My eyebrows raised at the last part, unaware of the potential ramifications.
I gave the acolyte a curt nod before he left the room in a swirl of black robes, firmly closing the door behind him. The silence after his departure stretched between Ilyas and I. It was a hot and heady thing, saturated in lust and anticipation.
I swallowed heavily again.
My soul called to his—recognized his as a piece of us now—and that deepest part of me wanted nothing more than to fully make Ilyas ours for the rest of our lives.
But I was concerned that, even though I wanted to consecrate this Bond with my Vessel, my body wouldn’t respond. That I wouldn’t be able to get hard. That I’d have a flashback. That I’d disappoint him.
Ilyas moved his hand and placed it directly over my erratically thumping heart. I snuck a glance down at the black mark on his forearm before reaching out to gently trace the lines with my finger. Ilyas sucked in a breath at the motion, but he never initiated any further contact. Eventually, I pulled my eyes back to his and saw only compassion and adoration in his sea-green gaze.
“I will not force you,” he rumbled as his thumb stroked against my jaw. “Something deep inside”—he thumped his chest with his free hand—“is pulling me to you, intent on completing this Bond, but I would rather a piece of my soul die than force you to do something that would cause you more harm.”
He paused, gathering his thoughts, as a sadness swept through his captivating irises.
“I know what it’s like . . . to be forced and Awakened before you’re ready,” he whispered, and my heart broke at the admission, at the blatant embarrassment and hurt he felt.
The side of my mouth quirked in a sad smile before dropping it completely. Tentatively, I reached out and cupped Ilyas’ face with my own hand, the stubble of his jaw scratching against my palm.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I mumbled, knowing from my own experience that a platitude could do nothing to truly heal the hurt that lived deep inside. So I offered him a truth of my own. “I’ve only ever been with one person . . . willingly. We were young, but I thought I loved her. And maybe I did, in the way only teenagers can.”
I paused as Ilyas methodically stroked my cheek, pouring affection and care into every pass of his thumb.
“But this?” I breathed deep, “this is more than love. There is something soul-deep that pulls me to you, that lights me from the inside. It feelsright.”
Ilyas pressed his forehead against my own, and I clutched at his arms, pulling him tighter against me.
“I would like you to be my second, if you’re willing?” I mumbled, my breath fanning against his lips that were so tantalizingly close to my own. “I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to . . . perform, but I’d like to try.”
Something about Ilyas made me want to try, made me want to hope that my inability to feel arousal was just a trauma response I could overcome.
And gods did I want to overcome it for him.
“Whatever you want,” he murmured against my lips before lowering his mouth to my own, meeting in a soft, tentative kiss. Ilyas was only the second person I’d ever kissed, and the act felt way more intimate than anything else we would potentially do tonight.
His lips were large and soft, and they moved across mine with languid expertise, like he was trying to taste all of me at once. Ilyas gently pried my lips open with his own before lazily pushing his tongue inside my mouth to tangle with my own. The sensation of his tongue against mine was heady, and I moaned into his mouth.
My heart jumped at the sound, and Ilyas smiled as he continued to kiss me, never increasing his speed or attempting to move to the next thing. Slowly, I relaxed into his affection, my muscles loosening as my body drifted downward until I lay on my back, Ilyas hovering over my prone form.
The longer we kissed, the more I felt that part of me I thought permanently dormant awaken. Blood rushed to my cock and it hardened in my pants, trying to push through to reach the man who was the first to stoke my arousal in months.
Ilyas moved above me, his hips coming into contact with my erection. He froze and pulled away from our kiss, his ocean eyes questioning and so open.
“Touch me, Ilyas, please,” I whispered. “I don’t want to be broken anymore.”
“You’re not broken, Lex. You were never broken. What happened to you . . . I could understand if youneverwanted to touch or be touched again. You are perfect the way you are my Mage, and I will do whatever you want, whatever you need, for you to see that. Even if we never consummate this Bond, I will be happy knowing my soul found yours.”
Tears welled in my eyes at his conviction, at the honesty I heard in his declaration and saw shimmering in his eyes.
“Touch me, Ilyas. I trust you. Touch me,” I said again and gasped when his large hand wrapped around my pant-clad dick and squeezed.
“Oh, fuck!” I exclaimed, his touch causing precum to gush from the tip of my cock.
Ilyas’ pupils dilated at the wet spot on the front of my pants, and an animalistic groan rattled through his chest as he bent down andlickedit.
My cock twitched in his hand and my belly tightened at the intimate act.
“Can I taste you?” he rumbled against my crotch.
