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Though it was not his first time to set foot in Jareth’s embassy quarters, Yandro felt as if it were. His previous visits had never been for personal reasons. Either he’d brought documents and other such items to Jareth to read after work hours, or he’d entered the suite to determine if Jareth needed fetching on the rare occasions the ambassador was late for a meeting. Furthermore, he’d never gone farther than the sitting room.
To enter Jareth’s bedchamber would have invited temptation, not to mention given rise to gossip.
It was for this same reason that though he had visited Jareth’s homes in Rikara and Ziana, he had never entered the residential wings of the houses. Thus, he knew some anxiety as he stepped inside the spacious chamber, but he also felt much excitement at keeping an assignation in a different setting.
The bedchamber was large and airy and its furnishings luxurious as befitted the ambassador of a powerful nation. But it was surprisingly homey too due to the informal beddings with nary a badge or monogram sewn on to indicate the rank of the room’s occupant, the plain, light-colored curtains in lieu of the dark and heavy tasseled draperies Yandro had come to associate with embassy interiors, and the many books, items of clothing and other belongings scattered around the room.
It was not messy, but neither was it so pristine as to give off a stiff ambience.
He started when Jareth came up behind him and pulled him back against his tall frame. Yandro shivered deliciously as Jareth pressed several kisses to the side of his neck and behind his ear.
“I’m filling the tub,” Jareth murmured. “Join me?”
Yandro closed his eyes. This too was a first. They’d never bathed together. The thought of such loving intimacy sent a thrill shooting up Yandro’s spine and spiraling down into his groin. His cheeks warming, he could only nod his assent.
Jareth chuckled and released him. He headed for the bathing room to the left of the bedchamber, passing the ornate liquor cabinet as he did. The cabinet had a fold-down shelf that acted as a table upon which were arranged a few glasses and bottles. One bottle caught Yandro’s eyes because of the vibrant azure hue of its contents.
“Jath, is that...”
The ambassador glanced back and saw Yandro had noticed his stock of the potent Deiran conception suppressant. He faintly smiled and said, “Yes, that’s mirash.” When Yandro looked at him, his eyebrows rising inquisitively, he sighed and added, “I indulged in all forms of intercourse, and I wanted to ensure no by-blows came of them. So I had my valet pack mirash when I started being posted abroad. Now it’s routine for him to do so. But I assure you I’ve not used it recently. There hasn’t been anyone but you since we first coupled.”
Yandro looked from him to the mirash and then back again. Jareth gazed at him in obvious appeal not to take that part of his past against him.
Relenting, Yandro smiled and said, “Verily, I admire you for doing your part not to add to the bastard population. Far too many leave it to their partners to shoulder the responsibility on their own and oft when there is no longer any means of control.”
Jareth relaxed, but he shot Yandro a slightly reproachful look. “You scared me, do you realize that? I thought you were angry anew and enough to reconsider taking me back.”
Yandro went to him and pressed a penitent kiss to his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t intend to worry you so.” He tilted his head in the direction of the bathing room, listening to the rush of water into the tub. “It sounds almost full.”
“Come then,” Jareth said, taking his hand and pulling him along.
Several loud knocks on the outer door forestalled their entry into the chamber.
“You go ahead,” Yandro said. “I’ll see who it is.”
He walked out the door into the sitting room.
“Unless whoever it is bears news of imminent war, send him away forthwith,” Jareth called after him.
Chuckling at his lover’s impatience, Yandro crossed the sitting room to the door. He opened it expecting Valin or maybe one of the embassy servants. He almost groaned when he saw it was Gawyn.
The Deir had looked rather expectant, but when he saw Yandro he treated him to a stare that blatantly questioned his right to be there. Yandro schooled his expression, looked blandly at him, and refused to react to his inquiring stare. His nonresponse effectively pushed Gawyn into the position of interloper. And from his scowl, it appeared he had enough wits to recognize this.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Yandro sweetly smiled. “Jareth requested my company. Do you have a message for him?”
