sliding on his skin, so hot. So very hot. “Will you eat? Or take more to drink?”
He shook his head. No. No, he was tired. Sore. Lost.
“Fine.” He was cradled against the warm body once again, a soft humming sounding. He thought maybe he recognized the song as a lullaby his mother had sung to him once.
* * * *
Wintras held Zujan until the slender body was warmed through and in the throes of sleep. At least he assumed it was sleep, Zujan having woken, spoken. It was possible Zujan had been delirious, but there was little he could do about it.
He found himself dozing and decided to move to the bed. He deposited Zujan there first, building the fire up again so that its warmth filled the room. Then he returned to the bed and Zujan’s side. Zujan didn’t seem so fierce a sorcerer now, with his too thin limbs and his pale as snow skin. The only color aside from the blue veins visible through the pale skin was the swatch of black—Zujan’s hair. It was shot through with white now, more snow than earth and the curls around Zujan’s cock were white, barely visible against the pale skin.
A shiver wracked the slender body, and Wintras climbed in and curled around Zujan, surprisingly protective. He didn’t understand this instinct to protect and nurture Zujan, but it was strong, and he was too tired to fight it. Zujan moved toward him, low little sounds filling the air. He tucked Zujan in close, the sorcerer fitting perfectly into his body. Now that Zujan was warm instead of cold, Wintras began to notice just how well Zujan fit, just how soft the pale skin was.
He cursed his cock as it began to firm.
Zujan’s cheek was on his shoulder, breath soft and gentle, warm. It felt…good. Like with Furn, only… Zujan was his equal, not a servant. Except that he had been Zujan’s slave.
Wintras whimpered, ashamed of his confusion.
Zujan shifted, frowning, scooting even closer. He soothed Zujan automatically, hands sliding down along the slim back, murmuring, “Shh.” The actions eased the pale sorcerer, the long dark lashes brushing his skin, sensitizing it. He shifted again, his cock sliding along the soft, warm skin, and he closed his eyes, his own body betraying him as the pleasure rippled through him. Again, Zujan snuggled closer, rubbing harder.
He moaned, body thrilling to the touch. He could not blame the water or Zujan’s magics either, for he was the master now.
The pale eyes blinked open, staring at him. “You’re warm.” Husky and soft, the voice didn’t sound like Zujan’s.
He looked back, Zujan’s eyes the color of ice water. “You are now, too.”
“Yes. Thank you.” He got a smile, peaceful and warm.
This wasn’t like Zujan at all, and his confusion intensified. “Do you know who I am?”
“I… You said you didn’t like me. You said I was your prisoner.”
“Well…I don’t and you are.” He tried to say it firmly, but his hard cock was rubbing against Zujan’s belly…
“Do you know who you are?” Wintras asked suddenly. Zujan might not remember him. Could the man go through so many nobles as pleasure slaves that he would have forgotten? But surely Zujan should remember who he himself was.
“What?” Those eyes blinked up, curious.
“Who are you?” he asked again.
“I…” Zujan frowned, thought. “I am…tired. I am tired.”
Wintras nodded. “Yeah, me, too.”
It was likely late. They should sleep. Hopefully it would all make sense in the morning. And if not, at least he’d be rested enough to deal with it. He tucked Zujan into the crook of his arm, petting the slender back. It was awfully cozy quarters for his enemy, but he could hardly leave Zujan out in the cold to freeze again.
He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about it.
He closed his eyes firmly.
* * * *
He woke, warm and held close. It felt like a distant magic. He opened his eyes, vision clear and sharp. Bright. The room was familiar—like something he’d seen in a book once, a faded picture. He
He shook his head. No. No, he was tired. Sore. Lost.
“Fine.” He was cradled against the warm body once again, a soft humming sounding. He thought maybe he recognized the song as a lullaby his mother had sung to him once.
* * * *
Wintras held Zujan until the slender body was warmed through and in the throes of sleep. At least he assumed it was sleep, Zujan having woken, spoken. It was possible Zujan had been delirious, but there was little he could do about it.
He found himself dozing and decided to move to the bed. He deposited Zujan there first, building the fire up again so that its warmth filled the room. Then he returned to the bed and Zujan’s side. Zujan didn’t seem so fierce a sorcerer now, with his too thin limbs and his pale as snow skin. The only color aside from the blue veins visible through the pale skin was the swatch of black—Zujan’s hair. It was shot through with white now, more snow than earth and the curls around Zujan’s cock were white, barely visible against the pale skin.
A shiver wracked the slender body, and Wintras climbed in and curled around Zujan, surprisingly protective. He didn’t understand this instinct to protect and nurture Zujan, but it was strong, and he was too tired to fight it. Zujan moved toward him, low little sounds filling the air. He tucked Zujan in close, the sorcerer fitting perfectly into his body. Now that Zujan was warm instead of cold, Wintras began to notice just how well Zujan fit, just how soft the pale skin was.
He cursed his cock as it began to firm.
Zujan’s cheek was on his shoulder, breath soft and gentle, warm. It felt…good. Like with Furn, only… Zujan was his equal, not a servant. Except that he had been Zujan’s slave.
Wintras whimpered, ashamed of his confusion.
Zujan shifted, frowning, scooting even closer. He soothed Zujan automatically, hands sliding down along the slim back, murmuring, “Shh.” The actions eased the pale sorcerer, the long dark lashes brushing his skin, sensitizing it. He shifted again, his cock sliding along the soft, warm skin, and he closed his eyes, his own body betraying him as the pleasure rippled through him. Again, Zujan snuggled closer, rubbing harder.
He moaned, body thrilling to the touch. He could not blame the water or Zujan’s magics either, for he was the master now.
The pale eyes blinked open, staring at him. “You’re warm.” Husky and soft, the voice didn’t sound like Zujan’s.
He looked back, Zujan’s eyes the color of ice water. “You are now, too.”
“Yes. Thank you.” He got a smile, peaceful and warm.
This wasn’t like Zujan at all, and his confusion intensified. “Do you know who I am?”
“I… You said you didn’t like me. You said I was your prisoner.”
“Well…I don’t and you are.” He tried to say it firmly, but his hard cock was rubbing against Zujan’s belly…
“Do you know who you are?” Wintras asked suddenly. Zujan might not remember him. Could the man go through so many nobles as pleasure slaves that he would have forgotten? But surely Zujan should remember who he himself was.
“What?” Those eyes blinked up, curious.
“Who are you?” he asked again.
“I…” Zujan frowned, thought. “I am…tired. I am tired.”
Wintras nodded. “Yeah, me, too.”
It was likely late. They should sleep. Hopefully it would all make sense in the morning. And if not, at least he’d be rested enough to deal with it. He tucked Zujan into the crook of his arm, petting the slender back. It was awfully cozy quarters for his enemy, but he could hardly leave Zujan out in the cold to freeze again.
He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about it.
He closed his eyes firmly.
* * * *
He woke, warm and held close. It felt like a distant magic. He opened his eyes, vision clear and sharp. Bright. The room was familiar—like something he’d seen in a book once, a faded picture. He
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