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Kieran leaned back in his seat, fanning himself with the folded up form of the day’s news. In his hand was a cup of lemonade, the ice inside clinking against the glass. The cup slipped in his sweaty palms and he hurried to catch it before it spilled.
“We probably should have considered the fact that this cabin has no cooling system before spending the weekend here in August,” Reaver said as he entered the room carrying two bowls of ice cream. He handed one to Kieran.
Kieran nodded his agreement, tossing the newspaper behind him. It wasn’t doing much to ease the heat. In fact, nothing seemed to be doing much. He had stripped completely naked an hour ago, and still could only bring himself to be slightly disgruntled when Reaver decided to spend the entirety of a conversation staring at his cock. The ceiling fan that whirred above them only seemed to push the hot air around a little bit. Kiearn knew this because before he’d resorted to nakedness, he’d stood on the couch with his face a little too close to the fan’s blades for Reaver’s comfort.
“I can’t believe that you’re fine,” Kieran panted, seriously debating whether pouring lemonade on his head would be worth it.
“Draken do not get overheated,” Reaver said. He took a seat across from Kieran. “We have naturally very high body temperatures due to the fire stored under our skin, so weather like this does nothing to us.”
“So that’s why you feel like a fucking furnace every time we sleep in the same bed,” Kieran grumbled.
“Not my fault.”
Kieran set down his glass on a wooden side table and brought a spoonful of strawberry ice cream to his mouth. The fan continued to fill the room with a soft, mechanical sound as they enjoyed their ice cream in momentary peace.
The peace was over the minute Reaver’s mouth was left unoccupied, of course.
“You know,” he started, swallowing what was left of the creamy treat, “I don’t think I’ve ever been more glad that I am a draken and not a wolven, and trust me, there have been many opportunities.”
Kieran spoon clicked loudly against the bowl as he nearly threw it down into his lap.
“I swear to the gods that if you start on yet another rant about how much better draken are than wolven, I will kill you.”
“I do not believe draken are necessarily better than all wolven…” Reaver mused, “But it is difficult to look at this situation and not automatically know who has the biological advantage here.”
Reaver’s lips twisted into a smug smile as he drank the melted ice cream from the bottom of his bowl.
“Well I don’t think biology was considering this exact situation when constructing the wolven,” Kieran argued, “Besides, if anyone is to blame for any failings it would be your precious Uncle Nicky.”
“For the last time, Kieran, Nyktos does not like to be called Uncle Nicky, and I would prefer not to see you struck down by lighting, or combusted spontaneously.” He mimed an explosion with his hands, but his face was blank as usual.
“Maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to make fun of your family if you didn’t have such a superiority complex.” Kieran grabbed his glass from the side table and shoved it in Reaver’s direction. “Now get me some more lemonade, and also my newspaper. I threw it over there.”
He pointed a finger to where it had landed on the floor, as Reaver rolled his eyes.
“I am just saying that when you consider the perks of being a draken, verses the perks of being a wolven, Kieran,” Reaver replied, pouring cool lemonade into the glass before handing it to the begrudging wolven before him, “You will find that breathing fire, flying, and possessing a frankly terrifying build do not compare to howling at the moon and pissing on a tree to mark your territory.”
He held up air quotes as he said territory.
“I don’t piss on trees,” Kieran said, holding up his middle finger in response, “No wolven has ever pissed on a tree.”
Reaver shrugged, standing up to retrieve the newspaper. He handed it to Kieran, grabbing his chair and moving it closer.
“I am sure I saw several wolven pissing on trees last week.”
“No you didn’t,” Kieran protested, “Half of the shit you claim to see you make up.”
“No,” Reaver replied, wrapping his long, tanned arms around Kieran’s torso, “I have never once made up anything in my life.”
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure that’s made up too,” Kieran said, elbowing the draken in the chest. He only hugged tighter.
Reaver’s body heat soaked into Kieran’s skin and he felt the sweat start to run down his back in thick rivulets. He shoved at the draken, whacking him in the head with the newspaper.
“Get off me, you’re making me sweat.”
Reaver nipped at Kieran’s jawline before pulling away, his expression a mix of amusement and indifference.
“I am bored of this conversation,” he said, leaning back in his seat, “It is obvious who is the winner.”
“Yeah, wolven. We can hear things up to six miles away.”
“Draken can fly,” Reaver countered, picking at his teeth with a fingernail.
“Wolven can pick up three times as many scents as an Atlantian can.”
“Draken can fly,” Reaver repeated.
“Wolven can run up to a hundred miles without stopping.”
“Draken can fly, Kieran,” Reaver said again, “And that is an ability that will always beat whatever fun facts you can come up with.”
Kieran gave him the finger for the second time. Mostly because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Reaver smirked, leaning forward and biting Kieran’s raised finger. The wolven shook him off.
“And now, if you admit that I am in fact right, then I will take you for a ride and hopefully we can get you cooled down,” Reaver offered, holding out his hand.
“Why I married you I will never know,” Kieran sighed, reaching to the chain on his neck to fiddle with his wedding ring.
It was a simple band with no frvolity in the shape. The frivolity however came with its material. The ring was made entirely out of diamond. When Kieran had seen it his first reaction had been to have a panic attack about how expensive it must’ve been. But, apparently diamonds weren’t that big a deal when you grew up around gods who had an endless supply waiting in their tear ducts. He was so afraid of losing it though, that he only ever wore it as a necklace. Kieran couldn’t remember that last time it had been on his finger. Probably the wedding day if he was being honest.
“I’m not admitting draken are better,” Kieran said, crossing his arms, “We promised to always be honest with each other and I cannot in good conscience lie to you.”
“Translation: you would rather sit here and boil than admit you are wrong.”
“I’m not wrong…” he said, “But yes.”
Reaver snorted, shaking his head. Kieran smiled though, because Reaver really couldn’t say anything regarding his stubbornness. The draken was just as headstrong, if not more.
“Wolven are better.”
“ Draken are better,” Reaver argued.
The sound of soft padding and a little “meow?” put a pause in their disagreement.
Their cat trotted into the room, taking the time to rub against the table leg and then hop up on the arm of Kieran’s chair.
He rubbed her cheek as she purred.
“I think we’ve found a winner,” Kieran joked, “Nothing can compare to how adorable Fig is, isn’t that right.”
He squeezed her face, kissing her on the nose.
“You are disgustingly obsessed with that cat…” Reaver grumbled, “But yes, Fig is cuter than a wolven.”
Kieran lifted his hand to flick Reaver on the forehead. “And a draken.”
The draken begrudgingly nodded, kissing Kieran on the cheek.
“And a draken.”