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Chapter Text

Kaladin bowed his head into the wind, gritting his teeth. Stormlight, at least, held the worst of the cold at bay, but each blast brought another wave of snow, the splintered flakes scraping his face raw. He pulled the scarf higher, grimacing as a particularly brutal gust slammed into him. He fought to steady himself, barely able to keep his feet, and stumbled backwards into Adolin.

“You alright?” He shouted to the princeling.

“Fine” Adolin panted, pushing past him. “Come on - we can't leave them out there…”

The Windrunner frowned. He had certainly seen his friend this focused and determined before. But never without his sense of humor. He watched Adolin pass a few feet from him, squinting as another squall nearly obscured him completely. 

After Thaylen Field, Kaladin had hoped for rest. Shadesmar had half killed them, and the battle nearly finished the job. But within hours of returning to Urithiru, Dalinar received word that Gavinor was alive, in the protection of Skar and Drehy, somewhere in the Northwest of the Frostlands. 

Right in the path of the next Highstorm.

The shadows in the swirling snow seemed to bend into the shape of a kneeling man, a child clutched to his chest. For a moment, he saw a figure rise behind them - but in an instant, it dissolved once more into a swirling mass of white and gray.

He had failed Elhokar. He would not fail his son.

He marched on, looking up, into the endless sea of clouds above them.  

When they left, he worried for their exhaustion and their lack of reinforcements. Even though he had been healed by his brother, Adolin was spent, and far too pale for his liking. Kaladin had taken several wounds himself, and though he had recovered physically, he felt the fatigue of the past few weeks down in his bones.

Normally, he could sense the weather from afar, but too much time in Shadesmar had left his senses muted, and sheer exhaustion had done him no favors. The Everstorm had changed so much of Roshar's weather, and he had missed the signs of the Highstorm until it was too late.

One moment, they were flying, and the next, they were torn from the air in a sudden downburst. 

The Highstorm was on them.

They landed hard. Kaladin broke his arm, though Stormlight had made fast work of the injury. Based on how Adolin moved, he suspected he had cracked a few ribs. 

The cold of the Frostlands seemed to slow the winds, somewhat, weighing them down with great, heavy swaths of snow. It was probably the only reason they were still alive. In any other situation, walking exposed would be a death sentence. 

Still might be. He thought grimly.

Adolin stumbled some distance ahead of him, falling to a knee, and then standing once more. It wasn't the first time. It happened more and more often, however, and each time, it took him longer to rise.

He gritted his teeth, swallowing his worry for the hundredth time. He came up behind him, putting a hand on his back, ostensibly a friendly gesture. 

He felt the cold radiate from the princeling, the chill obvious even through his glove. 

He had stopped shivering.

“Adolin.” Kaladin said. 

He shook his head. “We have to find him!” He snapped.

“We can't! Not like this!” he said, grabbing his arm.

Adolin rounded on him. “You don't know what it's like!” He shouted, wrenching from his grasp. “To lose the one person who ever made you feel safe - and then be left alone with someone who is half mad, who terrifies you!”

Kaladin took a step back. Storms, is he crying?

Adolin ran a gloved hand over his eyes, trying, pointlessly, to clear the ice crystals forming on his eyelashes and brows. Stray blond-black locks stuck from under his hood, frozen into wild curls on his forehead. Puffs of fog rose from beneath his scarf, breaths hitching. His eyes looked unearthly, a vivid, terrified blue against windburned skin and pale frost. Even his tears were freezing.

He can't keep going like this. 

“And he's so little , Kal,” He said, horrified. “And I left him - my whole storming family left him with that maniac! Just like-”

The Windrunner stared as Adolin growled in frustration, shaking his head.

“Not again. We find him. We bring him home . We keep him safe.” 

Storms, did he sound like his father.

Kaladin watched him trudge on. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to stop him, to insist he rest. But without some form of cover or Stormlight for warmth, stopping meant death. 

They kept walking.

The snow was up to their thighs, now. 

Where is Syl? He thought, jaw clenching. He had sent her to find shelter when the snow was only at their ankles. It felt like ages, but with the way this snow was coming down it was probably only a few hours ago. 

It was impossible to tell time or distance. The storm left the world in gray, gloomy twilight. The snow of the Frostlands reflected enough light that the ground seemed brighter than the sky, creating a dizzying illusion of inversion. 

Slowly, night fell around them. There was no sound beyond the hush of falling snow and the lonely howl of the wind.

When Adolin fell for the last time, the sound was so muffled that he barely heard it. 

Kaladin's head snapped up, heart sinking as he saw the princeling drop to his knees and then slump, face first, into the snow. 

“Adolin!” 

Nothing.

He ran, staggering through his footprints. 

“ADOLIN!” 

Kaladin fell into the snow beside him, rolling him onto his back and dragging him into his arms. 

