| |
Ylandre, in the 3006th Year of the Common Age
Eight years ago
As soon as he stepped into the drawing room, Yovan’s eyes homed in almost inexorably on a Deir who had graced the town house with his presence much too frequently. Isron Debrith was now Bank Cordona’s biggest investor which apparently earned him the privilege of being invited for dinner or to stay over at the Seydon residence in Rikara thrice as often as the Cordonas’ other clients and associates.
Yovan could understand the desire to keep the builder interested in the bank’s ventures. What had irked Yovan for some years now was the Cordonas’ decision to have Mered stoke that interest. It was only when he perceived Debrith’s ill-concealed attraction to his spouse that he comprehended the reason.
It had roused his jealousy for the first time and that worried him. Wherefore the feeling if there was no basis for it?
He turned his attention to Mered who seemed unaware of Yovan’s arrival, so busy was he regaling Debrith with some story or other. Debrith was looking at him quite raptly. Not that Yovan could blame him.
Mered’s bright hair had darkened to bronze with age and faint lines now marked the corners of his eyes and mouth when he squinted or laughed. It did not matter. Though he was no longer young and virginal, Mered was still a beauty who could compete with his younger counterparts on any given day. Yovan knew his mate was desired by many Deira, some his junior by several years.
He continued to observe Mered as was his wont nowadays when his mate entertained his seeming never ending flow of guests. Especially when the guest was Debrith. Yovan had noticed over time that Mered appeared to know the Deir very well. Behaved quite familiarly with him which he did not do with all the others. For that matter, Yovan thought Debrith looked familiar, but he could not for the life of him recall when or where he might have encountered the builder prior to being introduced to him.
He knew little about the Deir other than that he was a sedyr who hailed from Edessa. His antecedents were farmers of means but his sire had desired more for his children and moved his family to Rikara. He’d done very well for himself through wise investments and highly profitable businesses including a very lucrative building company that catered to the wealthiest families in the north of Ylandre. He’d passed the business to his older son when he retired. He was also one of the first major investors of Bank Cordona under Asrael’s management and was thus quite close to the family.
Debrith was pleasing of countenance with dark hair, pale brown eyes and a pointed chin. His pale complexion indicated he stayed indoors more oft than out. He was almost as tall as Yovan but lacked the muscular breadth of chest, shoulders and arms of someone who regularly engaged in brisk physical activity. It suggested a life spent mostly behind a desk. Yovan wondered if he was as little learned in fighting as Mered had been before their marriage.
He looked around for Debrith’s spouse and spotted him sitting by himself in a corner chair. The Deir appeared to be sulking and judging by the frequent glares he sent his mate’s way, the reason was obvious. Yovan knew if Mered flaunted his attraction to another Deir, he would be far from pleased too.
He recalled meeting Debrith’s first spouse years ago at Woodmere. He’d been quite startled when the following year, Debrith had introduced an entirely different mate. That union lasted all of three years and it was a lengthy while before Debrith married again. Yovan wondered how long it would take before his current spouse fell out of favor too. He finally decided to approach Mered and greet him.
When Debrith spotted him, the animation faded from his face and he seemed to put on a neutral mask. Yovan sensed the raising of what shields he possessed against potential incursions into his mind. Unfortunately for Debrith, while he could obstruct a cursory look at his thoughts, he could not really conceal them from a highly gifted Deir.
Not that Yovan would invade anyone’s mind, but he could and did pick up on the nature of these thoughts, either negative or positive. Thus far, he had never sensed anything positive toward him from Debrith. The builder still held some grudge or other against him.
He returned Debrith’s cold nod with equal frigidity and placed a hand on Mered’s shoulder. With his back to Yovan, Mered had obviously not realized he was there. But when he turned to see who had touched him thusly, he looked quite startled. He quickly pasted on a smile but Yovan could tell it was not real. Indeed Mered’s eyes reflected a far different emotion. Tension? Unease? Yovan was not certain but he knew it was not welcome he saw.
“Did you just arrive?” Mered asked.
“Yes.” Yovan glanced at Debrith and caught him eyeing him with great displeasure. “I apologize for interrupting your conversation,” he blandly said. “I only came to let you know I’m home.”
He turned to walk away but Mered caught him by the hand and pulled him back. “Nay, don’t go. Stay.” He lifted Yovan’s hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles.
Yovan sighed. The gesture never failed to shake his resolve. But another glimpse of Debrith’s poorly concealed annoyance served to bolster his resolve once more.
