"You collect worlds? Like a game?"
He shrugged. "You would hate me if I said yes."
A game of real lives. On the surface it sounded hideous. Yet it was the very definition of politics. No human was immune. One could speculate everything was a game. But to be playthings of the very rich, of intergalactic boredom and wealth— I understood that, as communal beings, we always were manipulated by whoever had their hands on the power switch of culture. We always are dictated to, whether we are in small groups or large, whether we are part of a household or a galactic empire. He was just being open about it, unnervingly truthful. It seemed to give him pleasure. But it also kept him alone.
"I would not hate you," I finally answered. "In this room, here, with you, I might think I am looking at evil in the face if it were truly the mask I spoke to. But underneath—"
"Is just a man," he finished.
I still felt shaky, but this was easier to accept than I thought it might be. I myself had always felt like an outsider. On that level I could somewhat understand him. Second-guessing myself—for what? lack of character, morals, not making an indignant stand against someone who saw Niobe as a giant game of chess?—did not seem an appropriate response for that moment, because all we were doing was talking. All I was, was a man as well, nothing less, nothing more. Two people talking in a white room inside a frozen castle on the Eve of the Great Frost.
Shin had brought cures and riches to my world. He had brought peace. The vilification of him would come later. Right now the only devil I looked upon was an image of a mask.
We stood staring at one another for a long while. The room was warm. The colors of the lights brocaded the air.
At last he turned away. "And now," he said, "that we have had this discussion, I will not force you to stay. You know that. But I need to say it. I need to thank you for giving me this opportunity to speak to you. To tell you a small fraction about myself, my weakness, my evil. You are free to leave if you wish and receive from your people the rich accolades of being tonight's chosen one for the king."
I stood unmoving, unsure of the words I heard. He was giving me a choice? My choice had been made the moment I walked into the sanctuary; the moment I began my training; the moment I donned the cloak and hoped against all hope I would be chosen for this night.
"But I want to stay," I said, keeping my voice low.
"As man or pleasure gift?" he asked.
I swallowed hard. "As a man," I answered, knowing that would please him. "And as a gift, too." That last I said for myself.
He turned back to face me, hands out. "You are sure? Because it is my habit to force my—opinions. I take worlds and bend them. For the better, I like to think. But I am denounced for it. Reviled. I push my will onto others. For example, I detest slavery, even when made into an art."
And yet, he enslaved all to his whims, to his games.
I didn't care.
"Is it slavery when one volunteers?" I asked, feeling the weight of the cloak, of my assumptions.
"I don't know," he said. "Is it?"
I went to him then and knelt before him, bowing my head. "Your Highness, it is with great honor I—"
He interrupted, his finger under my chin, lifting my head. "No more rituals tonight. Just two men. You will call me Shin."
I stared upward. "Shin. I do this of my own accord."
He replied in a breathy voice, "You are quite beautiful. I really was hoping you would stay."
CHAPTER THREE
The flattery made my skin heat. He had spoken of games. No doubt this night was one for him. But for me, I wanted this with every real force of my being. I did not know why, because all thoughts of my family and any accolades had vanished. It simply was the way I felt in his presence.
My body somehow knew things my mind did not. It was communicating to me in a language I was trained for, but not for the same reasons we had trained in the sanctuary. Erotic pleasure alone was not its entire goal tonight. My body knew that long before I did, or I would have been able to maintain my erection both on the stage and here in the king's rooms. There was something deeper. It had happened when my clasp broke and the king released it like a locked door opening inside of me.
And it had attracted Shin.
Shin nodded toward the bed. Without hesitation, I approached it. He took a few steps forward and stopped. "Do you need assistance with the cloak again?"
My smile came quick. "I don't know." I looked down and saw the tangle of threads in the clasp where the pleasure master had tied it off. I knew I would be able to tear it. But instinct stopped me. "Yes. I think I do."
Shin came forward. "Do they teach you how to tease in the sanctuary?"