His head sagged against his chest, eyes closed, lashes sheathed in white frost. Kaladin shook him, trying to get him to wake. The princeling was silent, his head lolling hopelessly with the motion.

Kaladin yanked his scarf down, pulling his glove off with his teeth. The wind took it immediately. Fingers burning with cold, he shoved his hand beneath the collar of Adolin's coat, searching for his pulse.

Weak, and slow, but there .

He hugged him to his chest for a moment, bowing his head and closing his eyes. Relief mixed with fear, exhaustionspren twisting and fading around them like little eddies of swirling snow. His hand throbbed. They couldn't stay out there, even the Stormlight would run out eventually-

“Kaladin!”

The voice was so small that it was almost lost in the blizzard. He looked around, searching the churning snow for some sign of Syl.

“I found a cave!”

A flicker of blue light. A little figure, twisting in the wind. Even Syl seemed to struggle in this blizzard.

Storms, I hope this isn't a hallucination.

He scooped the princeling into his arms, grunting at his weight. He began to walk, following the guttering glimmer.

“I've got you.” He panted to Adolin through gritted teeth. “Just stay with me, alright? We're almost there.”

I hope .

He stumbled on, head spinning, eyes burning from the cold. His scarf was rigid with ice, the edges sawing against his flesh like jagged knives. His hand screamed in agony, and he could just imagine the frostbite creeping, purple-black, along his fingers. Radiant healing could do a lot, but if he ran out of Stormlight he would have to make some hard choices.

Memories came unbidden. A grim week where it was not simply a Highstorm that struck Hearthstone, but a strange cold front that brought snow and ice. The first Kaladin had ever seen. Wondrous, until he saw the horrors that came with it. 

Fingers removed in an effort to save a hand. A man without the tip of his nose, who barely escaped gangrene. Missing toes. A child, half frozen, dragged from an icy river. A half dozen cold, pale bodies, struck down by the icy winds.

Lirin had saved all of them. Not with complex medications, but careful, slow warming. A sharp knife. Bandages. Time.

The world was spinning faintly as they came upon a stone outcropping. Syl bobbed above a dark fissure, leaning into the wind, her dress coated in needles of ice that mirrored the coldspren that clung to the entrance. 

He staggered over the boulders at the entrance, and stumbled into the cave.

It was a small space, but solid, and mercifully flat. He fell to his knees, nearly dropping the princeling as exhaustion hit him all at once. He sat back on the stone, Adolin draped across his legs, and dazedly took in his surroundings.

The entrance sat at an angle, providing cover from the wind, and faced away from the storm. Judging by the cinders in the far corner and a pile of dried rockbuds, they were not the first to use this cave as shelter. 

Fire first .

-

The flames felt like a divine mercy. Though it was a small fire, it was more than enough to drive the chill from the stones and warm the shelter. He watched the smoke curl to the ceiling and vanish into a narrow fissure. 

Safe to burn, for a time at least.

Kaladin looked back at the princeling and grimaced. He hadn't moved much since they entered the cave, though he had begun to shiver again - a good sign.

He removed his own glove, coat, and scarf, laying them out to dry near the fire. All of his clothing was soaked in a mix of sweat and melted snow, and his teeth chattered slightly as he set to work on Adolin.

He pulled away the scarf, relieved to see that his nose and lips only had mild frostburn. Next came the hat and coat. The ice had melted, leaving his hair a bedraggled mop of curls, and drops of water clung to his lashes. His shivers were stronger, coming in waves. His brow furrowed, still taut with worry, even at rest.

“Hang in there.” Kaladin coaxed gently, laying a hand on his forehead. “I'll get you out of all that wet clothing just as soon as I make a place for us to rest, ok?”

The blond sighed at the touch, relaxing. His breathing slowed, deepening. Kaladin smiled faintly, and got back to work.

He threw open his pack, pulling out every scrap of clothing he could find, along with two blankets. He pulled Adolin's pack to his side, rifling through. In the first layer, he found several garish outfits, and blankets below that.

He laid out the clothes near the fire, trying to create as much padding on the chilled stone as possible. He piled the blankets beside the makeshift cot, and turned back to the pack, searching for food and medicine.

It was a surreal mix of practical necessities and preposterous luxuries - half the well trained soldier, half the carefree socialite. A tightly packed medical kit and well-worn flint and striker sat nestled beside a gracefully carved bottle of liniment. A spare knife jostled beside the body oil the princeling favored, a blend that brought to mind sandalwood, leather, with some hint of sweetness he could never quite place. A coil of thick, sturdy rope and a roll of paper wrapped tightly around a pencil - spare art supplies for Shallan, perhaps? Food, in the form of dense, salty hardtack, dried fruit, and cheese.

He paused as his fingers brushed a little leather satchel. He frowned, pulling it out, and opened it, pouring the contents into his hand.

