"Turn around," I say.

He turns to face me. With the sash untied, his robe opens, presenting his bare chest, toned abdomen and, as my eyes slide lower, a pretty obvious erection. I look up with a smile that he doesn’t return. He watches me, wide-eyed, his chest heaving, his lips slightly parted as if inviting a kiss, yet I know it's the last thing he's seeking.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" I say. "The truth now. It's an order."

Slowly, he shakes his head.

"This tells a different story." I nod down.

He shakes his head again. "It's not me. Just my body. It means nothing."

"Indeed?" I slide one of my arms behind his back to draw him closer and place the other on his chest. My fingers caress it lightly, following the gentle outlines of his muscles, circling his nipples, barely touching the skin.

The brief confusion in his eyes gets replaced by a distant look, and the slight shivers under my touch tell me that his body is reacting in just the right way.

"I don't," he whispers. "Like it."

"Do or don't?" I murmur in his ear, my fingers traveling up the sensitive skin of his neck.

"Don't. Not. I mean…mmm."

I tilt his head back and cut him short with a kiss. He's no more responsive to it than before, but I can feel how hard he is, our erect members brushing against each other as if engaged in a duel of their own. It's amusing, his struggle to resist something he clearly wants.

I slide down to kiss his neck, then his chest, and then go lower still.

"What're you doing?" There's panic in his voice. He didn't expect this. He's braced himself for being used and abused today, yet it's me on my knees now, looking up into his wide, unbelieving eyes.

"I'm pleasing my lover," I say, wrapping my fingers around his erection, causing him to gasp. "Isn’t that what lovers do?" With that, I apply my mouth.

I haven't done this for a while, the last time having been back in my youth, experimenting with a friend. Yet it's not something you forget how to do. His long moan serves a proof to that. His fingers slip into my hair, pushing and tagging.

"Oh," he breathes out. "Oh, my. Oooh."

I keep moving my head back and forth, helping with one hand, the other resting on his naked buttock to hold him in place. He's leaning with his back on the bed post, steadying himself against it.

"Oh fuck," he mutters, his hips striving to meet my movements, although he clearly tries to suppress that instinct. I would have laughed at this feeble attempt at control if my mouth wasn't busy.

The small, stifled sounds of pleasure that escape him against his will boost my own excitement. I could use my other hand to relieve myself—in my current state a few strokes would do the job—but that's not how I want to get my satisfaction tonight. I want to have my pleasure from him—after he gets his from me.

I let him out of my mouth and almost smile at the small protesting sound he makes.

"So," I mutter, running my tongue across the tip, causing him to shudder. "Should I stop?"

"No," he breathes out, "please." Then, he pauses, as if realizing what he's just said.

"As you wish," I say, and return my mouth to where it belongs.

It's only a few seconds later that his back arches and he moans, shoving himself as deep as he can go, his fingers tugging painfully at my hair in a mindless attempt to keep my head where he needs it. For a moment, I can't breath, but I bear with it, and then there's a salty taste in my mouth. He pulls away and I swallow and take a lungful of air.

Slowly, he slides down by the bed pole and sits on the floor, on the folds of his robe, his knees drawn to his chest.

"You're quite enthusiastic for someone who claims to not want me at all," I say.

He just stares at me, silent. It strikes me that, given the strict Lotinen attitude regarding the relationships between men, perhaps he has never done this before. I'm not even sure such sexual practices are allowed there between men and women. The realization of how good something so forbidden can feel could be the explanation behind his obvious confusion. And yet I think there's more here that just that.

For a moment, he's lost control. For a moment, he begged for me, and he wanted me—all of him, body and soul, wanted me—and that can't be erased. It will remain between us even if we do nothing else.

Although I don’t see that happening.

"Go to bed," I say. "I'll join you there."

I walk to the table and look over the food laid out there. Although the real exercise is still ahead of me, our foreplay has made me hungry. I pick a bottle and pour myself some wine, then turn around, just in time to see him slip under the furs covering the bed. He pulls them up to his chest and leans back on the pillows that pile high behind him. Normally, I sleep without any, so the servants must have brought them for Emilio's comfort. I roll the wine in my mouth, then swallow, washing his taste off with it.

My mind now occupied with food more than sex, I take the opportunity to ask the question that's been bothering me since morning.

"So," I say. "Who's that woman to you?"

He blinks. "What?"

I pick up some grapes. "You know who I'm talking about."

He shakes his head. None of the emotional turmoil he has displayed before is showing on his face now. He looks as if the release has left him too tired to feel anything.

"So?" I send a few grapes into my mouth. They're good. "The woman you have saved by offering yourself. Who's she to you?"

"Nobody." He tilts his head back on the pillows, looking up dreamily, his lips moving slowly to form the words. "Just…some poor creature."

"Year, right." I chuckle and pick a piece of cheese. "You would do that for some poor creature. You know what I think?" I bite on the cheese and chew, eyeing the table. "I think you know her well. I wouldn’t fuck a whore, but you in Lotinen aren't too picky, huh?" He doesn’t answer, so I assume the sting has reached its target. "Did she teach you a couple of tricks? Was she your first one? If so, I can only pity your poor taste." I chuckle at my joke, then finish chewing and wash the food down with a few more gulps of wine before picking another piece. They truly know how to make good cheese in Lotinen.

Emilio keeps quiet, so I turn around to look.

He's still in the same position, his head resting on the pillow, now tilted slightly to the side, his eyes closed. The piece of cheese still in my hand, I come closer and stop, watching his chest go up and down in slow, rhythmic breaths.

I shake my head in disbelief. He can’t seriously expect that pretending to be asleep will get him out of what I have in mind for him. He's had his fun, now is my turn.

"Hey." I slip my hand under the furs and rest it on his bare chest. Strange. One could fake breathing slowly, but not this calm, steady heartbeat. Could he really be asleep? If he is, then it's a first. None of my other wives have fallen asleep on me, surely not on our wedding night.

"Hey," I say quietly, my fingers caressing his smooth skin. I should be angry, but instead, I find myself smiling for no reason. His face looks so calm and relaxed in his sleep. Open. Vulnerable.

"Hey, princess. Should I wake you with a kiss?"

There's no reply and no change in his steady breathing. I withdraw my hand and just sit there on the side of the bed, shaking with silent laughter at this ridiculous situation.

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