“I love the feel of you inside me,” murmured Rak.
“That amazes me. But you are amazing in many ways.”
Rak’s muscles started contracting along Jisten’s length again. “Thank you, Jisten.”
Jisten stroked Rak’s wings. “We gave each other pleasure. Your past is talking again.”
Rak’s wings rustled under Jisten’s hands. “Feels good when you do that,” he said, changing the subject. His muscles continued to work on Jisten’s shaft.
“Feels good and is good for them,” Jisten said. “Now I’ll rinse them and I can oil them whenever we decide to get out.”
Rak’s hips rolled against Jisten. “Very well.”
Jisten kissed Rak’s neck and shoulders, then rinsed his wings.
Rak continued to work himself on the renewed erection. He loved Jisten’s vigor, so much greater than Tyll’s. He felt a little guilty about thinking that. Although, in all fairness, Tyll had once been as vigorous, if never quite so large. And thinking about Jisten’s size made Rak feel even more guilty. Hasaviz’s words about sex slaves and large cocks haunted him. The suggestion that other sex slaves would clamor for Jisten rang true.
By the time Jisten finished rinsing, he was sufficiently stimulated by the wings and Rak’s work to climax again.
Rak cried out yet again as his own orgasm followed Jisten’s and once more they shared the pleasure of both.
“Love you,” Jisten murmured into
Rak’s ear. “But I won’t leave Jethain. I suppose that’s good. You have two spouses and children at home. But we have here and now, and each other.”
“That will do, for now,” agreed Rak. “And I will be here until Jethain’s life is no longer in danger. That could be years.”
Jisten hugged him. “It’s wrong to hope that. But I do.”
“Speaking of Jethain,” said Rak, “We should check on him soon.”
Jisten kissed Rak’s neck and gently disengaged. They climbed out of the tub together. Rak shook out his wings, spraying down the bathroom. Jisten sputtered and wiped his face in his towel. Rak blushed. “Sorry. It appears to be a reflex.”
“I don’t mind, not really.” Jisten smiled at him. He shook his mass of wet hair and now it was Rak who was splattered. Jisten’s grin showed that he meant his mischief.
Rak laughed and attacked Jisten’s hair with a towel. He accepted it with good grace, even ducking his head so Rak could reach better. A moment later Rak had a comb in his hand and was picking out all the tangles.
“Let’s sit on the bed and do this,” Jisten suggested.
“You are full of sensible suggestions,” said Rak. He steered the naked man into the bedroom.
Jisten snagged his shorts on the way out. He hopped onto the bed, neatly pulled them on, and laid down. “Shall I put my head in your lap?”
“ Ai.” Rak combed out Jisten’s hair, sensuously running his fingers through the silky black strands. Then he braided it in the tightest, most elegant weave he knew, adding a single nightstone to the rear braid, hardly noticeable unless one was looking for it.
Jisten sat up and rolled Rak to his belly. He oiled Rak’s wings quickly, but thoroughly, and by hand. When they finally went to dress, Jisten raised an eyebrow when he glanced at the freshly laundered and pressed uniform laid out beside a set of Rak’s semi-formal robes.
“Tebber,” said Rak with a wry grin. “He must approve of you.”
“Tebber is a capable young man with a wide variety of talents. I can never repay you enough for freeing him,” Jisten said. “I’m glad he forgave me for bringing him to the palace all those years ago.”
Chapter Four: The Purging Wine
With Jisten hovering at his elbow, Rak checked the prince. He didn’t like Jethain’s color or his heart rate. Rak prepared the mint tonic and handed it over, but he was deep in thought. Jisten sat on the bed next to the prince while he drank.
“I do not understand why you remain so ill,” said Rak, careful not to use the w ord weak to his brother. “The gut wound was healed. It is gone,” he added, palpating Jethain’s belly.
Jisten was frowning as he looked at Jethain’s arm. “S’Rak, here.” He pointed to a tiny wound and a small bruise on the inside of Jethain’s elbow. “My Prince, how did you get this? The edges are neat. This is a cut.”
Jethain looked at him with confused blue eyes. “Cut? I don’t remember a cut.”
“ Drak’åkryxi!” Rak cursed. “Why could we not send a Therrai? That would have made sense!”
“Drak what?” asked Jethain. “What’d you say?”
“
Drak’åkryxi
. Dragon blast it,” translated Rak.
“ Drak’åkryxi,” said Jethain, sounding it out. Rak helped him get it right, and the prince smiled in triumph as he mastered the word.
Jisten, meanwhile, had inspected Jethain’s other arm. “Here’s another, S’Rak. What do you remember, Jethain?”
“What did you have for dinner last night?” asked Rak at the same time.
Jethain grinned. “I went from being alone to having two mother hens?”
“Ai,”
said Rak, but he grinned back.
“I remember dinner, a tasty oxtail soup with actual meat in it, and then nothing until you came in this morning. I guess I fell asleep.” Jethain lifted his arm and examined it for himself.
“Nothing? From dinner until this morning?” Jisten looked at Rak.
“We need Forael,” said Rak. “This is beyond me. I am only an animal tender.” He found a bottle of wine on a side table and sniffed it to make sure it hadn’t turned to vinegar. It smelled okay, so he poured a goblet.
“You’re not just an animal healer and I already sent a message to Forael, but there’s been no reply,” Jisten said. “Odd, for even if he is busy, he always sends back a message saying so.”
“Give him more time, it takes half an hour to get to the Sun Temple and back, and he has morning rites to perform.” Rak pressed
