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Golden sunlight poured through the sitting room windows to brighten the chamber and bring in some cheer. But it could not do the same for Yovan’s current mood.
He tossed the latest missive from his law-sire onto his writing desk with a scowl. It was Asrael Cordona’s fifth letter offering him a position in Bank Cordona and a very high one at that. It bothered him that someone as ruthless as Asrael would so readily grant him the positions of bank director and head of their southern operations. Yovan shook his head. It simply did not feel right.
It was not because nobles couldn’t engage in business. As long as they stayed away from the mercantile side of things, it was now deemed respectable. Dabbling in finance, especially investments and banking, was fine when the nitty gritty of transactions and the like were left in the hands of solicitors and accountants. What was not fine was moneylending which was how the Cordonas started. It would always be a stain on their name no amount of acknowledgement by polite society could truly wash away.
Not that Yovan would turn down the opportunity to earn a good living and gain some independence from his in-laws. There were times one had to get one’s hands dirty. He was good with numbers as bankers liked to say. And he knew enough about business and the like to speak of such matters intelligently in conversation. But it was one thing to talk about it in theory, quite another to put one’s knowledge into practice.
Yovan had no head for business. He knew he would blunder along the way if he tried to make a go of it. He did not want to travel down the same road as his sire. Laval had proved savvy enough to triple his inherited fortune through investments yet he had stumbled badly. Which had led to Yovan being forced into an arranged union.
He was fortunate Mered was easy to love. What if that had not been the case? What if he’d been saddled with a quarrelsome spouse or doomed to life with a dullard? Fate had been kind to him. He did not care to tempt fate a second time.
And so despite his law-parents’ relentless efforts, he resisted being drawn into the Cordona banking empire.
Yovan sauntered out onto the balcony from which he could view the placid azure of the lake beyond the trees. He smiled when he spotted Mered walking down the garden path to the gate leading out of the estate grounds, tiny Rysander snug in his arms. How blessed he was in his mate and child. The drive to take care of them and ensure the security of his little family strengthened.
Which brought him back to his prospects as principal breadwinner. He knew he did not have to work for a living. The Cordonas had made it clear they would support his family in the style Mered was used to even if he did not work for them. Instead of reassuring Yovan, it made him uneasy and also pricked his pride. He did not like the idea of being beholden to them. Frankly, living under the thumb of his law-parents rankled.
He was uncomfortable with Asrael’s cloying sycophantic attentiveness to him and his parents. And he would not soon forget Remir’s disparaging manner toward Mered.
But Yovan did not enjoy being idle. He wanted to be productive. To end each day or week knowing he’d accomplished some fruitful endeavor. He might have stayed on indefinitely as a university instructor had he not been reinstated as part of the Royal House. Now he was constrained to look for another position befitting his station. One that would enable him to comfortably support his family without having to accept the Cordonas’ guaranteed interference in his life.
It was later that night, as he gazed upon his slumbering son, that the idea came to him. He did not think nepotism evil in itself, but rather a practice easily abused. If there was true ability to speak of, he saw no harm in favoring kin particularly if trust was paramount.
He wondered. Would Keldon care to give him an occupation in government? In Internal Affairs perhaps?
––––––––
They returned to Rikara a fortnight hence. Yovan’s parents had assiduously kept their part of the transaction with the Cordonas, slowly introducing the latter to genteel society. But now that he was back, they wished to retire to the Seydon estate in Ilmaren.
“I miss the quiet of Althia,” Laval admitted. “Life is so far from simple and peaceful hereabouts though I’m forever grateful I came to Rikara in pursuit of your father.”
Evran swatted him playfully. “Let’s not remind ourselves of the less than honorable beginnings of your courtship.”
Yovan smiled at his parents’ affectionate banter, but his smile was a tad restrained. He could not be completely pleased about their removal to Ilmaren even if only for several months each year. Not when it meant Yovan would have to take over the greater part of their efforts to help his kin-by-law climb the social ladder.
However he simply said, “I’m glad you were able to have the estate refurbished so quickly. We’ll try and visit before the year is out. I should like to see what changes you made, Aba. Or was it Ama who planned it all?”
Laval chuckled. “As he’s so fond of reminding me, he has more taste than any two or three Deira altogether. So yes, I put it all in his capable hands.”
