by Cari Z.
“We will get another shuttle,” Neyarr said loudly, hanging on to his brother’s arm. “There are people we want to see in town. We’ll be back later. Much later. You two go.”
“Yes,” Garrell said, catching on after a moment, “you go on. Go home.”
Jason didn’t need to be told again. He got into the shuttle, closed the door behind him, and moved over to sit beside Ferran. To his surprise, Ferran didn’t move to embrace him or curl into him or shift to sit on his lap, which Jason had half expected. He just sat there. The shuttle began to move.
“Ferran. Talk to me.” To Jason’s surprise, his husband didn’t respond—he just turned farther toward the window.
“Ferran.”
“Not here.”
Jason sighed. “Then at least come over here.” When Ferran barely twitched, he added honestly, “It will make me feel better.”
Ferran turned and looked at him, searching for confirmation. With a slow shuffle, he closed the last little distance between them and leaned against Jason’s chest. The stiffness in Ferran’s body relaxed somewhat as Jason’s arms came around him. After a few more seconds, he was clinging ferociously, and it was all Jason could do to breathe against the pressure. He didn’t say anything, though. He just held on and prayed that whatever had happened between the two Perels, it was something he could fix.
It was only once they were back in their den, the door firmly shut against intrusion, that Ferran seemed to get his composure back. They sat facing each other on the couch, Ferran twitching a little but not making another move toward Jason. There was silence for a while. Jason did his best not to hurry his husband, but his ability to silently put up with Ferran’s pain was almost gone by the time he spoke.
“Seronn told me…. He told me that he knows of the depths of your ability, and that you are not capable of keeping me. He told me that there are many who think our marriage is a sham to increase the bargaining power of the House of Grenn. He told me that even after our marriage is over, there are still respectable families who would be honored to have me as a consort, despite the way I was used for a year. Then he told me he missed my company and looked forward to more of it.”
Hearing that pushed Jason to the frayed limits of his control, limits that were considerably easier to breech when they concerned his husband. His smoldering temper flared wildly, it seemed a flame must glare through his eyes so brightly he was glad Ferran kept his head down, so he couldn’t see how violent Jason felt. Admittedly, he probably could sense it, but there was little Jason could do about that. He rode the emotion out, calming himself for a few seconds before saying in a nearly normal voice, “He won’t be getting any more of your company.”
“No.” Still, Ferran wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Jason tried a different tack to draw his husband out. “What happened between the two of you before you met me is the past. I would never hold you responsible for that.”
“I know.” Ferran’s eyes rose, but they darted back and forth before finally settling on Jason. “But I should have rebuked him. I should have done something! I just stood there and let him speak to me, let him say those awful things about you, and I didn’t say anything!”
“He surprised you.”
“I am supposed to be improving my ability to stand up for what I believe in. I am supposed to be learning how to negotiate, how to deal with difficult people. How good an ambassador for Perelan will I be when I can’t even stand up to one of my own people?”
“That just takes practice.” Ferran started shaking his head again, but Jason stopped him. “No, I’m serious, it just takes practice. I was terribly shy when I went into the Academy. My teachers thought I was mute for a while, I kept so silent. It took me years to learn to speak out, but it can be learned, and you’ll pick it up much faster than I did. You will.” Jason kissed his husband’s forehead. “You will. I have faith in you.”
“I feel like I failed you,” Ferran said, but at least he was meeting Jason’s eyes now without hesitation.
“You didn’t. You don’t. You won’t.” Jason touched their right temples together and cupped Ferran’s face with his hand, breathing in his lover’s sweet, slightly musky scent. He was out of words, but they had helped to bank the flames again, and when Ferran’s hesitant hand rose to caress the side of his face, the fire inside of him died down almost entirely.
Ferran’s caress went from gentle and warm to something more, slowly but surely sliding down Jason’s body until it reached his groin. Jason’s breath caught against his lover’s ear, and Ferran sighed happily. “Let me care for you,” he whispered.
“How do you want me?”
“Just lean back,” Ferran said, pushing and tugging at Jason until his back was propped up on cushions and his legs extended along the length of the couch. Ferran hovered on all fours over Jason, close enough to feel the heat but not quite close enough to touch, before his facile mouth descended. He kissed Jason long and deep, before sliding his lips and tongue around to trace the shell of Jason’s ear, the line of his jaw, and the hollow spaces between the taut tendons of his neck. Jason raised his hands to touch Ferran, but his lover shied away. “Not yet.”
It took a supreme act of will, but Jason kept himself still and let Ferran take his time undressing him. Jason often played with Ferran this way, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had been passive with a lover. It certainly wasn’t often that his husband wanted to touch instead of be touched, but if that was what Ferran wanted, Jason wasn’t about to stop him.
Ferran’s tongue was rough, almost too rough on the tender skin of Jason’s genitals, but against his bare chest and abdomen the friction felt good. That exquisite tongue touched every plane and rise of Jason’s body, from the little divot of his belly button to the points of his hips. Fingers followed, and they were a soothing balm following the roughness of Ferran’s mouth, smooth and teasing against the skin. Jason’s hands clenched before he forced them to relax again and not reach upward toward the thing they yearned for.
