lesson or not, that was the first thing Kristoff had taught him. Rowen would always show him how grateful he was.
LATER, ROWEN lay in the cave next to Kristoff, the other man asleep, his hair mussed and the gray stone on his necklace rising and falling with his breaths. The sun reflected on the cave wall from outside, and Rowen estimated it was likely just past noon. He wondered if all the travel made Kristoff tired. It had to be hard work summoning storms to fly.
Rowen wished he could let him keep sleeping, but as much as he wanted Kristoff to stay, Kristoff had to work, and Rowen had his own work to do as well. He had left the shovel out in the open, too distracted by making l
ove with Kristoff. While he hadn’t seen any larger animals, common sense told him to take better care of his tools. His father would have been displeased had he done something like that in the village.
The thought of home didn’t make him as sad as it usually did. Maybe because there was so much to do to make this place feel like home now.
And it wasn’t only that. Rowen sat up, crossing his legs. He had his own powers to work on—if he could control them, he would make Kristoff’s life easier. Rowen wanted to survive, and the desire to help, to save his village, still burned in his chest, even though he knew it was impossible. He couldn’t get rid of the hope he had when he had first met Kristoff—the hope that he could become a Storm Lord and save people who would otherwise die in heat spells.
He closed his eyes. The Storm Lords feared heat spells. But with the little he had learned, they weren’t anything to be feared. They were just more air, stagnant, unmoving air that heated in the sun.
He could call them if he tried. Kristoff had said there was one in Pearlen. Rowen wished he could see Pearlen. He had heard of it many times, and he knew Kristoff was from there, from a shining city full of people.
He hoped they weren’t suffering in the heat spell. Maybe he should wake Kristoff.
A breeze blew in through the mouth of the cave, sending a leaf fluttering inside. It spun in a lazy circle before settling to the ground.
Rowen narrowed his eyes. Back home, the heat spells always stayed in one place until a storm came through, dispersing them. The heat spell Kristoff had dispelled on the Storm Lords’ island had been thrown into the air, dispersed, and cooled in the violent storm. Away from the island, it had been harmless, like the heat of the desert where no one lived.
No one lived here but him. That was why he had moved here, to keep others safe. But what if he could do more? He was already alone. But if he truly could call heat spells, there was no reason he shouldn’t call the ones that were harming a city.
His heart thudded. Maybe his power wasn’t so terrible after all.
The leaf swirled again in an invisible current, coming to rest on Rowen’s knee as he closed his eyes and sending a small itching sensation up his leg. He ignored it. His senses were caught to the northeast, inside a memory of sand and a distant feeling of heat. It was a motionless mass that he knew by now was a heat spell.
He wished he could sense the city, but maybe this would be enough.
He inhaled, and with the breath he pulled the heat toward himself. The mass lurched like falling dirt in a well, like a ship along the water.
Rowen’s skin buzzed. The air was full of energy, movement, and heat from the sun. All the energy was contained within the heat spell, but it still moved, still responded to his call. He let out a breath, fighting dizziness, and inhaled again, as though sucking water through a straw or breathing in humid air in the midst of a heat spell. His lungs burned.
But the heat spell was moving. He was doing it. Another part of his brain, a sense he hadn’t known he had, told him it was getting closer. It was like goose bumps on his skin when he was dehydrated, a heavy sense of something in the distance. That was probably close enough.
He let out his breath, opening his eyes to the cave, and the sensation vanished. His body shook with sudden fiery cold. The stone of the cave beneath him was cool, and he lay down, his eyes falling shut in a blink that lasted awhile.
“Rowen?” A voice sent a jolt through him. “Rowen, time to get up.”
Kristoff’s hand touched his face, the same light touch he loved, and he opened his eyes to see Kristoff’s blue ones, the sight of the other man framed by the gray of the cave. The light shining in from outside was brighter, the sun descended in the sky. “Rowen, are you all right?” His touch was firmer this time on Rowen’s forehead, and Kristoff’s mouth turned down. “You’re warm.”
Rowen pushed himself up, taking Kristoff’s hand, which was cool to the touch. They kept their supplies near the entrance, and before Rowen could get up, Kristoff got the message and quickly fetched the most important supplies they had gotten—pencils and paper.
Rowen hoped Kristoff wouldn’t be angry. I moved your heat spell, he wrote. He probably shouldn’t call it Kristoff’s heat spell, but it was too late now.
“You… you moved it?” Kristoff blinked. “Here?”
Rowen raised an eyebrow, then raised a hand as if hoping for rain. Kristoff blushed. “I mean, you moved it…. Is it going to be here? Why?”
I moved it away from the city. He stopped writing, staring at Kristoff.
Kristoff’s eyes widened, his mouth opening slightly. “You moved it away from the city.”
Rowen nodded, smiling.
“You moved it… away.” Kristoff sat back on his heels. “It’s in the ocean? Where it won’t hurt anyone?”