Gawyn visibly stiffened. “You take liberties addressing him thusly,” he said accusingly.
Yandro briefly considered the irony of Gawyn reprimanding him for impropriety.
“I was given leave to do so,” Yandro calmly replied. He repeated, “Do you have a message for him?”
“I wish to tell him myself,” Gawyn bit out. “Where is he?”
“Bathing.”
“Bathing?” Gawyn frowned. “What is your business here then? Did he bid you to wait on him?”
Yandro stifled the impulse to pay back Gawyn’s presumption and disdain with a punch to the mouth. Wait on Jareth indeed!
He stared proudly back and stated, “On the contrary, he awaits me.”
Gawyn looked at him as though he had grown some oddity on his head. “Awaits you? Why would he wait for you?”
Yandro rolled his eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, Jareth requires my attention,” he retorted, his voice edged with acid. “You know how impatient he can be.”
“Wait!” Gawyn wedged himself in the doorway, preventing Yandro from closing the door. “You must let me speak to him! I demand he tell me why he dismissed me from the staff!”
Yandro blinked. So that was what Valin had hinted at. Jareth must have made the order before Yandro and Gawyn entered his office. Small wonder his friend had looked so pleased. But for all his glee at being rid of the proverbial thorn in his side, Yandro only uttered a reproachful, “You demand?”
Gawyn flushed. “Of course, I don’t mean that. But you have to let me in. There must be a mistake. Jareth would never do that. He needs me too much to let me go!”
It was tempting to wish the Deir into utter perdition for making such an arrogant assumption about Jareth’s preferences. Yandro tamped down on his anger and coldly said, “There was no mistake. If Jareth ordered you removed, he based his decision on your performance. Or lack of it.”
“Lack— How dare you!”
“Open your eyes, Gawyn,” Yandro finally snapped. “You have performed abysmally since you joined the staff and alienated the others with your willful disregard for policy and lack of respect due your seniors.”
“Why, tha-that’s what Valin told me,” Gawyn sputtered. “I can’t believe it! You’re all so jealous of me that you’d—that you’d spout falsehoods to bring me down!”
Yandro blinked. “You think we’re jealous of you?” he said incredulously.
“Of course you are,” Gawyn replied. He scowled when Yandro snorted in amusement. “Jareth favors me over all of you,” he petulantly insisted. “Small wonder you dislike me so.”
Yandro strove to keep from exploding at Gawyn in exasperation. No doubt the obtuse idiot would construe an outburst as envy too. “Jareth didn’t favor you as much as he tried to protect you from your misguided endeavors and lack of forethought,” he pointed out. “Had you not reminded him of someone once dear to him long ago, he would have dismissed you your first week on staff.”
“That’s a lie!” Gawyn hotly cried. “Do you really believe your stupid fabrications? Especially that claptrap about Jareth waiting for you and—”
“Yandro! Get your beautiful arse in here!”
Jareth’s bellow silenced Gawyn. He stared at the half-open bedchamber door in shock. He then looked at Yandro in disbelief, his mouth agape over the confirmation of everything Yandro had told him thus far.
“Nay...” he whispered, shaking his head.
Perceiving Gawyn’s continued state of denial, Yandro knew it was futile to try and make the latter understand. The Deir was incapable of accepting anything that went against his skewed view of his place in the world. So he decided to put an end to the conversation.
With a firm push that forced Gawyn backward and out of the way, he said, “If you wish to talk to Jareth, see him in his office tomorrow morn. As you’ve been dismissed from staff, you no longer have the privilege of entering this section of the embassy. And one more thing—he explicitly stated that you are not to address him by name, yet you continue to do so. Your discourtesy is appalling and your common sense nonexistent. Don’t be surprised if your dismissal here is followed by demotion within the Ministry. Or removal.”