The foreplay was enjoyable enough to put Jason on edge, and when Ferran bared Jason’s cock and lowered his mouth over it, Jason tensed for the rough, curling sweep of tongue that he knew was coming, that he both craved and resisted. When Ferran’s lips sank over the head, Jason’s breath caught; a moment later, it caught again, because instead of the roughness he had expected there was only the wet heat of lips chasing his cock down to the root. That far back, Ferran’s tongue was smooth, not rough, and the sensation made him quiver.
Ferran’s fingers slid inside his mouth to stroke against the first few inches of Jason’s swollen dick, and he moaned at the feel of it. He sighed when those fingers left, then started in surprise when he felt two of them press against his hole. Ferran was insistent, gently sucking with his mouth, but pressing hard with those fingers, and after a moment Jason relaxed and let them inside. They went immediately to his prostate, and it only took a few seconds of purposeful stroking before Jason shouted and came inside Ferran’s smooth, sweet mouth, spasming around the fingers that held him captive.
Slowly, Jason came down from the high, and he realized that Ferran’s head was resting on his belly, right beside his spent cock. The fingers were still inside of him, but it didn’t hurt or feel good, really; it was just a statement of intent, physical intent, which said, This is mine. Jason didn’t mind the possessiveness, but after a moment, he did have to shift away.
“Ferran….” Jason’s throat was hoarse from shouting and from too much time spent in the acidic rain, but the burn felt good. “Ferran… you….”
“I am perfect.” Ferran nuzzled his face into Jason’s abdomen and sighed quietly. “I am content.”
“You haven’t come.”
“I don’t want to right now. I want to care for you. That is as important to me as any pleasure for myself.” He looked up at Jason’s face, his eyes huge and glistening. “And I know it is all right, because you will give me this. You will give me anything. This
is one more level of the depths that you hold, and you will never have to work to keep me, because everything you are captivates me. You give me what I need, and you let me have what I want. This is better than so much else. This is one of the best things.”
“I love you,” Jason told Ferran, and what he meant was, I adore you. I would do anything for you, face anyone for you, give you whatever you want, as long as it meant we could be together in the end. Even if it feels unfair, I would give it to you. I will always take care of you.
“I know.”
Chapter Twelve
THE NEXT day was the twins’ rhezan, and Jason thought he might be more anxious about it than they were. The event had been built up so much by everyone, even those not directly involved or invited, that it took on an almost-mythic quality.
“It’s an incredible honor for you,” Giselle told him. “The rhezan is an intensely emotional thing, from what I understand. I’ve been trying to get an invitation to attend one for over a decade, without any success. Yours and Ferran’s will be the first I’m ever privy to, and no doubt, it’ll be somewhat adulterated given who you are, but still, I’m looking forward to it.”
“About that….”
“You can’t get out of it, so stop trying,” Giselle advised Jason with a half smile. “Yeah, your other mother has told me all about your reluctance. Jason, showmanship and celebrity are inextricably interlocked with your position. There ain’t no getting out of it, kid.” She laughed when he raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, I was watching westerns yesterday. I couldn’t come into the city—things have been tense along the edge.”
“What’s been happening?”
“Oh, a few raids by the Shamed.” Those were Perels who had broken the laws of Berenze so badly that they had been deported to a distant spot in the jungle. Some eventually made their way back to the city to beg reentrance and many others died, but a few managed to thrive in the perilous environment, and those were the ones whose bitterness and anger toward their own kind drove them to attack the edges of the city. “Two families from the working class have been killed in the past month, and the Council is sending out more security forces every day. It’s actually kind of difficult for them to make the numbers, because the only people in this place who have the slightest hint of strategic combat training are the duelists, and by law, there’s only one official duelist per House. It’s only lately that they’ve reinstituted the title of ‘defender’ and started building up their security forces.”
“Are you all right out there?” Jason asked with concern. Giselle might only be his mother in name, but he still felt obligated to do what he could to help her, and if that meant helping to keep her safe, then he would work to ensure that.
“We’re fine,” Giselle assured him. “My little compound is the most securely guarded on this whole planet. Only myself, my staff, and the members of the Council know the codes to get through my environmental shield, and there are additional fail-safes on the inside that the matriarchs don’t know about.”
“Good.”
“So stern and terse,” she clucked at him. “Stop worrying and cheer up, Jason. Think about the unique cultural experience you’re about to have. Take plenty of mental notes—I’m going to want a full debrief on how this goes down after the celebration ends.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Giselle regarded him for a long moment, then chuckled. “God, what you do to these people. I’ve had more questions thrown at me in this past month than I’ve fielded for the entirety of my career. You’re so prim and proper most of the time that the Council thinks they should be able to anticipate you, and then the next moment, you go and give the favored consort of the heir of House Tlann discipline in your class like he’s a child. Yes, I hear everything,” she added at Jason’s questioning look. “Push-ups. Every class. That boy is gold as far as his matriarch is concerned, and Tlann is upset already that they didn’t get Ferran’s marriage contract, and here you are disregarding the expected protocol and making Seronn’s evenings a misery.”