“I believe your guest wishes to continue your discussion,” he said. “Carry on. I’ll await you in our rooms. It’s been a long day.”
A flush darkened Debrith’s face and he seemed to bristle at Yovan’s words. But a look from Mered quelled the Deir and he turned his stare elsewhere, his pout replaced by pursed lips. Mered’s expression however was of more interest to Yovan. He’d rolled his eyes then directed a glare at Debrith. But it had not been one of anger. Rather it was as if he’d been warning the Deir. About what Yovan could not begin to guess.
Mered turned back to him and murmured, “I will join you soonest. I’ve had a long day too.”
Yovan nodded and headed out of the drawing room. As he exited the chamber, he glanced back and saw Mered appearing to argue with Debrith. But then he placed a hand on the Deir’s arm in what seemed to be a placating manner. At the same time, Debrith’s spouse stood up, stalked to the door and brushed past Yovan with nary a word. He did not bother to hide how upset he was as he headed down the hallway to the guest wing. Yovan looked back one more time as Mered continued to speak to Debrith. He finally exhaled tiredly and walked away.
Mered came to their apartment within the hour and walked straight into the bathing room. He seemed out of sorts which prompted Yovan to peer into the chamber and watch him as he stood under the spray of the water chute. He frowned as Mered proceeded to scrub his arms and particularly his hands so viciously it looked as if he was trying to wash his skin right off the bone.
Yovan wondered what drove him thusly. Perhaps he should request Mered to allow him to read his thoughts to assess his mental state since it was clear he could not bring himself to tell Yovan directly what was troubling him. But then he recalled how Mered always reacted when he broached the suggestion. He would gaze at Yovan with wounded indignation, eyes gleaming with hurt and anxiety and question him in a trembling voice.
Did Yovan think there was something wrong with him? Had he done anything to earn Yovan’s distrust? Was Yovan thinking of leaving him?
Yovan returned to the bed and slid under the covers. Much as he wished, he could not deny it. He was a coward. He could not bear the thought of pushing Mered away by confronting him about an issue he obviously did not wish to discuss. His spouse was his greatest blessing and his worst weakness.
Rather than lose the trust and admiration of the love of his life, Yovan preferred to play the craven fool even if it threatened to break him irreparably.
––––––––
By summer, events in the kingdom overtook his personal concerns. Not even in Yovan’s most improbable dreams had he imagined Imcael would impose his wishes on Rohyr through coercion. It beggared belief. Yet Imcael assured them all that his was no idle threat. He ignored all others’ counsel and protests and forced Rohyr to capitulate to his demand that he wed his youngest son. It cost him dearly however for Rohyr banished him from court, something the Herun had not foreseen and never thought his nephew would do.
Almost a year later, to prevent a Cattanian union with a member of the royal family, Rohyr handfasted to Tyrde Kardova, only child of Imcael’s second marriage. Seeing his nephew’s unhappiness and witnessing Lassen’s stoic misery, Yovan wondered if it was possible to despise Imcael more than he already did. As for Tyrde, Yovan decided he would waste none of his time or amiability on someone who only thought of his wants and needs and had the gall to try and arrogate power to himself in a bid to establish himself as the preeminent Deir in the the kingdom.
It was a foolish attempt and only served to expose Tyrde as the spoiled, self-centered Deir that he was. Not to mention a possible threat to Ylandre’s well-being and stability. Tyrde made no bones about wanting to form his own court of loyalists, a dangerous precedent if he was allowed to set it.
The following year, the Ardis showed his claws and set off a series of events that would eventually lead to conflict and tragedy within the Royal House. Infuriated by Rohyr’s continued liaison with his leman and unexpectedly jealous of their devotion to each other, Tyrde drove Lassen into self-imposed exile. By Veres’s grace, Rohyr uncovered his scheme, decided to put an end to his farce of a marriage and take Lassen in wedlock instead. That he’d sired a child on his leman strengthened his resolve.
And so occurred an event unheard of in the annals of Aisen. Rohyr soul-bound to Lassen though he was still wed to Tyrde. It was brilliant reasoning, Yovan thought when Rohyr announced his intentions to his most trusted kin. A binding of two souls validated by Veres himself superseded all other matrimonial unions, even those solemnized in a fane ceremony. What more a civil marriage which handfasting essentially was? It became clear then that Rohyr had been considering the radical move long before he finally confessed his love to Lassen.