“Don’t be absurd. My uncle—”
“Has been forced to resign and is now barred from serving in government for falsifying your academic records in order to justify his appointing you secretary to the Deputy Minister. That was illegal since you didn’t graduate from university, which you ought to know is a non-negotiable requirement for entry into Ministry employ.” He sighed with satisfaction when Gawyn’s expression betrayed uncertainty and apprehension. “Don’t look to him for rescue from this predicament—one you brought upon yourself.”
He closed the door in Gawyn’s face and ignored the further raps on it as he headed for the bathing chamber. He paused before entering the room when he spotted the mirash once more.
For several heartbeats he stared at the bottle. And then he picked up a glass and poured himself a dose of the suppressant. He took a deep breath before downing the liquid. It was sweeter than he’d expected, but with a slightly astringent aftertaste. After taking another calming breath, Yandro entered the bathing room.
He stopped on the threshold and swallowed when he caught sight of Jareth partially reclined in the tub, chest-deep in sudsy, herb-scented water. The ambassador did not look pleased at having been made to wait for Yandro to join him.
“Who was it?” he curtly asked.
“Gawyn.”
Jareth made a moue of distaste. “He kept you long enough. What did he want?”
“He demanded an explanation for his dismissal from the staff.” Yandro eyed him curiously. “When were you going to tell me?”
Jareth shrugged. “In due time.” He eyed Yandro back. “And did you take it upon yourself to answer his question?”
“Isn’t it one of my duties?”
“And I’m certain you performed it excellently as you always do. But what else detained you?”
“He also wanted to know why I was here. I explained you requested my company.”
“A discreet way of putting it,” Jareth said approvingly.
“He still insisted on speaking with you,” Yandro continued. “So I had to inform him you were bathing.”
“But the inquisition didn’t end there, I take it.”
“Nay. He asked if I was waiting on you.”
A frown creased Jareth’s forehead. “What does he take you for? A body servant?” He looked at Yandro curiously. “Yet you smile. Pray tell, what was your response to so rude an assumption?”
Yandro’s smile widened. “That, on the contrary, you were waiting for me.”
Jareth grinned. “Have I told you lately how much I adore your wit?”
A blush warmed Yandro’s cheeks, but he beamed at Jareth. “Unfortunately, he didn’t seem convinced. But when you demanded I get my backside in here, I think it finally dawned on him I was telling the truth.”
“Well, my timing has always been impeccable,” Jareth said with a chuckle. He pointed a wet finger at Yandro. “Now strip and get in here. I don’t want to spend another moment of this night apart from you.”
Yandro’s cheeks grew hotter, but he doffed his clothes swiftly lest Jareth step out of the tub and do it for him. As soon as he dropped his drawers, Jareth held a hand out to him and Yandro let him pull him into the water to kneel between his legs. He shivered slightly though the water was nice and warm. He could not help it when Jareth cupped his face between his hands and stroked his cheeks with his thumbs, his gaze roaming Yandro’s features.
“So beautiful,” Jareth murmured. “So strong. And wise beyond your years. How did I come to win one such you?”
“You flatter me overmuch,” Yandro said, a little breathless from such praise. He snatched up the bar of soap from the side of the tub. “Here, let me wash you.”
Jareth gently caught his wrist. “Only if you desire it,” he said. “You’re my lover, not my servant.”
Yandro smiled. He worked up a lather on Jareth’s shoulders and chest. “Is it so unusual for lovers to tend thusly to each other?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Jareth admitted, relaxing into Yandro’s ministrations. “I haven’t had one in all my lives.”
“None?” Yandro responded in surprise.
“None I would deem a lover in the true sense of the word.”
“But you took mates in your previous lives. Like Gawyn.”
“I took mates before,” Jareth confirmed. “But I never gave my heart. All my marriages were arranged for the purpose of begetting heirs. You’re the first Deir I’ve fallen in love with. The first one I actively pursued because my heart wished it and not for any reasons of duty or station.” When Yandro stared at him speechlessly, Jareth took the soap from him and drawing him closer likewise tended to him. “I’m your first ever love, too.”
