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1
AURELIUS
The conflict in Nihal’s face was intoxicating.
At first, the low priest’s eyes bulged with the sheer force of his orgasm, quaking so hard across Aurelius’s tongue that he feared the twenty-one-year-old might buckle back against the old marble. Then, as the ecstasy subsided, Nihal’s face swept with a medley of other emotions—guilt, residual bliss, and the knowledge that he’d once again fallen to sin.
Aurelius Savair, eldest child of the archon of Mestibes, could see all these emotions bashing through his oldest friend’s face. And there was nothing in all Dynosia that was better than that look.
He’d known Nihal since they were children, being just one month apart in age. And he knew exactly what the only son of the high priestess of Mesti would be thinking. He’d be flogging himself with some sanctimonious rot about this not being proper behavior.
Not for someone who had devoted their life to the goddess of reason.
Not for someone who was supposed to be chaste to all “irrational” pleasures.
Nihal slumped back, his heavy white toga grouped around his groin. Stone crunched underfoot from the unswept floor as he steadied his shaking legs. His brow was slicked with sweat, despite the high spring breeze that caressed the abandoned peak of the old Libercropolis, shrouding them in silence, and granting an infinite panorama over the otherwise bustling city.
Aurelius’s private residence would have been far more comfortable for the occasion, rather than the long derelict library—it being his beautiful refuge of golds and silks and fragrant oils, creating a sensuous cloud of carnal delight in which he often indulged.
But that wouldn’t do for Nihal, would it?
Aurelius rose, coming nose to nose with the boy whose gaze was diverted onto the shrubby grass between the yellow-flecked marble of the library and the dull gray limestone of the cliff. He waited, just like he always did, until Nihal looked back into his ice-blue eyes, framed by his permanently tousled shag of blond.
Only then did he swallow.
Heavily.
Extravagantly.
Making sure there was no way Nihal could deny it. Making his face once again wash with all that delicious conflict.
Oh yes. There is nothing better than this!
“We... we can’t keep doing this, Aurie,” Nihal panted.
Aurelius gave him an innocent smile. “Really, Hal? Like this wasn’t your idea? A chance to get away from it all? To climb to the ruins and forget about this terrible turn of events?”
“And I meant it! I didn’t...” The shame washed strong on his still-red cheeks. “I wasn’t trying to take advantage of your grief.”
Aurelius placed his friend’s hand beneath his tunic—a sumptuous, saffron-yellow silk, damasked in gold with motifs of musical instruments, craftsmen’s tools, and great scrolls of learning. “Does it feel like I was being taken advantage of?” he said, running the fingers against his hardness.
He delighted in the faint grip and ungrip against his bulge. Nihal wanted it. He’d been cooped up for months in the priesthood, running through all the little rituals and restraints that came with his holy training. Now, all he needed was one last push into temptation.
“And if you really wanted to take my mind off the grief, I know something that might help,” he whispered.
With a groan like a wounded animal, Nihal eased himself from the gap between man and marble. “I’m serious, Aurie! This has got to be the last time. For Mesti’s sake, I’m getting initiated as a mid priest next month. Mother would literally kill me if she knew this was still going on!”
Aurelius shrugged and lifted his tunic, revealing skin the color of milky mountain tea. His stiff cock bounced up to greet the cloudless sky.
Nihal failed to avert his gaze. “What are you doing?”
“Hal, I completely respect your decisions. I have been wicked to tempt you so. You just run back down to the Pentheon, like a good boy.” Aurelius’s eyes twinkled as he tended to himself. “But I saved up for three whole days. I know that’s how you like it. And if you don’t want it, I can’t have it burning a hole through my balls during the service!”
Nihal’s hands shook. Aurelius could practically taste the war between lust and light. And as the pleasure tingled through him, he knew it was time for a final act of wickedness.
He flexed his diaphragm, causing a single drop of dew to leak from his long stem.
And Nihal lost the battle.
