“Don’t let me win,” you snapped. I welcomed your passion and schooled my expression so that you’d not catch me smirking. You took your training too seriously for that.
You circled me where I knelt and tried to attack from behind. One arm wrapped around my neck in a chokehold, which I easily broke. I then grabbed you in a bear hug and dropped you flat on your back. Air escaped your lungs with a softoof, and I spread my thighs across your hips, hooking my shins around your ankles. Your arms batted wildly as your shoulders twisted, trying to break free, so I gently trapped your wrists against the mat.
“Pinned,” I said without the usual braggadocio of victory.
You bared your teeth and hissed like a cat. And then, by degrees, your body went still, submitting at last. The change triggered a primal desire that was entirely inappropriate for the context, so I raised myself to my knees and offered you my hand.
“What do you call that one?” you asked.
“Grapevine.”
“Show me how to do it.”
We circled again, and this time when you attempted a takedown, I allowed it. Miraculously or not, you maneuvered me onto my back, and when your legs twined with mine, I didn’t resist.
“You’ve conquered me,” I said when our bodies were fully interlocking. Your breath came in hard pants, your limbs stretched to their limit in order to link with mine properly.
“If only.” Your scowl was adorable. Then your expression shifted to something more calculating as you raised yourself to a sitting position, perched just beneath my groin. Placing one hand flat against my bare chest, you said, “My throat is terribly dry.” Your tone softened in cadence, as if singing a lullaby. “I’ve been breathing in this dirt and dust all day long. I wish there was a way to soothe it.”
“I’ll get you some water.” I lifted you off of me and went straight to the decanter, where I poured you a fresh glass. I offered it to you and waited until you’d had your fill. “Is that better?”
“Yes,” you said cautiously. “Let’s go again.”
It was nearing dinner time, and you’d been training for hours already. “Vincent, you’re exhausted. I can tell from the way your muscles are twitching that they need a rest.”
“I’m fine,” you argued, already getting into position.
“No,” I said sternly and hoped that it might still work on you. You glowered at me with an incensed look, so I continued, “I’m giving you a bath, and then I’m putting you to bed.”
Your eyebrows hitched. I daresay you looked interested in the prospect. “To sleep?”
“If that’s what you want.” Most nights, you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Sometimes I’d catch you dozing at dinner and carry you off to bed.
“I’d agree to that…” Your eyes drifted to my loose shorts where I was half-hard from our close contact. You placed one hand on my hip, where the waistband dipped low, and massaged the bone with your thumb. The heat of your palm seared my skin as you said in your lilting voice, “But you’ll have to give me something else, Henri. Something to fill my mouth and satisfy my hunger. To quench my thirst.” You eyed my shorts again. “Something I’ve been wanting for averylong time.”
I cleared my throat, momentarily taken aback. My compulsion to drop my pants and feed you my phallus was more than just my arousal.
“Vincent,” I said bracingly. “Are you… seducing me?”
The curve of your lips was shameless. “Is it working?”
I nodded, getting lost in your lusting eyes and the part of your lips. Somehow, you’d managed to reclaim some of your abilities, though this was altogether different in its execution. “You know my feelings on seduction,” I said, even as my fingertips brushed against your smooth jaw.
“I know, but I needed someone safe to practice on. And I didn’t want to warn you.” Your hand on my waist still caressed me softly. “Besides, you do it to me all the time, don’t you?”
“I…” I felt myself slipping under your thrall again and I welcomed it.
“Can you feel my desires?” you whispered. “Do you want to obey?”
I nodded and wondered if they were stronger because they mirrored my own. “But I don’t want you controlling me like this.” I pulled away. I’d resented Lena because of it, and to a lesser extent, Lucian as well. “I only seduce you when you’re feeling anxious, and I’ll stop altogether if that’s what you want.”
“I don’t want you to stop. I like it.” You frowned. “How about I warn you? Or I’ll tell you when I’m doing it? Fair?”
I nodded and glanced again at your mouth, compelled to ask, “Are you still thirsty?”
“Terribly,” you said with a triumphant smile.
Not wishing to make any more of a spectacle of myself, I guided you back to our suite of rooms in Lucian’s manor. Not long after, we were soaking in the palatial bath that connected to our bedroom. The tub was a rare construction that fit both our bodies with ample room to maneuver. No doubt it was an extravagance Lena had insisted upon. For her, bathing rituals were nearly as sacred as bloodmeals.