Rocks. 

Familiar rocks. 

Rocks Kaladin had picked up and discarded in the past months.

He never gave much thought to the habit. It started not long after Tien died. He would notice pebbles, or chips of flint, and pause to admire them. Feel the weight in his palm, the texture beneath his thumb, study the variations in color. Then drop them just as suddenly.

Adolin, for reasons that eluded him, had saved them. Sandstone from the Shattered Plains, gold and copper lines twisting like swirls of smoke over a rough oval. A bit of the same marble Urithiru was formed from, banded with faint green, silky smooth and cool to the touch. A bit of obsidian from Shadesmar, black, faintly translucent, and smooth as glass.

His hand shook slightly, feeling the weight of the journey he held in his palm. All he had done, all he had been through, laid before him in stone.

“Was supposed to be a surprise…”

He clutched the rocks to his chest, head snapping up at the ragged whisper.

“Storms, you scared me!” Kaladin said, laughing softly in relief.

Adolin smiled tiredly. “Very intimidating, I know.” He murmured, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically. 

Kaladin grinned. “As imposing as you are, lying there half frozen - I meant that you scared me back there.” His expression darkened. “When you fell, I thought…”

The blond looked around the cave, uncomfortable. “And you found this place in that mess?” He asked. He might have intentionally changed the subject, but he was impressed.

“Syl did.” Kaladin said. He began to put the rocks back into the pouch.

“You can keep them.” Adolin said fondly. “I was just holding on to them for you.”

“Why?” Kaladin asked.

Adolin looked at him for a long moment. “Because every time you found one of those rocks, you smiled.” He said. “ Really smiled. I figured anything that made you that happy was worth saving.”

Kaladin looked at him questioningly. The blond just looked back with the same grin as always, though it faded as another wave of shivers ran through him.

“Come on.” Kaladin said, helping him sit up. "You need real warming, not just a fire.”

Adolin looked puzzled, but didn't ask. 

He tried to unbutton his shirt, but his fingers were stiff and uncooperative. The Windrunner flicked through the fastenings easily, peeling off the sodden layers, until there was only bare skin. He did the same with his own, tossing them beside the others to dry and ignoring Adolin's sound of disapproval. 

He turned back, surveying him for any injuries. Kaladin frowned at the princeling, taking in the pale skin, and the bluish tinge of his lips. He was positively vibrating with shivers, now, hunched in a miserable knot. He slid his arm over his shoulders, heaving him up and across the frigid stone, to the warmth of the bed. 

-

“Lay down.” Kaladin said.

Adolin obeyed, flopping onto his side, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Lose the underclothes.” The Windrunner said sternly, shaking out the blankets.

The blond looked at him, clinging to the last of his bedraggled pride. He stuck out his lower lip, shaking pathetically.

“Oh yes, the peak of nobility.” Kaladin said dryly. “Dying of hypothermia because you were too pretentious to strip in a medical emergency.” 

Huffing, teeth chattering, Adolin fumbled, removing his undergarments. 

His eyes went a bit wide as Kaladin stood and did the same. 

Almighty above .

If he could have blushed, he would have. As it was, his cheeks stung from windburn, blessedly masking the heat he felt creeping up, toward his ears.

He looked away, staring at the fire. 

Kaladin tossed a blanket over him. Then another. He walked over to the fire, stoking it, utterly unbothered by his nudity.

Since when is Bridgeboy so confident? And when did I start getting flustered at a bit of skin? He thought, mind racing as he stared at the firm, lean muscles of his thighs, eyes roving up to his inexcusably taut backside.

The Windrunner bent to fetch his waterskin and some food, and Adolin had a brief glimpse of dense brown curls and velvety, dark skin, the deep tan and pink of a beautifully formed-

He pulled the blanket over his head, shivering. 

What is happening to me?

The blankets lifted, and Adolin choked out a sound of dismay an instant before he was enveloped in sudden, blissful warmth. He froze, shocked, as reality sank in.

Kaladin Stormblessed, the most repressed, disapproving prude that Adolin had ever met, wrapped his arms around the princeling, pressing his bare flesh against every inch of his body. 

Chapter Text

Kaladin shuddered as a chill swept through him. Adolin's body was like a chunk of marble, cold as stone. 

Stormlight might have kept him warm in the heart of the blizzard, but the man next to him hadn't had that protection. It wasn't until he held him that he realized just how close he had come to dying out there. How close he still might be, if Kaladin didn't warm him.

“We need to get your core body temperature up.” He noted worriedly, pulling Adolin tighter to his chest.

“M'ok…” Adolin stammered, going rigid.

“You aren't.” Kaladin countered. “That sort of cold slows everything. Breathing, heartbeat. It lowers the oxygen in your body, cuts off the bloodflow to your limbs. And the shock…”

Adolin shied away, curling into himself, wrapping his arms around his chest.