Seeing his parents so excited put Yovan in a good mood for the rest of the day. That mood was dampened a bit when yet another letter arrived from the Cordonas, this time from Remir. Realizing they would pressure him to accept their offer now that he was in town for good, Yovan knew he would have to do something to preempt any further attempts at persuasion from that quarter.
He sought an audience with Keldon within the week.
Three days later, as he made his way to the Ardan’s apartment, he wondered anew at his cousin’s kindness to him. It was rather uncommon for a sovereign to be so accommodating of kin outside his immediate family that he would meet with them in his quarters time and again instead of one of the small audience chambers. Yet Keldon and Dyrael continued to insist he visit them in their rooms whenever he came to the Citadel.
Yovan hoped Keldon would not deem him presumptuous for asking to be employed in government. But he did not really have much of a choice. Had he been an ordinary noble, he could have applied for a position in whatever Ministry he felt suited for. But because he was a direct line descendant of the royal family, he had to gain the Ardan’s permission beforehand.
Keldon greeted him with a quick hug and jovial slap to the shoulder. He gestured to the dining table where ale and a platter of savory treats awaited their attention.
“Welcome back,” he said as he pushed a cup of ale toward Yovan. “Rohyr has been asking for you nonstop since he heard of your return.”
Yovan beamed. “I missed him too. Mayhap I’ll see him on my way out.”
“You’d better else I won’t hear the last of it should he think I didn’t remind you to do so.” Keldon bit into a cracker laden with liver paste. “So, wherefore this visit? Aside from a yearning to see this irresistible face.”
That drew a guffaw out of Yovan. “I did miss your face, irresistible or not,” he replied. “But as to the other reason...” He hesitated, suddenly uncertain of the reception his request would elicit.
“Oh, come now,” Keldon said with a snort. “Let’s not stand on ceremony. Or niceties. You hardly ask me for anything so out with it.”
Yovan nodded. “I, uh, have been pondering my prospects. I know what I don’t want to do, but I’m not certain what I do want is possible.”
“I see. Well then, what don’t you want to do? Because judging from the tone of your voice, I warrant you’re being pushed into something you don’t like.”
“Indeed. I don’t want to work for or with the Cordonas. Well, apart from fulfilling the terms of my sire’s agreement with them.” Yovan wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Asrael and Remir have been trying to lure me into the business.”
“What are they offering you?” Keldon asked. When Yovan told him, he made a moue of displeasure. “They’d put you in such a sensitive position? What if you’re not suited to it? Or worse, what if they want you because they think you don’t know enough to tell when things are going sideways?”
Yovan tipped back his head and stared at the coffered ceiling. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. I don’t want to participate in dubious transactions and the like. Or be used to initiate them just because folk will put their trust in the Ardan’s cousin.”
“Your concerns are well-founded,” Keldon agreed. “I’ve never cottoned to that lot. It’s a miracle Mered isn’t the least like them.” He leaned forward. “So what did you wish to ask of me?”
Yovan bit his lower lip. “I wondered if you would consider me for a place in one of the Ministries. I don’t mind starting from the bottom. Indeed, I’ll feel more deserving of anything you grant me if I work for it.”
Keldon smiled. “You’re much more like my grandsire than yours. It’s amazing how different you’ve turned out from Uncle Andrion.” He tapped a finger against his pursed lips. “Unfortunately, I must defer your request for the moment. I’ve lately received news of unrest in Tenerith.”
“Tenerith?” Yovan frowned worriedly. “Are you riding north then?”
“A fortnight hence.” Keldon munched on some spiced haronuts. “What will my subjects say if I send soldiers to war and direct them from my throne? I’d rather not test their leniency when the kingdom is in need of their absolute loyalty.”
Yovan nodded. Only sovereigns in their minority were excused from fighting. A full grown, able bodied Deir was expected to do his part even if he was king. Of course, he could delegate planning and strategy to experienced commanders and they could assign him to the sidelines where the fighting was presumably less perilous to royal life and limb. The point was the armed forces had to feel his presence among them. It would be seen as cowardice were a monarch to exclude himself from actual battle. That was not the way to build trust in the Crown.
Or in a Deir asking to enter government service.
“I’m no veteran of war but I do know how to fight,” Yovan said. “If you’ll have me, I’d like to offer my sword in the kingdom’s service.”