So here they all were in the Temple of Ziana, the oldest in all Aisen still open for public worship. Rohyr had chosen to bind to Lassen in the home base of the templars of Ylandre and possibly all of North Vihandra. Rohyr had never revealed who the others were and Yovan never pressed for the information. But though Rohyr did not confirm it, Yovan believed the rumor naming Tenryon Hadrana chief of all the North Continent templars to be true.
He blew his breath out as the maelstrom of silver flames enveloped Rohyr and Lassen where they stood together on the altar, a confirmation of the eternal consecration of their binding. What must it be like to feel the Creator’s presence directly? To know one’s request has been granted and in such a manner that the granting was visible to all who stood witness? A faint twinge of regret marred Yovan’s joy for his nephew.
He’d once thought of asking Mered to bind to him. Back when he learned Keldon and Dyrael had taken the irreversible step of wedding their souls for all eternity. He would never forget the court’s collective shock when they appeared at audience with the earrings of the soul-mated adorning their left ears. Where once they bore one adamant each embedded in white-silver, the priceless bluish gems had been paired with snow sapphire, the emblematic stone of the Veresian faith worn only by prelates and the soul-bound.
A pang of grief supplanted the twinge of regret. Keldon and Dyrael had bound to each other thusly a scant three years before the Ardis passed away. Precious little time to revel in the sense of utter trust and belonging soul-binding gifted upon a couple. He swallowed hard. Not that it mattered any longer where he and Mered were concerned. The deep confidence he’d once had in their relationship had eroded in recent years due to Mered’s nigh consuming involvement in the Cordonas’ business interests.
There were times Yovan wondered if he would ever return to the top of his mate’s priorities. Wondered and hoped. This was not to say he thought Mered no longer loved him, only that perhaps their love was no longer enough for his mate. Mayhap Yovan was no longer enough.
He covered his trembling lips with a none too steady hand. Thank Veres his son and nephews were enraptured for the moment by the heart-stopping evidence of the Maker among them. As the flames started to dim, he whispered a prayer of supplication in the hope that Veres would hear his plea before He withdrew from their midst.
––––––––
Events moved rapidly after Rohyr and Lassen’s binding. In the fall, Lassen birthed Rohyr’s son and heir, Vyren Essendri il Idana. With help from his loyal cousins, Rohyr uncovered the means by which he could rid himself of his unwanted marriage the following spring. Not surprisingly, Tyrde did not yield without a fight. What was unexpected was his invocation of an ancient law that had fallen out of favor because of its barbarism. A duel that would end in death for Lassen or himself. Not even an appalled Imcael was able to dissuade him from forcing the challenge.
In his arrogance Tyrde believed himself the superior fighter. He may well have been right since he had partaken of battle whereas Lassen had no experience of it. The ensuing fight seemed to bear out this belief and there were many times Yovan nigh drew blood when he bit down hard on his lower lip each time Lassen nearly came to grief.
He’d offered to shield Lassen should Tyrde attempt any mind tricks on Rohyr’s sedyran mate. But Rohyr had delegated that task to others and asked Yovan to keep an eye on Imcael instead.
It was a measure of Rohyr’s disillusionment with Imcael. How distrustful he now was of his sire’s only brother that he would suspect him of possible treachery. But though he observed a palpably distraught Imcael and carefully skimmed his surface thoughts, Yovan found no hint of anger toward Rohyr or any desire to aid Tyrde in slaying Lassen. What he did discover was shock, horror and disbelief that his son had proceeded with his intention to doom Rohyr to a life of heartbreak and despair. Vengeance served while it was still freshly removed from the burning coals.
It was about then that Yovan discovered just how powerful his nephew was. Rohyr had apprised him of his many abilities, but it was one thing to be told about them, another to witness the actual wielding of one.
Yovan would never forget the eerie sight of Lassen suddenly fighting Tyrde like one possessed. Yovan supposed in a way he had been possessed when Rohyr employed the ability to meld his mind with another and thus taken over from Lassen as he battled Tyrde. In the end, Tyrde proved no match for Rohyr and he perforce forfeited the duel.
Noble and merciful, Lassen spared him execution. But in a moment of insanity—or a confirmation of madness that had always been there—Tyrde tried to assassinate Rohyr to enable the throne to pass to his sire instead. There was no way it could have ended well for him. Yovan could only watch in pity and disbelief as a grief-stricken Imcael cradled his youngest child, uncaring of the entrails that spilled out of Tyrde’s rent belly.
