“I have a room in one of the buildings there.”
“Are you liking that?” Markos asked, with almost a tentative edge to his voice.
Vasilios thought about it and then shrugged. “I like living on my own.” He smiled up at Markos. “I would like to find a job sooner rather than later, which reminds me, if you know of anyone who is looking for a cook, my neighbor is newly widowed and in need of a job. She cooks excellently. She’s been kind enough to cook for me a lot.”
“I’ll keep it in mind, if anyone I know is without a cook.” Markos sipped his wine and watched Vasilios eat.
“How much longer do you think you’ll be in the city?” Vasilios finally ventured, setting his wine cup aside.
“I don’t know,” Markos said. “It will depend on where the Emperor sends me, but I will be in the city at least a little while longer.” He took a sip of his own wine. “I hope to ride out to look over the villa and land I purchased from Damianos. Do you want to come with me?”
“If I’m free, I would love to,” Vasilios said, and Markos smiled.
“Good, you will be welcome to use it at any time.”
Vasilios laughed at that, and Markos reached across the table capturing Vasilios’s hand in his own.
“I mean it. I know you enjoy living on your own and having your space and your independence. I would never begrudge you that. But this house and the villa, all of my property actually, you should feel free to use as if it were your own.”
Vasilios stared at him, expression growing serious again, before nodding. “Thank you.”
Markos smiled and then stood, still holding one of Vasilios’s hands, and moved around the table. Vasilios slid sideways in his chair, so he could keep eye contact with Markos, who now stood in front of him, their hands still linked together. Markos was smiling when he leaned down and kissed Vasilios, gentle and slow on the lips.
Vasilios’s eyes slid shut, as he curled his free hand around the back of Markos’s head and he kissed back with everything he had. Markos’s free hand cupped the side of Vasilios’s jaw. Vasilios let go of Markos’s hand so he could slide his fingers into Markos’s hair. Markos groaned into Vasilios’s mouth when Vasilios tightened his fingers against the curve of Markos’s skull. Markos drew back finally, although he did not move his hand away from Vasilios’s face.
“I….” Markos’s eyes had gone dark, and his breathing was far from even, but he also looked slightly concerned as he gazed down at Vasilios. “I would like to take you to bed tonight,” he said, his hesitance clear in his voice. “But I worry that’s moving too fast. We have barely begun to know each other, now that there is nothing pressing that needs to be done, and you are no longer bound to another household.” Markos let his fingers linger on the curve of Vasilios’s jaw and his lips before letting his hand drop. “I also want to take this slow, savor this time we have together.” He smiled a little wryly down at Vasilios. “It has been a long time since I have wanted anyone beyond an occasional bedmate. I am a little at a loss about what to do.”
Vasilios’s fingers tightened where they loosely cupped the back of Markos’s neck and he pulled Markos’s head down until their lips nearly touched again. “I have never chosen a bedmate for myself until now,” he told him. “I, too, want to savor this, for as long as we have until the Emperor orders you away again, but I do not want to wait any longer than necessary before taking you to my bed.” He let his lips curl up in a smile. “Or your bed, as the case may be.”
They were close, so close, that Vasilios could feel Markos’s breath against his own lips, and Markos kissed him again, harder this time, with real force and passion. Vasilios groaned and pressed himself up, half rising from the chair to meet Markos with equal passion.
When they drew apart, Markos’s gaze flickered to the table of food. “Are you done?” he asked, and Vasilios nodded, standing and wrapping his arms around Markos’s shoulders.
“I’m done.”
“Good.” Markos’s lips lingered on his briefly, before pulling completely away. He led the way back into the house and opened the door directly to the left of the entrance to the garden. It was one of the few places in the house Vasilios hadn’t been. There were two steps down, and then the room opened up into a large space with multiple windows, a bed and desk against one wall. Not that Vasilios really looked; it could have been a pleasure chamber of the Emperors of old, for all he cared.
He reached for Markos again, drawing him close, and kissed him. Markos allowed the kiss to linger a little, before pulling away and tugging Vasilios toward the bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Vasilios watched Markos unbuckle his belt.
“Are you sure?” Markos asked as the belt fell to the floor with a dull noise, and he reached for the hem of his tunic.
Vasilios nodded, throat gone suddenly dry. “Yes.”
Markos nodded once, and pulled his tunic over his head, letting that too fall to the floor.
“Come here.” Vasilios reached out his hands toward Markos, who stepped closer until he stood between Vasilios’s legs. Reaching up, Vasilios traced the scars that covered the newly exposed skin. Some of the scars were light, faded to almost nothing, while others still looked so raw and jagged they made Vasilios’s chest ache. There was crisp hair there too, dark sprinkled through with silver. Vasilios let his fingers ghost across the lines and contours of Markos’s body, before pushing him back a step, and standing as well.
Vasilios reached for his own tunic, pulled it off, and let it pool onto the floor. Markos stood and pulled him close, before running his hands down Vasilios’s bare shoulders, tracing his sides, and lightly skimming the still tender skin of his back. He pressed his face into the curve of Vasilios’s neck as he gripped Vasilios’s hips and pulled them closer together. Markos was hard, Vasilios could feel through the cloth of his trousers. Something hot and unexpected curled in the pit of Vasilios’s stomach in answer to Markos’s arousal. He clutched at Markos’s shoulders as he pulled himself close.
“I hope you don’t take offense at this,” Markos said, straightening so he could look at Vasilios. “But you’re even more beautiful than I had imagined you to be.”
