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They should have known better than to go riding on a cloudy day with nary a glimpse of blue amidst the gray, Zykriel thought as he spurred his steed into a furious gallop. The second wet season was over, but it was not unheard of for the previous summer’s heat or heavy rains to recur for a week or two mid-autumn. He swore under his breath as huge drops of water pelted him relentlessly. He glanced back at Qristan. The Medavin’s hair was already plastered to his head. His cloak would not hold up against the rain much longer. Zykriel could feel water seeping through his own cape.
“How much farther?” Qristan shouted.
“Just beyond those trees!”
The summerhouse came into view, a welcome sight as the downpour turned into a veritable deluge. They hurriedly tethered their mounts in the shelter of a thickly crowned ash tree and then ran the short distance to the small structure.
Zykriel winced as they tracked water and mud into the summerhouse. He used the door mat to wipe up most of the mess. Light brightened the interior behind him and he turned to watch Qristan light the second of two oil lamps hanging from the ceiling.
The white rectangular structure stood in the middle of a grove. It was one of several summerhouses scattered across the grounds of Calanthe House. This one was the farthest, standing nigh to the bounds of the estate, and also the most rustic in appearance. Mint green curtains framed the windows and a thick, dark blue rug occupied the center of the room. Two wicker chairs with beige cushions were set against the back wall. The lack of dust and mustiness indicated the summerhouse had been recently tended. Thankfully, it was tolerably cool inside.
They doffed their sodden cloaks, tunics and jerkins and hung them from the coat rack by the door and then pulled off their boots. After a moment’s hesitation, they stripped off their damp shirts as well. It was foolish to observe modesty when keeping wet clothing on might lead to a bad cold or lung fever. Not to mention illogical for two Deira who’d already been sexually intimate with each other.
Qristan stood by one window and stared at the pouring rain in fascination. He traced a finger along the streaks of water on the glass pane, his eyes shining and his mouth curved into a small smile. After watching him for several seconds, Zykriel knew he could do naught but bow to the inevitable.
“It’s just rain,” he murmured, coming up beside him.
Huffing a chuckle, Qristan glanced at him before returning his attention to the view outside. “You know it doesn’t rain like this in Medav.”
“So brief downpours are the most you’ve experienced?” Zykriel asked, remembering the dash across the lawn behind the Shidara castle during a cloudburst.
“Aye. Most occur in the mountains and don’t last long enough to cause flooding as I’ve heard occurs here. Thundershowers are more the norm in Elana.”
“And blizzards.”
Qristan laughed. “Blizzards and hailstorms.” He looked once more at Zykriel with some amusement. “You hated them, yet Losshen has its fair share of winter storms.”
“True, but the fiercest of them mostly sweep the northernmost reaches. Syvonna is far and sheltered enough that we don’t suffer the worst storms.” Zykriel gestured toward the chairs. “If we must wait this one out, let us do so in comfort.”
“I prefer the rug,” Qristan said with a grin. “Should I fall asleep, it’ll be far more comfortable than a chair.”
He strode to the rug and threw himself down on it. Zykriel snorted and followed suit. They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rain pounding on the roof or watching water slide down the window panes in sheets.
“How long will this last, do you think?” Qristan asked.
“Likely a goodly while.” Zykriel shook his head. “A pity we didn’t think to bring liquor with us. I could do with a good ale right now.”
He started when Qristan suddenly rose to his feet. He headed for their hanging clothes and thrust his hand inside his tunic. He returned and tossed a small flask into Zykriel’s lap.
“Brandy,” he said as he sat down. “I like to carry some with me whenever I ride.”
Zykriel brightened. “Thank Veres for your foresight.”
He uncapped the flask and took a swig. With an approving grin, he handed the brandy to Qristan who likewise imbibed a generous mouthful.
“Why a summerhouse this far out?” he asked.
“It was originally a hunting lodge way back when game still roamed the estate,” Zykriel explained. “An accident occurred shortly after my great-grandsire became Herun. A rabid wolvern got as far as the tenants’ cottages and killed a family. So a fence was raised and all hunting was restricted to the forest and fields beyond it—there’s a gate a mile from here. But it seems he thought it a waste to raze the lodge or let it fall into disrepair. So he had it converted into this summerhouse for when the family rode out this far.”
“That was prudent of him.” Qristan visibly hesitated and Zykriel saw indecision flicker in his features. At length, he sighed and said, “I received news of Davian in this morning’s mail. He was hanged a sennight ago.”
Zykriel pursed his lips. Much as he loathed the Deir, he took no joy in the latter’s execution. The taking of life might be cause for relief but never reason to celebrate. He noted Qristan’s pensiveness.