In the summer, Yovan was among those who ranged themselves on the altar of the Temple of Rikara to witness Lassen’s crowning as Ardis of Ylandre. A small part of him hoped no further crises would rock the kingdom for a goodly while. The greater part knew that was wishful thinking.
Not a year later, strife broke out in Tenerith as Varadani sympathizers launched an offensive in the province earlier than usual. In a calculated move to decimate their ranks and set the insurgents back for a great length of time, Rohyr mounted a massive campaign against them.
Yovan had offered his services. But Rohyr chose to leave him and his diplomat cousin Jareth Hadrana in Rikara so they could keep an eye on hostile neighbors who might be tempted to take advantage of the situation. Needless to say Mered was relieved whereas Rysander expressed disappointment that he was not permitted to go either.
Hardly had the turmoil from that conflict died down when Yovan departed on a diplomatic mission to the Nazcan Hegemony. The Calanthe twins Zykriel and Gilmael accompanied him at the behest of the Hegemony Prime Eulan Shidara concurrently Herun of the domain of Medav.
Yovan returned from the mission troubled and not altogether certain if the alliance was worth the demands Eulan made. Particularly troubling was the proviso that Zykriel wed Eulan’s middle son Qristan. It was worded as a suggestion but there was no mistaking it for other than a set condition. Eulan’s reasons had been sound and sensible, but Yovan could not shake the feeling there was something amiss. He took care however not to throw his suspicions in their hosts’ face or allow Gilmael to voice his anger.
They were Rohyr’s representatives and had to act accordingly even if they did not like the terms and consequences of the negotiations. The Hegemony would now be allied with Ylandre in perpetuity. They had what they came for. But Yovan was too experienced to be sanguine about the whole situation. He headed home with the feeling that he would perforce revisit the Hegemony for reasons other than to attend Zykriel’s nuptials the following year.
In any case, the trip had tired him out not so much in body as in spirit. Therefore he was in no state to tolerate the rude surprise that awaited him back home.
––––––––
Mered paled when a servant came to him to announce Yovan’s arrival. He had not expected his mate to be home before sundown. He glanced at Isron Debrith as the latter stepped into the parlor, his bright expression clearly indicating his pleasure at seeing Mered by himself. But before Mered could hasten the builder’s leave-taking, Yovan appeared in the doorway, his grin fading away to be replaced with a frown as soon as he espied Debrith. Mered attempted to forestall a possible confrontation.
“Yovan!” he exclaimed, imbuing his voice with surprise and pleasure. “I didn’t expect you to arrive so early.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Yovan eyed Debrith dispassionately before looking at Mered with a touch of scorn.
“That’s quite obvious,” he said in a voice just this side of icy. “I trust your guest enjoyed his stay?”
Mered cursed himself for inciting Yovan’s suspicions further.
“I did indeed,” Debrith replied just as coolly. He obviously did not care that it was deemed gauche to reply to someone who had not spoken to him. “Mer is a very accommodating host,” he added with a warm smile at Mered.
What in Aisen is he doing, Mered peevishly thought. He kept his gaze on Yovan.
“Isron was just taking his leave,” he said.
Yovan snorted. “And his mate?”
Mered caught his breath and was unable to speak at once. When he finally found his tongue, his voice came out a half octave higher. “He, uh, didn’t join Isron this visit.”
Yovan’s eyes widened in disbelief and then narrowed dangerously. “Is that so? How... unusual. I trust all is well with the both of you?” he suddenly asked Debrith.
Caught off guard, the builder sputtered a tad defensively, “But of course! Why shouldn’t we be?”
Yovan nodded and then turned on his heel to head for the door. “A good day to you,” he said over his shoulder. “Give my regards to your spouse.”
Mered blew his breath out in agitation. He glanced warningly at Debrith and hurried after Yovan. He caught up to his mate as the latter turned into the corridor leading to the bedchambers.
“Van, wait!” he called out.
Yovan paused, looked over his shoulder and then walked on.
Mered quickened his pace and grabbed Yovan’s arm. He half forced him to face him as Yovan tried to pull his arm away.
“What do you have to say?” Yovan snapped.
His tone irked Mered though he was fully aware he’d earned it. His pride overtaking his good sense, he retorted, “You were very rude to Isron!”
He flinched when Yovan stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief.
“I was rude?” he scoffed. “I come home to this and you dare to accuse me thusly?”