Kaladin moved with him, stubbornly holding contact. He frowned, looking down at the blond, studying the way he clutched his side.

“Let me see.” He said. 

He didn't wait for Adolin to give permission. He was weak as a newborn axehound pup, and had almost no fight left in him. Kaladin pulled his arms aside easily, frowning at a faint purple area on his left. The cold would slow the bruising…

He put his hand on his side and gently pressed on several ribs. 

Adolin gasped, jerking back.

“The liniment you packed,” Kaladin asked, still examining him carefully. “What's in it?”

“Firevine, st-starsh-shade.” He said, teeth chattering. “Mostly oil. I use it after d-duels.”

Kaladin nodded. “Increases blood flow, soothes pain, gives a bit of warmth…” he said, sighing. “Better than anything I have.”

The Windrunner stood, padding over to the bags to grab the bottle. He returned to the cot, only to find the princeling trying to sit up, stubbornly covering his body.

Kaladin knelt beside him, uncorking the liniment and pouring a bit of the oil into his palm. 

“Lie down, will you?” Kaladin chided. 

He reached over, shooing aside his arm and smoothing the liniment over his ribs. Slowly, gently, he began to massage the area, his touch light, delicate.

Adolin shivered, slowly relaxing as heat spread with the Windrunner's fingers. The pain began to fade, replaced with a soothing warmth. 

Kaladin nodded, setting the bottle down beside their bed and laying beside him. He wrapped his arms around his shuddering form once more and held him, practically feeling his pride fighting the touch.

“This isn't the first time I've had to do this, you know.” Kaladin soothed.

“S-s-seriously?” Adolin chattered.

“Bridge runs on a rainy day were really hard on anyone who was already weakened. Especially with how little Sadeas gave us to wear…”

The blond flinched. “He w-was a r-r-real b-b-bastard.” He chattered.

Kaladin scowled. “I thought he was bad before.” He said. “When he swallowed that gem back in Thaylena, though?”

Adolin listened, shivers coming in waves, now. Kaladin tightened his hold, relieved to find he had stopped shying from his touch.

“He really ch-chose to let one of-f-f those m-monsters take over?”

Kaladin shook his head. “He wanted power. I think he stopped caring how he got it.”

Adolin glowered, chin sinking down on his chest. “I should have k-killed him when I h-had the chance.”

Kaladin raised an eyebrow. There was a story there, to be sure. 

“He could have k-killed you…” Adolin added, softer.

“Your father still might.” Kaladin noted wryly. “I shattered that old sword of his in the fight.”

Adolin snorted. “Serves him r-right. He was obs-s-ssed. It's a miracle he didn't n-name one of us after that Storming th-thing.”

Kaladin chuckled. “Oathbringerlin doesn't have quite the same ring to it, does it?” He teased.

Slowly, blessedly, Adolin's shivers faded to little more than an occasional shudder. Kaladin moved his hand, subtly pressing his fingers to his chest. His heartbeat was stronger, too. He allowed himself to relax a bit, and sighed.

They settled into a slightly more comfortable silence, listening to the wind howl beyond the cave entrance. 

-

Adolin had never felt so storming useless. He listened to the blizzard, thinking of Gavinor. He clenched his teeth, fighting down the quiet fury by breathing slowly through his nose.

“Something on your mind?” Kaladin asked.

Adolin swallowed. He rolled toward him.

“Gavinor.” He whispered.

“You sound angry.”

“I AM angry.” Adolin snapped. Kaladin flinched, and he regretted it immediately. He forced himself to calm, breathing slowly.

“That I left him?” Kaladin asked, guilt heavy in his voice.

He blames himself for this, too. Adolin realized dully.

“That my family left him, Kal.” he corrected. “His father was killed while he held him in his arms. No child should ever see that! And then I just abandoned him. It was my job to save him, and I left him behind with his lunatic mother.”

Kaladin watched him, expression serious.

“They did the same thing after our mom died. The one person he trusted, gone, and then they left him alone with a drunk who terrified him with his ravings. I thought they'd have learned, after what they did to Renarin-”

“-And you.”

Adolin froze. His eyes shot to Kaladin's. His lips felt numb, fingers tingling. His ears were ringing - when had they started ringing?

Kaladin watched him worriedly. “They left you, too, Adolin.” He said carefully.

He was breathing fast. Too fast. He tried to find a joke, some easy quip that would break him out of his paralysis, but all he could feel was his heart pounding, and all he could see was the massive, wild looking man smashing a wine bottle against the wall as Renarin cowered in his arms.

“Storms, you would have been what, 12? Alone with the Blackthorn, drunk?” Kaladin said, his voice distant, muffled. 

