The meal

The pale moon was shining through the dirty glass window as Amarïs was lying on the bed wide awake. The fire in the fireplace was slowly turning into ashes, and the room was getting colder. Amarïs felt his pulse slowly adjusting, and his naked, purple skin felt cooling as sweat evaporated and dried. He adjusted his legs, but the human-sized bed was too short for the tall Night Elf.

The couple on his both sides had fallen asleep exhausted from the playful evening but in their sleep they had hogged all the covers to keep their own naked bodies warm. The female on his right had rolled onto her side and turned her back towards Amarïs while the male on his left was snoring silently on his stomach.

Shanna and Broyle they had introduced themselves earlier, downstairs in the dining hall of Goldshire Inn. "Traveling merchants of exquisite spices", Broyle had bowed with a jest. The couple were celebrating a deal with the inn to deliver a monthly supply of spices around the world. The place had been otherwise quite empty as it was not dinnertime yet so the three of them had shared a table and a meal and a bottle of Dalaran Noir. The conversation had been light, touching some topics of current affairs, the relative peace and quiet that had followed the armistice between Alliance and Horde. It was a good time to deal spices, the merchants had said, as wars and immediate ends of the world, plural, weren't taxing the people. "There's more time for feasts and fun, when people aren't afraid of their lives", Broyle had said with a smirk.

Broyle was a broad-shouldered man with blue eyes and thick dark beard and chest full of hair. Shanna, his business and life partner and bodyguard, was a muscular woman with long, brown hair braided up.

The food at the inn was deliciously spiced Amarïs had pointed after the meal. "Definitely feeling like a feast." Shanna had looked pleased. "We have other spices too", Broyle had answered. "Even more exotic. The kinds for fun after the meal", he smiled and stared Amarïs into his eyes. Amarïs turned over to Shanna who leaned forward too, smiling at the two men. "But that's a conversation for upstairs", she had said.

Amarïs didn't want to wake the two sleeping humans, so he listened to their breathing. But he was getting colder. Amarïs looked around the room and saw his travelling robes in a pile on the floor next to his undergarments and boots. Night Elves are tall and big but very agile. The wooden bedframe didn't make a creak as Amarïs slid off of the soft mattress. He stepped across the floor towards the fireplace, and stretched in the warmth of the dying cinders. The woozy arousal that the spices had caused was definitely turning into a warm, relaxing feeling.

"An impressive sight", Amarïs heard Broyle whisper from the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you", Amarïs apologized. Broyle chuckled: "Unlike my bodyguard over here, I'm a light sleeper... whereas you don't seem to be much of a sleeper at all." "Well, as you may know, my people are quite nocturnal. We have just adjusted to the cycles of the daywalkers. And thank you...", Amarïs smiled, "you are quite pleasant to look at as well."

Broyle brushed his blanket aside and got up from the bed. "Were you just about to get dressed and leave into the night without so much as goodbye?" he said walking toward Amarïs. In the dark room, Broyle's sand-colored skin was like glowing gold in Night Elf eyes. Broyle pressed towards Amarïs, and Amarïs could feel the bed-warmed heat of Broyle's body. He gently ran his fingers on the man's chest. The spices, it seemed, were not waning yet.

"I guess I'm not in any hurry."