The suggestion sent color flooding his cheeks, though his eyes sparked with immediate interest. After a week of exploring our dynamic, he'd learned to read the subtle differences in my tone—the way certain phrases carried additional meaning, the way simple offers could become something far more intimate.
"I'd like that," he said quietly, and the trust in his voice made something warm and possessive unfurl in my chest.
I led him to our private bathing chamber, where steam rose gently from water kept at perfect temperature by heated stones beneath the floor. The bath itself was a luxury beyond anything either of us had known in our separate quarters—large enough for two,carved from single piece of marble, filled with water that carried the faint scent of oils blessed by both our Orders.
But before we could sink into that welcoming warmth, Rion needed proper cleaning.
"Arms up," I commanded softly, and watched the way his breathing changed at the authority in my voice. He obeyed without question, letting me peel away his sweat-damp tunic and reveal the lean strength beneath.
Seven days of observation had taught me to catalog every detail: the way his shoulders moved as I lifted the fabric over his head, the small hitch in his breathing when my fingers brushed his skin, the unconscious arch of his spine that presented his body for my approval.
"Why didn't you wash at the training yards?" I asked, moving to the basin where fresh water waited. "The others would have expected it."
"Because I wanted to see you sooner," he admitted, color deepening on his cheeks. "The bond... it's been pulling stronger today. Like something urgent, something that couldn't wait. I was worried something might be wrong."
The confession sent warmth spiraling through me. To know that he felt the same magnetic draw, the same need for proximity that had been building in my own chest all afternoon, was intoxicating beyond measure.
"Nothing's wrong," I assured him, dipping a softcloth in the warm water. "The bond strengthens with time, with intimacy. What you're feeling is natural."
I began to clean him methodically, starting with his face and working downward. The cloth moved over his skin with gentle efficiency, washing away the dust and sweat of the day while my free hand followed behind, mapping newly revealed territory. His breathing grew shallow as I worked, the bond humming between us with building tension.
"It feels like more than strengthening," he said, voice rough with something that might have been need. "It feels like... hunger. Like I might die if I don't touch you soon."
The raw honesty of the admission made my cock stir with interest. To know that I affected him so powerfully, that my presence had become necessary rather than merely wanted, fed something primal and possessive in my nature.
"Soon," I promised, the cloth moving lower to trace the lines of his chest, the flat plane of his stomach, the sharp cut of his hipbones. "Let me take care of you first."
When I finally deemed him clean enough for the bath, I helped him step into the warm water, watching the way his body relaxed as heat soaked into muscles tight from training. He sank down with a sigh of pure pleasure, eyes fluttering closed as steam rose around him like incense.
I shed my own clothes quickly and joined him, settling close enough that our bodies touched along multiple points of contact. The water displaced by ourcombined presence lapped gently against the marble edges, creating small waves that caught the lamplight like liquid silver.
"Better?" I asked, though the question was purely rhetorical. I could feel his contentment through the bond, could sense the way tension bled from his shoulders as warmth penetrated deep into his bones.
"Perfect," he breathed, leaning into my side with unconscious trust.
My hands found his shoulders, kneading away the last of the day's stress with firm pressure that made him moan softly. Seven days had taught me the map of his body, the places where he carried tension and the touches that made him melt. But tonight felt different—more intense, more charged, as if the bond itself was deepening with each shared breath.
The followers of Elyon taught that sacred bonds created bridges between mortal and divine realms, that true connection opened pathways to something greater than the sum of its parts. I'd always found such teachings overly mystical, too dependent on faith rather than observable fact.
But feeling Rion's pulse synchronize with mine, tasting the salt of his skin mixed with blessed oils, breathing air that seemed thick with the scent of our combined arousal... I began to wonder if the Elyon priests might understand something I'd missed in all my scholarly analysis.
This felt sacred. Not in the way of formal ceremony, but in the way of creation itself—two separatebeings forging something entirely new through the alchemy of complete trust.
"Kaelen," Rion whispered, my name rough on his lips as my hands moved lower, tracing the lines of muscle earned through years of disciplined training. "Please."
The word went straight to my cock, already hard from the simple pleasure of touching him. But more than physical arousal, it fed the dominant instincts that had been building all week—the need to possess, to claim, to show him exactly what it meant to belong to someone completely.
"Please what?" I asked, though we both knew the answer.
"Touch me," he gasped as my hands found his thighs, thumbs tracing dangerously close to where he needed contact most. "I can't think when you're this close, can't focus on anything but wanting you."
Instead of granting his request immediately, I shifted position, moving to kneel behind him in the warm water. The new angle let me press my chest against his back, let him feel the hard length of my arousal against his spine while my hands mapped his torso with deliberate thoroughness.
"You don't need to think," I murmured against his ear, feeling the shiver that ran through him at the contact. "That's what I'm for. To think for both of us, to decide what you need, when you need it."
My hands moved with purpose now, no longer gentle comfort but claiming touch. One palm flattened against his chest, feeling the rapid flutter of his heartbeat,while the other trailed lower to wrap around his cock with possessive certainty.
The sound he made—part moan, part sob—echoed off the marble walls and went straight to my head like strong wine. He was already fully hard, his body responding to my touch with the kind of desperate need that came from a week of learning exactly what I could do to him.
