Desert Ice by Rose Maefair

Author:Rose Maefair [Maefair, Rose]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-30T16:00:00+00:00

Wyl was tired. He still had several more hours to ride before he could think about sleep. Once the first moon began to rise, he would stop Sato, and they could camp for the rest of the night. Then he could sleep.

Lysander was already asleep. Shortly after they’d turned south, he’d succumbed to his body’s demands. At first, he’d nodded forward or backward before suddenly catching himself. Yet sometime in the afternoon, he had leaned his body back into Wyl’s. Lysander’s head had nestled on the northerner’s shoulder as if it belonged there, and he had not moved since.

Briefly, Wyl had thought of pushing the man away, given how Lysander had felt about the northerner’s touch. Then Wyl had breathed deep, catching the mage’s scent. Instead, Wyl had wrapped his arms around Lysander. The weight and the warmth felt good.

Damn you. You are weaving yet new chains around me, aren’t you?

Soft, warm air that smelled of rider’s milk puffing from Lysander’s full lips was his only answer. Repeating his actions from their first ride, Wyl slipped the desert man’s scarf away from his face so he could study it while the man slept.

Even pebbled with rough growth from lack of shaving, his skin looked smooth and inviting. His lips seemed to beckon to Wyl to claim them for his own. When Wyl should be looking on the horizon for signs of their foes, he wanted to examine Lysander’s thick lashes.

I wonder if I could take you again as I did before. I wonder if I touched and pleased you while you slept and brought you the edge of relief if it would chase away the lifelessness from your eyes. I wonder if I could swallow your passionate cries of release again and taste your seed on my lips.

Wyl was so tempted. He curled his hands around Lysander’s stomach. He lowered his lips to hover just above Lysander’s. It was amazing that in the desert inferno, Wyl could still want more; he could still want Lysander’s heat.

He lifted his head and took a deep breath. He uncurled his hands.

No.

No! His treatment of Lysander before had been born of rage. Wyl would not repeat those mistakes. He was no longer so overwhelmed by his anger that his honor had no sway over his reason.

Yes, Lysander had enslaved Wyl in the worst way he could imagine. Yet Lysander had never taken advantage of that spell.

I cannot say the same.

Lysander had willingly bound himself to Wyl. He’d shown he was prepared to keep to the terms of his bond whether he enjoyed it or not.

And whose fault is that?

Guilt crept from under the edges of Wyl’s thoughts. He gently tucked the sand scarf back over Lysander’s face.

To trick him, to force him beyond the terms of the barter would… Wyl wouldn’t do it. He was better than a takesh. The next time they coupled, it would be born of mutual pleasure and need.

If there is a next time.

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