“You’re relieved he was spared the torment of flaying.” When Qristan nodded, he felt a slight pang in his breast. “I suppose it's only to be expected given your relations with him.”
He tried to keep his tone even. Jealousy had no place here now that his foe was dead and his name forever tarnished.
Qristan visibly flinched. “I have loved just one Deir in all my life though I was constrained to hide what I felt,” he said in a hushed voice. He looked at Zykriel, his heart plainly in his eyes. “I love only you, Zyk.”
Zykriel could not suppress the jubilation in his heart at Qristan’s reiteration of his affections. But given the rocky beginnings of their relationship, he acknowledged the need for more assurance.
“Then why such sorrow over his passing?”
“Not sorrow. Rather guilt that my foolishness led him to believe he could come between us. I played a part in his downfall.”
Zykriel shook his head. “It was the promise of wealth and power that proved a temptation too great for him to resist. That he thought collusion in betrayal an acceptable means of removing an obstacle bespeaks a weakness that would have led him to ruin even had you not encouraged his delusions. Which you did unwittingly might I remind you. Regret how your folly nigh ruined our marriage, but don’t fault yourself for his actions or death. He alone is to blame for his fate.”
Qristan smiled wanly at him. “You’re so kind,” he softly said.
They fell silent for a spell. Qristan wrapped his arms around his knees, his gaze on the rain-slick windows. His hair was molded to his head, damp tendrils sticking to his cheeks and forehead. Moisture lent a sheen to his fair skin, a streak of water marked the cleft in his chest and his breeches clung to his groin and legs, clearly delineating the sinew and muscle beneath. Not to mention the slight bulge in his crotch.
With a sigh, Zykriel moved to Qristan’s side and slung his arm across the latter’s shoulders. Qristan started and glanced at him in surprise. When Zykriel did not withdraw his arm, he regarded him searchingly.
“We can keep each other warm,” Zykriel murmured.
Qristan smiled. He relaxed into the embrace. “Aye, that we can.”
They stayed thusly in comfortable silence, Qristan watching the rain and Zykriel watching him. The more he gazed at his spouse, the greater the resurgence of his love and desire. Finally, he could keep still no longer and he lifted his other hand to stroke the shell of Qristan’s ear with a finger and run his knuckles down his cheek. Qristan turned his head to stare at him.
Rather than answer his unspoken question, Zykriel met his gaze and then leaned forward to kiss him. Qristan froze at first, but soon eagerly returned it. The tender gesture quickly progressed into a torrid caress and before long, they were lying on their sides, bodies pressed hard against the other, their mouths sealed in hot-tongued union.
When the aches in their groins proved unbearable, they hurriedly doffed their breeches and drawers, Zykriel virtually tearing the latter from Qristan’s hips when he did not bare himself quickly enough. Qristan laughed and slung a leg over his hips to pull him flush against his body. Zykriel groaned as their shafts rubbed against the other for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.
He lured his spouse into an erotic duel of their tongues while reaching between them to stroke his shaft. Qristan gasped against his lips and started to thrust into his hand.
Zykriel broke their kiss to press his lips to Qristan’s throat and shoulders, sucking hard enough to leave bruises in his wake. “I missed you. I didn’t want to but Veres help me, I did.” He rolled Qristan onto his back and wedged his hips between his thighs. “Spread your legs. I’m going to fuck you until you can’t see straight.”
“Saints preserve me,” Qristan muttered yet he quickly did as he was bid, opening himself to Zykriel’s heated gaze and sensual touch.
They would not engage in reproductive intercourse. Zykriel wanted to enjoy their renewed intimacy for a long while yet without worrying about conceiving a child. But they did not have oil so the lubrication produced by Qristan’s sheath would have to do. He set to turning the latter’s body, slipping a hand between his thighs to stroke the tiny opening behind his seed sac. Qristan moaned and spread his legs wider as the stimulation intensified. Zykriel licked his lips at the wanton picture he made.
Recalling how sensitive Qristan’s nipples were, he leaned down and licked one pert nub before sucking it to a hardened little peak. Hearing his mate’s gasped out approval, he latched onto the other nipple, catching it between his lips and using his tongue to stroke it to as swollen a state as its partner. With a whimper of delight, Qristan arched into the caress.
His response triggered an intense need in Zykriel to hasten his turning and thus provide enough lubrication to breach his arse easily. He pressed two fingers in, intent on mimicking the stimulation brought on by the repeated entry of a shaft. As slick, snug warmth enclosed his fingers, he nearly spent himself then and there.
It was a rude shock when Qristan suddenly grabbed his wrist forcing him to cease his ministrations.
“Wait, stop!”
Zykriel frowned in frustration. “Why, what is it?”
Qristan fought to catch his breath. “We can’t go further. Not like this.”
