Page 53 of The Second Marriage

The room glowed with candlelight and rang with the sound of laughter. As the evening went on and Sejun drank more wine, he stopped summarizing what was said in Chedai, and Taral lost track of the conversation and sat in silence. He didn’t mind. It was good to sit close to Sejun and see Sejun gesturing and laughing. He was good at making friends; he was easy to like. He had brought many blessings to Taral’s life with his cheerful nature.

Taral had spent so long grieving what he had lost that he had neglected to find joy in what he had gained. And Sejun was a joy every day, a source of comfort and good humor, warm and welcoming in Taral’s bed every night. If Taral let matters continue as they had, Sejun would withdraw from him, as Taral deserved, and find a lover to attend to him in Taral’s stead. They would be married in name only, and Taral would sleep alone and dream of what he could have had if only he had been able to put the past aside.

He didn’t want that. He wanted Sejun to be happy with him. He wanted Sejun to look at him the way Lavi looked at Simra. In all the years after his failed first marriage, he had tried to make himself cold and isolated, closed off to the possibility of love. He had loved Jaysha and suffered for it; he was afraid to suffer again, to let himself become vulnerable to emotion. But all love held risk; he saw how his sister fretted over her children, worrying about every minor scrape and bump. If he wanted a happy marriage—and he did—he would have to be brave enough to face the possibility of sorrow.

He wanted happiness for Jaysha; surely Jaysha wanted the same for him.

Sejun glanced over at him, his eyebrows drawn together in a wordless question. What could he sense of Taral’s emotions? Taral held himself open wide, suppressing nothing, feeling everything, and he learned then what Sejun looked like when he was taken completely by surprise.

* * *

Sejun was soquiet on their walk back to the palace that Taral feared he had offended Sejun in some way and began to prepare himself for an argument. But when they came into their room and barred the door for the night, Sejun took Taral’s hands in his own and gazed at Taral’s face with a searching intensity that made Taral’s breath stop in his throat.

“Taral,” Sejun began, then shook his head and dropped Taral’s hands. “That was a good time tonight, with Simra and Lavi.”

Taral swallowed down his sour disappointment. “It was. Thank you for going with me. I think they enjoyed you more than they enjoyed me.”

“Only because I could talk to Lavi. She’s a delight. I’m going to claim your friends as my own.” Sejun moved away and lit a few additional lamps to go with the one a servant had left burning. He untied his outer robe and began to undress, and Taral stood and watched him, feeling more useless than he ever had. Sejun expected nothing from him because Taral had taught him to expect nothing. He wished he could send a message into the past and tell himself not to be such a damned fool.

“Sejun,” he said, and Sejun looked at him. “Let me do that.”

“Oh?” Sejun said, but he stood there obediently as Taral went to him and opened his inner robe. Taral put his hands on Sejun’s hips inside the open panels of fabric, and then he tilted his head to give Sejun a kiss.

Sejun kissed him politely, a goodnight kiss. That wasn’t at all Taral’s intention. He pressed closer and kissed Sejun with a soft, open mouth until Sejun responded in kind, parting his lips to let Taral stroke their tongues together. Taral pressed his advantage, drawing Sejun toward him and using his few extra inches of height to bend Sejun slightly backward. Sejun made a startled noise but didn’t resist, only rested his hands on Taral’s chest and let himself be kissed.

Desire pulsed through Taral’s veins. No matter how many times he kissed Sejun or touched him or lay down to find pleasure with him, every time felt just as exciting as the very first. He shoved Sejun’s robes from his shoulders, ignoring Sejun’s little sound of protest as they fell to the floor and lay crumpled there; Taral would iron them himself to make his amends.

“You’re being very assertive,” Sejun said, his tone filled with amusement.

Amusement wasn’t the reaction Taral wanted. “Do you object?”

Sejun’s eyes searched Taral’s face, his amusement fading. “No. No, I don’t object.”

Taral walked Sejun backward toward the bed. He kissed Sejun’s throat and pressed him down into the blankets. Sejun lay sprawled there, blinking up at him in the dim light. Taral untied his robes and shrugged them both onto the floor. His cock was fat between his legs and he stroked it as he gazed down at Sejun’s body, the plumpness of his belly and thighs, his cock rising out of its nest of dark hair. Taral throbbed with longing. He wanted to make Sejun his in every way, to claim all the small parts of his body, his skin and kidneys, and every portion of his heart.

Sejun reached for him, and Taral lay down in his arms and kissed him, cradled between Sejun’s parted thighs. Sejun’s mouth was soft and he yielded to Taral’s kisses, tipping his head back against the pillow and letting Taral give him one slow, deep kiss after another. Taral was overflowing, and he knew the bond would betray him and let Sejun know everything that was in his heart, but he was beyond caring. He thought Sejun needed to know.

Sejun sighed beneath him, arching his back to thrust his cock against Taral’s belly. Taral took two fingers into his own mouth to wet them with spit, then reached between Sejun’s thighs and found the little furl of his hole. He stroked Sejun with slick fingertips, thrilled at Sejun’s moan.

Sejun was tighter than Taral, closed and dry, but he responded as though he was equally sensitive and equally eager to have something inside him. He circled his hips on Taral’s fingers and sighed and groaned and eventually said, “Is that the extent of your intentions?”

“No.” Taral sat up. “Where’s that oil?”

The Chedai had stocked their room with a flask of oil, which Sejun had laughed over before explaining to Taral that it was meant to be used for sexual purposes. Whoever had provided it to them either didn’t realize Taral was an omega or thought they would have some use for it regardless, and he was grateful now for this foresight. He drizzled oil all between Sejun’s legs, heedless of the mess he might make on the sheets, and stroked his hand over Sejun’s cock and balls and inner thighs, spreading the oil and fondling Sejun until his cock was rigid under Taral’s palm.

“What are you waiting for?” Sejun asked, touching his fingertips to Taral’s wrist.

“You could beg,” Taral suggested, but Sejun only laughed at him.

The oil made everything so slippery that Taral’s fingers sank inside with no resistance. Sejun was tight around him but opened easily and with a sweet sigh, and sighed more as Taral stroked his thumb over Sejun’s rim, spreading the oil.

“That’s enough,” Sejun said. “Put some on your cock. I want you inside me.”

Taral found his casual bossiness reassuring; if Sejun had any complaints, he would voice them and tell Taral what to do instead. He coated himself with oil as Sejun had commanded and got into position. Sejun pulled his knees toward his chest, opening himself wide, and the sight of his pink hole, shiny with oil, made Taral’s breath come faster. That was his, and he was going to put his cock in there.

He touched the head of his cock to Sejun’s hole. Sejun smiled up at him, and Taral pressed his hips forward and sank inside in a single, molten thrust. Sejun was hot inside and soft as silk, and with the oil there was no friction. Taral bottomed out and dropped his forehead to Sejun’s shoulder, overwhelmed.

“My omega,” Sejun murmured. His arms wrapped around Taral’s back, holding him close. He prodded the backs of Taral’s thighs with his heels. “It’s very nice to have you inside me.”