Like Fire Through Bone (32 page)

When they broke apart, Vasilios leaned on one arm while he wrapped his other hand around Markos’s cock. Markos’s eyes slid shut and he groaned, rocking his hips into Vasilios’s hand. Markos fit perfectly in the curve of his palm, Vasilios thought, not long but thick and hard, foreskin drawn back from the dark head.

“God… oh, God.” Markos’s voice was deep with desire, threaded through with desperation.

Vasilios moved his own hips a little restlessly, feeling the fine linen underneath him. His whole body seemed strangely more sensitive. His hand on Markos’s cock sped up. Markos fumbled for a minute with the small flask that he still had clutched in one hand, before tossing it onto the bed. Then his hands were stroking up the inside of Vasilios’s thighs, leaving slick, warm trails.

Markos’s fingers hesitated when he reached the crease between thigh and body.

“May I?” he asked, and Vasilios nodded, legs spreading further apart and fingers tightening around Markos’s length.

Markos’s hands were hot between Vasilios thighs, moving across scarred skin and down. One of Markos’s thumbs rubbed against Vasilios’s hole, before moving to the skin above it, pressing and rubbing firmly. Vasilios shifted his hips against Markos’s touch, feeling the unexpected pleasure there.

“Does it feel good?” Markos asked, repeating Vasilios’s own thought.

“Yes.” Vasilios nodded, shifting his hips again, tingling heat building low in his groin. “It feels good.”

Markos smiled at him, pressing and circling firmly with the tips of his fingers, causing small thrills of pleasure to radiate up through Vasilios’s body.

“I want—” Markos started, and Vasilios groaned and squeezed him, and Markos bit out a curse. “Here.”

His hands left Vasilios, who blinked up at him, and Markos gently guided Vasilios’s own hands away from Markos’s cock. The bed creaked, as Markos knelt on it, lying beside Vasilios and pushing him so they were facing.

Markos kissed him slowly. There were warm, slick trails of oil across Vasilios’s chest and the back of his neck where Markos gripped him. Markos’s tongue pushed into his mouth, and Vasilios pressed close, body still hot and humming with want. Markos’s cock pushed between Vasilios’s thighs, and Vasilios closed his legs, more on reflex then actual knowledge. Markos moaned into his mouth, thrusting forward into the slick sliding heat of Vasilios’s thighs. Markos’s mouth was hot and wet and tasted vaguely of wine. He ran his hands down Vasilios’s back and gripped the rounds of his ass, and Markos’s cock rubbed against where Markos’s hand had given him pleasure earlier.

The thrumming sensation did not build in Vasilios’s body as much as it burned slow and steady and needful. He rocked against Markos, meeting him thrust for thrust, letting his own hands wander, tracing muscles and scars.

Markos’s breath came hard now, and he made noises between half-cut-off moans and grunts. Their bodies slid and slapped against each other slickly, and Vasilios wanted without end. When Markos came, tensing and then shaking, face pressed against Vasilios’s shoulder, Vasilios held him tight.

Markos moved first, sighing and nuzzling along the line of Vasilios’s neck. “Are you satisfied?” he asked, voice soft, as he ran his hands down Vasilios’s chest and side.

Vasilios blinked, then really thought about it and discovered that he was. It went deeper than the satisfaction of pleasuring Markos. It was in the faint hum of want that still sang through his body, in the sleepy contentedness that was fast overtaking him. He felt limp, sticky, but definitely satisfied.

“I am.” He reached up and kissed Markos, light and quick on the lips.

“Good.” Markos kissed him back, equally light. “Next time, I promise I’ll make you come.”

Vasilios blinked again, wondering if that was possible. Markos finally rolled away from Vasilios, and climbed off the bed, and he left through the same doorway he had used earlier that Vasilios now realized did not lead into the hall. He came back with a damp cloth and a pile of linens, and he put the armful down.

“Here.” He held out his hand to Vasilios. “Stand up. I want to change the bed linens and wash you off.”

“You don’t have to.” Vasilios stood anyway, finding his legs were shaking ever so slightly.

“Indulge me.” Markos bent, smiling up at him, before beginning to wipe down between Vasilios’s thighs with a damp cloth.

It felt strange, but Vasilios let him, and when Markos was done, he helped strip the soiled linens off the bed and remake it with fresh ones.

