Hallowed Bond (Chronicles of Ylandre Book 2) (11 page)

Dylen held him tighter. “I told you, it’s only because you still have to establish yourself in society and our liaison might prove a hindrance for you in certain circles,” he softly said. “Much as we don’t want to believe it, there are many Deira like your sire who see
hethare
as little better than opportunists or, worse, lowly whores. You don’t want it known that your first love affair—”

“My
only
affair!”

“—was with a
hethar
. Indeed, you must never let it be known that I had you. Always claim it was the other way around.”

“So I must sustain a falsehood to uphold my reputation,” Riodan bitterly said.

“It won’t be a complete falsehood,” Dylen murmured. “Not after tonight.”

Riodan looked back at him, startled. “What-what do you mean?”

Dylen released him and went to the glassware cabinet. He took out a drinking glass then led Riodan into their bedroom. From the back of the wardrobe, he brought out the bottle of
mirash
Riodan had impulsively purchased just days earlier. Riodan watched speechlessly as his lover poured himself a glass of the cerulean-hued liquid.

“Dy?” He gulped. “I didn’t mean that you should—”

Dylen eyes glittered. “This is my gift to you, Rio. No matter how many Deira I lie with, I shall never allow another to own me as you will this night.”

He raised the glass to his lips and drained it. A thoughtful smile curved his lips.

“I didn’t expect it to be so sweet,” he remarked. “In any case, it needs time to take effect. Strip,
ariad,
”

Riodan stared at him disbelievingly. But when Dylen doffed his clothes, he quickly followed suit.

They came together on the bed with the ease of lovers who knew each other well.

Neither shyness nor doubts hindered their loving. Limbs sensuously entangled, their bodies all but melted into the other, and mouths and hands roamed and ravished until the room resounded with the sounds of their joy and pleasure.

Riodan slid down Dylen’s sleek form until he reached the hard flesh that had oft cleaved him these past many months. No longer a novice in this manner of pleasuring, he eagerly wrapped his lips around Dylen’s shaft. A sharp gasp followed by a lingering groan was his reward. Dylen reached down and gripped his shoulders.

“Turn around,” he ordered. “I want to taste you, too.”

Smirking, Riodan swiftly complied. Resting his head on Dylen’s hard thigh, he parted his legs to allow Dylen to do likewise. He nearly cried out when Dylen summarily caught his hips and dragged him forward to engulf his shaft in the moist warmth of his mouth. Riodan almost forgot what he was supposed to do for a delirious moment as he was drawn upon so edaciously, he almost spent himself within seconds of the first suckle.

Riodan possessively cupped Dylen’s buttocks to pull him closer. When the muscles in the firm mounds tightened under his touch, he ran his hands soothingly over them and applied himself to banishing Dylen’s instinctive response to being held thusly. His efforts proved most effective, and before long, Dylen was trembling with the onset of a climax.

His completion swiftly triggered Riodan’s who greedily swallowed his lover’s spending before he, too, spilled himself into Dylen’s mouth.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Riodan crawled his way up to lie full-length against Dylen, Sated for the present, they lay in comfortable silence. The flickering light cast a gentle glow of color on their glistening bodies and entwined limbs.

At length, Riodan stirred and said, “That was-that was…”

“Yes,” Dylen murmured.

He ran his knuckles down Riodan’s flushed cheek then reached for his hand. Riodan caught his breath when Dylen guided his hand between his legs. He gulped when his fingers came into contact with the delicate orifice concealed by the seed sac.

“You’re sure?” he whispered.

“Absolutely.”

Taking a calming inhalation, Riodan set to turning Dylen as the
hethar
had often turned him during their bouts of lovemaking, stroking the tiny opening until the seed pouch contracted out of the way and thrusting his finger tentatively into the now slippery passage beyond. It did not take long before he judged Dylen ready for his taking. But he still hesitated, keenly aware of his lover’s distaste for obligatory submission.

Sensing his uncertainty, Dylen sat up and settled himself astride Riodan’s groin.

Exhaling, he slowly lowered himself onto Riodan’s primed shaft. A slight wince and faint hiss marked the moment when the vestigial protective membrane within gave way. With the fragile barrier gone, Dylen eased down until he had taken the whole of Riodan’s shaft into his body.