"Yes. But I was not thinking of my lessons right now."
His laugh came soft. His hands rose to the clasp. He unwove the threads of the clasp, and it parted. The folds of the robe with its flashing rubies swept aside as the weight of the material slid off my shoulders. It crumpled with the sound of a broken bead necklace hitting the tile floor.
Shin stepped back, carefully avoiding the cloth.
I stood very still. In the sanctuary, I was used to nudity, used to the assessment of my features, charms, abilities. But this was different. Maybe it was because of past war and all the changes now. I don't know. My true self had been hiding in the catacombs we all build for our mortal selves since the day of our births. I didn't realize that all my life had been leading to this moment. And the days after the conquering of our world had created even more of a tension inside me, which I had buried deep. But on this night, I felt more bare than ever, laid open to the very stars themselves in a way that had me at their mercy, their judgment.
I wanted to give of myself at the same time I wanted to turn away.
"Remi." My name was all he said.
I stood under his gaze from behind the mask and thought, There is no such thing as freedom for any of us.
But in this moment, I had been given the freedom of choice.
I wanted this, but my body was nervous, uncooperative. I did not have to look down at myself to see this still-mysterious non-arousal from me.
"I am sorry. My lack of honor—"
Shin held up his palm for me to quiet. He put one hand to the top of his shirt at his chest. "Will you assist me?"
I went to him automatically, obediently. I knew this process. I had practiced it. I reached out to his silk white shirt, and unlike my cloak clasp, the buttons came undone smooth as butter.
Beneath his shirt he wore nothing but a thin, red leather band at his wrist. His skin was the color of sunbursts. There was a healthy underlying tinge of tarnish, as if he had been tanned for a day in the sun. Yet surely not here on this cold world. Maybe he had a secret sun-room?
His skin was tight and dry, smooth, mostly hairless. He had some darker shadows under his arms, but that was all I saw, along with a few escaping dark-gold curls from underneath his mask.
Would he make love to me wearing it?
He let the shirt fall to join my cloak. This close to him, not touching but only inches of air separating our naked chests, I could smell a sweet saltiness on him like the wine I'd drunk, like a newly forming storm from a dark, pure sea.
As I undid the buttons, my fingers never slipped. Was he warm or cool? I had not yet touched him to see. Would he be alien or the same as I?
He had not yet gestured me to go further in undressing him.
And I still wore my fur boots.
With the flat of his hand, he touched my chest, shoving with some strength until I found myself sitting on the edge of the plush white bed. Then he knelt before me, a complete surprise. He gazed intently at me as he pulled my feet free from fur and set the soft boots aside. My feet were warm as they dangled against the hard, cool floor. The textures of the satin against my backside, the shining tile on the soles of my feet, and the gentle pressure of his hands lightly brushing my shins usurped all thought. The room spun again as if I were back on the stage,
the broken clasp in my hands, the lights all around, and the king waiting. Waiting.
Voice quiet, Shin said, "Lie back."
I slid along the coverlet where it lapped me in cool waves. Shin stood and bent to get rid of his own boots. Clad now only in his white pants, he joined me on the bed, coming up alongside me and rolling to his side.
My head found the puffs of pillows. My dark hair streamed about my shoulders and fell across my face. Shin reached up and brushed it aside, fingertips dotting my cheeks.
He still had the mask. I began to hate it. Yet my body was humming. There was a throbbing pulse in my throat. Slowly a heat began to grow in my abdomen. Here I was, broken open, chosen, one of the lucky spending the specialness of this night with a king. Still my cock held back.
Through the mask slits the eyes moved, cool blue wandering up and down my body. I knew what he saw, the toning I had perfected, the softness of my skin from the oils I'd rubbed into it, the olive tint, my dark eyes and hair, all that they said the king preferred. Still, the inhibition between my legs remained, the fear.
"I'm sorry—" I began.
"No. I am intimidating to some. It is part of my game."