“Are you…?” Markos hesitated and then shook his head once. “Do you want to stay the night?”

Vasilios considered, tilting his head to the side, while Markos fidgeted and looked at the floor. Markos looked unsure and very cute, and Vasilios was tempted to make him wait and draw it out, but instead he smiled. “Yes, I think I will.”

Markos let out his breath, and smiled back. “Good.”

He climbed back onto the bed and under the light linen blanket, and Vasilios joined him. Markos wrapped his arms around Vasilios as soon as they both were settled.

“I would like it if you stayed here,” Markos said, voice already beginning to thicken with sleep. “I would like to have you in my bed every night and to know that you were living here in this house after I am ordered away to the frontier. But I understand why you don’t.”

His arms around Vasilios tightened, and Vasilios reached down to braid his fingers with Markos’s hands, which lay against his stomach. Markos’s breathing settled and deepened, and Vasilios closed his eyes and relaxed into Markos’s hold.

T
HE
sunlight was still weak, the sun not having yet fully risen when Phyllis rapped on the door.

“There’s a young man from Isaias’s regiment with a message for you,” she called, and Markos sat up, swearing softly, before sliding out of bed.

Markos pulled on the trousers and a tunic from the evening before. He walked back to the bed and bent to steal a quick kiss from Vasilios. “I need to see what my son wants this time,” he said, voice low, turning toward the door. “Stay and sleep a little bit more. Hopefully I will be joining you again soon.”

“I can’t stay too long,” Vasilios said, even as he made to curl back under the blankets again. “I have to continue looking for a job today, and I have a kitten to feed.”

Markos laughed softly, and Vasilios heard the door open and close before he drifted off to sleep. He woke again when Markos kissed him, Vasilios blinking up at him, and Markos handed him a cup of warm spiced wine.

“Did you find out what the messenger wanted?” Vasilios asked, yawning and sitting up, before taking the cup of wine from Markos.

“My son is attempting to obtain for himself a position stationed on the western border,” Markos said, sitting on the edge of the bed, and Vasilios now saw there was also a tray on the bed beside him with fruit, bread, cheese, and olives piled on it. “I have been blocking him from being stationed there without him discovering I am doing so, because the outposts along the western coast border on the territories of the Gray Isles and the Island of the Wolf.”

Vasilios sipped his wine and then reached out and picked up a fig that had been dipped in honey. “Why do you not want him to be posted there in particular?”

“Isaias is young and ambitious,” Markos said. “And I am afraid he will get himself and the rest of the Empire embroiled in a war we cannot win if he were to be stationed there.”

“That sounds wise.” Vasilios hid a smile behind his wine cup, and reached for more food. “I have never been introduced to your son, but I have heard he lacks in both patience and prudence.”

Markos shook his head, before leaning forward and cupping Vasilios’s face with one hand. “Let us not talk about Isaias any further,” he said, before kissing away any remaining traces of honey on Vasilios’s lips.

Vasilios felt desire burn low inside him. He craved closeness now, to touch and be touched by Markos. They pressed themselves together as Markos raised his hands to tangle in Vasilios’s hair. Markos guided them both to lie back on the bed—Markos on his back and Vasilios, still naked, above him. Vasilios dipped into Markos’s mouth with the tip of his tongue, hesitant at first and then with more confidence when Markos kissed him back deeply, making a pleased noise in the back of his throat.

“Here,” he said when they broke apart enough to breathe. “Let me move the food before we knock it over.”

“All right.” Vasilios didn’t move off of him though, reaching down to push one hand under Markos’s tunic and feel along his chest.

“Vasilios,” Markos laughed. His voice sounded so happy, free of worry and stress. It made something sharp and painful twist in Vasilios’s chest, made him bend back down and reclaim Markos’s mouth again. They parted again, slowly and this time Vasilios rolled to the side and let Markos sit up.

“Go move the food.”

Markos stood reaching for the tray of food and wine cups and moved it off the bed onto a low table before coming back to stand and look down at Vasilios. “God, you look good like that.”

Vasilios felt a little self-conscious of his naked body, but he forced himself to relax under Markos’s appreciative gaze. Markos bent to kiss him, rubbing his hands down Vasilios’s chest, his sides, from his belly to his thighs.