Riodan stared at him, quite overcome by the indescribable pleasure of being snugly gloved by slick heated velvet. It was beyond anything he had ever imagined, and the instinct to bury himself as deeply as he could in such exquisite confines impelled him to buck up and drive his shaft into Dylen. The quick, stabbing thrusts nearly overcame Dylen, the sensitive walls of his sheath reacting sharply to the friction wrought by the slide of firm flesh against them. He grabbed Riodan’s hips and held him still.

“You’ll undo me too soon,” he gasped. He closed his eyes, willing back a premature unraveling. “Slowly, my love. Slowly.”

He opened his eyes and, holding Riodan’s gaze, began to ride his shaft, taking him in repeatedly until they were both breathing roughly. Following Dylen’s lead, Riodan set a steady, measured pace as he thrust upward.

Dylen leant down and brushed his lips along Riodan’s jaw before trailing open-mouthed kisses down his throat and sucking hard at the smooth flesh. Ignoring Riodan’s inarticulate pleas, he moved southward to drop kisses on his lover’s nicely muscled chest before tonguing his nipples to tiny, throbbing peaks. Just as Riodan started to beg that he end the sweet torment, he closed his lips around one nipple and forcefully drew on it.

This proved too much for Riodan. He pulled Dylen up and sealed their lips in a bruising, hot-tongued kiss that mimicked the movements of their joined lower bodies. At the same time, he gripped Dylen by his buttocks to keep his groin flush against his, enabling him to drive deep and hard into him.

Shuddering from the onslaught, Dylen let Riodan take over. He clutched Riodan’s shoulders and matched the swift, almost brutal thrusts with equal passion and vigor.

Pleasure mounted, erupted and spilled over. Riodan tensed then cried out as, with one last upward lunge of his hips, he speared Dylen deeply and spilled his seed inside him. At once Dylen experienced a rush of warmth within that made its way inward and precipitated a series of pleasurable spasms in his belly. The sensations pushed him over the precipice into a rolling climax that seemed to go on forever and left him spent and winded after. He perforce rested atop Riodan a while before he weakly lifted himself off him and collapsed at his side.

When his heartbeat returned to normal, Dylen extended his arms to Riodan in mute invitation. Riodan hurried into his embrace. He pressed his face into the crook of Dylen’s neck and curled his arm tightly around him. Dylen gently stroked Riodan’s hair.

“I’ve never been happier than in this time I spent with you,” Riodan whispered at length. “I can’t thank you enough,
ariad
.’

Dylen sighed. “All I ask is that you always deem me a friend if naught more,” he murmured.

“There’s no need to ask for what is already yours.” Riodan spoke earnestly. “I swear, Dy, when I have made my way, you’ll be more than that and plague take any who oppose us.”

Dylen did not gainsay him. Time would tell if such a future was possible. Time and the vagaries of society’s demands on its members.

Riodan drew a ragged breath. “To be parted from you,” he said, his voice catching.

“How will I bear it?”

“It needn’t be forever. Not if you wish for us to meet again,” Dylen assured him.

“You aren’t returning to Sidona. And I will be at the Seralye. When you’re secure in your profession and your place in society, seek me there. You’ll always be welcome.”

The prospect cheered Riodan up considerably. “Yes, I will seek you soonest,” he promised.

About to snuggle against Dylen, he gasped when he was suddenly rolled over onto his belly. Riodan looked over his shoulder, a playful protest springing to his lips. It died when he saw Dylen reach for the oil on the bedside table. With an anticipatory groan, he raised himself on his elbows and knees. Dylen chuckled.

“So wanton,” he teased.

Dylen plied his oiled fingers, eliciting a litany of soft moans. Riodan laughed somewhat breathlessly as rapturous sensation smote him with each twist and slide of Dylen’s fingers up his backside.

“Is that a complaint?” he panted.

Dylen moved into position and pressed into him.

“Nay. Consider it high praise.”

Gasping, Riodan held still as he was breached with a slow, steady thrust. Once Dylen was fully seated inside him, he draped himself over Riodan’s back, reaching around to hold and fondle even as he began to drive deep into him. Riodan buried his face in the pillow though he knew it was a waste of effort to try and smother his cries. Dylen always made mincemeat of his control.

