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Ziana, in the 3014th Year of the Common Age
A plaintive cry pierced the quiet. The cry progressed into a shrill wail that announced to all and sundry a hungry infant was demanding to be fed.
Yandro hurried across the bedchamber and lifted his two-week-old son out of his crib. The babe had shed his natal shell just that morn. Shorn of what had been his built-in source of nourishment during the fortnight since his birth, young Brion Hadrana thar Essendri would henceforth rely on Yandro to feed him.
Nature provided for this transition by ensuring that about a week prior, the birthing parent started to produce estra, the nutrient-rich, milk-like liquid on which Deiran infants subsisted until they could be weaned, usually after about a year and a half.
Brion ceased his crying when Yandro cuddled him, cooing soothingly as he walked to the corner chair by the garden window.
It overlooked the spacious gardens below and had one of the best views of the Sag Habron, the towering perpetually snow-capped mountains which nigh encircled Ziana, the city-fief that was the seat of power of House Hadrana. In plain sight too was the oldest temple to Veres in the continent still open for public worship. It shone in the sunlight, its walls and belfry built of the pale gray stone streaked with silvery ore which made the city appear from afar to be wrought from that precious metal.
To the public, the temple was a venerable place of worship. To Yandro it was the site of his long-held hope finally fulfilled. Three years ago, it was in the temple he and Jareth had bound to each other in eternal wedlock.
Making himself comfortable, Yandro undid his shirt and guided his son to one plumper-than-usual nipple. He yelped a little when Brion latched onto it and began to suck as hard as only a hungry babe could. Yandro shook his head, a rueful smile curving his mouth. He had not expected the first suckle to hurt so much.
As his son fed, he let his gaze wander from the top of Brion’s dark crown to the tips of his chubby toes. He was still awed at how rapidly a newborn could grow in size and length in the span of only a fortnight. Yandro looked back to the moment he first laid eyes on his son, a tiny, almost doll-like figure securely ensconced in the half-oval natal shell that provided sustenance for Deiran infants for the first two weeks of their lives. Brion had been no bigger than Yandro’s fist, his natal shell just inches larger than a pair of cupped hands. Now he nicely filled the crook of Yandro’s right arm.
Brion had Yandro’s curling, black-brown hair and teal-hued eyes, but he had inherited Jareth’s aristocratic features and, fortunately for one of Essendri blood, his height, as evidenced by his long limbs and torso. As for his skin, it was midway between Yandro’s coppery coloring and Jareth’s fair complexion. He was a beauteous child and that opinion was not all due to a besotted parent’s bias.
Though begotten by two parents whose shared profession was peripatetic in nature, little Brion had been born not in a foreign land, but in his sire’s own place of birth. Jareth had been most insistent that all his sons would be citizens of Ylandre alone. Thus he brought Yandro back to the kingdom from their most recent posting in Arvalde in the sixth and last month of his breeding period and thence to the fastness of Ziana that he might be in the care of Lord Alvare, Jareth’s birthing father.
Yandro smiled at the memory of his law-father’s welcome. Seeing Yandro’s advanced state of breeding, he’d scolded an abashed Jareth for waiting so long before bringing him home. Had he not realized traveling via translocation could spur premature birthing? How could he be so knowledgeable about foreign policy yet ignorant of so basic a law of nature? Yandro had done his best not to snicker at Jareth’s discomfiture and then enjoyed the fussing and coddling the Heris tended to subject him to. It was always refreshing to be treated like a treasure by someone other than his spouse.
A shadow fell over them and Yandro looked up to meet Jareth’s steel-blue gaze. A grin quirked Jareth’s mouth while his eyes twinkled in amusement.
“He didn’t wait long to demand his first feeding, did he?” he said with a chuckle.
Yandro smiled. “I thought he would take a long nap first,” he admitted. “No such luck. It’s fortunate I rescheduled the meeting with the Minister’s head of staff else I might have mortally offended him by dashing off in the middle of everything.”
Though they were officially on leave from their duties, they were still sought after for counsel or assistance such that people took the trouble to travel to Ziana if they urgently needed to consult with them. It had taken Yandro several months to get used to being in such demand following the recognition he’d gained for his part in averting war between Ylandre and Teraz. When Rohyr Essendri himself appointed him a consul, his prestige further increased, as did the attempts to merit his attention or approval.
Though enormously proud of his achievements, Jareth had nevertheless balked at being parted from Yandro on account of their positions. He’d put forth all his influence and collected a number of debts owed him to ensure he and Yandro were always given joint long-term assignments. He’d lately agreed to separate missions, but only if they were very brief and did not require their being on different continents.
Jareth snorted. “If he were the Minister himself, he would have every right to complain. But a mere head of staff?”
“You’d better hope that particular opinion never gets back to Valin,” Yandro mildly rebuked him. “Imagine if he retaliates by bringing Gawyn back into the staff.”
A slight shudder perceptibly rippled through Jareth’s tall frame.