He closed the closet door, trying to drown out the furious, heartbroken wail. Renarin sobbed against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around him protectively, singing a shaking lullaby they couldn't hear over the sound of breaking furniture.

“Adolin, I'm so sorry. I never realized-”

Footsteps approaching. A shadow sweeping across the sliver of light at the bottom of the door. The turning handle. The horror and shame in his father's eyes. 

“Adolin?”

He curled tighter, screwing his eyes shut.

“Adolin!”

Gentle, strong arms pulled him against a solid, warm body that did not smell of wine, or blood, or tears. 

He snapped back to the present, head spinning, clutching his knees to his chest. 

Kaladin simply held him, breathing slowly. His hand began to move, gingerly stroking his back, his other hand cradling the back of his head and pulling him close.

And for the first time since his mother's funeral, Adolin wept.

The pain came in waves, sobs breaking with them. The grief for his mother, the soul of gentleness, the only one who ever allowed him to chase fireflies and learn the names of the stars. The fear of his father, a man who he only seemed able to disappoint, mad with grief and drink. The shame, for leaving his cousin dead on the ground and abandoning the city he called home. The disgust, at abandoning a child soaked in his own father's blood. The terror, at the thought that he might be somewhere out in that snow, little body frozen, just another casualty of the Kholin dynasty.

He cried until the fire burned low. Until his eyes ached. Until there was little more than a flicker of dim golden-orange light.

Kaladin held him the whole time, never judging, never demanding an explanation. He just stroked his hair and breathed, arms like a suit of armor in a moment he felt so utterly, utterly exposed.

He had stopped shivering at some point. Half awake and exhausted, he pulled back from his chest. Kaladin loosened his hold, and Adolin lifted his head, surprised to find the tip of his nose just inches from Kaladin's. 

Suddenly, he was all too aware of Kaladin's gaze. He stared at the Windrunner. He was so close. It was hazy and humid beneath the blanket, sweat and snowmelt and tears leaving their bare skin damp, body heat leaving them just on the edge of comfort. Intimate in a way he hadn't known since he was just a boy back in the war camps, twined with his first lover.

Adolin froze, unable to do anything but breathe against his lips, shakily trying to hold back the heavy, nervous breaths his body demanded. He held Kaladin's eyes and swallowed.

And slowly, gently, Kaladin's eyes widened. An instant of surprise, and then he smiled, with his lips and his eyes and oh Stormfather, he was handsome.

“That smile…” Adolin said, barely daring to breathe.

“I must have found something that makes me happy.” Kaladin whispered, leaning forward and pausing.

Hope stole the last of Adolin's breath. He froze, hardly daring to believe it as Kaladin Stormblessed brushed a soft, tentative kiss against his lips.

His uncertainty shattered the instant they touched, the tension flying from him with a jolt. He leaned into the kiss, cautious, wondrous, as Kaladin tilted his head. His hands were on his cheeks, pulling him closer, opening his mouth and bringing him inward. His fingers slid back, chasing through his long, dark hair and burying themselves in the waves. Kaladin grabbed him, embracing him and slipping his tongue between his lips.

From there, it was all hesitant, shaky brushes of fingertips. The firelight was almost gone, and the were barely able to see each other. There was only scent and sensation, kisses in the dark and Adolin waiting, heart hammering to see just how far Kaladin would go. Excitement raced through him as the Windrunner's hands moved from his shoulders and over his back, uncertain what he would do next but desperately hoping he wouldn't stop.

Kaladin pressed against him, and Adolin felt the heat radiate from between his legs. His heart pounded as Kaladin kissed him again, each brush of his lips pressing him onto his back, pushing deeper. Kaladin ground against him again, bolder. Adolin felt the hard, hot throb of his cock against his thigh, and felt himself stir in answer.

Kaladin paused, breathing against his lips. Stormlight blue glowed above him as he opened his eyes once more.

"May I?” Kaladin breathed.

Adolin nodded.

He had no idea what he is agreeing to.

He didn't care.

Kaladin slipped off of him, kneeling. Adolin turned on his side to face him, shivering faintly without the blanket. The Windrunner grabbed the bottle of liniment and pulled the cork free, pouring a bit of the oil into his hand. He met Adolin's eye, then glanced down meaningfully. 

He followed his gaze down to his own cock, and a little thrill ran through him. He nodded again, watching as Kaladin reached out and gently, carefully brushed his tip. Adolin closed his eyes and gasped softly, breaths hitching as the Windrunner seized him, stroking his length. His head spun as he spread the oil, the warmth joining the aching need that pulsed between his legs. 

His eyes opened again the moment Kaladin's hand left him. He poured more oil into his hand and nudged Adolin's legs apart, reaching between them. His eyes went wide as he felt the wet, slick sensation spill over his entrance. They flew to Kaladin's eyes as he kissed his chest, gazing up at him fondly. He pressed a finger against him, and his eyebrows rose in surprise at the tightness.

