We finished our dinner in silence. We had to package your mostly uneaten meal and bring it home. I’m sure Xavier had to throw it out later or eat it himself, because I didn’t see you touch that steak again.
“Do I remind you of him?”you asked a few nights later. You were luxuriating in my arms, having just pleasured me with your mouth. You were growing more comfortable with fellatio, which delighted me immensely. Nothing pleased me more than seeing your big brown eyes staring up at me in worship. You’d not developed a taste for my seed, instead encouraging me to mark your skin.
“In some ways, yes, but more because of the way I feel when I’m with you.” I dug my fingers into your curls. It was probably the only physical attribute the two of you shared. I had often petted Lior’s rich, black curls in a similarly affectionate manner. He had also thrived under my steadfast attention.
“How’s that?” you asked. You didn’t seem to be seeking validation, but even if you were, I didn’t mind providing it.
“With him and you as well, I feel at ease, as though it’s safe for my better nature to surface. On the battlefield, I had to be strong, ruthless, and unwavering. A demigod cannot be weak. I had to do things that were unsavory, even for me. But with Lior, I could be soft. He didn’t idolize me for my valor as the other men did. He loved me for my gentleness and devotion. He didn’t see me as a monster, and it made me feel… human.”
“You’re not a monster,” you said and kissed the tip of my nose. I could argue that point, but you were so warm and pliant in my arms. Even if it wasn’t true, I wanted you to believe it.
“Did you make love to him?” you asked in a low voice.
“Yes,” I said. A thousand times over. I was his only lover, and once I found him, I stopped seeking any others. That they would abuse his body so—after he’d dedicated himself to setting their broken bones and stitching up their torn skin and punctured organs—seemed to me the ultimate betrayal.
“Will you make love to me?” you asked, peering up at me.
“Is that what you want, cucciolo? I believe there was some debate as to who would do what to whom.”
“Oh my god, Henri, please say ‘fuck.’”
“It’s too vulgar a word for such an act.”
“Fine, then yes, I want you to do the work.”
I’d argue that the work and pleasure would be shared between us, but I was caught up on something else. There were many ways humans bonded, and this was one of them. “I would be your first,” I mused.
“Yeah, duh.”
I shot you a look of reprimand, and you grinned. You knew how I despised that word, but I let it go.
“I can’t guarantee it will be this way forever.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me, Henri.”
“I would marry you,” I said without any hesitation. “I’d spend my life with you, if I could.”
You dropped your gaze. Perhaps it was too much of a commitment for you. You were young still and hadn’t experienced all the thrills life had to offer. Humans could be fickle.
“I understand the risks,” you said. “I know your mom is a whack job and that Xavier could pull out at any time, but I want this. I need it, Henri. It has to be you.”
I knew it was true. You might have other lovers in your lifetime, but none who could show you pleasure the way I could.
“Tomorrow then. If you still feel this way, we can make love all day long.”
“I will,” you said with resolve.
You melted against me like blood pooling on a cut, and I stroked your back until you fell asleep. As with most nights, I stayed awake for as long as I could, enjoying your weight against me, listening to the soft, regular beat of your heart and your even breath, the noises that assured me you were alive and well.
Not leaving you that night was my mistake.
27
Orlando
“Tell me what you want, lover,” you whispered in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine that pooled in my balls. I was instantly hard.
“I want you to make love to me, Henri.”