Zykriel pulled back as if slapped. “But of course. Pardon my presumptuousness,” he almost snapped.
Qristan jerked upright. “What?”
“I’ll see you back at the house.” Zykriel started to get to his feet.
“Nay!” Qristan pulled him back down. “Don’t leave me!”
Zykriel stared at him in confusion. “I don’t understand. You just told me you don’t want to couple with me.”
“I said no such thing. Veres knows how much I want you.”
“Then why did you stop me?”
“I just— It’s the curtains...”
Zykriel blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“We need to draw the curtains,” Qristan explained. “I don't care to provide fodder for someone’s lurid imaginings.”
“Heyas!” Zykriel looked at him incredulously. “Are you serious?”
“Aye,” Qristan mumbled, his cheeks starting to redden.
“Who would come here in the middle of a rainstorm, pray tell?”
“Someone seeking shelter like we did?”
Zykriel gaped for a moment. And then he chuckled. He rose to his feet and swiftly drew the curtains to hide the interior from prying eyes. He also latched the door for good measure. He dropped down beside his spouse again.
“Satisfied?” he inquired with a grin.
Qristan heaved a sigh of relief. He wove his arms around Zykriel’s neck and pulled him atop him as he lay down. “Have me.”
“Until you’re too sore to sit down for long, much less walk,” Zykriel murmured salaciously.
“Oh aye,” Qristan breathed out. He took Zykriel’s hand and guided it back between his thighs. “Take me in every way,” he whispered. “I want you to own me thoroughly.”
Zykriel shook his head. “I won’t chance getting you with child just yet.”
“You won’t,” Qristan assured him. “I took mirash before we set out.”
“You took—” Zykriel stared at him. “That’s confident of you.”
“Nay, I wasn’t sure. But ... I hoped.” Qristan flashed him a shy smile. “I’ve been taking mirash whenever I thought you might desire to couple with me.”
“Sweet Veres...”
“And I’ve also taken, er, precautions in case you wanted my arse again.” He half turned and reached into the pocket of his cast-off breeches. He drew out a small bottle of oil.
Zykriel was briefly rendered speechless. When at last he found his tongue all he could blurt out was, “You sly minx!”
Qristan’s eyes widened uncertainly. “You don't want this?”
“On the contrary.” Zykriel laughed and bent to kiss his spouse breathless. “I approve most heartily of your foresight,” he murmured against Qristan’s lips.
He proceeded to finish what he’d started, stroking the delicate lips of Qristan’s sheath until his seed sac contracted and rose slightly to allow access to the now glistening aperture. At this sign that his body was ready for genital intercourse, Zykriel withdrew his fingers and replaced it with his tongue.
Qristan let out strangled cries as he plunged his tongue into the slippery passage. Fingers wove into his hair and he heard his piteous plea.
“Mercy, beloved! Mercy!”
All reason and restraint vanished, replaced by lust so overwhelming he could not think of aught but to quench it. With one quick shift of position, he was inside his mate, his shaft buried almost to the hilt. They groaned in concert as their bodies fully joined. Qristan wrapped his legs around Zykriel’s waist to pull him in as deeply as possible.
“Ah! I need to feel you,” he begged. “Please make me feel you.”
Zykriel complied and set a punishing pace, sliding in and out with quick, brusque thrusts that had them approaching release much sooner than either liked. But after such a lengthy period of abstinence, it was inevitable they would be unable to contain themselves for long.
As they sped toward completion together, Qristan repeatedly sobbed out, “I love you, Zyk! I love you so much!”
Their orgasms hit them one after the other. Zykriel moaned as he poured his seed into Qristan, his pleasure intensified by the sound of rapturous sobbing and the sight of his spouse quivering beneath him, eyes shut tight and head thrown back in the throes of a prolonged and powerful climax.
At length, his strength gave out and he half collapsed onto Qristan. He felt fingers run lazily through his hair.
“I love you too,” he whispered against his spouse’s throat.
Qristan gave a soft contented sigh. “You haven’t lost an iota of your skill,” he murmured. “I hope it isn’t due to continued employment of it.”
Zykriel chuckled and looked up. “Jealous?”
Qristan sobered. “I have no right to be.”
“I’ve been as chaste as you all these months.”
“But were you ever tempted?” Qristan asked, his eyes half hooded to hide his anxiety.
“Were you?” Zykriel countered as he gently pulled out.
Surprisingly, his shaft was not completely spent. Or perhaps not so surprising given he was an Essendri who had gone much too long without sexual release.
Qristan shook his head and gazed at him. “There is none who can compare to you. Either in the girth of your shaft or the greatness of your heart. There was an emptiness in me after you left. There still is though your loving has filled it somewhat.”
Zykriel smiled. “And shall I continue to fill it, ariad?”