Rowen shrugged, then wrote I do not know. I need more practis. But it is closer.
“Closer. So….” Kristoff leapt to his feet, and Rowen got up too, fighting off a wave of dizziness. “You can call heat spells. You can call heat spells away from cities! Rowen, do you know what this means?”
Rowen smirked and nodded, excitement chasing away some of his exhaustion. He didn’t need to write it out for him. Kristoff didn’t need to say it.
It would only work if he stayed away from civilization, but as long as he did, he could call heat spells toward himself and away from people. His power was useful.
He had to sacrifice being with people to use it, but it was useful. Rowen smiled, emotion sending heat building behind his eyes. He really could save his village.
“You really are going to be a Storm Lord, Rowen,” Kristoff said, his eyes shining. “And I can help you do it.”
Epilogue
Five years later
“THAT’S HIM.”
“Whoa.”
Kristoff remembered a time people had talked about him like that. Kristoff Hurricane, the most powerful Storm Lord on the island.
“That’s him? He doesn’t look so scary.”
“Sh! Don’t make him mad. He’ll call a heat spell here. He’s called Rowen Firestorm for a reason.”
When Lorana was governor, she wouldn’t have allowed trainees to play just outside the Storm Building. But she was retired now, and Lissa didn’t mind, and neither did Kristoff as he and Rowen headed inside. Rowen was quiet, as always, but Kristoff spotted the amused quirk of his lips as the kids ran away.
“Greetings,” Lissa said, her office bright and cheery. She had chosen a room that faced the ocean and always kept her windows open. Kristoff missed a step in surprise as he entered—Marin was here too. She was ancient, and Kristoff worried these days that she hadn’t yet found a successor.
“Hello, Kristoff and Rowen,” Marin said. Rowen dipped his head in greeting. “Anything to report?”
Kristoff met Rowen’s eyes, and Rowen nodded. Rowen wrote fast now, but it was still faster for Kristoff to make the reports. “Rowen called two heat spells toward us from regions in Pearlen, and I plan to dispel them soon,” Kristoff said. “Unless you have someone you can spare?”
“Volkes can break the more southerly one,” Marin said after a slow blink. “It is not so intense, and in the middle of the ocean his lightning can’t hurt anyone.” Rowen’s jaw tightened. Everyone had heard the story of the lightning storm Volkes had summoned in Linland that had destroyed the docks, set shipbuilding back a year, and killed dozens. It was part of the reason everyone favored Rowen’s power now—he could bring heat spells to places where they could be safely destroyed, and no potentially dangerous storms would have to be brought to bear against a city.
So much had changed in five years, and all of it thanks to Rowen.
“And how is your home?” Lissa asked.
“We have a second house now,” he said. Rowen nodded. “We’re working on building docks. And Sharon’s been by many times.” Rowen’s old roommate captained a ship now, and she and her crew had been the first to visit. They had been incredibly help
ful building some of the essentials on the island.
“That’s good,” Lissa said. “Ready to receive more visitors?” Kristoff wanted to agree. With more people, Kristoff could see it becoming a Storm Lords’ island of its own, or at least a trading port. Tales of Rowen’s gorgeous paintings had spread too, and Darseans paid well in useful goods for them. But the redhead’s brows had drawn down, his green eyes clouded. Kristoff knew from discussions in the past that the old fear of his power becoming unmanageable, or hurting someone, was still there.
“We’ll see” was all Kristoff said. Rowen flashed him a grateful look.
“For now,” Marin said, “and as usual, we have more work for you both.” Rowen straightened, attentive. “There is a heat spell forming over the southwestern region, over a small village.”
Kristoff blinked. Those words were familiar, from five years ago. Before he had found Rowen.
“Elise usually takes care of this region, but this time the heat is more intense than usual. We need you, Kristoff, to dispel it. The village is small, so perhaps….”
Rowen had already gestured, pointing and then moving his thumb toward himself. He would move it so the storm wouldn’t hurt anyone.
Kristoff nodded. “Rowen and I will take care of it.”
“Thank you,” Marin said. She turned her gaze to Rowen. “I recommend you pull it toward the south, toward the desert and not toward the two other heat spells you have moved. I still fear them combining.” Rowen nodded. It was another variable they had to keep track of. “And while you’re there, keep your senses alert, heatcaller.”
Rowen tilted his head, then nodded. Kristoff wondered what she meant.
“Well, Rowen,” Kristoff said as they left, a cool breeze washing over them both. “It’s time you saved your home.”
He expected Rowen to smile, or look happier, but he only got a curt nod.
“Are you all right?”
Rowen sighed and reached into his pocket for his pen and paper, but they were interrupted before he could write anything. “Kristoff! Rowen!” Franken jogged up to them, Benjamin close behind. The boy was a teenager now, lean and apparently still annoying with his tendency to call the coldest air he could and somehow create snow out of nothing. “I didn’t know you were here!”
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