Seeds by Ari Michaels

Author:Ari Michaels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ellora's Cave Publishing Inc.
Published: 2013-11-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Seph had been in Hades for three months now.

He appraised himself critically in the large gilded mirror that hung above the washstand. He was leaner, more toned. Faded from lack of sun.

It lent an elegance to his appearance, he decided—pale gold and luminous, his skin. Made his eyes even brighter in his face. He was strong, he was quick and agile. And horny as hell.

Ready to burst if he didn’t do something soon besides fevered jacking off.

Seph grunted to himself. He should be pleased—he knew Kasimir noticed his body, his appeal. He knew he had to and he hoped it made him crazy. None of his lovers had ever been able to turn away.

But he is not my lover.

He rifled through the heavy teak wardrobe before him. Kasimir had transfigured yards and yards of magecloth into a wardrobe fit for a king. Choosing a shimmering silk shirt the variegated colors of a ripe pomegranate for the next day, Seph heaved a sigh. Tomorrow. He couldn’t wait any longer. He would see just how far—

No. I will not. There is only control…

He stilled himself, drew a deep, wavering breath and smoothed his unruly hair back into a horsetail with quick hands, his fingers dancing over his bare neck. Chills chased up and down his spine and his stomach careened, free-falling and drunken. What would those long fingers—those elegant hands—feel like tracing down the curve of his neck, his back? Kasimir’s breath warm at his ear as he slipped a hand beneath the flimsy fabric, teasing hardened nipples between his thumb and forefinger, the fingers of his other hand down his breeches and cradling his balls—

No. There is only control.

He scowled then, dousing the lantern, willed himself into sleep as the fire died down to embers. And he dreamed of Kasimir…of him crying out his name. Of the other man’s body writhing against his, tight, hard.

Of what it might feel like to let go and fall…

* * * * *

Kasimir wrote fast and fevered.

He is the sun. I am dark spaces between the stars.

He is gold. I am obsidian tucked away beneath a crushing mantle of earth in a black and endless night.

I’m an idiot.

I smile, mirthless, just considering the absurdity of my desires. He was draped tonight over the sofa nearest the shelf of histories, his face painted in candlelight. He flipped the leaves of a huge cloth-bound book.

And yet…

Today he hit me so hard in the gut that my breath was forced from my lungs. He was faster, he was stronger.

Today he had not mocked me. Only looked at me thoughtfully, even grinning at something clever I had said.

That smile—more cruel than anything he could have ever devised. I am losing. Losing myself, losing this game.

No, I’ve already lost. I will never be free of him again.

* * * * *

Seph sat back in his chair, deep in thought. Kasimir hunched over his desk across the room, his pen scratching over the pages of a small volume. His face was half-shadowed, brow furrowed in concentration.

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