Keldon stared at him in surprise. And then he slowly smiled. “It is an opportunity to test your mettle.”
“Then you accept me?”
“So long as you stay close by. Mered will never forgive me if aught happens to you because you ventured too far afield. I wager he’ll be displeased as it is to know you’ve offered yourself in this conflict.”
Mered was indeed more than displeased when Yovan told him that night. But he was cognizant of the need for Yovan to prove his worth to his royal cousins and thus gain a place in the circle of kinsfolk who held their trust, not to mention wielded power in the land by dint of that trust. And so he merely gave Yovan a half-hearted earful, his tearful entreaties for him to take care and come home hale and whole proving more heart wrenching than any angry diatribe. Needless to say, Yovan comforted him quite thoroughly for many a day and night leading the household staff to wish he would leave for Tenerith sooner than later.
––––––––
With the departure for the strife-stricken province less than a sennight away, Yovan decided to formally present Rysander to Keldon and Dyrael since neither had been able to visit them at Woodmere again. He thought it prudent to remind his cousins that he was leaving behind an infant son in the name of duty to the kingdom. And it would do no harm to foster a closer relationship between Dyrael and Mered since the Ardis would not be accompanying his spouse to the front.
Dyrael had been battle-trained as all Essendri princes were and taken part in a number of conflicts before and after marriage. But when Keldon named him regent for their son, he perforce no longer rode to war.
Given the yawning social divide between his mate and the Ardis, Yovan did not think they could establish the deep friendship he enjoyed with the royal couple. But Dyrael had shown himself capable of bridging that divide to an impressive extent as evident in his kindness toward Mered. On the other hand, Mered had displayed an eagerness to please Keldon and Dyrael even if it meant navigating his way through a world wholly alien to him. The two might never become boon companions, but the amicability they did share was something few had thought possible in the first place.
To Mered’s relief, Keldon bade him and Yovan to come to his apartment, citing the need to shelter a babe from the curiosity of the Citadel’s numerous courtiers. Dyrael ensured Rohyr would be present and the young prince immediately showered affection on his baby cousin. Unfortunately, Imcael had also chosen to have a first look at Yovan’s eldest born. And judging from his expression as he studied Rysander, Mered suspected he’d found something displeasing.
“At least, he has enough sense to hold his tongue while Rohyr is around,” he muttered to Yovan.
Yovan smiled humorlessly. “He knows Dyrael won’t mince words if he utters anything offensive in front of Rohyr. And Keldon won’t side with him either.”
Mered felt a sharp twinge of anxiety. Would Imcael express whatever displeasure he was obviously harboring once Rohyr left? He cuddled his son closer, wishing it was permissible to take their leave of the royal family after only a few minutes.
Too soon for his liking, Josel came to fetch Rohyr for his tutoring lessons. The little prince would be taught at the Citadel during his primary years. Thereafter he would attend elementary and secondary school at the Rikara Academy and thence complete his education at the State University. It was his parents’ way of ensuring their son learned something of the subjects he would one day rule.
Mered watched him leave with apprehension. His worry proved well-founded.
No sooner had the door closed than Imcael came up to him and looked Rysander over once more. At length he straightened, a deep crease in his forehead marring his handsomeness. He turned and caught Yovan’s stare.
“It’s odd, isn’t it, that the child has so little of your coloring,” he remarked.
Yovan regarded him with some annoyance. “He has my eyes,” he said.
Imcael scoffed. “And blue eyes are so rare they can only belong to you?”
Mered colored at the tacit accusation against him. He felt ire and humiliation roil his innards. How dare this pompous bigot tell his mate that he suspected Mered of cuckolding him.
“Cael, that’s unkind,” Keldon admonished. “And unwarranted.”
Imcael turned a jaundiced stare on him. “Unkind perhaps, but unwarranted to seek the truth? I think not.”
“What truth do you seek?” Yovan snapped. “Speak plainly or hold your tongue.”
Mered gasped softly and stared at his spouse. He’d never imagined Yovan would address Imcael thusly.
Apparently neither had Imcael. He gaped rather gracelessly at Yovan before replying. “Since subtlety goes over your head, I’ll be straightforward with you then.”
“Cael!”