“Have you ever taken a lover?” Kaladin asked.

“I've been with men before.” Adolin said evasively. “Gone down on them. But I was only taken by one, and that was years ago.” He added uneasily.

Kaladin frowned. “Bad experience?” 

Adolin shivered from something other than cold. “Bad partner…”

The Windrunner's expression hardened. He stroked Adolin's hair from his eyes. “Who?” He asked, a dangerous undercurrent in his voice.

“Nobody important.”

Kaladin grimaced. “If you need me to stop - if this is too much -”

“No - nono, please, no.” Adolin said quickly, urgently, putting a hand on his chest. “Please don't stop. Please.”

“Did you ever try with anyone else?” Kaladin asked. "Find anything that worked better?"

Adolin blushed. “I never had any other offers…”

Kaladin was surprised. It wasn't exactly hard to find back in the war camps. Prostitution, casual sex, even something more serious. There were so few women that many of the soldiers at least considered other men out of necessity. And some, like Kaladin, explicitly preferred them. With the stress of war, sex was one of their only outlets. Even his time with Moash started as a stress relief, back when they worked the bridges. Granted it turned into something else entirely, but...

He ran his hands along Adolin's side, his smooth skin a delicious contrast to the hard muscle beneath. 

Anyone with sense would want a chance with someone like him, even if he was a lighteyed princeling-

His eyes widened, realization dawning.

“They were intimidated, weren't they?” He asked, hand returning to the slow massage.

Adolin nodded. “Would you have risked being caught with the son of the Blackthorn, your cock in his ass?” he joked, though there was a storm of emotion behind his smile.

Kaladin considered him, his hand slipping down his back. His fingers traced down, along his crease, and Adolin looked up at him in surprise.

“You're worth the risk.” Kaladin murmured, pressing a finger against him.

The blond's eyes grew large, excited. He smiled, biting his lip slightly in anticipation.

Kaladin pushed. With the oil, his first finger slid in easily. 

Adolin gasped, ass twitching at the new sensation. 

Kaladin thrust gently, slowly spreading him open. He peppered his chest with kisses, nuzzling softly.

He twisted his finger and smiled as he found a small, subtly different area within him, a bit more firm. He pressed against his prostate, laughing duskily as he twitched in answer.

Adolin shuddered, a beautiful, pleading moan escaping him. He ground back against Kaladin's hand, gasping for air. The Windrunner answered with a second finger, relishing the slick, wet sound of his thrusts. He stretched him slowly, adding a third finger and spreading them wide.

Kaladin's cock strained, breath catching as Adolin began to rock against his hand. The motions were delicious, pleading, increasingly urgent, and they stirred the same need in him. Suddenly he was desperate to bury himself in the princeling.

“Are you ready?” He asked, low, and rough, and undeniably eager.

Adolin nodded, and Kaladin pulled his fingers from him. Oil dripped from his ass, hot and slick.

Kaladin nuzzled beside his ear. “Climb on top of me.” He said softly.

The blond looked at him, a bit surprised. “On top?” He repeated.

He nodded. “It's been awhile. You'll have an easier time if you can control the speed and depth. Just ride me, and see what feels good, alright?”

Adolin blushed, and Kaladin couldn't help but smile. He was so damned endearing when he was flustered. Downright adorable, even. 

And so, so Storming sexy.

-

Adolin rolled on top of the Windrunner and sat up. He straddled his stomach, shuddering as he felt his spheres trace over the hard lines of his abs. He was dripping with oil, his ass throbbing from Kaladin's ministrations. Adolin stared down into his eyes, his dick bobbing gently, painfully hard. 

His breaths grew low and shallow, his heart hammering in a mix of anticipation and anxiety. He hadn't felt this nervous since he was a boy, facing Tinalar. Desperate to prove himself, but worried that he would not be strong enough to take him, to see it through to the finish.

Kaladin's eyes roved over his face. He chuckled, and Adolin went cold, certain he saw his fear. 

The Windrunner brushed his hand along his side, smoothing up his back and pulling him down, almost close enough to kiss. Stormlight blue filled his vision, a hint of the warm, familiar brown behind it, fond and steady.

“You don't need to be nervous, Adolin.” He murmured, stroking his back. “Just breathe with me, and follow my lead.”

He smiled, feeling his nerves ebb away as Kaladin continued to stroke his back, callouses just rough enough to send little shivers of need through him.

Slowly, uncertainly, he shifted back, until he felt Kaladin's cock brush against him, slick and dripping. He was straining, eager, a broad, pulsing weight that felt nothing short of intimidating.

Kaladin's hand slipped down to the curve of his hip, taking a firm grip, thumb brushing his inner thigh. He smoothed his other hand over his rear, sending another shudder through Adolin's body. Kaladin cupped his backside. His hold gave him complete control over how Adolin moved, forward and backward. 

