“Now that we’ve established my virginity, I’d like for you to move.” Kamar gritted his command, hating the suspended animation and worrying what Malik’s shocked features said about how he felt.

Did he have a problem with virgins? Was he bothered that Kamar wasn’t broken in already? Maybe he was concerned Kamar would grow attached to him?

And won’t that be a problem?

Kamar scowled, banishing the thought and the first wave of disappointment if it turned out to be true. He didn’t want to think about Malik leaving him when his ass clenched around the merchant’s steely erection.

So he was thrilled when Malik began moving.

Malik gripped Kamar’s ass, each hand fisting a butt cheek, and lifted him up until only the fat tip of his cock remained embedded in Kamar. Moaning pitifully, he shuddered when Malik eased him back down. He pumped his sex like that, each thrust growing shorter.

“So big,” Kamar moaned, aware that Malik’s cock felt thicker and his backside felt fuller by the second.

“So tight,” Malik grunted back. “So deliciously…tight…”

Wrapping his arms around Malik’s neck, Kamar tried helping by pushing off Malik to create more friction between them. He was surprised when he couldn’t move. Like his ass had become glued to Malik’s shaft.

“Is this supposed to be happening?” Kamar wondered.

Malik nodded, his jaw clenched with concentration.

Kamar smoothed a hand over his lover’s jaw, his fingertips dashing over his mouth. He sucked in a breath at Malik’s lips snapping and slurping his curious fingers in.

With Kamar’s fingers in his mouth, Malik rocked them, his hips straining for the deep rolls. Even though his fat cock had little movement, Kamar’s mouth fell open on a long moan when Malik found all the right places deep inside him. Malik twisted and scraped nerves that lit up the fire under his balls.

“Ohh, right there,” he panted, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Kamar’s whole body could have been in an oven. And the rising internal temperature had nothing to do with the warm waters of the bath house either. No, this heat flowed out from within him.

The Omega in him clawed for release again.

It seemed like Malik was affected too. Very unlike his cool, calm composure, he grunted and growled with each short thrust and swirl of his hips, his mouth clamping over Kamar’s throat at one point, his teeth lightly scratching the erratic pulse there.

“You want my baby, don’t you? You want me to fill your womb, breed you, isn’t that right?” Malik breathed. He worked Kamar up and down his throbbing member, as far as the knot in Kamar’s ass would allow him.

Kamar moaned his approval.

Malik came first. His chest rumbled with his groan, his mouth securing over Kamar’s throat, his pleasure sounding around Kamar’s flesh. He wrung his release out, and that triggered Kamar’s second orgasm.

Kamar’s asshole convulsed, his balls emptying themselves as he spurted on their stomachs. Malik’s hand was right there, covering Kamar’s cock, drawing out every last drop of pearly cum. Kamar seized, his mouth locked in a long, low moan. And when Malik started polishing his cockhead, he jerked, panting and begging for him to stop the sweetly exquisite torture.

“God,” Kamar gasped; his breathing far from regularizing yet, he felt winded. Like he’d run down and up the small hill the Prime Minister’s house was on. “That was…more than I imagined it would be.”

Malik chuckled, his own breathing pushing out loudly, violently. “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

The dark promise in that comment had Kamar’s insides seizing with his anticipation. Because that didn’t sound like Malik intended to screw him and walk off. It sounded like Malik wanted more, just like he did.

Which had to explain why kissing him felt natural, as if Kamar’s life had been leading to this moment of being locked in Malik’s warm embrace, his mouth fusing to his merchant’s and their tongues twisting in that erotic dance.

A loud throat clearing ripped Kamar off Malik.

Kamar’s eyes widened as he looked around Malik.

Malik turned to acknowledge the man glowering from the doorway.

“Father,” Kamar greeted, the tension at the base of his neck increasing when Malik started moving him away.

Kamar already missed Malik’s well-endowed manhood. He consoled himself in watching Malik rise out of the waters, his dark-skinned, unblemished, naked body truly a display Kamar had missed the first time.

Following him out, they dressed in relative silence.

Kamar wasn’t too shocked to find his father waiting for them outside the bath house. He turned and left when Malik had stepped out of the waters.

He didn’t look any happier to see them fully clothed.

Short and stout, Prime Minister Mustafa looked like he could double for Santa. Instead his oversized jowls jiggled when he was whipped up about a heated topic, and his rosy cheeks and reddened nose tip indicated his excessive drinking at one of his many business dinners.

He was a deeply unhappy man. And he wanted the rest of the world to be unhappy with him.

“What are you doing?” he snapped, not waiting for Kamar to pass introductions.

Kamar’s father didn’t regard Malik. Not once did he look the merchant’s way, and that pissed Kamar off more than the irrational anger and perpetual frustration directed at him–the elder son, his father’s greatest disappointment.

“As you can see, father, I’m entertaining.” Kamar then shocked himself, his hand finding Malik’s and locking their fingers together. Malik, for his part, didn’t deny him.

His father’s eyes narrowed at the gesture. “What is the meaning of this?”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes and walk around him, dragging Malik along, Kamar stood his ground instead.

“If you’d let me, I’d like to introduce you to Malik, a trader...” Kamar squeezed Malik’s hand, adding, “And my friend.” Malik squeezed back, and Kamar smiled, knowing it might not be the title he wanted, but a friendship was a good place to start.

“I don’t have time for this,” his father said, waving his hand. He practically bounced in his polished, expensive shoes from impatience. “What you do on your own time is your business. I have guests to see to, and we mean to use the bath house.”

“It’s all yours,” Kamar replied, a little too late. He was speaking to his father’s back, the older man’s robe swishing with his fast retreat into the house.

Malik surprised him by tugging his hand gently. “Would you walk me out?” he asked.

Kamar nodded, not trusting the tightness in his throat. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t going to give his father that satisfaction. When Kamar did sniffle, he was rewarded by Malik stopping them and pulling him into his chest.

It was the first time he felt at peace with the hateful tears.