Markos broke the kiss, holding himself over Vasilios but keeping their bodies close. “I want to try and give you pleasure, this time.”

“But I already get pleasure from this.” Vasilios raised his hands to frame Markos’s face, “from touching and being close.”

“I’m glad, but I want to try touching you from the inside and giving you pleasure that way.” Markos bent down and kissed him, a quick press of warm lips. “If you’ll let me?”

“I didn’t think you wanted to take me that way?” Vasilios frowned.

“I’m not planning to.” Markos bent to mouth along his neck as his hands wandered again before he pulled away from Vasilios with obvious effort. “But this is something I’ve heard is pleasurable for other eunuchs, and I want to try it with you.”

Vasilios stared at him and then shrugged. “Very well.” Sodomy was after all one of the few sexual acts he was well acquainted with, and he trusted Markos to be gentle.

“My bath is through there.” Markos pointed to the doorway he’d been in and out of the previous evening when he’d fetched the oil they’d used as slick. “Feel free to use anything you like and don’t feel like you need to rush.”

“Thank you.”

Markos’s bath was like Vasilios’s had been. Vasilios knelt, feeling a little awkward since he was still naked, and lit the fire under the tub before pumping water into it. He sat on the edge and waited for the water to heat before climbing in. The hot water felt good. It soothed his back and joints while also washing away the sweat and other fluids from their earlier play. After reaching for the soap, Vasilios washed thoroughly and with care like Markos had asked, while he mentally prepared for what was to come. He told himself he trusted Markos. If last night was any indication, Markos would go slow and be gentle. There would not be as much pain and discomfort as he was used to. And he wanted this, wanted to give Markos this, he really did.

He stood finally and let the water run off his body, then climbed out of the tub. Combing his fingers through his hair, he tried to get as much water as he could off it before moving back toward the bedroom. In the doorway, Vasilios paused and took several careful breaths before stepping through.

Moving from where he’d been reclining on the bed, Markos came across the room to wrap his arms around Vasilios, heedless of the fact that he was getting his clothes wet by doing so. Vasilios relaxed a little into Markos’s embrace and tipped his face back for a kiss. Markos leaned into the kiss, moving his hands across Vasilios’s shoulders and down his arms and back.

Markos broke the kiss with a frown. “You feel tense.” His fingers worked across the back of Vasilios’s neck and down his spine, more of a massage than a caress now. Vasilios remembered the conversation they’d had the night before, what Markos had said—
I need to know you want everything we do, not that you are doing it because you think it is what I want—
and what he’d said in return
.
How would Markos be able to trust Vasilios about such things unless he actually did mean it, though? Vasilios bit his lip.

“I don’t think….” He started and then stopped. Against him Markos became still and quiet, but he did not pull away and did not stop working his hands down Vasilios’s back. “I know I said I was fine with it last night and this morning that I would give myself to you to penetrate, but I don’t….” He twisted around so he could look at Markos fully in the eye, and summoned his resolve. “You wanted me to tell you if I did not want to do something, so I’m telling you I don’t want you to take me like that. I don’t like it, I never have, and I’m not ready.” It was after he’d spoken that Vasilios thought of what he would do if Markos got mad. He trusted Markos and knew him well enough to know Markos would never hurt him for saying such a thing. Markos was sure to be disappointed, though, and he’d been so sweet this morning, the two of them together, touching the way Vasilios liked best. Maybe he should just—

“Oh, beautiful.” Markos’s fingers were gentle when they touched his face. “I had not intended to take you like that, not now, maybe not ever.” Vasilios stared at him, and Markos smiled and kissed him brief and chaste. “But thank you for being honest. I know it could not have been easy, or at least I never find it so.”

“I… well.” Vasilios felt a bit foolish now and turned in Markos’s arms to face him. “What were you planning?”

“I was hoping to touch you again, much as I did last night, and maybe put one finger inside you. There is a spot….” Vasilios stared at him blankly, and Markos’s expression became sad. “You probably don’t know this. I doubt anyone has taken the time to pleasure you thus. It feels good when touched. It is what makes penetration pleasurable.”

Vasilios frowned at that, because never in his experience had penetration been pleasurable.

“It will only be the one finger,” Markos said, resting his chin on Vasilios’s shoulder, “and only if you feel comfortable with that.”