The Windrunner shifted slightly, his cock just barely brushing against him. Adolin felt his ass twitch in anticipation, kissing his tip.

“Take it slow.” Kaladin said gently, steadying him with both hands.

Adolin nodded. 

He relaxed, leaning almost imperceptibly into Kaladin's hold.

With the barest pressure on his hip, Kaladin pushed him back. Adolin's breath caught as he pressed against the firm, slick flesh. He felt his body resist, his ass tightening in answer. Kaladin increased the pressure carefully, gently.

His ass gave way suddenly, stretching wide as his cock slipped in. 

His arms shook, head spinning as he filled him, a heavy, throbbing ache building as he took him. He sank backward, impaling himself slowly, jolts of pain, twitches deep within his belly, and a swelling, incredible fullness overwhelming his senses. He stared down at Kaladin, a weak moan escaping him as the Windrunner lowered him, blissfully drawing out the penetration.

His breaths sped, and for a moment, a very different man stared at him, pale tan eyes burning with malice and disgust. His heart clenched, sending a sudden, angry throb through his chest. He fought down a cry of pain, struggling to push the memory aside.

Kaladin looked up at him, freezing. 

“Adolin?” He asked worriedly, brushing his hair from his forehead.

He blinked, clearing his head, pulse slowing as the calm Stormlight blue stared back at him. 

Safety. Peace. Warmth.

“Just - just my ribs.” Adolin said hurriedly.

“Lean forward.” Kaladin panted, fingers lightly stroking the small of his back and coaxing him down.

Adolin sank against his chest, shuddering as his cock shifted within him, his own length pressed between them. The throb in his ribs faded into the background, far milder now that he wasn't leaning on his arms. He pressed his ear to his chest, breathing his scent, listening to the slow, powerful beat of his heart. Fear faded, and soft, aching need took its place.

His jaw clenched.

He would not let that bastard take this from him, too.

“You ready?” Kaladin whispered gently.

Adolin nodded. “Ready.”

Kaladin's hands were on his hips again. He pushed him deeper. Down, over his final inches. He was thicker, toward the base, stretching him wide and making movement almost impossible. Just when Adolin was certain he would shatter if he took any more, he bottomed out. He gasped, bowing his head to Kaladin's shoulder, feeling the Windrunner's pulse at the core of his being.

“Oh, Stormwinds…” he breathed faintly.

Kaladin's hands traced up his sides in soothing swirls. Adolin lifted his head, staring into his eyes.

“Are you ok?” Kaladin asked.

Adolin leaned his forehead against the Windrunner's, fighting to catch his breath. He wasn't sure if he was shivering from the cold, or the sharp sting, or the throbbing pleasure Kaladin sent through him with every twitch.

“This is incredible.” He breathed, smiling faintly. 

Kaladin chuckled, kissing him softly. “It gets even better.” He said, voice warm and rough.

Adolin shuddered. “Show me.” He begged.

Kaladin traced a kiss against the pulse point on his neck. The Windrunner bent his knees and put his feet flat on the ground, spreading the Princeling's legs as he lifted him slightly.

Adolin shuddered at the change in position. He was half sitting on Kaladin's thighs, half laying on his chest. The Windrunner slid his hands back to his waist, hooking his thumbs over his hips and taking a far stronger grip.

Kaladin braced himself. With a smooth, steady roll of his hips, he thrust up, shoving Adolin down onto his length in the same motion. 

Adolin jerked, a desperate cry ripping from him as a lance of throbbing pleasure tore through him. 

“Heralds above, yes.” He gasped.

Kaladin thrust again, and Adolin followed his lead, driving himself down onto his cock, each stroke taking him deeper. They found a rhythm, slow and pounding.

The princeling clung to him, fingers clawing at his shoulders, finding leverage. As he grew used to the blissful fullness, he moved more freely. The slick sounds of each stroke filled the air, punctuated by a wet slap every time Kaladin bottomed out - luscious, profane, and profoundly intimate.

Adolin lifted his head, gazing down at Kaladin, heart swelling at the rapturous longing he found reflected there. He dared to pull himself higher, until only his tip remained within him. He hung there for a moment, achingly empty. The Windruner made a small, keening sound of need, his hold on his hips tightening as he fought the temptation to force him down once more.

Adolin smiled, hovering with him barely inside of him. He bent, kissing him with the barest touch, and shoved himself back, opening to him completely.

-

Kaladin gasped, pleasure racing through him at the motion. His head spun as he returned to the deep, clenching warmth once more. Another thrust, the wet slap as Adolin's ass smacked against him. A rhythm. The tight band of smooth, slick need stroking every inch of him.

Storms, he’s incredible. Kaladin thought dazedly. 