“This?” Mered bristled, forgetting he was in the wrong and Yovan had every right to feel offended. “You’re angry over a mere visit by an investor of the bank. Our biggest investor may I remind you.”
“A mere visit?” Yovan repeated incredulously. “And was it mere coincidence that he chose to visit you by himself while I was away?”
“That’s absurd! I had no inkling he would come alone.”
“Ah, then you invited him.”
“Nay, I just mentioned you were off on another mission.”
“On the assumption that he would understand you were asking him over.”
“I didn’t! I was surprised when he showed up!”
“Were you really? Then why didn’t you disabuse him of his assumption?”
“That would have been impolite!” Mered hurried on, his shame and guilt spurring him to snidely rebut Yovan’s charge. “You’re making much about nothing! To be all up in arms over a simple visit. Really, Van?”
He knew he had blundered almost as soon as he spoke the words. Yovan moved forward menacingly, forcing Mered back a step.
“Yes, I am appalled you let him stay over while I was gone and him without his spouse,” Yovan growled. “It isn’t proper, Mer. It isn’t done! Or do you not give a fig about talk that you might be dallying with someone when I’m absent?”
Throwing prudence to the four winds, Mered retaliated heedlessly. “You don’t trust me!” he almost shouted. “That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You can’t accept that I have acquaintances of my own! How dare you chastise me when you have nothing to justify your unfounded jealousy despite your hounding my every bloody step! Better yet, why not just set the servants to watch me? Perhaps when they vouch for my innocence, you’ll finally back off!”
Mered saw the moment Yovan seemed to collapse into himself. He cursed his too quick tongue. He’d gone too far. Indeed, he should not have gone there at all.
“Van, that wasn’t— I didn’t mean—” he stuttered.
Yovan looked down, his face a mask but his suddenly slack shoulders betrayed how upset he was. “You’re correct,” he murmured. “I have no right to take you to task based on unproven suspicions. It is as you say, I’m just a jealous fool.”
He exhaled and moved to walk past Mered. Stricken by Yovan’s dejected countenance, Mered threw his arms around him.
“Forgive me, Van, I had no call to speak to you like that,” he said. When Yovan only shook his head, he hugged him closer and pleaded, “Please, forget what I said. That was wrong of me. I didn’t mean any of it.”
Yovan declined to meet Mered’s eyes. He sighed and pulled away saying, “I suggest you see to Debrith. It would be impolite not to see him off.”
“Heyas,” Mered muttered in vexation. “I’ll join you as soon as he leaves. I promise I won’t be long.”
He winced when Yovan only shrugged and said, “If you say so.”
Mered watched him walk away with leaden steps. His stomach churned with guilt and shame. Yovan moved like an aged Deir. Or one who bore the world on his shoulders. He sighed dolefully and left to send Debrith on his way as quickly as possible.
He was to blame. It was his fault Yovan seemed so lacking in certitude about their marriage these days. Was so unsure about Mered that he constantly monitored him only to back off with profuse apologies if Mered showed his temper. He was quite unlike the strong and confident Deir he’d married decades ago.
Mered needed to fix what he’d wrought before everything fell apart. He had to reassure Yovan. He would have to put more effort into shoring up Yovan’s trust and make their marriage flourish as it had when they first wed.
As soon as the builder departed, Mered hurried to their apartment and entered the bedchamber. Yovan stood in the doorway to the bathing room toweling himself dry. Despite his uncharacteristically bowed shoulders and listless gait, he was still a fine specimen of masculine pulchritude. The sight of his naked flesh with droplets of moisture still clinging to his skin was enough to set Mered’s desire simmering. He doffed his clothing while Yovan tossed the towel aside and walked to the wardrobe
He hurried over as Yovan opened the wardrobe. Catching him by the wrist when Yovan reached inside for sleeping attire, Mered hauled his startled mate to the bed and bore him down upon it. Forestalling any protests on Yovan’s part, he straddled him and launched a heady assault, using his many graces to entice and enflame his spouse.
Not even all of Yovan’s self-control could withstand so aggressive an overture. Capturing Yovan in a scalding kiss, Mered pressed their groins together and drove upward until their shafts slid and rubbed against each other. Yovan groaned against his lips as sensation overtook reason. Mered dared to break their kiss and look upon his lover’s countenance. Yovan stared back at him, eyes flashing with unleashed hunger. Mered gasped when he was summarily rolled over then pulled up by his hips until he rested on elbows and knees.
