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Imri did not speak for several heartbeats. When he did, it was with utter disbelief that matched the incredulity in his expression.
“You want me to sire a child on you,” he said slowly and carefully.
“If you’ll let me. I’ll relinquish all my rights to him if you wish.”
“You won’t mind giving him to me? What if I wed another? What then?”
The thought pained him terribly but Gilmael shoved it aside.
“I would still carry the memory of making a child with you. The knowledge that he’s my son with you will be comfort enough.”
Imri’s eyes widened. “Sweet Veres, are you sure you can do this?”
Gilmael shrugged. “I won’t lie. If you ask me to completely surrender the child, it will break my heart. But I wish to do this for you. I don’t want to deny any longer that I need you.” He hesitated before admitting, “I love you. I can’t live without some connection to you however tenuous. I can only exist.”
At first, Imri only stared at him, flummoxed by his declaration. But after an eternal while, his eyes started to glitter and a small smile curved his lips. Before Gilmael could figure out what he was thinking, he suddenly leaned forward and kissed him hard.
Gilmael gasped at the distinctly predatory kiss. It was usually he who bestowed such kisses. Even with Imri he’d been the aggressor albeit a gentle one for the most part. It had always been his way of telling his partners that he would play the sword.
When Imri raised his hands to disrobe him, Gilmael realized his first taking would be right here in a parlor in the Viraz mansion. But though it dismayed him, he did not refuse. If Imri wished to have him here, he would acquiesce. He proceeded to undress Imri as well. All the while they parted their mouths only to kiss and stroke whatever flesh was within reach as it was exposed. And the caress of his bottom told him what Imri desired of him.
As soon as they were both naked, Imri pulled him down onto the large burgundy rug before the couch. It was thick and soft and for that Gilmael was grateful. At least his elbows and knees would not suffer overmuch from the hard unyielding floor. He wondered what could be used for lubrication. Their emerging seed would be far from adequate given how tense he was.
Imri reached for an unlit lamp on the side table and used its fragrant oil to lubricate his fingers and shaft. He carefully almost tenderly accustomed Gilmael to the sensation of being breached, taking his time to introduce enough fingers into his backside to mimic the girth of a shaft. As he did, he soothed Gilmael’s apprehensions with soft reassurances and gentle kisses. It served to calm the turmoil inside him but was not quite enough to banish all his anxiety.
He decided to move things along before he lost his nerve altogether. He turned over stoutly saying, “I’m ready.”
Imri nipped the shell of one ear. “Eager, are we,” he murmured. He straightened and gently gripped Gilmael’s buttocks and spread them slightly apart. Gilmael could not help shivering as he anticipated his spearing. Imri caressed one buttock and leaned down once more.
“We don’t have to do this,” he softly said.
“Nay, don’t stop,” Gilmael whispered.
He felt Imri smooth a hand down his back.
“Turn over,” he suggested. “It will be better if you can see me.”
Gilmael glanced back at him then nodded. He shifted onto his back and tried to relax when Imri urged his legs up and around his waist. When he felt the nudge of hard flesh seeking entrance, he closed his eyes, shuddering a little as the nudge grew more insistent. He could not quite stifle a wince when hard flesh started to press into him and he blindly reached up to grip Imri’s arms. Hands soothingly stroked his hips and thighs.
“It is I,” he heard Imri murmur. “Let me in, Gil.”
Gilmael had never performed a braver act than when he consciously willed his muscles to relax enough to permit Imri entry into his body. The slow inward slide burned, but he did not tense up against the intrusion. Instead he adjusted the position of his legs to further enable the heady penetration.
And heady it was for despite the discomfort, the idea that it was Imri’s shaft inside him, that he had finally attained what he had desired for so long, but denied to all including himself, remained in the forefront of his consciousness. His breath hitched when he felt Imri’s groin flush against his arse, evidence that he was completely seated inside him.
He opened his eyes to see Imri watching him intently. He blew out the breath he had not realized he was holding. “I’m fine,” he said.
Imri smiled. “Let’s try for better than fine.”
He withdrew a bit, shifting his angle minutely as he pushed back in. Repeated the movement twice more, each controlled lunge coaxing tight flesh to loosen up further. Gilmael gave a strangled gasp as pleasure erupted in his groin. The same pleasure he’d known when Imri earlier fingered him only this one was more intense, filled as he was with a thick, hard shaft.
Gilmael arched into Imri’s thrusts, seeking the intimacy of being one with his lover. He noticed Imri had closed his eyes as he continued to thrust into him. He stared at him, appreciating his glacial beauty. He lowered his gaze to roam down his body until he saw how they were joined. Seeing Imri’s shaft repeatedly plunge into him was mezmerizing and he could not stop watching his own ravishment.
“Enjoying what you see?” Imri asked, startling him.
Gilmael did not bother to deny it. “Very much, yes.”
“Then look up.”
Imri turned his gaze upward. Gilmael followed suit and realized the portion of the ceiling surrounding the small chandelier was a partially recessed mirror whimsically etched with images of Losshen’s flora and fauna. Imri straightened exposing Gilmael’s torso and groin right down to where their bodies were joined. He found he could not tear his eyes away from the sight of Imri thrusting into his arse.
