Kissing Kamar was exactly as Mikhail dreamed it would be.

Kamar tasted tartly sweet, his soft, plush mouth yielding to his hard loving, his slighter body arching into Mikhail’s for more. His tongue tangled with Mikhail’s; it made the merchant and former king wonder if his younger lover had practice with some other lucky bastards.

The thought of not being Kamar’s first drove him wild—drove him harder, deeper into their lip lock. When Kamar clawed at his chest, Mikhail realized his own need to breathe. He tore his mouth from Kamar’s, his lungs expanding with the flood of sweet, dear air.

“God,” Kamar panted, his chest rising and falling with the air he greedily sucked in. “God,” he repeated again, his oath hoarse, his gaze flickering from Mikhail’s eyes to his mouth and back again.

Mikhail’s mouth twitched with his smirk.

Kamar’s eyes widened, innocently.

When Kamar spoke, he drew attention to his puffy mouth. Mikhail knew exactly where he’d like that mouth wrapped later, but for now, his throbbing erection would have to wait. Mikhail wanted another taste.

This time his kiss was not as bruising.

Their tongues danced together, erotically twisting to wage war until Mikhail came out superior. Kamar’s fingers tweaked his nipple, absentmindedly it seemed, but it made Mikhail break off with a groan and a hiss when Kamar’s nails scratched him.

The pain and pleasure blended so perfectly, Mikhail couldn’t tell the two apart.

He wouldn’t have believed he was a masochist. He’d had lovers, of course. A sexually curious man doesn’t reach the age of thirty-four without a handful of his own experiences. Based on those past moments, Mikhail concluded the fastest way to an orgasm was the only way to an orgasm.

Since he always topped, in his rutting moods, he flipped his lovers over and fucked their pliant hole until he toppled over the oblivion that was sexual release. And only jerking or sucking them off afterwards.

But when Kamar’s nails raked over his chest, or tweaked his erect nipple, Mikhail wanted to slowly explore their bodies. He wanted Kamar to touch and caress every inch of him, and he’d like nothing more than to do the same for his rebel lover.

Apparently it all depended on who was marking and scoring his body…

Mikhail felt this way because he liked Kamar more than usual.

“God, does it always feel this good...?” Kamar trailed off with a moan.

Mikhail chuckled. “Usually, yes,” he said. “But we’re also doing this right.”

“Mhmmmm…” Kamar agreed.

Mikhail had restrained him. Now he brought Kamar’s trapped wrist to his lips. He kissed his pulse point, admiring how his rebel’s delicate blue veins snaked under the thinner film of his wrist’s flesh. Kamar made a fist, and it reminded Mikhail how fiercely his lover was risking his life.

There was nothing delicate about this man.

It shamed Mikhail. It broke him down, but also, oddly, built him up. Kamar had chosen to confide in him. He’d trusted him with the secret of the rebellion—him! A positive stranger. Mikhail wouldn’t have been able to do it if their roles had been reversed.

How could he trust so easily? Mikhail was envious.

Kamar’s lips landing over his was enough to entrench Mikhail firmly in the present.

“Let me touch you,” Kamar requested over Mikhail’s lips, the stretch of his smile contagious.

Mikhail released his grip on Kamar’s wrist.

Kamar, not wasting time, scraped his nails over Mikhail’s chest. He paused to pluck his nipples with a grin, and then his impish hands disappeared under the warm water.

Mikhail tossed back his head when Kamar gripped him with both hands. He pumped him, double fisting his erection, his hands working non-stop suction. Mikhail shuddered, his hands, needing to hold onto a point of support, reached out to his sides to grasp the edge of the pool.

Kamar’s hands worked every part of his cock, from tickling balls to polishing his crown. They were everywhere, all at once, not giving Mikhail a chance to breathe. At this rate he’d nut in Kamar’s grasp.

Only Kamar pulled off, his face studying Mikhail’s, his eyes bright with the knowledge of denying him his release.

“Cruel,” Mikhail growled breathlessly, glaring accusingly.

“I want you inside of me,” Kamar said, his tone both smug and honest. And to punctuate his point, he grabbed Mikhail’s hand and brought it to his stiffening cock. Mikhail raised his brows, a little shocked Kamar recovered so fast.

“Are you on any kind of protection?” Mikhail heard the hoarse grip on his voice. He was unbelievably horny, and more unbelievably clear-headed enough to talk seriously.

When Kamar shook his head, Mikhail growled, aware his lover winced.

“I don’t have a condom,” Mikhail explained. He squeezed his eyes shut, hating his stupidity. He should have asked first. Now he’d die of blue balls. Sure, he could spank himself to release, or let Kamar finish his hand job, but now all Mikhail could think of was coating Kamar’s insides. Filling him with his seed and keeping him stuffed until he bred the rebel.

He groaned, realizing that’s exactly why they should worry about the protection. If Kamar let him, Mikhail would go ahead and fuck him anyways, not caring if he created new life with the younger man.

So when Kamar wrapped his leg around him and adjusted Mikhail’s thick, veined member to his entrance, Mikhail thought he’d die.

“What are you doing?” he gritted, his grip on the side of the pool getting to that point where his palms were cutting into the stone.

Kamar responded by lifting his hips and angling down over Mikhail; his aim perfect, his asshole clenching against the invasion of Mikhail’s thick erection.

“Stop,” Mikhail breathed, so close to snapping.

Kamar took him deeper, swiveling his hips up before he sucked more of Mikhail into him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mikhail swore the oath over and over. Then he did snap, his hands leaping from the side of the pool to grasp Kamar’s hip bones. He helped angle him, helped Kamar take him balls deep, full hilt, until they were completely and most intimately linked.

Kamar was so tight…His body so tense and he was too quiet, Mikhail had to ask, “Are you okay?”

Lifting his head, Kamar smiled weakly, the pain so clear in his furrowed brow and thinned lips. It dawned on Mikhail slowly.

“You’re a virgin.” Even as he said it, it didn’t sound real until Kamar grimaced.

“A virgin,” Mikhail whispered. His virgin.