Only so that he could gain immortality, he reminded himself as they knelt onto a rug on the floor, facing each other. But he wants to touch me. I do not care why he does this, because he wants. To touch. Me.
As ordered, Dom presented his palms to the ceiling. Rasson slid his own hands over Dom’s, sealing them together. It was the first time they’d ever touched and the moment was electric. Tingles raced up both of Rasson’s arms then plunged into his chest, causing his heart to stutter.
Rasson swallowed. ‘I bind myself to you, Dom Zhang, so that you may live forever.’
‘I bind myself to you, Rasson, god of ice,’ Dom’s voice softened, ‘because I’m very okay with you being the only man in my life from now on.’
Rasson shivered at those words, knowing he should dismiss them, but he couldn’t. Steeling himself, he reached for his powers. There was a sharp intake of breath from Dom as the cuts opened up on their pressed palms. Blood dripped, blood mingled, and then white light blasted between their fingers, sealing the wounds for eternity.
The light slowly receded. Their hands came apart. Each palm now bore a diagonal line of scar tissue.
Fearful that Dom might regret it already, might ask him to remove the binding scars right there and then, Rasson swiftly stood and took a step back. But Dom was inspecting his palms with wide eyes, apparently fascinated.
He glanced up at Rasson. ‘Thank you. I know it’s not fair to you, but…thank you, husband.’
‘Husband,’ Rasson repeated, tasting the word, savouring it.
‘Sounds better than consort, huh?’
Rasson nodded mutely, unable to curtail his smile.
‘Take off your robe, husband,’ were Dom’s next words. It was more command than suggestion. ‘If I’m only allowed to have sex for one month out of every year, I am definitely not going to waste my time.’
Rasson trembled. He’d wanted this, desired it, but… ‘I’m afraid. You know I have never been with anyone. Sexually.’
‘I’ll go easy on you,’ Dom said, the golden rims of his eyes shining. ‘For now.’
As Dom got to his feet, Rasson remembered that he was shorter than his husband, though not by much. The Iceine was distracted from making any further comparisons when Dom’s fingers danced along the opening of his robe. Grinning, Dom found the cord holding it together and tugged playfully, bringing Rasson much closer to him in the process.
‘I guess I’ll just have to take this off myself then,’ Dom said.
‘I guess so,’ Rasson agreed.
He remained very still as Dom disrobed him, the mortal’s warm breath grazing his cheek. Once Rasson’s skin was bared, Dom pressed a palm to his chest, a palm that bore an eternal scar.
Rasson gasped.
Dom chuckled as he pulled away to deal with his own clothes. He wadded them into a ball that he then set on the rug at the god’s feet. Rasson glanced down, confused, but then a hand curved around his jaw and guided his gaze upwards again.
‘Kiss me, Rass,’ Dom said huskily.
Rasson pressed his trembling lips forward. Dom captured them, his tongue tapping tentatively at the seam of Rasson’s mouth until the god allowed him in. One of Dom’s hands supported Rasson’s neck while the other caressed his chest, his hip, his thigh — and there.
Rasson kissed Dom again, desperate, unable to plead with his voice.
Those talented fingers left Rasson’s straining member and moved back up his body, finding and flicking a sensitive nipple. Rasson released a hiss of air. He had never climaxed, but now he badly wanted it, needed it, would gladly die just to experience it.
While continuing to tease one nipple with his fingers, Dom bent over and licked the other, again and again. The dual sensations wrenched an impatient moan from Rasson. But he didn’t move, didn’t dare do more than breathe, afraid that Dom would cease his ministrations.
Eventually Dom’s mouth and hands did leave Rasson’s chest, but within moments they were sliding up each of his thighs, to the base of his shaft. Whispering lips began to tease Rasson’s balls, making them feel tight and heavy with longing.
‘Husband…’ Rasson said softly.
Dom turned a knowing grin up at Rasson and lowered himself onto his knees, his discarded clothes cushioning them far more adequately than the rug. Rasson now understood why Dom had placed the mound of fabric there, though he still wondered why his husband had earlier requested that the Iceine teleport in something that Dom called ‘lube’. The item sat beside the bed, untouched for now.