His body screamed to give in to lust and thrust as wildly as the princeling would allow. To take what he was so eagerly giving and claim him, body and soul. 

His breaths became shallow, tightly measured. He fought to control himself, to draw out their pleasure as long as possible. 

He firmed his grip, taking charge once more. To his surprise, Adolin obeyed, returning to the long, slower strokes, the blissful motions that made it something more than sex, something profound.

He thought of Moash. 

With him, sex was just another battle of wills. And somehow, painfully, there was always a winner and a loser. 

This couldn't be more different. With Adolin, it was peaceful, achingly soft and sensual. They moved together intuitively, finding balance easily. Kaladin felt the tension build gently, the slick depths of his ass coiling deliciously around him. They chased the promise of release as one. 

He wondered if this was what it was supposed to be like all along.

Kaladin looked up at the man in his arms, gazing into his desperate, pleading eyes. He lost himself for a moment in the whole of him - his finely honed musculature. His lean frame, sturdy but subtly delicate. The warm, rich glow of his skin. His proud, strong jaw, somehow balanced by such gentle eyes. 

He was gorgeous, even with wild, sodden curls and windburned cheeks. 

He stared as Adolin closed his eyes, lost in the pleasure if riding him.

It would be easy, dangerously easy, to get used to the sight of him breathless and blissful, at the precipice of release only Kaladin could give. It was intoxicating, hypnotic.

Adolin opened his eyes. Lips parted, he looked down at him with a blend of pained longing, aching gratitude, and an admiration that filled Kaladin's soul to the brim.

“You're holding back.” Adolin panted.

Kaladin blinked, wrongfooted. “I could hurt you.” he stammered.

Adolin smiled, keeping pace in spite of his injuries, the cold. “You’re a Windrunner. Nothing should hold you down.”

He panted, searching his face. “What are you saying?” Kaladin asked.

The blond leaned down, never breaking his pace as his lips brushed his ear.

“Fly, Kal.” 

The words sent lightning through his body. Desire gave way to blind need, like a drowning man seeking air. He clutched Adolin to his chest, rolling to the side and kneeling between his legs, holding his place within him. Adolin followed without hesitation, sprawling on his back. Kaladin rose on his knees. He lifted Adolin's hips, pulling his body upward, until only his head and shoulders touched the ground. 

His fingers dug into his flesh, and he began to thrust again, far harder. 

Finally, finally deep enough. 

He stared down at the sight of his cock driving into his body, the tight band of flesh clinging to his length, dragging outward with every stroke. Every thrust rocked through the princeling, shaking him to his core.

Adolin's brow furrowed, cries growing frantic. 

“Harder, Kal, harder!” He shouted.

His cock bounced with each stroke, rigid and straining, on the very edge. The princeling's eyes were wide, transfixed on something far beyond sight, mouth open. Kaladin fumbled for Adolin's dick, seizing him and stroking him in time with his thrusts. He was so, so hard, absolutely throbbing in his hand.

“KALADIN - KALADIN!”

Adolin screamed, his back arching, and flung his head back. He came suddenly, violently, cum bursting from his cock and splattering down onto his chest and lips. He clenched around Kaladin, ass tightening deliciously as waves of pleasure rocked through him. He shoved backward, riding him through his climax.

He would never admit it to anyone, but the sight of the princeling spread beneath him was something out of his deepest fantasies. Wild haired, gleaming with sweat, Kaladin's cock buried in his ass, blue eyes wide. 

It was everything he had secretly wanted, and it was enough to drive Kaladin over the edge. He slammed to the hilt, letting off a growling cry, and broke. He thrust frantically, increasingly wild, dragging desperate cries from the princeling. He felt himself build, his cock swelling, an instant before his seed burst from him. His heat poured deep into the princeling's belly in blissful waves. Adolin's eyes opened, gazing up at him adoringly as his body almost seemed to drink him.

Panting, dizzy, Kaladin pulled back. He gasped for air, staring as his length slid from his ass, soft and streaked with cum. Shaking slightly, he carefully eased Adolin to the ground. He laid down beside him, and pulled him close, the princeling limp with exhaustion, gone drowsy in the afterglow. 

He began to shiver again, maybe from hypothermia, maybe from sheer sensation. Kaladin wrapped his arms around him, gently cradling his head and drawing him close. Adolin murmured something inaudible, nuzzling under his chin, into the sheltered space between his neck and the cot beneath them. Kaladin buried his face in his blond locks, breathing in the scent of sandalwood, and leather, and the sweetness that was him. He held him until his shivers faded. Until his breaths turned slow and deep.

He thought of Moash. Of how they ended. 

Of Shallan, and her betrothal to the man in his arms.

It would never happen for them. Not for real. 

He tried to convince himself that one night, insulated from the world, would be enough.

He unconsciously tightened his grasp.