“He’s an ass,” Jason said succinctly. “And I’m not doing it for my own gratification.” Liar, his mind whispered slyly. “I’m doing it because every class he takes, he mouths off and breaks the rules. So he gets a few extra push-ups.” Hundreds of them actually.
“I’ve heard a lot of rumors about the two of you. There are stories about how you were lovers before Seronn left you at the end of his tour, tales of how he stole your husband away, all full of the requisite melodrama, I assure you. In fact, half of the questions thrown my way lately concern this kind of gossip. Care to clue me in?”
Yet another crack appeared in the veneer of privacy that Jason had treasured for so much of his life. “I’ve never slept with Seronn, but he did sleep with my former partner over a year ago.” Giselle made an And? gesture with her hand, but Jason closed his lips firmly in front of his tongue and said nothing else.
“It’s like pulling teeth with you sometimes,” Giselle sighed. “Fine. Can you continue to handle him in your class, or do you think he needs to go?”
“I think he’s disruptive, but not so much that he needs to leave the class,” Jason replied. “I certainly won’t ask him to leave, and I don’t think you should either.”
“As a demonstration of control, I know. I just wanted to make sure you were all right with that.”
Honestly, I’d like you to pull him out of my class by his ears and send him packing back to his wife, far enough away that he can’t even look at Ferran anymore. “I’m fine with it.”
“Good.” The rest of their meeting was spent on other, less personal things, for which Jason was grateful.
RHEZAN CEREMONIES were a big deal to the Perel—Jason knew that, intellectually. Such an event would naturally have a lot of guests, and he’d known that too. He hadn’t expected the ceremony to be conducted in the equivalent of a huge amphitheater, with benches placed in staggered rows up from an open space in the center of the room. More than a thousand Perel packed the benches, and down in the center of the auditorium were Matriarch Ylenn, the heir to the House of Lronn, and her four consorts, all dressed in welcoming green. Each of the males held one of the orange flowers that had graced Jason and Ferran’s bed when they first arrived, and they all looked excited and full of anticipation.
Jason tried to memorize more details about what was happening. The amphitheater smelled like musk and tangerines, and the continuous murmur of Perel voices was like a deep buzz in the back of his brain. Jason had expected music, but to his surprise, the Perel weren’t a very musical people. They preferred natural sounds to the kind they could make themselves, and more often than not, anything playing in a home or shop was the call of an animal or the wind rushing through leaves, mixed so that it was rhythmic in a way the Perel liked.
The first time Jason had played some of his own music in their den, a synth-viola solo, members of his extended family had stood outside the hall to listen to it before Ferran took pity and invited them in. It had turned into an impromptu party, and the inclusion had made his family happy. That benefit was worth the breach in Jason’s crumbling fortress.
The room was almost entirely dark, naturally, and Jason liked the anonymity that lent him, even if it was false. The small open space in the center was the only part that was lit, and that was just with a diffuse light from above. The waiting members of the House of Lronn seemed to glow nevertheless.
Ferran sat next to Jason, his hand on Jason’s knee quivering with excitement. “They are coming now—my mother is bringing them out!” Sure enough, a moment later, the noise level rose as Grenn walked down an aisle, pulling Neyarr and Garrell behind her. Grenn was adorned in a very impressive set of brown and gold robes, which Jason had been informed symbolized an ending. Brown was the color that Perels were buried in. The twins wore loose brown robes as well, liberally decorated with the symbol of the House of Grenn.
Grenn began to speak. She was too far away for Jason’s translator to
be able to make out her words, but Ferran noticed him straining to hear and translated it softly for him. “She says that today is a day of sadness and mourning for her. Today she loses two of the sons of her House, two fine and beautiful pups. After today they will be as memories to her, because they will belong to a new family, one which is worthy of them. How are you worthy of them?”
Ferran paused as the fat, green-robed matriarch facing Grenn began to speak. “Ylenn says that…. She says that none of her consorts have ever wanted. She gives them shelter and care, and children to love. She listens to the wise advice of her consorts, and she protects them from the harshness of the world. She and her family are ready to welcome Neyarr and Garrell into their den and into their hearts. She says they are a gift that she will strive to repay for the rest of her life.”
Grenn started again. “My mother says that she believes Ylenn will give them a good home. She asks permission for these sweet memories to visit after their time of adjustment is over, so that they may share the wisdom of the House of Lronn with those they left behind. Ylenn…. She says yes.” Ferran leaned forward. “Now my mother must say good-bye to Neyarr and Garrell and make them leave.”
“Make them leave?”
Grenn turned the twins to face her and kissed each on the mouth very solemnly. Then she turned them back around to face Ylenn and her consorts and tore the brown robes from their backs. The twins were left naked, and Jason could hear their labored breathing all the way from where he sat. A second later, Grenn reached out, gripped the rigid quills at the backs of their heads firmly, and then yanked them down. There was a horrible ripping sound, and Jason could see that she had pulled a handful of bloody quills out of each of them. Judging by the way the twins cringed and mewled and the crowd seemed to tense as one, it probably hurt like a bitch.