‘It won’t take you long to finish this time — don’t worry,’ Dom added, no doubt seeing the spasm of fear that Rasson couldn’t keep from his face, ‘you’ve got eternity to get better at this. There’s no shame in it, Rass.’
Before Rasson could form a reply, Dom kissed the head of his swollen member. Rasson cried out and tried to jolt forward, but Dom’s hands wrapped possessively around his hips and pinned him in place. Rasson shuddered as a deft tongue teased its way along the leaking slit on his tip, spreading the moisture already gathered there.
He never got a chance to wonder what would happen next; Dom’s mouth slid right down to the base of his shaft.
‘Unh,’ Rasson managed, his eyes wide.
Dom’s lips receded, revealing glistening skin and bulging veins. Rasson watched, fascinated, as Dom began to work the shaft up and down, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked harder and harder. Rasson groaned, pleased to feel the pressure building up inside him so quickly. He needed this. Oh, how he needed this. But his torment was far from over.
Dom abruptly released him, leaning back to admire Rasson with eyes so dark with lust that the Iceine was surprised that he didn’t climax simply by looking into them.
‘Husband…why did you stop?’ Rasson asked breathlessly.
‘I wanted to tease you a little, draw it out.’ Dom winked. ‘Because you definitely won’t last much longer.’
Rasson thrust his hips forward. ‘Please, please. Then you can…’ He wet his lips. ‘Then you can do anything to me — anything. I mean it.’
‘Well, aren’t you’re eager,’ Dom said, smirking. ‘And I may hold you to that…husband.’
‘Faster, Dom, faster…’ Rasson’s plea rose in pitch when that hot mouth encased him once more.
Dom dutifully increased his speed — and then paused again, his laugh sending vibrations up Rasson’s shaft.
‘Don’t stop next time, please,’ Rasson begged.
Dom’s mouth was too preoccupied to answer, but his eyes held a promise.
Rasson dropped a hand onto his husband’s head, trying to keep Dom from moving too far from his pulsing member. He could feel the fragile strands of Dom’s hair snapping in his fingers — he knew he should apologise, wanted to form the words, but something was happening inside him, something much more urgent.
Sparks shot across Rasson’s vision. He went blind. And then pleasure exploded inside his abdomen, forcing its way out through his shaft, a hot spurt that wrenched a startled cry from him.
‘Ahh,’ Rasson breathed as Dom continued to suckle away every drop of his desire. ‘Ahh, Dom…I can’t…’
He collapsed into Dom’s waiting arms.
Dom grinned down at him, lips glistening as they parted. The kiss that followed was thick, salty — me, I’m tasting me, Rasson thought, dazed. He was startled to find himself lying on the rug, his head propped up in Dom’s lap. He couldn’t remember getting into this position, but he didn’t care. He liked it.
‘Husband, that was…that was…’ Rasson trailed off.
‘Only the start,’ Dom promised. Goosebumps were beginning to spread over his body but his own member, despite the cold, was still solid and visibly throbbing.
Rasson scurried onto his feet and then lurched over to the bed, his breathing ragged. Dom followed him, telling him to slow down. But Rasson no longer wanted to take it easy or slow down. He wanted more. So much more.
Once the furs were smothering them and his mortal �
�� immortal — lover was no longer shivering, Rasson obeyed Dom and turned over onto his stomach. The lube’s purpose became startlingly apparent when those patient fingers eased their way into Rasson, filling and stretching, causing a renewed surge of desire to race through him.
Rasson refused to let himself think about why Dom was here — not now, not when Dom’s hard length was pressing into him from behind, a firm, delicious pressure that soon gave way from pain to pleasure.
He spent the whole month trying to forget that he was only the means to an end for Dom. But somehow, he just couldn’t.
At least he was able to earn back Fayay’s love. The water god didn’t make it easy — he forced Rasson to beg for forgiveness on his knees — but Rasson knew Fayay would always be there for him, even if the Watine preferred it when his younger brother was miserable.
No one else cared about Rasson. No one.
