Yarif threw his head back, the graceful column of his neck bobbing with a hard swallow. “You feel so good in me.” He brought his head up, his gaze boring into Draylon’s soul. “Faster, slower, whatever. Let me know.”
Draylon had no intention of complicating the night by giving instructions. Instead, he caught Yarif’s hips in a firm grip, thrusting the last little bit to fully bury himself in the heat of Yarif’s body.
Yarif connected their mouths tentatively, licking Draylon’s lips then backing away, only to return with an aggressive play of tongue on tongue, moaning into Draylon’s mouth. The rhythm between them never faltered.
Arms wrapped tightly around Yarif, Draylon turned, rolling Yarif onto his back without disconnecting. He secured Yarif’s calves over his shoulders, then plunged in with the intensity he’d wanted to since the first time he imagined their wedding night. Over and over, he sank into paradise—the heat and pressure the most perfect thing he’d ever felt.
He pulled out. Yarif whimpered. Draylon quickly added more oil from a vial he’d placed by the bed and returned to where he wanted to be. While he could fuck Yarif all night, Draylon wouldn’t cause pain.
At last, Yarif reached between them, taking his long, slender cock in hand, stroking in time with Draylon’s thrusts.
“That’s it, that’s it,” Draylon murmured. “Cum for me.”
Yarif arched his back off the bed, thrusting himself more fully on Draylon’s cock, strokes growing frantic, as did the lust in his eyes. On a long, throaty groan, Yarif came, gaze locked to Draylon’s.
The curling pleasure in Draylon’s groin wanted more. He clenched his teeth against the temptation to cum before allowing Yarif to.
Once, twice, three times, Yarif bucked, elegant moves now letting go into something uncontrolled by lessons in how to be a suitable consort.
With a bellow, Draylon surrendered to the moment, every muscle straining as he came deep inside Yarif’s body. His arms strained with the effort not to crash down. He held the pose for several moments, breathing hard to regain his composure.
Withdrawing took more effort than it should, Draylon reluctant to leave the perfection he’d found. Would this night repeat in their marriage, or would he never taste this rightness again? He clutched Yarif’s head to his chest, heaving breaths cooling his skin. They lay together, neither saying anything, hearts pounding hard.
Lanternlight cast shadows over the ceiling, but nothing could intrude into the cocoon of their arms around each other.
Draylon wasn’t fool enough to believe in a viable relationship based on sex, but if they could put aside their differences tonight, could they do so going forward? As Yarif said, if you must do something, why not enjoy?
Yarif rose from the bed. No!
“I wish you’d stay, at least the night.” The words came out more desperate than Draylon intended.
Yarif chuckled. “I’m just going to the washstand. I’ll be right back.”
Draylon drifted on a cloud of contented bliss, coming to when Yarif ran a wet cloth over his cock. Yarif made another trip to the washstand, then returned, climbing back into the bed, lower lip caught between his teeth.
Draylon urged Yarif close, pressing a kiss to soft golden hair before lapsing into sleep. No telling what tomorrow held, but tonight, in this moment, they’d enjoy some measure of peace.
He awoke several times before dawn, once to moonlight through the window caressing Yarif’s face.
Draylon had never been jealous of moonlight before.
Chapter Fifteen
Draylon’swarmbodybeckoned,vast planes of muscles rising and falling with each breath. How beautiful he looked in the early dawn light. Could the fact that he slept while Yarif watched him mean, deep down, he trusted Yarif, even a little?
Yarif shivered, recalling the night before. In some ways it seemed like a stranger took Yarif’s place. Practice and training kicked in. Although the priests taught him the motions, how to read a lover’s body language and please them, their instruction had been clinical, never inspiring lust and never teaching him how to enjoy the experience or ask for what he needed.
Or what to do when his body demandednow, now, now!
Last night, he’d wanted, needed, and enjoyed. If the tangled sheets slipped down a bit farther, Yarif could ogle Draylon’s thick cock. Was what he and Draylon had enough to base their marriage on? Maybe not, but they were compatible in some ways. Perhaps they’d find common ground in others.
Either way, they were stuck with each other. Being married to Draylon might not be the death sentence Yarif initially feared. They both claimed to share the same goal of running the kingdom: caring for her people.
Perhaps now, with a wedding ring firmly on his finger, Yarif would be awarded more freedom. Hadn’t Draylon said he’d return Yarif’s rapier once they wed? With more freedom came more opportunities to run if need be. So far, Draylon had given Yarif no reason to.
If Draylon stood between Yarif and the emperor, provided the protection he’d sworn to… Well, time would tell.
Yarif sat on the edge of the bed, untangling snarls in his hair with his fingers.
