The Only Option by Megan Derr

that you're of no use to anyone if you get yourself killed,” Rochus added, unfazed by the scowl that gained him. “Although I suppose that's not true. Such a vibrant spirit would be extremely useful to me.”
    Tilo narrowed his eyes and slowly stood up, moved around the table.
    “It was a—” Rochus oofed as Tilo shoved him backward, butting against the work table behind him, “—jest. I was only jesting.”
    “Oh, I'm aware, magus,” Tilo replied and fisted his hands in Rochus's shirt. “I know for a fact there's more than my spirit that appeals to you.”
    Rochus again tried to reply, but was cut off by Tilo's mouth against his, hot and insistent, familiar and sorely missed. Damn the man. It took more effort than he'd ever admit to tear away. “What are you doing?”
    “What I want,” Tilo replied. “As much as you keep insisting otherwise, I've never done anything I didn't want to do.”
    Rochus tried to shove him away, glaring when Tilo refused to be budged. “Yes, because if you had happened to be in that tavern on any other night, you would have sought out a crusty old necromancer. I don't understand how you can lie so smoothly in one breath and be so abysmal at it in the next.”
    “I'm a terrible liar,” Tilo said. “Everyone tells me so. I told you, I'd never met a necromancer before. All I knew was gossip. I went that night to—”
    “To see if you could stand—”
    “No!” Tilo said, letting go of his shirt just long enough to thump Rochus on the chest. “Would you let me speak? Not to see if I could stand to go through with anything. To make certain I wouldn't gawk like an idiot or ask stupid or hurtful questions or anything. I was hoping to meet a necromancer to make certain I could act properly and maybe even impress you. I got, um, distracted. Then I learned your name and realized I was in trouble no matter what I did.”
    Rochus kept hold of the hand Tilo had been foolish enough to loose from his shirt and started trying to pry the other one off. “I see.”
    “No, you don't!” Tilo replied and withdrew—then grabbed him up and slammed him onto the table. Rochus was too stunned to do anything, which gave Tilo plenty of time to climb up on the table, straddle him, and pin his wrists. “You still think I'm lying.”
    Rochus let out a ragged breath. “In your defense, no one has ever argued quite this… ardently.”
    Tilo gave a toothy smile. “I'm telling the truth. Do you seriously think I make a habit of approaching men I think won't give me so much as a glance?”
    “Habit? I doubt it, as busy as you've been trying to kill yourself,” Rochus retorted, “but I find it hard to believe anyone has ever turned you down.”
    “You tried,” Tilo replied.
    Rochus sighed. “There are still a lot of old fashioned types around who think necromancers are better off dead, or at least severely maimed. You'd have hardly been the first pretty youth sent to coax me to an unwise location. Let me up, this table isn't comfortable.”
    “No. Not until you believe me.” The scowl on his face looked more like a pout, and despite everything, Rochus almost smiled.
    “I believe you,” Rochus said. “But whether or not you wanted to fuck me doesn't change the fact that you are less than half my age and I am tired—” Tilo cut him off with a kiss. Rochus responded reflexively, unable not to respond to that sweet, hot mouth—but then reality returned, and he bit down hard on Tilo's bottom lip, causing him to jerk back. “Stop it.”
    “I'm old enough to make my own decisions,” Tilo snapped. “If you don't want me, fine, say so and I'll leave you alone. I don't want to fuck somebody not interested in me any more than you do. But it's not your job to make my decisions for me.” He scowled harder when Rochus didn't immediately reply, but then the look faltered. “Unless I misread and you don't—”
    Rochus sighed. “This would be so much easier if I didn't.”
    “So why are you