"It's just—"
"Shh." He interrupted me again. "There are remedies for your problem." He suppressed a smile. "Such as caresses." Then he leaned toward me and kissed me with the softest brush of his lips against mine. The mask got in the way. The hooked nose scraped against my upper lip; the forehead pressed its foreign flatness against my nose, my cheek.
I leaned back, away.
I ran my hand along the mask's rounded, shining cheekbone, the sharp edges that jutted to each side of the eyes. It was cold—a thin, filigreed metal burnished in onyx ink. I traced the edges, pushed one finger just underneath one side. "Please?" I asked.
He sighed. "Yes."
I sat up. I ran the fingers of both hands along the edge above his mouth and began to lift.
He hissed softly as the mask pulled away from his skin. I brought it up and over the top of his head, letting the glossy, bronze curls spring free. Because of the rumors, I had half-expected a scarred visage or some other deformity. I would not have minded or been afraid. Instead, his face was smooth-shaven, pink at the points where the mask had stuck with a slight sheen of sweat. Curls draped across his broad forehead. He looked younger than I'd expected, almost boyish, with rounded cheeks accentuated by a firm jaw. His nose was narrow with a slight dip at the ridge as if it had once been broken and left to heal naturally. The eyes were pale blue, and they seemed to smile, though his mouth remained in a straight line.
Trust would be earned tonight—or not. We would see. But with the mask off, one part of the deal was done. I had already sworn a pact of secrecy at the sanctuary. I was legally bound never to reveal a description of his true face should I be fortunate enough to see it.
I leaned over him, my chest brushing his, and set the mask on the night stand closest to him. As I moved back, I felt myself clasped in his arms, pulled down until we were pressed together.
He lifted his head, soft lips nuzzling mine. The first brush of a kiss had been but a tentative greeting. This was the real thing. Resting my arms on either side of his head, I pushed in slightly, parting my mouth. His lips opened beneath mine, and something deep within me stirred. It went beyond the physical. There was wonder there. Maybe because he was alien. And king. And beautiful. Maybe also because it was a night of rituals and gifts made all the more special by a year-long anticipation.
I felt my blood heat and rush through me. Finally, my cock began to stir, trapped between us, moving against his still-clothed groin.
I wanted to feel more.
I realized I had not thought of my training once since I'd been divested of my cloak this second time. A selfish part of me rose up in demand. I felt it in the moment I was on top of him—perhaps a bit presumptuous of me.
He did not seem to mind my dominance as, between breaths, I deepened the kiss. A shiver ran through me.
He turned his head and gasped, "Okay?"
"Definitely." I wanted to laugh. But I was too busy drowning in the room's orange sparks of light, the warmth of his skin against mine, the way his hands curved against the small of my back.
He turned in the bed, pushing me back, now on top of me, and kissed along my neck, up my jaw, and once more claimed my burning mouth.
The weight of him was lovely. The heat permeated me to the depths of my bones, a kindling pleasure that left me breathless.
Still, amid all this wonder, a tiny part of me felt afraid. I could not understand my fear. All my training had defined me as accomplished, controlled, skilled in the art of pleasure. I had never questioned it. I had succeeded at every level.
Shin moved his head up and said, "What are you thinking?"
I smiled. "That I have never questioned my training until now."
"Why are you questioning it now?"
I turned my head. "I don't know."
"You are beautiful in your hesitancy. The way you trembled on the stage."
It was hard to believe him. "I want this night to be perfect for you. I should never be thinking of myself. But I can't help it."
"That conflict is why you are nervous. But I suffer the same fate. I am always selfishly wanting to fix things, make things right. Find a better way for my own gratification, all while telling myself I am helping others, which I am also doing."
I took a deep breath; forced myself to smile up at him. "Maybe it's that. I would not have thought it before as a conflict. I saw it only as helping my family and myself. I don't know what is wrong with me. I am ready for this. I am prepared. I have made it this far. This night is for you."
