Page 16 of The Second Marriage
Taral’s eyes were closed. He strained away from Sejun’s grip even as Sejun pulled him off, his mouth open to take Sejun’s cock back inside. The first pulse of Sejun’s spend splashed his tongue and lips before Sejun fumblingly took himself in hand and directed the rest of it into his cupped palm.
“Have mercy,” Sejun muttered, watching Taral lick his mouth, eyes still closed as if he were savoring the taste.
Taral’s eyelids slid open. “I’ll need more practice than that, surely.”
Sejun’s cock throbbed in his hand, although no combination of youth and eagerness could get him hard again so quickly. “You mean you haven’t mastered the art already?”
Taral smirked at him, an expression Sejun had never before seen him wear and found horribly appealing. “Let me try again in the morning and we’ll test my expertise.”
“I have no clever response to that,” Sejun said, and Taral laughed. “Come, get in bed with me. We’ll sleep late as everyone else will be too hungover to notice.”
“Yes, my husband,” Taral said, his voice low and his eyes dark, making Sejun’s palms tingle with some thrill of emotion he couldn’t identify. Taral’s heart was a mystery to him, but his body, at least, was open and eager and seemed to belong entirely to Sejun. He prayed that the rest would come in time.
CHAPTER8
As Sejun had expected, he found no one awake but the chickens when he rose the next morning. Taral was still asleep, and no servants walked the colonnade or swept the courtyard below. Sejun went downstairs to the room Batsal had been assigned and knocked on the door until Batsal finally came to open it, naked, scowling, and visibly hungover.
“No,” Batsal said. “Go away. It’s too early.”
“It’s past dawn, and you’ll be going home later, so then I won’t be able to talk to you at all.”
“Come for a visit, then.” Batsal began to close the door, and Sejun hastily inserted his foot between the door and the frame. “Sejun—”
“Please. Batsal, I have no one else to talk to.”
Batsal sighed, rubbed his eyes, and stepped aside to let Sejun into the room.
The shutters were closed. Sejun opened them to let in fresh air and light, ignoring Batsal’s groaning as he climbed back into bed. The rising sun cast a yellow glow on the low peaks of the mountains visible to the north, the same mountains Sejun could see from home.
Taral was upstairs, curled in their bed, still smelling of what they’d done together the night before. Sejun felt much of the time that he was married to two entirely different men: one who laughed at his teasing and came eagerly into his arms, and one who looked at him sidelong across the breakfast table with the distance of a stranger. The contrast bewildered him.
“Talk, then, if it’s so urgent,” Batsal mumbled into his pillow.
Sejun sat on the edge of the bed. Now that he was here, he didn’t know where to begin, and maybe it was a mistake to confide in Batsal at all. Batsal couldn’t do anything to solve Sejun’s problems and likely wouldn’t even offer him sympathy.
Batsal cracked one eye open. “Well?”
“I miss home,” Sejun blurted. “I don’t like Tadasho, I’m—I know that’s terrible. I’m so lonely here.”
“Ah, Sejun.” With another groan, Batsal sat up and wrapped a quilt around his shoulders. “Is it so bad? Hasri did say you were still settling into your marriage, but we all expected that would take some time.”
“You’re all gossiping about me, I take it,” Sejun said, stung.
“We care about you and want you to be happy, and you haven’t said much about what you’re truly feeling. But it seems matters are worse than we thought.”
Sejun rubbed at his face. “The household here is so small. There aren’t any cousins or aunts, and Iniya and Abiral are busy with their children, and Taral is busy with—running the kingdom, I suppose. He’s always in his office or talking with some steader or townsperson who’s come to seek his aid. The retainers are busy with their work. They’re very polite to me.”
“I see.” Batsal looked at him for a moment. “At home you always complained about the women giving you tasks. Aren’t you happy to have as much time as you want to sleep late and read your books?”
Sejun scowled. “I suppose I liked being ordered around because it made me feel that I served some purpose. I know I’m too dim-witted to contribute much, but there’s nothing here to fill my time, and I have no friends or other amusements, and—Batsal, it’s so boring. And I’m all alone.”
Batsal reached over to pat Sejun’s knee. “You know it’s never easy for a man to join a new household. I spent a lot of time with Shubhu’s family before our marriage, and even so they didn’t know what to do with me at first. You’re all still adjusting.”
Sejun stared down at his lap, his throat tight. Batsal was no help, as Sejun had known he wouldn’t be. And Taral was no help. Sejun was on his own.
“Ah, I know that look,” Batsal said. “You’re determined to wallow in self-pity.”
“Don’t you think I deserve to?”