Yandro closed his eyes, enjoying the caress of Jareth’s hands. “You are my first love,” he readily confirmed. “Though your conceit in making that assumption makes me wish I could deny it!”
“It’s no assumption.” Jareth soaped Yandro’s shoulders. “There could have been no other before me.”
“Why ever not?”
“You’re a new soul. You haven’t lived in the world before this cycle. So if I’m your first love in this lifetime, no one could have preceded me.”
Yandro gaped at him. “You can tell?”
“It’s a gift peculiar to the templars.”
“Holy saints...” Yandro’s muttering faded as he regarded Jareth with renewed awe and not a little trepidation. Just how much power did his lover hold?
“It would devastate me were you to fear that I would do you harm or wield my gifts for evil,” Jareth murmured.
Yandro’s apprehensions promptly receded in the face of Jareth’s self-awareness. He curled his arms around his lover’s shoulders and pressed soft kisses to his mouth, enjoying the fact he now had every right to Jareth’s favors.
“I took mirash,” he whispered.
Jareth’s stared at him in surprise. But immediately after, his eyes flashed with unadulterated lust. “My bed requires your warmth, ariad.”
They rinsed off and then stood up and stepped out of the tub. Jareth grabbed towels from the shelf by the tub and handed one to Yandro. He then plied the other over his lover’s body, taking inordinate care, almost obscenely so, when he tended to certain parts down yonder.
Perforce pausing in his own toweling of Jareth, Yandro groaned as he was stroked and fondled under the guise of being dried off.
“Would you have me spend before ever reaching the bed?” he half whimpered.
“Nay,” Jareth said with a laugh. He tossed the towels aside and taking Yandro’s hand, led him out to the bedchamber to the great four-poster in the center of the room.
Yandro trembled as Jareth bore him down upon the down-filled mattress without preamble, sealing their mouths in scorching union along the way. He had never imagined he would one day literally share Jareth’s bed.
They came together with the familiarity of long-time bedmates, but there was also a feeling of newness. For tonight they would couple as true lovers, their hearts known to each other and thus each one’s full trust given and accepted. This last was evinced by Yandro’s willingness to yield himself in reproductive intercourse, a sexual act engaged in by the majority of Deira only when in a covenantal relationship be it marital, concubinary or a betrothal.
Jareth being unsurprisingly in the less constrained minority had the benefit of previous experience. He applied himself to ensuring Yandro would not regret his decision to couple with him thusly.
To allow for enough time for the mirash to take effect, they prolonged foreplay, using their mouth and hands to bring each other to the brink of release. To this end, Yandro straddled Jareth’s groin to align their shafts so he could stroke the hard columns in tandem. So well did he do so they would have climaxed from it had Jareth not stopped his play and rolled him off and onto his back beneath him.
Gasping for renewed calm, he pressed kisses to Yandro’s mouth, jaw, and neck while he smoothed his hand down the latter’s torso until he reached his groin. He caressed Yandro’s shaft, eliciting a strangled groan he thought the loveliest music to grace his ears. He slipped his fingers beneath Yandro’s seed pouch to brush the tiny aperture hidden behind.
Yandro went still at the intimate touch and gazed half excitedly, part apprehensively at him. With a reassuring kiss, Jareth proceeded to stroke the delicate opening to initiate his turning, the process by which the Deiran body readied itself for reproductive union.
As Yandro grew progressively aroused, his seed sac slowly receded upward and slightly inward to reveal his sheath, the channel to his womb. Immutable evidence of the Deira’s descent from the dual-gendered Naere. He writhed helplessly under the unexpectedly intense sensations. Heyas! He could feel the entrance expanding and the passage beyond contracting to accommodate flesh the length and girth of a shaft. And he was exuding a goodly amount of natural lubrication as well.
He raised himself on one arm and pressed his face against Jareth’s shoulder, wrapping his other arm tightly around the ambassador. The pleasure was almost too much to bear. What more when penetration took place?
