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“Please,” Jemel says. This time he sits up. He reaches for Xan with both arms and pulls him into another kiss, deep and hungry and hard. As if he needs Xan’s mouth to live. It feels, almost, as if he does. When Jemel pulls back, Xan looks quite surprised. Jemel looks into his eyes. “I could never resist you,” Jemel says and kisses Xan again. “I wanted you the moment I saw you. I wanted you so much I loathed you for it.”

He leans in for another kiss but this time, Xan pulls back. “Tell me again that you are sure.”

“Please, I am sure,” Jemel says, his voice a whine. “I swear it to you.”

“Very well.” Xan sounds amused. “How can I deny you?”

Xan’s agreement breaks over Jemel like a great relief. As Xan coaxes him to lie back again, he feels like his senses are overloading. His heart is beating frantically.

As Xan pulls off his jerkin and lowers himself down over Jemel’s supine body, Jemel whines. “Please I want you inside me. I need it. Will you show me what to do?”

“Yes,” Xan says softly. “I will show you what to do.” He lifts his hand to Jemel’s mouth. “I need you to get my fingers wet. I have heard foribunda means there is less need for oil. Let us hope that is true.”

Jemel moans as he opens his mouth for two of Xan’s fingers. He sucks on them hard, getting them as wet as he can. He knows what is going to happen next. He can hardly believe it could be true.

But it does happen. Xan slips his wet fingers from Jemel’s mouth and moves to slide one of them into his hole. Jemel groans with desire. Every time he has done this to himself, pleasurable as that was, feels like nothing compared with this. Xan’s fingers are so big, so thick and so beyond his own control. Xan slides the single finger in and out, already he is brushing over the place inside Jemel that sends jolts of pleasure through him. With a small adjustment of his wrist, Xan adds a second finger. The sensation is like nothing Jemel has ever felt before. Two of Xan’s fingers. It feels overwhelming. He is so completely full. The soft burn, the stretch of it. Jemel aches with desire. Pleas fall from his lips, over and over as Xan holds him, kisses him, slides those two fingers inside him, diligently preparing him. When Xan moves and guides his hard cock into Jemel’s hole, Jemel feels no pain, only a great wave of pleasure so intense he almost loses his wits to it.

Xan draws out and slides in again, moving cautiously slow.

Jemel tips his head back, lost to it. He feels Xan’s mouth, wet and warm on his exposed neck.

Xan’s next thrust into Jemel’s body is harder. Jemel cries out. It hurts, but deliciously. Xan’s fingers are on his face, tilting it back so their eyes meet.

“Priest?” Xan says, stilling his movements.

“No, please.” Jemel is babbling. “More, please. Like that. Hard like that.” he slides his thighs further apart.

Xan smiles. He fucks into Jemel. Hard. Then moves again. One great jolt of pleasure after another. Their bodies seem to glide together, tightly locked, moving as one beast.

Jemel gasps and moans. Pleasure builds and builds and he feels himself start to chase something. His spend. Like a light twinkling on a distant horizon. He moves his body under Xan, shifts into a position that means Xan’s cock is dragging over the sweet spot inside him.

Over him, Xan’s face is pure concentration. He looks so stern and serious. It almost makes Jemel want to laugh. Their eyes meet. Xan’s expression changes. He looks ferocious, suddenly. It is beautiful. He cries out, “Baraboo. By the Sidusia, Baraboo.” And he spends. He thrusts harder, deep into Jemel, and Jemel can feel it, warm and slick, filling him. Xan’s cock judders. Xan gasps, panting hard. His arms go soft. His body drops onto Jemel’s. Jemel grunts at the weight of it.

After a moment, Xan lifts his head. “Apologies, Baraboo,” he says in a rough whisper, reaching down to slide his cock out of Jemel’s body. He shifts, rolling off Jemel. Jemel is almost sad for the loss of his crushing weight.

Xan lies on the blankets beside Jemel. He reaches out and curls a hand around Jemel’s cock. “You are not quite done,” he says in a soft, satiated purr. “Let me finish this for you.”

Jemel feels his body respond instantly to the touch as Xan curls his fingers tight and strokes. The feel of Xan’s plush palm is delicious. It takes only moments for Jemel to start writhing, bucking into Xan’s touch. Xan reaches around Jemel’s body with his free hand and slides one of his fingers into Jemel’s hole, slipping easily in the slickness of his own spend.

Jemel arches at the feel of it. He gazes up at the ceiling.

Above him, he sees Zai. He sees Zai as he has always seen him, a man’s face. His father. The only father he has ever had. Not Prince Rafus who he discovered to be his blood father when he was sixteen. Not Doroth who was stern and distant but could be said to be the man who raised him more than any other. Not Gelen who disciplined him, but Zai.

Zai has been the only paternal guide he has ever had. But as that shape hovers above him with the face of a kindly man, it changes. The face becomes a demon. A terrifying beast with a snout and horns. Zai’s true face. Zai is no man. No father.

“Hear me Zai, “ Jemel growls to the floating image of the demon, “hear me know as I commit this sin of the body. I am The Scholar. And I will destroy you.”

Jemel spends, feeling his cock splash warm between his body and Xan’s.

The face of Zai changes again. Becoming a man again. But not the man Jemel usually sees when he imagines Zai.

The face becomes that of Emperor Atticul.

But this face is not Jemel’s imaginings. This face is the face of a man who stands over him.

Jemel gasps. Atticul smiles and Jemel sits up suddenly, pulling away from Xan and grabbing at the blankets to wrap them around his body.

“Baraboo?” Xan says.