“Nay, brother, he wants the unvarnished truth.” Imcael glared at Yovan. “It should behoove you to wonder why the babe bears scant resemblance to you even to his fair hair and pale skin. Indeed, he doesn’t resemble you at all.”
“He doesn’t resemble anyone just yet,” Dyrael pointed out. “Newborns seldom do. Didn’t you notice that with your sons?”
Imcael flushed at the suggestion that he had not spent much time with his children when they were newly birthed. He scowled at Dyrael but refrained from verbally assaulting him in Keldon’s presence.
“I was referring to his coloring,” he testily said. “I’m truly surprised how naïve Yovan is to believe the child is his just on his mate’s say-so.”
Mered gave a pained gasp. He blinked back tears of humiliation and outrage.
“That’s beyond the pale!” Keldon exclaimed. “For shame, brother.”
“Nay, the truth needs be said and—”
Yovan cut in. “How can he not be mine when I carried him for six months?”
Silence fell like a shroud as they all snapped their eyes to him.
“You what?” Imcael asked incredulously.
“Are you already hard of hearing?” Yovan sneered.
Imcael looked horrified. “Why-why would you do that?”
“Why not? Mered and I agreed from the start that we would both be bearers to increase our chances of having many children.” Mered barely managed to suppress his start of surprise. “Surely you know most couples can expect two at most if only one conceives.”
“I— Of course, I know, but— I can’t believe you—” Imcael ended his stuttering with a bellowed, “How dare you bring dishonor upon the Royal House! Keldon should never have—”
Keldon brusquely cut him off. “What utter rubbish! How does being childbearer bring dishonor upon anyone?”
“Because it’s forbidden for direct line descendants!”
“Oh? Are you saying Rael and I broke the law then?”
“Nay, that’s different.”
“How? Rael is a direct line descendant and closer to the throne than Van,” Keldon pointed out. “You say it’s forbidden. According to whose lights? Cite the law that disallows immediate members of the Royal House to be bearers.” When his brother could say nothing, he shook his head at him. “You can cite none because there isn’t any proscription against it.”
Imcael’s face was a canvass of warring emotions. Embarrassment, fury and confusion contorted his features in swift succession. Mered thought he actually looked close to tears. Angry tears no doubt.
“There are certain laws that haven’t been written down,” he haughtily said. “It doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
“But if they weren’t written down, then they aren’t laws but simply customs, not all of which are right or just,” Yovan said. “As such, they won’t be upheld in any court save that of public opinion which at best is a very fickle thing.”
Imcael stiffened at the subtle schooling. He tightened his mouth pugnaciously and swept them all with a glare. He would have appeared almost mournful when he regarded Keldon were it not for the baleful gleam in his eyes.
“You’ve cast our sire’s teachings by the wayside, Kel,” he said. “I dread the day when all these come back to haunt you.”
“When did he broach such teachings to us?” Keldon questioned, his tone now quite gentle. As if he were speaking to a obstinate toddler, Mered thought. “I have no recollections of either Aba or Ama speaking of the matter, much less forbidding it. Perhaps you heard it from someone else and in your youth attributed it to them.”
Imcael shook his head. “I despair for all of you,” he said. He turned on his heel and swept out of the chamber.
Mered blew his breath out in relief as the strain and tension dissipated with the Herun’s departure. Truth be told, he was still smarting from the Deir’s aspersions on his character. He looked at the others and winced inwardly when he espied Keldon’s pained expression. He noticed Dyrael and Yovan exchanging resigned glances.
“I’m sorry, Kel,” Yovan muttered, his eyes now downcast.
Keldon looked at him in surprise. “What for?”
Yovan gestured to the door Imcael had exited. “If not for us— Nay, if not for me, if I hadn’t spoken out of turn, you wouldn’t have had to have words with him.”
Dyrael huffed. “You didn’t start the argument. There’s naught to apologize for.”
“But I—”
“Rael is right,” Keldon interrupted. “Imcael is...” He shook his head. “I don’t know why he is that way. He wasn’t like that when we were children, though neither was he easy to get along with.”
“Because he always believed only he was in the right,” Dyrael reminded him. “I haven’t forgotten how he upbraided me in front of everyone when I dared to gainsay him.” His eyes softened. “Nor will I ever forget how you always came to my defense. You were ever my gallant knight, ariad, and still are.”