Unexpectedly, Jareth pushed him back down and then moved lower between his thighs. Yandro caught his breath when Jareth pushed up his legs by the knees and spread them apart. He caught Yandro’s gaze, flashed him a predatory smirk, and then lowered his head suddenly to press his lips to the delicate opening.
Yandro nearly reared up at the sensation, a soft keen escaping him. He gasped raggedly when he felt the repeated dip of Jareth’s tongue into him, each incursion deeper than the last. He heard someone sobbing and realized a moment later the sounds were his. Rapture started to uncoil in his belly, and he frantically reached down to clutch at Jareth’s shoulders.
“Enough, Jath!” he begged. “I’ll scream the chancery down if you don’t stop!”
Jareth lifted his head and eyed him roguishly. “And why is that a thing to avoid? There’s naught as wondrous to mine ears as your voice raised in ecstasy.”
“Sweet Veres,” Yandro mumbled, letting his head fall back. “Of all times to wax poetic.”
Thankfully, Jareth decided to heed him. He felt his lover shift upward and move between his legs. And then there was the press of hard flesh into a part of him he’d once thought he would never yield.
It stung quite fiercely when the vestigial membrane inside gave way before Jareth’s shaft. Yandro could not deny the pain. It reminded him of the first time he’d had Jareth up his backside. But while the subsequent discomfort then had been more of a dull ache following the initial burn, this continued to smart as he was filled completely.
Just when he would have flinched, Jareth withdrew slightly and then pushed in once more. His shaft rubbed against the countless nerve endings inside Yandro’s sheath. Yandro gasped as the pain subsided to be replaced by pleasure of a different kind. It did not radiate from one point within, but spread in random waves throughout his belly. Yandro shuddered in delight at the new sensation.
He could not help lifting his buttocks to meet Jareth’s thrusts, desiring to be speared as deeply as possible. As the sensations sharpened, so did his awareness that it was Jareth’s shaft inside of him, sliding in deep to possess him as no one else ever had. To experience so beauteous a Deir owning him thusly was wondrous and fulfilling. It simply felt so right. As if it was what he’d been born to do.
Joy collided with mounting ecstasy. Tears threatened to spill. They did so anyway despite Yandro’s efforts to hold them back by shutting his eyes tightly. He felt Jareth go still and the touch of his lover’s fingers on his damp cheek. Yandro opened his eyes to gaze at him.
Jareth was frowning anxiously. “What is it? Did I hurt you?”
He started to pull out. Yandro quickly slung a leg behind Jareth’s thighs to keep him from withdrawing.
“Nay, I’m not hurt,” he assured him.
“Then why the tears?” Jareth softly asked, wiping another trickle away with his thumb.
Yandro smiled. “Forgive me, I am only so...” He paused, struggling for the right words. At length, he whispered, “I am overcome. It hasn’t changed since the first time you took me. Veres forgive me if I blaspheme, but whenever you are inside me, it is as a blessing. A miracle that I should know how it feels to couple with a god.”
Jareth groaned and leaned down to press their foreheads together. “Deity’s blood, the things you say!” he muttered.
He kissed Yandro hard while sliding his hands under his buttocks to pull him closer. Yandro moaned against his lips as he thrust deep into him. He repeated the motion, taking it slow but steadily, making sure Yandro felt each act of penetration every inch of the way in.
Lost in utter bliss, Yandro curled his arms around Jareth’s back and wrapped his legs about his waist, urging Jareth to sink in to the hilt with every thrust. His tears flowed once more as he bore the wondrous ingress of Jareth’s shaft. He could not help it. His happiness was too great; his pleasure beyond intense. He clutched at Jareth’s back as he was relentlessly cleaved, the flesh that filled him hot and hard and fulsome almost beyond bearing. But not quite. However way Jareth took him, he never knew other than joy and a sense of rightness.
They were a perfect fit. As rapture overtook him at last, Yandro knew himself created to be the sheath to Jareth’s sword. And the keeper of his beloved’s heart.