Marek kisses Sei’s jaw. His neck.
Heat races through Sei’s veins, and words spill from his lips. “I hated the ceremony, except for the part where you kissed me.”
“I loved kissing you in front of everyone.” Marek cups Sei’s ass. Fuck, Marek’s hands are so large. His fingers tense, pushing into Sei’s muscles with maddening friction. “Are you all right with every noble in Alantha knowing I can’t keep my hands off you?”
Sei’s fingers sink into Marek’s thick hair. “All right may be an understatement.”
Marek’s low laugh vibrates against Sei’s throat. “I owe Navlin an apology. I haven’t been polite today. I want everyone to know this isn’t just an arrangement to me. Not anymore.”
Every word ricochets between Sei’s bones. “Marek Helra Dire,” he says sternly. “I don’t want you to bepoliteto me.”
“Is that so?” Marek presses a wet kiss right in front of Sei’s ear. “Tell me how you want me, then. I’m down for anything.”
“Anything?”
“Anything regular.” Marek eyes Sei with a smirk. “A few irregular things too, if you want to get creative. I can do some interesting things with Dire magic.”
Sei’s heart pounds. Creativity is beyond him. All he can think of is the most basic, complete connection. “Don’t stop touching me,” he begs first.
“I can do that.”
“And I want your cock inside me.”
Marek’s grip tightens on his ass. “I can do that too.”
The world lurches as Marek yanks him away from the wall. Sei falls against Marek’s chest, heart thudding with anticipation. His arms drape over Marek’s shoulders, and his whole world narrows to the look in Marek’s eyes.
Difficult to believe Marek is just as desperate for this. But the evidence is convincing.
The bedroom is nice, but impersonal. They’ve barely spent any time in it the past few days, too tired for more than lazy touches and kisses. Now, the fireplace crackles, and mage lamps flicker to life with their presence.
Marek holds Sei up with one arm as he fumbles through a cabinet. Sei assumes Marek is tossing the jar of salve on the bed, but he doesn’t look. He’s too busy kissing Marek’s throat, drowning in his scent. He clutches the fur cloak around Marek’s shoulders.
“Setting you down,” Marek warns before he sets Sei down so carefully, he doesn’t even stumble. Marek’s hand remains at Sei’s waist. “Can I undress you?”
“Please. There are so many buttons.”
Marek circles him. He traces Sei’s shoulders through the heavy cloak. Then Marek’s fingertips press above Sei’s heart. A beat echoes through them both. Marek unfastens the clasp at Sei’s throat. House Dire’s cloak falls away. Marek lays it in front of the fireplace, then progresses to Sei’s many buttons.
“What are Helran weddings like?” Sei asks.
Marek pulls the jacket from Sei’s arms, his touch sliding through the silk shirt beneath. “Simpler than this. All the mountain clans hold their weddings outdoors so the open sky can witness.”
“What if it rains?”
“They reschedule for disasters, but rain is good.” Marek brushes aside Sei’s hair and kisses the back of his neck. Sensation races down Sei’s spine. “It helps things grow. It washes everything clean.”
“That does sound nice,” Sei manages as Marek circles around to his belt buckle.
“There’s no officiant either.” Marek slides the leather free. Each movement tugs the tight fabric of Sei’s trousers against his cock. “Claim and claimant swear their vows to each other, without anyone else in the way.”
Sei’s breath catches. He doesn’t need to ask his next question, because he already knows the answer. Marek wishes they had that kind of ceremony instead.
While Sei is glad they didn’t.
Today’s wedding was a showpiece. The culmination of an international treaty. A trade arrangement in which Sei is one half of the merchandise.
This, right now? Marek’s hands exploring beneath his shirt? The pleasure building like a storm inside Sei?