Keldon smiled at him with such love and adoration, Mered swallowed hard at the sight. He glanced at Yovan, remembering all the times his mate had regarded him likewise though less confidently in light of the perceived one-sidedness of their relationship.
“All the more do I laud Uncle Joren’s decision not to fully train him,” Dyrael said. “I shudder at the thought of him using his mind gifts to ensure he always has his way. And not because I think he would do evil, but simply because he can’t conceive of himself being wrong.”
Yovan’s expression was somber. “A ruler who can’t accept that he doesn’t know everything or admit he can make mistakes is a danger to all. He would imperil the kingdom were he to ever become Ardan. Thank Veres you have Rohyr to succeed you.”
Keldon nodded. “I pray Imcael lets go of his hidebound ways one day. I fear they will be his ruin. Ah well, we can only put our trust in the Maker that all will turn out for the better.” He studied Yovan curiously, his mood suddenly shifting to a lighter one. “So, when will you apprise him of the truth?”
Yovan shrugged. “I don’t care if he never learns it. His opinion of me is of no matter.”
“He might spread the story. What if those who hear it believe him?”
“If it keeps his disbelief about Mered’s fidelity from getting around, so be it.”
Mered gazed long and worshipfully at Yovan. He could not believe how willing his mate was to possibly subject himself to derision or disdain in order to protect not just their son but Mered’s reputation as well. He heard a chuckle and saw Dyrael was observing him. He suddenly realized he was gaping and closed his mouth with an almost audible click.
“It won’t serve the Royal House were folk to think the Ardan’s brother a gullible idiot to believe claptrap and the like.” Keldon grinned lopsidedly at Yovan. “I’ll wait a sennight and see if he realizes how thoroughly he’s been duped. If he still doesn’t, I’ll enlighten him then.”
“Better you than the rest of us,” Dyrael quipped. “He won‘t dare fight you. Only argue with you perhaps.”
Keldon snorted. “Is that what a shouting match is called these days?”
He drew Dyrael to his side. The royal couple turned pleased smiles on Yovan and Mered.
“I think Mer has something to tell you, Van,” Dyrael said. “In private.”
Mered’s cheeks warmed and he ducked his head when Yovan glanced at him questioningly. “May we go?” he half-whispered. “I think Rys is hungry.”
Yovan gazed fondly at his fussing son. “I can see that.” He looked at his cousins and said, “My thanks for your support. I swear I’ll do my duty to you and Ylandre to the best of my abilities.”
“You don’t have to utter an oath to gain our trust,” Keldon assured him. “You already have it. Now go home so Mer can tell you what’s on his mind.”
“Or show you,” Dyrael impishly added.
Yovan stared at them in puzzlement while Mered felt his face burn. He mumbled his thanks to an amused Keldon and an equally entertained Dyrael and urged his bewildered mate to bring him and their son home before Rysander started to bawl in hunger. He paid no attention to Yovan’s suggestion that he nurse their son in one of the many unoccupied Citadel bedchambers and simply pulled him along as he hurriedly exited the royal suite.
He wondered if his face was as red as he imagined it was. Glimpsing Keldon and Dyrael’s knowing grins, he knew his imagination had fallen far short of reality.
That night, as Mered laid Rysander in his crib in the nursery, he gazed intently at his son. He found himself searching for every physical similarity to Yovan despite the fact stated earlier by Dyrael that Deiran newborns did not distinctly resemble anyone.
Imcael’s words had shaken him badly. Not out of guilt but because of the thought that others might believe the Herun if he was so cruel as to make his suspicions public. Mered did not particularly care what folk thought of him, but he cringed at the idea of some taking Yovan for a cuckold and treating him with disrespect.
At length he spoke briefly with Rysander’s caregiver, then left the nursery and entered the conjugal suite. He heard the sound of faint singing coming from the bathing chamber. Hastening through the sitting room, he peeked in and saw Yovan soaking in a warm bath. He was softly crooning one of Mered’s favorite ditties.
Accepting it would be a vain effort, he did not try to tear his eyes away but instead enjoyed this perusal of Yovan’s charms.
Sensing his gaze, Yovan turned his head and saw him standing in the doorway. With a smile, he beckoned to Mered to join him. Wherefore Mered quickly shed his clothing and stepped into the tub. He settled behind Yovan and picked up the bar of herbal soap they both favored.