Not even the father who had inflicted a useless lesson on him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It took three months without sex for Dom to go absolutely mad.
His nights were full of erotic dreams and memories of his time with the Iceine — sometimes all wrapped up in one delicious package. It was impossible not to reach for his impatiently aching shaft when he woke alone in the dark. Dom could barely last a minute before his member was spent and slack in his hand — and his body naked and cold. Then desire would gnaw at him again and his cock would demand more, a creature that could never be satisfied, not once it had had a god.
Dom became concerned when several weeks went by without him being aware of Rasson’s presence. He knew the god wasn’t tired of watching him masturbate and had hoped that his husband’s self-doubt wouldn’t get the better of him. Apparently it had.
He needs someone to remind him how gorgeous he is, Dom thought. Stark it, I can’t compete with his brother when I’m not there.
There were so many men in this hotel and Dom could have had any of them — if he wasn’t married and his ongoing immortality didn’t rely on his monogamy. Rasson had explained that the binding scars could be revoked at any time and no starking way would Dom risk that. But he could not go this long with only his hand for company. Eleven months was an eternity itself.
Finally, when he could stand it no longer, Dom lay on the bed, completely naked, and said, ‘Rass. Please come here.’
Nothing. No response. Perhaps Rasson hadn’t heard him.
‘Rass,’ he repeated. ‘Come here. Come to me, your husband.’
There, a chill in the air. Dom shivered, anticipation heating his skin even as the temperature dropped. ‘Please. I need you.’
Really. Notes of disbelief and repressed desire warred and mixed together. The god was somewhere nearby, but not quite here, not yet in his fleshy form. Rasson was using what he called ‘mind-speech’, an ability the sub-level gods used to communicate with others when they weren’t wearing their bodies (Dom had asked about it in a fit of boredom during his first month inside the iceberg).
‘Rass, I really need you to…’ Dom grimaced and tried again. ‘I want you.’
A snide laugh. You already have what you want from me.
‘Would I be calling you if that was the case?’
Don’t pretend that you are not relieved to be free of my presence.
‘What’s got into you?’ Dom demanded. ‘Have you been hanging out with that brother of yours again? You know, Rass, you never sound happy when you talk about him. And don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking off during our last month together. You always came back with your head down and then I’d have to spend hours convincing you that I wanted to screw you and only you.’
Stunned silence. Then — I will not bother you. Not until the end of the year. Or perhaps not even then. Farewell, husband.
Dom remained there on the bed for several moments, his body rigid (one part of it decidedly more rigid than others), then growled in frustration. He threw on his clothes and tore out of the room, heading directly for the bar.
• • •
Rasson remained out of sight, lurking in a cube of ice that was slowly melting in a glass beside the bed Dom had vacated.
How did he know? Rasson wondered.
He’d left Dom’s side frequently after their binding and Dom had seemed to accept Rasson’s excuses — he was assisting mortals, he was tending to glaciers that required redirection or he was shoring up icebergs against warming waters. But quite often Rasson had needed to depart the fortress because Fayay had suddenly announced that he was about to arrive.
Rasson regretted not standing up to his brother sooner, because the trickle of visits had risen to a flood. Fayay now came to his domain every three or four days, demanding to speak with the Iceine. Some discussions were important, involving the interplay of sea and ice, but Fayay never missed an opportunity to remind Rasson that his new husband was only there grudgingly — and for one mere month per year.
No matter how many times Rasson defended Dom, no matter how many times he accepted an equal measure of blame for his situation, and no matter how many times he told himself to ignore his brother…
It always got to him.
And somehow, somehow, Dom had pieced it together. Rasson thought back to all those days when he’d returned from Fayay’s side — Dom had indeed spent hours exalting him, seducing him, worshipping him. Rasson had blamed it on his husband’s seemingly unquenchable sexual appetite. There couldn’t have been any other reason.
Was I wrong? he asked himself, confused.
Rasson had enjoyed his two individual months with Dom far more than his two consecutive centuries with Fayay — but did Dom really want him? Could Rasson trust his husband?
Can I trust Fayay?