Through the corner of his eyes, he saw Yovan retrieve a bottle of oil from the bedside table. A moment later, Yovan spread him open. But unlike times past, Yovan did not take his time preparing him. After little more than a few jabs of his oil-slick fingers, Yovan molded himself against Mered’s back and mounted him with one deep thrust. Mered grabbed at the headboard, recognizing the advent of a hard ride.
The relentless breaching that followed confirmed his expectation. His world swiftly narrowed until all he was aware of was the shaft that cleaved and opened him with every lunge of Yovan’s hips. He tightened his grip on the headboard, dug his knees into the mattress and pushed back against his mate to ensure he was deeply speared with every bruising thrust. Thus could he assure Yovan that he was his. That Yovan could do with him as he wished. The spiral to completion was swift and dizzying .
Attaining release first, Yovan muffled his cry against Mered’s back. As soon as he caught his breath, he pulled out and, brusquely rolling Mered onto his back, lowered his head between his thighs and closed his mouth around his mate’s thrumming shaft. A few hard sucks was all it took before Mered howled his pleasure and spilled himself down Yovan’s throat.
Winded by such an intense climax, he did not move but waited for Yovan to creep back up to lie by him. His backside still throbbing slightly from its vigorous delving, he winced when he turned on his side to face his spouse.
Yovan noticed his discomfort at once. “I’m sorry, ariad,” he murmured.
Hearkening to the endearment he’d never tire of hearing, Mered cupped Yovan’s cheek and sweetly kissed him. He sighed and tucked himself against his spouse.
“I’m sorry too,” he half whispered. “I regret hurting you like that. You know how I run my mouth off. It’s such a bad habit. I wish I could rid myself of it. I hope you know I didn’t mean to say those things.”
When Yovan did not reply at once, Mered worried that once again he’d said something wrong. Or that his spouse did not believe him.
“You didn’t mean to say the words,” Yovan murmured at length. “But you meant what you said.”
Mered opened his mouth to protest, but Yovan laid a finger against his lips.
“I told you long ago that I liked your forthrightness,” Yovan reminded him. “I still do. I’d rather you let me know rather than conceal your thoughts and feelings. Even if it hurts.” Yovan smiled lopsidedly. “Though I hope you’ll be more gentle with me next time.”
Mered winced. “I’ll be more mindful of what I say,” he promised. “I admit I may have been... annoyed by your displays of-of jealousy. But it isn’t that I think you don’t have a right to feel thusly. Only that you shouldn’t feel jealous of the likes of Is—Debrith,” he corrected, belatedly remembering how much Yovan disliked his familiarity with the builder. He also recalled that Debrith had used the shortened form of his name earlier in front of Yovan. He cursed inwardly and set to repairing his mate’s confidence. “There’s none who can compare with you in my eyes. None I desire save you and only you.”
Yovan softy chuckled. “Flatterer. But thank you nonetheless.”
He turned over and reached into the bedside table once more to fetch a jar filled with a salve that helped soothe aches and other pains. They applied it whenever their love play had far exceeded their bodies’ capacity for such usage. Mered felt another pang as he realized they had not done so lately. He promised himself to address the matter forthwith. Maybe then Yovan’s full trust would return.
Yovan motioned to him to roll over. Mered complied, parting his legs as he came to rest on his belly. He sighed in relief when Yovan applied the mild-scented unguent and the ache faded to a bearable degree. A short laugh followed by a moan escaped him when Yovan flexed his long fingers to do more than ease the medicament into him.
“It’s wicked of you to torment me so,” he gasped as he was skillfully stroked within.
“Nay, I’m merely making amends,” Yovan countered. He leaned down until his breath feathered Mered’s ear. “Besides I enjoy watching you come undone,” he added before pressing kisses to Mered’s back and shoulders. A moment later, he sneaked his other hand between Mered’s thighs and proceeded to fondle him as well.
Mered groaned as he was gently pleasured. It did not take long before he spent himself in Yovan’s hand. He waited for Yovan to withdraw his fingers and then chuckling weakly, pushed himself once more onto his side and beckoned to his mate to lie facing him. Yovan did so, a grin brightening his features.
“You’re incorrigible,” Mered lazily drawled. ”But I love you just the same.”
Yovan’s grin lengthened into a dazzling smile. Mered resolved to evoke that smile more often as he enfolded Yovan in his arms.