“I love you, my Rio,” he heard Dylen say, his voice rough with lust and emotion.

“Come what may I will always love you.”

Tears pricked Riodan’s eyes. Awash in joy and gratitude, he gave himself up to the bliss of his yielding.

Chapter Nine

Adversity

Dylen opened the window to let the night breezes into the bedchamber and banish the scent of spent passion. He pensively looked at the street below—it was still a-bustle with traffic despite the late hour.

Twelve years had passed since he bade Riodan goodbye. He had markedly changed in that time. Gone were the sweetness of countenance and slender form of early youth.

The angles of his face were more defined and his features sharper. His body had likewise been further honed as evidenced by sleek muscles and strong, lean limbs that were no less graceful. Only his eyes remained the same—wary, shrewd and knowing.

He glanced back as movement on the mussed up bed drew his attention. A fair-haired Deir almost a decade older rolled over, eyes squinting in the dim light. A sleepy smile curved his mouth, and he pushed himself up on one elbow.

“Deity’s blood, but you’ve worn me out,” the Deir said with a groan. “Thank Veres I had my carriage wait for me else everyone would know from my gait how well I’ve been plowed this eve.”

Dylen chuckled. “Shall I be more gentle next time, Shiran-
tyar
?”

“
Heyas
, not at all! Where would be the pleasure in that?” The Deir sat up. “What time is it?” He glanced at the timepiece on the bedside table.

“Enough time for one quick tumble if you wish. Unless you ache too much for another round?” Dylen turned to face him, letting the robe fall open completely.

The Deir riveted his gaze on what he could see of Dylen’s body. He licked his lips then grinned.

He said a little breathlessly, “I’m a tad sore but not so much that I can’t take another spearing. Besides, with you it will be worth the discomfort!”

Shrugging off the robe, Dylen returned to the bed.

He had no trouble getting his shaft into the right state of firmness. Not when he imagined the Deir beneath him as the dark-eyed, bronze-haired youth who won his heart all those years ago and whose face and voice still haunted his dreams and peppered his waking moments with maddening regularity. Dylen believed his performance between the sheets had improved considerably because of his propensity for mentally supplanting his bedmate of the moment with Riodan Leyhar’s image.

When it was Riodan he saw spread before him or seated astride his lap, his lust and yearning for his lover would flare into a bonfire of need and he would all but bugger said bedmate within an inch of his life.

It was just approaching midnight when he arrived home. He mounted the stairs to find Hirlen curled up on the couch before the fire, reading a book.

Retired for many years now, the former
hethar
was still comely to look at despite the scattered strands of grey that bedecked his chestnut hair and the faint lines on his face

that bespoke a life well lived. And he had not lost any of his sharpness of wit or elegance of gait or impeccable taste in clothing. Hirlen was aging very gracefully and could still elicit appreciative glances when he strolled down a city street.

Dylen went to his father and bent to plant a kiss on his forehead. Doffing his cloak, he sat at the other end of the couch and sat back with a sigh that signified his gladness to be home. Hirlen eyed him curiously.

“Did you have a difficult guest?” he asked.

“Nay, it’s only that my last patron’s hair was a nice shade of—” He stopped and looked at his father. “It was easier than usual to bed him quite thoroughly.”

Hirlen frowned. “I take it he didn’t come today?”

Dylen shook his head.

“Perhaps tomorrow then.”

“I doubt it.”

“Surely you haven’t lost hope,” Hirlen said with concern.

“Haven’t I?” Dylen stared into the fire. ”It isn’t the least bit surprising that he hasn’t shown himself to me again. We move in different circles now.”

“Yet we have known our circle and his to touch and even merge at times.”

“Please,
Adda
, you know what I think of false hopes.”

Hirlen regarded his son sympathetically. “At least he’s based in Rikara,” he murmured at length. “A comforting thought, don’t you think?”

Dylen only shrugged. His father knew that he had spotted Riodan around the city now and then though always at a distance. Save for that one evening three years ago.

Riodan had been to dinner with a group of distinguished looking Deira his age.

Dylen saw him as he exited the restaurant, looking more beautiful than Dylen remembered. The sight of him had nearly stolen Dylen’s breath away. He had stayed in the shadows of the neighboring building and eagerly watched Riodan as he walked by.