Yes, he could trust Fayay — to be jealous of him, to try to bring him down. It was a constant he could always rely on, but it wasn’t a good one.
Even if I lose Dom, he thought, I can’t go back to Fayay. I can’t. Not anymore.
Rasson inwardly sighed. He should release Dom from their agreement. It would be easier that way, easier to disappear forever and never have his heart broken —
Dom burst back into the room. But he wasn’t alone. Another man followed him in, shirt and pants hitting the floor before the door had even closed. Dom seemed more hesitant, but soon enough his clothes were gone too.
‘It’s been ages since I got any action,’ the stranger said.
‘I know exactly how you feel,’ Dom replied and hurled himself onto the bed.
Rasson seethed. Fine. He would let Dom keep the immortality, let him sleep with anyone he wanted. They never had to see or speak to each other ever again. At least one of them would be happy.
But then Dom said the words that nearly broke him: ‘You can stop this any time, Rass.’
The stranger paused, frowning. ‘I told you, my name is — ’
‘Get over here,’ Dom snapped.
The man started obeying. But the order wasn’t meant for him.
• • •
A roar of wind from the deepest, coldest chasm; the boom of distant ice shelves collapsing into the sea; icicles shooting out of the ceiling and floor, ripping fabric, splintering furniture and cracking paint from the walls.
The god of ice had arrived.
Dom could only stare, awed. He’d never seen Rasson use his powers like this. It made him that much sexier.
The Iceine lifted a finger and pointed it at Dom’s companion, a mediaist who really wasn’t his type, but that hadn’t been the point.
‘Leave!’ Rasson thundered.
The mediaist half-ran, half-stumbled his way out, still trying to pull his pants up. The door slid shut with a decisive click. Dom remained where he was, arms fastened to his sides, unable to deny the fact that his arousal had just blasted into the stratosphere.
Rasson approached the bed, practically simmering, which was an achievement for the god of ice. ‘You are mine. Did you forget that we are bound?’
‘No, but this got
your attention, didn’t it?’ Dom said, arching an eyebrow. ‘Had to make sure you didn’t run off without us having the conversation I’m pretty sure we should have had months ago.’
‘Silence, husband.’ Those thin lips quirked into a smile. ‘On your hands and knees, please.’
Dom stared at the god for a long moment. He knew he should try to say something, try to make things right — he knew that, stark it — but he was now so hard it was almost painful. He’d seduced the mediaist into his room in the hope that it would get Rasson to intervene. He couldn’t refuse the consequences now.
Wordlessly, Dom did as he was told. The air behind him shifted slightly and the bed dipped beneath him, but he kept his knees locked and his eyes pinned on the headboard.
Icy fingers trailed up towards one of Dom’s nipples, circling it, never quite reaching the inside of the areola. Dom released a hiss of air when Rasson’s other hand ensnared him, winding fully around his straining length. The god squeezed lightly, relaxed his grip, then squeezed again; a gentle caress, inciting desperation and nothing more potent.
Dom was just starting to relax when Rasson swiftly pinched his nipple. White spots danced frantically across Dom’s vision and his other nipple began to ache from neglect. Panting, he prepared himself for the next attack — but it wasn’t what he expected. An open palm slapped his backside.
He swore and nearly fell forward.
‘Dom?’ Worry threaded through Rasson’s words and his hand curved over Dom’s stinging rear, a soft touch that lacked any real pressure.
All it would take was a single word and the god would desist.
Dom didn’t want him to.
‘Yesss,’ Dom managed. ‘Yes, Rass. Do it again.’
He almost sobbed with relief when the next few hits came. Each slap sent a bolt of heat right through his throbbing shaft, causing his tip to weep steadily — and every time Rasson’s hand connected with soft flesh, his other hand tightened around Dom’s cock. The combination of pleasure and pain was having a devastating impact on Dom’s ability to keep still.
Rasson paused in doling out Dom’s punishment and smoothed his palm from hip to shoulder then back again, murmuring, ‘I like that this belongs to me. All of it. And I like knowing that mine are the only hands that will mark the surface of your skin. For eternity.’
The Galactic Pantheon Novellas Page 11
