last time he'd been at that garrison. Mostly for self-gratification, but also the low-burning hope that eventually he might have company.
It was still hard to believe all that hoping had come to something.
Climbing back on the bed, Shemal spread Lesto's thighs, mindful of the injured one, and settled between them like he belonged there. Lesto certainly wasn't denying it. The problem with always being in charge was that people assumed he was in charge in all circumstances.
He'd tried to tell exactly one other lover what he'd wanted, and they'd laughed, thinking he was joking, and told him to stop delaying and get on with it. He hadn't felt comfortable telling any of the others, which he'd realized rather too late was a sign they weren't worthy lovers.
Only one person, other than Sarrica, had ever done what he asked without hesitation or question, hadn't seen it as strange.
Lesto curled a hand into Shemal's heavy hair and drew him down into a deep kiss, loving the way it already felt so familiar, so necessary. Drawing back, he said, "I've been waiting a long time, pirate. You better be at least as good as my memory."
Emotions too tangled to sort rippled across Shemal's face, and he gave Lesto a quick, hard kiss that lingered like spicy peppers before shifting to put that evil, highly memorable mouth to work elsewhere. His teeth nipped at soft skin, his tongue dragged over scars, though as focused as he clearly was on trying to make Lesto scream, Shemal never once forgot about Lesto's wounds.
By the time he lapped at the wet smears left on Lesto's skin by his aching, eager cock, Lesto was desperate enough to kill him, except then the lovely torment would cease. "Are you going to let me touch you?"
"Not while you're injured," Shemal said, looking up the length of Lesto's body through his long lashes. "Hold still and do as you're told, Commander."
Lesto groaned, liking that more than he would ever admit, though the way his cock twitched, he didn't have to say. Shemal chuckled, low and addictive, and finally dropped that distracting mouth of his over Lesto's cock, sucking with expertise, throat tight and hot, tongue more flexible than a tongue had any right to be. Lesto shuddered hard, dropping one hand to fist in that thick, heavy mass of hair, his other hand tangling in the blanket as he thrust deeper into Shemal's throat.
Shemal took it with ease, sucking harder, working Lesto's cock until it was impossible to hold back. Lesto came with a ragged cry he didn't bother to muffle. It was his room and his garrison and he seldom got to enjoy anything but his own hand. That was more than enough for some people, but Lesto had never been one of them.
Drawing back, Shemal wiped spit and come from his lips and chin with the back of his hand. Sweat gleamed on his tattooed skin. Fuck if that wasn't the most erotic image Lesto had ever seen. Lesto leaned up enough to grab hold of his shoulders and dragged him into a wet, messy kiss. Shemal groaned into his mouth, pushed him down into the bedding with all that lovely weight, and rutted jerkily against him.
He spilled just moments later, still kissing Lesto, feeding every moan and garbled word into his mouth. When he eventually went still, they both were panting softly, the only sound in the room, the noise of the garrison a distant, negligible murmur.
"You were supposed to fuck me," Lesto said eventually. "I suppose I can forgive you since it means you have to stay here until you get around to it."
Shemal laughed and rolled off him, went to the table to wet a cloth that he brought back to clean them both. He tossed it to join their discarded clothes when he was done then stretched out beside Lesto, a long, loose-limbed, half-wild beauty too breathtaking to be settling for the difficult life of lover to the Duke of Fathoms Deep.
Lesto reached out and stroked his fingers over the rings Shemal still wore.
"Oh, right, I should return these," Shemal said and pulled the rings from his
It was still hard to believe all that hoping had come to something.
Climbing back on the bed, Shemal spread Lesto's thighs, mindful of the injured one, and settled between them like he belonged there. Lesto certainly wasn't denying it. The problem with always being in charge was that people assumed he was in charge in all circumstances.
He'd tried to tell exactly one other lover what he'd wanted, and they'd laughed, thinking he was joking, and told him to stop delaying and get on with it. He hadn't felt comfortable telling any of the others, which he'd realized rather too late was a sign they weren't worthy lovers.
Only one person, other than Sarrica, had ever done what he asked without hesitation or question, hadn't seen it as strange.
Lesto curled a hand into Shemal's heavy hair and drew him down into a deep kiss, loving the way it already felt so familiar, so necessary. Drawing back, he said, "I've been waiting a long time, pirate. You better be at least as good as my memory."
Emotions too tangled to sort rippled across Shemal's face, and he gave Lesto a quick, hard kiss that lingered like spicy peppers before shifting to put that evil, highly memorable mouth to work elsewhere. His teeth nipped at soft skin, his tongue dragged over scars, though as focused as he clearly was on trying to make Lesto scream, Shemal never once forgot about Lesto's wounds.
By the time he lapped at the wet smears left on Lesto's skin by his aching, eager cock, Lesto was desperate enough to kill him, except then the lovely torment would cease. "Are you going to let me touch you?"
"Not while you're injured," Shemal said, looking up the length of Lesto's body through his long lashes. "Hold still and do as you're told, Commander."
Lesto groaned, liking that more than he would ever admit, though the way his cock twitched, he didn't have to say. Shemal chuckled, low and addictive, and finally dropped that distracting mouth of his over Lesto's cock, sucking with expertise, throat tight and hot, tongue more flexible than a tongue had any right to be. Lesto shuddered hard, dropping one hand to fist in that thick, heavy mass of hair, his other hand tangling in the blanket as he thrust deeper into Shemal's throat.
Shemal took it with ease, sucking harder, working Lesto's cock until it was impossible to hold back. Lesto came with a ragged cry he didn't bother to muffle. It was his room and his garrison and he seldom got to enjoy anything but his own hand. That was more than enough for some people, but Lesto had never been one of them.
Drawing back, Shemal wiped spit and come from his lips and chin with the back of his hand. Sweat gleamed on his tattooed skin. Fuck if that wasn't the most erotic image Lesto had ever seen. Lesto leaned up enough to grab hold of his shoulders and dragged him into a wet, messy kiss. Shemal groaned into his mouth, pushed him down into the bedding with all that lovely weight, and rutted jerkily against him.
He spilled just moments later, still kissing Lesto, feeding every moan and garbled word into his mouth. When he eventually went still, they both were panting softly, the only sound in the room, the noise of the garrison a distant, negligible murmur.
"You were supposed to fuck me," Lesto said eventually. "I suppose I can forgive you since it means you have to stay here until you get around to it."
Shemal laughed and rolled off him, went to the table to wet a cloth that he brought back to clean them both. He tossed it to join their discarded clothes when he was done then stretched out beside Lesto, a long, loose-limbed, half-wild beauty too breathtaking to be settling for the difficult life of lover to the Duke of Fathoms Deep.
Lesto reached out and stroked his fingers over the rings Shemal still wore.
"Oh, right, I should return these," Shemal said and pulled the rings from his
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