When the pleasure became too great, he desperately sought release and reached for his shaft. But Imri gently batted his hand away and took hold of the hard column. He stroked him from root to glistening tip, speeding Gilmael on the path to an explosive orgasm. With a gasping cry, he spent himself in Imri’s hand, his seed dappling his groin and thighs. The clenching of his arse around Imri’s shaft in turn wrenched the latter’s climax from him. Gilmael groaned as he was filled with warm semen.
Still visibly trembling from his orgasm, Imri gingerly pulled out and lowered himself atop him. They lay thusly for a while to catch their breaths. Gilmael lightly ran his fingers through the silvery strands at Imri’s nape. He’d missed these small gestures of tenderness between them.
Eventually Imri rolled off him and grabbed his robe. He wiped semen off himself then handed the garment to Gilmael so that he could do likewise. He rose to his feet and picked up his trousers.
Gilmael eyed him a little apprehensively. He wondered if he had merely taken the opportunity to tup him in turn. Imri extended a hand to him. He gripped it and was pulled to his feet. Imri handed him his clothes and cloak.
“My bed is much more comfortable,” he said as he dressed.
“You wish to retire for the night?” Gilmael asked a little disbelievingly.
“Nay, I wish to fuck you until we’re both sore from it.”
“Heyas! You never talked like this before.”
“I didn’t know if you would allow it,” Imri said.
Gilmael winced. “I shouldn’t have made you feel thusly. I’m truly sorry.”
“As you just proved to me.” Imri poured sand on the fire to put it out before leading the way out of the parlor. “Come, prove yourself further. I find I enjoy being inside you very much.”
Gilmael rolled his eyes, but followed him up the hallway. If Imri’s rooms were anything like his quarters in the capital, they would be elegant yet homely in their simplicity.
This was borne out when he entered the suite, its more contemporary design and furnishings at variance with the rest of the mansion. But it was very similar to Imri’s Rikara apartment save for its much larger size and greater number of windows.
Imri shed his soiled robe as he disappeared into the adjacent bathing room whereupon Gilmael heard the sound of running water. It cut off and his lover reentered the room, his shirt hanging open and his sleeping trousers slung over his arm. Gilmael noticed his shaft and thighs gleamed with moisture indicating he’d washed himself.
He tossed the garment onto a chair and then walked to the small liquor cabinet in one corner of the sitting room. There were only a few bottles inside which suggested he was not much for drinking alone in his quarters. He pulled out a dark bottle and a glass flute. Gilmael caught his breath when he poured a bluish liquid into the flute.
“Is that mirash?”
“It is.”
Gilmael swallowed. Imri wished to take him in reproductive intercourse, but did not desire for him to conceive.
Imri paused and glanced at him questioningly. “Will you take it?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Gilmael said, “Yes.”
He forced himself to remain calm as Imri handed him the filled flute. He consumed it slowly, wondering whether his lover did not wish to accept his offer of another child. But as he downed the last drop he resolved to set his anxiety aside and enjoy what Imri was willing to bestow on him for now.
They made it to the bed, doffing their clothes in between kisses. As soon as they tumbled onto the mattress, they engaged in lengthy foreplay. Imri then proceeded to turn him to ready his sheath for breaching.
Gilmael tamped down on his apprehensions as foreign sensations invaded him. He could not quite suppress a shiver when he felt his testicles contract and recede upward to expose his sheath. No one had ever touched him thusly nor had he experienced the copious lubrication of the channel to ease penetration.
He recalled his anxiety as he lay beneath Imri. It had taken some of the shine off their lovemaking. He wanted nothing of the sort to mar this second time. Perhaps if he had some control over the proceedings, he would feel less vulnerable.
“What say I ride you?” he said. “I won’t be as skittish if you take me that way.”
Imri looked surprise. “Are you certain?”
“It isn’t as difficult compared to taking it up the arse for the first time, right? You managed it. A few of my cousins have said the same. Rohyr included,” Gilmael added with a wink.
“The Ardan takes it up the arse?” Imri sounded both scandalized and delighted. “I never imagined—” He suddenly chuckled. “You’re right. It is easier.” He rolled on his back.
Gilmael shifted position to straddle him. Taking a shuddering breath, he slowly lowered himself until he felt Imri’s shaft penetrate him. He suppressed a wince and sank down until his buttocks rested on Imri’s groin. He swallowed hard as hard flesh slid in all the way.
The sensation was different from a rear breaching. The former burned before subsiding into a dull ache as the snug ring of muscles that guarded the rectum stretched to accommodate entry. This had stung quite sharply when the remnants of the vestigial protective membrane inside the sheath tore. The discomfort would eventually lapse into a mild and temporary soreness. Overall, the sheath was more sensitive than the arse but there was no single point of pleasure inside that needed to be stimulated. Pleasure came from the friction of the shaft rubbing against the walls of the sheath.