"It is for you too. You must hope to get something else out of it, or you wouldn't be here. I gave you a choice. You stayed."
My cheeks heated at his words.
He leaned down again, and the kiss was soft.
I put my hands at his waist and tugged. He lifted his hips and let me undo his waistband. I pushed the cloth away. He rolled to his side to make things easier.
I saw his cock spring free, dark and hard. There was no denying his desire. Mine, on the other hand—
"Remi," he said. "Just lie back and relax."
My nerves wracked me again. I was failing him. I should have been showing off my talents. Instead I was worse than the greenest of trainees.
I obeyed him and lay back, the white ceiling tipping up in my vision, bright with tiny embedded lights.
He came to his knees beside me. It was hard to think of him as a king now, the mask gone, the crown put away, revealing a young man in his prime, a torrent of ridiculous curls outlining his face. He cupped my shoulders with his hands, brushing down. He circled my chest, stroking my pecs, my ribs, my nipples with a whisper of a touch. I let my weight settle in the bed's cushioning embrace. I closed my eyes and felt dizzy again.
Shin took his time. Fingers spread against my taut belly. Sometimes he lowered his head and left kisses to follow the journey his hands made. I entered the beginning stage of ecstasy that was not concentrated or focused but wild and threatening, as if I might lift away and lose myself like someone drunk or drugged. This was not to be my night. This ritual was for the king. Yet he told me otherwise, over and over, to relax. To not think.
In the pleasure lessons I had learned, we were to perform tasks. Sexual favors. Give our bodies over for another's diversion, amusement, and gratification. We were also allowed to feel satisfaction, of course, but only secondary to the person we were gifted to. I kept thinking the king's pleasure must come first.
But Shin kept caressing my hips, my thighs, up and down, unrelenting. My arousal became evident, for which I was grateful, but he never touched me there, continuing to stroke until my muscles became liquid and warm, my mind a white haze.
He kissed me on the mouth again, pulled back and said, "I love looking at you like this. Remi. Do you understand how exquisite you are? Not because you come fro
m the sanctuary, but because you are you."
Again his words confused me. He moved back down my body, kissing a line over my chest, stomach, hips. He traced the inside of one thigh with his tongue. It sent ripples of shocking pleasure through me. I jerked.
He chuckled. A warm wetness swathed my sack, drawing slowly up my cock. When his lips circled the tip and the heat increased, I let out a soft cry. I hardened more, which seemed to be his will. For a long moment, he kept his mouth over me, cupping his tongue. When he moved down, sucking, I gasped. Very slowly, using the pressure of his mouth on my cock, he turned me inside out.
I tossed my head on the pillows. He cupped my balls and then delved deeper. I was fully prepared, slick. He eased his fingers between my buttocks, teasing. I squirmed and moaned again.
But as he probed my entrance, my muscles inadvertently clenched. My reaction made me lift my head.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked.
"No." Confounded, I bit my lower lip. I could not condone this betrayal of my body.
He stroked again and pushed one finger barely into me. I tensed around it, flexed my thighs, felt my breath catch. It was wonderful, and yet—
"No need to rush," he said, taking his finger away.
"No, I... it's fine, I—"
"Shh."
"But I can't understand it. Or myself," I blurted in frustration.
Shin came up over me and caressed my cheek. He gently kissed my forehead. "What do they do in the sanctuary? It's not your first time, is it?"
"No, it isn't, not at all!" But it is with you, I wanted to add.
"Maybe you aren't ready."
"I am ready! I've been prepared over and over." I threw one arm over my eyes. "I am completely incompetent tonight. And yet I shouldn't be."
"You are not. You are being honest. And I chose you for that. I adored your reaction when the clasp broke."
"I thought you were pitying me."
"No. I told you. It was your luck that it happened. It showed me more of you the others did not show. I'm sure all the others were competent. I wanted more. Mere competence has always been rather a letdown to me." He ran his fingers through my hair.
Solstice Gift Page 3
