...When he sensed Clay waver beside him, Aron caught his partner’s arm.

“I think we’d best find a spot to rest and wait until tomorrow to return to the main camp. More time passed while we were on the other side than you might think. There’s no way we can get back to the base before dark, not even close. I don’t fancy tramping through this rugged region on a moonless night, even if my night vision is better than most.”

Clay did not argue. “Yeah, I’m tired,” he admitted, “and you must be, too, even with your super-elf powers. We have enough water and we can get by without food.”

“I can,” Aron agreed, “and if you’ve been practicing as I told you, you can draw enough strength from the earth’s power grid to sustain your elf half. The human half will have to bite the bullet.”

He set off at a deliberate pace down the hill, scanning the terrain for a sheltered spot and probing for the ley lines to provide the sustenance they’d need. It did not take him long to locate a likely spot, a niche between a couple of large boulders fallen from higher on the ridge. In the small hollow there, leaves and dead grass had collected to form a mat.

“Here, this will do for tonight.” They sank to the ground together to sit. Aron drew his ground cloth out of its pocket on his belt and spread it over the natural mattress of dead vegetation. They both drank deeply from their canteens and then shifted to lie on the cloth, side-by-side. “Normally, I prefer to lie alone, but since it’s you…”

“We’ll rest better together,” Clay finished. “I’m not nearly as depleted as I was when you rescued me from the Trogues, but it’s still good to lie close, perhaps share a brief bit of pleasure as well as resting.”

“Spoken like a true elf. We may be solitary in many ways, but we still appreciate a good partner, a true soul-friend, when we find one. And we do enjoy our amorous sport.”

Aron turned on his side and reached to draw Clay into his arms. He still marveled to sense how good, how right it felt when the smaller man came eagerly into the embrace and reached to draw them even closer together. They might still clash at times over work and the terrible tasks ahead of them, differing on methods, tactics and priorities, but their bodies knew no such conflict, which seemed a precious miracle.

Clay’s eager touches skated over Aron’s body, finding a spot to slip underneath his tunic to the front overlap in his trousers. Soon, the human’s deft, long-fingered hands—one part that revealed his elf heritage—found Aron’s prick and began to stroke, bringing it quickly to life.

Aron bit back a moan of pleasure. Had anything ever felt better than this particular lover’s caresses? He could not bring to mind any equivalent. Bliss, pure and simple. For a few seconds, he lay passive to enjoy the sensations, but soon he had to reciprocate. The zipper on Clay’s military fatigue-style pants slid down with the faintest sound. He delved into the opening and soon clasped Clay’s cock, ringing it with his fingers only to begin a slow rhythm, drawing his grip from the base to the head and then back down. He danced his fingertips over the sensitive surface, especially just beneath the head, until Clay began to quiver, muted sounds emerging from his throat.

Aron muffled them with a hard kiss, grinding his lips against Clay’s, then thrusting his tongue between Clay’s lips as they parted. Drawing back, he murmured a phrase in Elvish, repeating it in English when he realized what he had done. “Yes, plead for me, beg. Who else can do for you what I do?”

“And only I can make you feel what you’re feeling now,” Clay returned, while his nimble fingers worked their own magic.