Once he felt comfortable enough, Gilmael started to move, impaling himself on Imri’s shaft while his lover thrust into him from below, holding his hips and keeping him steady as their bodies met in sexual counterpoint. As rapture mounted, he forgot his anxieties and lost himself in the welter of sensations that bid fair to overwhelm him soon if he did not keep a measured pace.
Gilmael may not have been accustomed to playing the mare, but he had no qualms about enjoying himself sexually. He knew when to slow down and when to hurry things along. The rapidly growing tension in his belly drove him to quicken the pace. He could see that Imri was fast approaching release as well.
Ecstasy hit him hard and he tried to bite back a cry as sensation after intense sensation swept through him. Just as he thought his orgasm was fading away, Imri groaned and thrust up hard into him. A moment later, Gilmael felt liquid heat spill within him. He gasped a little when the heat rushed into his belly. Due to the mirash, the warmth quickly dissipated, but when semen coated the seed bed inside his womb, it precipitated spasms that caused him to climax once more. This time he could not stifle his cry nor could he help sobbing as he rode out his second orgasm.
When the last of the rapturous waves finally faded, he fell upon Imri, panting hard and pressing his face to his lover’s chest. He felt arms weave around him to hold him close until their breathing returned to normal. All the while, Imri stroked his hair and pressed kisses to the top of his head.
At length, he lifted himself off Imri. He had not ejaculated, but he needed to clean up his backside and thighs nonetheless.
“You can bathe,” Imri offered. “There should be enough hot water left.”
Gilmael nodded and headed for the bathing chamber. It too had been modernized and he quickly washed away the remnants of copulation. When he returned to the bedchamber, he wondered if he was expected to go back to his own room. Imri answered his unvoiced question by lifting one side of the counterpaine invitingly. Gilmael exhaled in relief and slipped under the cover beside him.
“Mishar will be happy to see you at breakfast,” Imri murmured, his gaze on the coffered ceiling above them.
“I’ll be happy to see you both at breakfast,” Gilmael softly said.
Imri glanced at him, his eyes gleaming in the flickering light. He smiled. “Sleep well.”
It was a while before Gilmael finally fell asleep. And when he did, it was to dreams of the gray-eyed, silver-haired Deir beside him.
––––––––
Hedhral raised his eyebrows pointedly when they sauntered into the breakfast room together. Gilmael was not sure what they’d done to raise the elder Viraz’s suspicions, but it was obvious he was aware they’d resumed their affair. Judging from his frown, he was not happy about it. He wondered if the Deir would be more pleased when he learned it was no longer his son who played the mare.
Mishar greeted them cheerfully then puckered up for a good morning kiss from his aba. He surprised Gilmael when he offered him his pursed lips as well. He glanced at Imri uncertainly, but the latter dipped his head with a small smile. So he pressed a quick kiss to the tot’s lips. Mishar’s happy grin was more than ample reward.
Gilmael decided to leave right after the midday meal. He had no excuse to stay another day much as he wished to. The storm had passed, as swift as it had been fierce. The estate servants and city workers were shoveling snow to open up the streets, roads and pathways again. Besides, he had to get back to Rikara. He had a number of meetings this afternoon that could not be put off, including one with the Ardan’s Council.
He glanced sideways at Imri who was coaxing his son to finish his breakfast. He had not given any indication of still holding love for him nor had he outright accepted his offer. His insistence that Gilmael consume mirash before they engaged in genital copulation was suspect. Wherefore the need for contraception if Imri was amenable to siring a child on him?
He was none the wiser about his lover’s intentions by the time he bade his hosts farewell.
Mishar clung to him, insisting he come back soonest.
“I will return,” he assured the child. “I came with a storm on my heels, didn’t I?”
Mishar beamed. “You did. You must be very fond of me, Lord Gil.”
Gilmael smiled back. “More than you know, Mish-min.”
He set Mishar down and turned to Imri. His lover’s expression was pleasant but bland. Gilmael noticed his inclination toward reserved behavior with him when in the presence of others. He hoped it was not a foreshadowing of the severance of their relations.
Gilmael knew it would break his heart. It would break him.
“Thank you for letting me shelter here,” he murmured. “Does your permission for me to continue visiting still stand?”
Imri gazed at him in what seemed like surprise. “Of course it does. Think you I would cause Mishar unhappiness?”
Gilmael stifled a sigh. It was not because Imri was eager to see him again, he reminded himself lest he get false hopes up too soon.
“And my ... proposal?” he ventured. “Will you consider it?”
Imri glanced at his parents. They appeared most interested in their conversation. “It’s a fair proposal and one worthy of consideration.”
This left Gilmael more unsure than ever. Had Imri told them about it? What had been their reaction? Not encouraging, it seemed, if Imri did not care to speak openly about it. He suppressed another sigh and mounted his zentyr.
It appeared Imri had not fully forgiven him even if he desired him enough to bed him. Gilmael tried to cast his doubts aside as he rode down the drive. He would just have to soldier on, using the memory of their night together to bolster his resolve and keep his hopes alive.