They spoke of trivial matters while Mered soaped Yovan’s back and shoulders. The sight of glistening skin and the feel of sinewy flesh beneath his fingers were enough to send his thoughts racing down far from innocent byways.
With a grin, he slipped his hand around Yovan’s hip and down into the water. Yovan hissed and looked over his shoulder at him, eyebrows rising inquisitively. Mered chuckled and clasped him even more firmly.
“There’s a price to pay for such impertinence,” Yovan reminded him.
“Let me pay it then,” Mered replied with a suggestive smirk and a smart tug.
Yovan suddenly turned around and hauled Mered onto his lap. He plied his lips on Mered’s skin from throat to shoulder to chest. Gasping, Mered clutched at his shoulders with trembling fingers. With a grin, Yovan snatched up the bottle of bath oil by the tub and anointed his fingers with a goodly amount.
Lifting Mered slightly out of the bathwater to bare his arse, he smoothed his hands down his back until he reached the cleft in his bottom. Mered bent to catch him in a liquid kiss while Yovan slipped his fingers into him and readied him for penetration. Eager to couple their bodies, Mered lowered himself onto Yovan’s shaft and sheathed him to the hilt.
They moved together in rapture, lips meeting in passion, hands wandering and caressing with lustful impunity. Their pleasure mounted, spurring them both toward completion.
With a lingering groan, Mered felt the first wave of ecstasy begin to wash over him while his groin tightened with rapturous sensation. Yovan closed his lips around one plump nipple and sucked on it, drawing out several drops of estra. Mered cried out as a fierce orgasm ripped through him.
His muscles gripped Yovan spasmodically until he likewise climaxed. Gasping raggedly, Yovan tightly hugged Mered’s quivering form to himself. As they waited for their bodies to quiet, they held on to each other, savoring their intimacy.
“I love you, my sweet,” Yovan murmured.
“And I you, ariad.” At Yovan’s startled gasp, Mered lifted his eyes and gazed at his spouse. “My heart is yours,” he softly declared. When Yovan stared in seeming disbelief, he earnestly added, “It has been for a while now, but I didn’t... I didn’t know it. I’m sorry I took so long to understand what I felt.”
Yovan smiled then and shook his head. “Don’t apologize for not recognizing something you’ve had no real experience of. I’ve seen how your parents treat you. How could you understand what you felt when you had no example of love before you?”
Mered’s eyes glistened. He gazed at Yovan in gratitude and wonder. “You’re so good to me,” he whispered brokenly. “You’re too good for me.”
“Nay, we are neither good nor bad for each other. We were fated to make this union. To belong together.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I know so.”
Mered covered Yovan’s face and lips with fevered kisses. “Love me, Van,” he begged. “Have me. I need you to own me.”
Yovan did not require more persuasion to join their bodies anew. Almost as soon as they emerged from the bath, he backed Mered toward their bed while his mate laughingly attempted to towel them both dry. They collapsed on the bed in a tangle of arms and limbs. Yovan pried the towel from Mered’s grasp and impatiently tossed it aside before bending to begin their love play anew.
Breathless minutes later Yovan sank once more into Mered’s core. Mered abandoned himself to ecstasy, arching helplessly into each breach of his body. The part of his mind that was still coherent imagined years to come not only enjoying such intense intimacy and passion but also basking in Yovan’s love and tenderness. He understood with stunning clarity that life would have been empty and meaningless had he not been claimed in wedlock by this beautiful soul.
He gasped when Yovan suddenly pulled out of him to quickly lower his head between his thighs and almost ravenously draw upon his shaft. Taken by surprise, he was soon overcome and before long spilled himself into Yovan’s mouth. Before he could catch his breath, Yovan pulled his legs up and around his waist and entered him in a heady plunge. Mered cried out as he was relentlessly cleaved. He knew that the sensation of Yovan’s thick flesh inside him would linger longer than usual come the following day.
He felt his lust surge anew and his body come alive with pleasure. This coupling proved far more raucous than the first. As they gave voice to their ecstasy, the stray thought that the servants would have much to talk about with their fellows in other households occurred to Mered. But both thought and any regret that they were stoking lurid gossip vanished when he felt the blinding bliss of union with Yovan and the ever sensual sensation of his mate’s spending inside him.