He had not yet completely forgiven himself for allowing his past connection to Gawyn to nearly ruin the relationship he and Yandro had started to build. Yandro had reassured him many a time that he did not hold Jareth’s lapse of good judgment against him, but there still lingered traces of Jareth’s guilt over the matter. Though years had passed since they soul-bound to each other, Jareth continued to make amends for that failing in every way possible. Brion was the outcome of one of those ways.
Hardly a day passed that Jareth did not show Yandro how much he cherished him through the joining of their bodies, sometimes taking him to bed when it was least expected. It was during one of those unexpected times that Brion was conceived. The mirash Yandro hastily ingested had not yet taken effect before Jareth made love to him with a thoroughness that left Yandro quite limp and nigh incapable of coherent speech. However, the flaring of heat in his belly quickly restored his articulacy, which he stridently unleashed on Jareth when the simmer did not die down for a goodly while. A visit to a physician the next day confirmed he had indeed conceived.
The half year that followed left him bouncing between exhilaration over carrying Jareth’s child and anxiety over everything that might go wrong in a first-time breeding. His ambivalence lasted all the way to the moment the birthing seam parted and his son emerged from the womb. After that, all his uncertainty vanished to be replaced by a surety of purpose and a deep devotion to his first child.
“So irresistible,” he heard Jareth murmur.
Yandro’s smile widened. “Of course you’d say that of your son.”
“I wasn’t talking about Brion, though he is indisputably beautiful.”
There was a sultriness to Jareth’s voice which alerted Yandro to a change in his spouse’s mood. He stared at Jareth and noted how his mate’s gaze shifted from Yandro’s face to dropping to his chest. Yandro realized with dismay that a damp spot now darkened the left breast of his shirt. He felt heat flood his cheeks.
“I find I’m rather envious of our son,” Jareth commented.
Yandro suddenly found his consciousness flooded with images of himself astride Jareth’s lap, his breeches flung out of the way, his shirt open and falling off his shoulders. All the while, he wantonly rode Jareth’s shaft, lowering himself in wild abandon on the hard flesh to fill himself to the brim. Meanwhile, Jareth’s lips closed around a darkly rosy nipple and lustily drew upon it until estra flowed into his mouth. And as he suckled Yandro’s nipple, he reached down to wrap his fingers around Yandro’s member as it proudly nosed upward between them.
With a gasp, Yandro forcibly pushed the images out of his mind the way Jareth had taught him and reinforced his shields. Too late. His body thrummed with need as the scarlet imagery lingered in his thoughts.
“I’m not yet fully recovered from birthing,” he protested a little shakily.
That was true. The birthing seam that crossed his belly was fully sealed and no longer caused him pain. But it was still the red of a freshly mended wound and sharp movements made it pull enough to sting.
“And did I say I would bed you now?” Jareth replied, his lips pursed into a charming pout. “What do you take me for? An inconsiderate brute?” When Yandro eyed him skeptically, he sighed and added, “I was only enjoying the view. I promise I have no intention of fucking you into the mattress before you’re ready.”
Yandro rolled his eyes at Jareth’s crude language. “Well, see that you keep your word,” he muttered.
The pressure on his nipple let up and he glanced down to find Brion fast asleep, his tiny fist tucked against his chest. After Yandro carefully swaddled him, Jareth took the babe and lowered him into the crib. Yandro smiled as he watched Jareth gaze down at their son, his face a picture of tenderness and abject love.
At length, Jareth walked back to him. But to Yandro’s surprise, he got down on one knee before him so that their faces were almost level. Jareth took Yandro’s hands in his and held them almost reverently.
“What is it?” Yandro asked.
Jareth raised Yandro’s hands to his lips and, briefly closing his eyes, kissed the knuckles. He lowered Yandro’s hands to his lap and raised shining eyes to him.
“I’m still amazed I won you,” he half whispered. “I must have done a few things especially worthy in my past lives to be deemed deserving of you.”
Yandro stared at him. He thought his heart would burst from the sudden blossoming of pure joy Jareth’s words produced. “Surely you did enough good in this life to deserve anything you desire,” he gruffly said past the sudden lump in this throat.
Jareth shook his head. “To have gained one such as you? The achievements of many lifetimes would still be lacking. I’m truly blessed as I never expected to be after waiting for my heart’s mate for so long.”
He lifted his head and sealed their mouths together in a gentle but heated kiss. Yandro surrendered to the caress, enjoying their intimacy. He sighed as Jareth released his lips to trail kisses along his jaw and down his throat. Humming softly in contentment, he was slow to realize what his spouse was about until cool air washed across his chest once more.
Catching his breath, he pulled back and, looking down, saw Jareth had unbuttoned his shirt and spread it open. Jareth’s hand rested atop his left breast, his thumb idly rubbing the rapidly hardening nipple. A milky drop exuded from the tiny peak. Yandro tried to level an indignant gaze on his errant spouse.
“You promised you wouldn’t try to bed me yet!” he reminded him.
Jareth smirked. “But I’m not trying to bed you. There are other ways of taking my pleasure of you, ariad.”
Swift as a bird of prey, he swooped down and latched onto the nipple, sucking hard on it even as he lecherously laid his right hand over the bulge in Yandro’s crotch.
“Jath!”