Qristan beamed at the endearment. “To bursting if you will.” He laid his eyes on Zykriel’s shaft. “Methinks you’re more than up to it, my lord.”
He reached for his discarded drawers and used the tattered garment to wipe his thighs of semen much to Zykriel’s amusement. Qristan raised an eyebrow at him.
“What? It’s completely ruined thanks to you. I might as well put it to good use one last time.”
“More than one last time if I'm to grant your wish.” Zykriel gripped one lean hip. “Turn over,” he softly ordered. “I’ve missed your arse very badly.”
Qristan speedily acquiesced, rolling onto his belly before going up on his elbows and knees and presenting his arse. He looked over his shoulder at Zykriel with an expectant expression.
“So eager,” Zykriel murmured, caressing one firm buttock.
“For you, always.”
Zykriel willed his arousal to subside to a more controllable level. Qristan looked so very luscious. Even more so when he parted the globes of his arse to reveal the darkly rosy entrance that promised much joy and pleasure. He drew a steadying breath as he snatched up the bottle of oil. He eased in a generous amount of the herb-scented unguent, twisting his fingers slightly to make sure Qristan was well lubricated. His mate was very tight. Zykriel needed to ensure Qristan would not feel pain when he was penetrated.
Qristan’s moans and soft pleas told him he was ready to receive him. His heart beating rapidly once more, Zykriel guided his length home and slid into snug velvet heat.
“Veres almighty,” he muttered as he ran his hands along Qristan’s muscled flanks. “You’re so beautiful, Qris. I could never be tempted by anyone but you.”
“It had better be so,” Qristan gasped out, pushing back against Zykriel’s thrusts.
Deeper. Take me hard. Make me yours, beloved!
The mental plea was as potent a caress as the gloving of his member by silk-bound muscles. With a whispered imprecation, Zykriel grabbed Qristan’s hips and drove into him almost brutally. The slap of flesh against flesh resounded in the ensuing silence, turning their coupling into an even more erotic exercise.
He draped himself over Qristan’s back to nibble and suck at the latter’s nape and the side of his neck, recklessly leaving the marks of his ownership. Hearing his mate’s pleasured whimpers and gasps escalate, he reached around to grip Qristan’s length and briskly stroke it. Qristan trembled under him, his movements becoming erratic as he thrust forward into Zykriel’s hand and then pressed back to take in as much of his shaft as he could.
They lasted longer this time around having expended some of their passion during their earlier bout of lovemaking. But still sooner than they liked, they both headed toward release. Zykriel relished every plunge into snug moist heat. It was a different sensation from enclosure within a sheath but if asked which he preferred, his answer would be the same. So long as it was Qristan’s body, he did not care.
Qristan started to tense, his voice breaking as he begged for release. Zykriel quickened his thrusts in response. He somehow managed to continue stroking Qristan’s shaft even as another intense orgasm ripped through him. He shoved his length in deep and groaned out loud as he felt his semen flow. With a muffled howl, Qristan climaxed as well, his arse clenching spasmodically around Zykriel’s shaft to milk him of every drop of his seed.
He rolled them both onto their sides, making sure he remained inside Qristan’s arse. Holding his mate close, he waited for his heartbeat to return to normal and his breathing to slow. Qristan pushed back slightly, obviously wishing to keep himself impaled as well. He laid a hand on the arm enclosing him and rubbed it happily.
“The rain seems to be weakening,” he murmured.
Zykriel listened to the sound of water hitting the roof. It was no longer as loud or relentless.
“It is weakening. We’ll be able to leave soon.”
“Must we? I rather enjoy it here.”
“You’ll enjoy our bed more,” Zykriel told him with a kiss to the top of his shoulder. “Your knees will fare better as will your arse.”
Qristan laughed softly. “Is that a promise?” He looked over his shoulder, his changeable eyes sparkling. Zykriel thought all over again he’d never seen such lovely eyes. “I want to feel you all of tomorrow. Will you indulge me?”
“As much as you can bear.” Zykriel carefully withdrew from him, smirking with renewed possessiveness as his semen trickled out of his mate’s backside. “Will you take mirash again?” he asked. It was a roundabout way of ascertaining whether Qristan would play the sheath for the foreseeable future.
“Aye,” Qristan replied as he rolled over to face Zykriel. “I don't want to share you with others just yet. Not even our children.” He paused and then softly said, “I’d like to bear them if you’ll permit me.”
“What changed your mind?” Zykriel asked in wonder.
Qristan’s smile was as sweet as his answer. “It thrills me, the thought of carrying a child of your loins beneath my heart.”
Zykriel cupped his face tenderly. “Come, let’s go home. I would like to make love to you in comfort. Again and again and again.”