“And you.” Vasilios ran his hand lightly down the front of Markos’s chest, letting his fingers pause at the waist of Markos’s trousers.
Markos caught his hand, bringing it up and kissing it lightly. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk.” Vasilios extracted his hand from Markos’s grip, and placed it flat against Markos’s lower belly again. “I want to touch you.”
“I know.” Markos wrapped his arms around Vasilios’s waist, his thumbs rubbing small circles against his hipbones. “But I don’t want to feel like I’m taking liberties with you either.” He nuzzled behind Vasilios’s ear, kissing the skin there. “I need to know you want everything we do, not that you are doing it because you think it is what I want, or what is normally done.”
Vasilios reached up to grip the back of Markos’s neck, coaxing him to meet Vasilios’s eyes. “Haven’t I been clear enough?” he asked, cupping Markos’s face when Markos looked at him. “Didn’t I say I wanted this, that I chose to do this, tonight, here with you? Trust that I meant it.”
“You want to do what with me tonight?” Markos asked, his voice underlaid with light amusement that belied his serious expression, as he tightened his grip on Vasilios’s waist.
“I…” Vasilios’s voice stuttered to a halt, as his mind flashed on the times as a gangly young man he’d touched himself to arouse, the few fumbling attempts with village girls, and after he’d been cut, the times Panagiotis had bedded him. None of it seemed right or pleasing here, with Markos, and for the first time, hesitancy grew up inside him. He looked back up at Markos. Some of his insecurity must have shown, because Markos’s expression softened, and he bent down to kiss Vasilios on the lips.
Vasilios let his eyes slide closed, concentrating on the feel of Markos’s lips against his own, the way Markos’s ch
est felt, the hard lines and coarse hair. Markos pulled him toward the bed, and it was easy to fold himself down onto it. Markos’s weight pushed down against and on top of him for a moment, making the strange heated ache settle low in Vasilios’s gut again. Then Markos rolled off to the side, still close enough to touch Vasilios’s chest, sides and shoulders. Vasilios turned so they were both lying on their sides, facing one another. He wanted them to be naked right now, he thought.
“Tell me.” Markos reached for his hand and kissed it lightly, first the back and then the palm. “Tell me what you don’t want to do tonight.”
Vasilios thought about it. “I don’t…,” he started and then had to look away from Markos’s gaze to the linen they lay on. “I do not like using my mouth to bring a man to climax,” he finally said, and it still felt strange that he should be able to say such a thing without fear of punishment. Maybe Markos had been right, and having this talk beforehand was a good idea after all.
Markos smiled and kissed his hand again. “All right,” he said. “Then I wouldn’t ask that of you.”
“What about you?” Vasilios squirmed a little bit, pushing closer to Markos.
“I do not like to penetrate my partner’s body,” Markos said and then raised his eyebrows when Vasilios stared at him.
“But then—” Vasilios started and then cut off and thought about it. “All right.” He looked back up at Markos. “But you will have to show me what to do.” He hesitated and bit his lip. “You… you do know that according to the Church it is not immoral to take a eunuch that way.”
Markos actually laughed at that, reaching out to wrap his arms around Vasilios and pull him close. “Not immoral,” Markos agreed, “but still not enjoyable for me.” He kissed Vasilios long and hard, rolling to lie on his back as they did, and pulling Vasilios on top of him. Vasilios wove one hand into Markos’s hair, while he slid the other down Markos’s body. This time, Markos didn’t stop him when Vasilios’s fingers slid underneath the waist of Markos’s trousers. Vasilios found him hard and hot there, length fitting nicely against the palm of his hand. He stroked up and down the shaft before drawing his hand out of Markos’s trousers and sitting up a little.
“Take these off?” He let his hands rest against Markos’s waistband.
Markos sat up, looking dazed, and began pulling at the offending garment. “Take the rest of your clothes off too.”
Vasilios kicked off his slippers and reached for the waistband of his own trousers, trying not to think too hard about it. Markos pulled him close and kissed him as soon as they were both free of clothing, and Vasilios let his hands wander, tracing scars and carding his fingers through the hair on Markos’s chest. Markos’s tongue pushed into his mouth. Vasilios groaned, pushed closer, and wove one hand into Markos’s hair again. Markos’s erection pushed between his thighs, rubbing against him. The heat of the strange, tingling ache in Vasilios’s belly was constant now, spreading to between his legs, causing his ass to clench and his hips to push forward against Markos’s own.
Markos rolled them so he pressed on top of Vasilios, kissing down his neck and one shoulder while he explored the curves of Vasilios’s sides, the planes of his chest.
“Here.” There was a moment of awkwardness as they both moved on the bed. Markos tried to get to the table that sat to the left while Vasilios tried not to get in his way. Markos sat up finally, detangling from Vasilios and the bedclothes, sounding slightly annoyed. “I’ll be back.” He leaned down and kissed Vasilios, slowly and thoroughly before sliding off the bed.
Vasilios rolled to lie on his stomach and watched Markos head across the room and open a door. Markos’s backside was muscled, and firm but still with enough softness to be round and pert. A few minutes later, Markos came back into the room carrying a small flask of some kind. Coming to stand next to the bed, he looked down at Vasilios, who was still sprawled across it. Vasilios rolled onto his back, returning Markos’s stare, before pushing up onto his elbows to meet Markos halfway in a kiss.
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 a
nd 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.
THE 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.”
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