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“Odai?” I realize it’s pretty shitty to keep parts of his past from being known to me, no matter how scared I am to learn it, when he is so accepting of every part of me. “Can I ask you about the only man you ever loved?”
Odai
I expected this question sooner. When it didn’t come, I feared the worst.
Finally, another of the right questions.
“What would you like to know about him?”
Jeffrey looks into my eyes. He only looked away for his own sake. He has no trouble looking at me for mine, no matter what presentation of my form I take. “Who was he? What happened between you two? Were you still human when you knew him?”
So many right questions. “I was human, yes,” I begin, and because I was, I shift human again to tell the tale. “In Babylon, the hierarchy of people was... strict. There was the king and his royal line, priests and priestesses to the gods, those who owned land, those who did not but were still free, and slaves.”
“You were a slave?”
“Not initially. I was born free. My family even owned land when I was a boy. But we came into great debt and were sold into slavery to pay for it. The slavery was only meant to be temporary, and although separated, we could work together to pay it off and one day be free again.
“I eventually found my way into the royal palace as an entertainer, a dancer, and storyteller, as I told you. I was the prince's favorite. My hair was longer then. The prince liked me enough that he allowed me to grow in my beard as well. Still short, mind you, as beards were a symbol of strength and power then, and as a slave, I had none.”
Jeffrey touches my cheek, like he is trying to imagine stubble on it. I have not been able to grow a beard since I was cursed.
“Dance after dance, performance after tall tale, the prince summoned me again and again. Sometimes in larger company, sometimes only the two of us. Over the years, I thought we had become friends. I thought he felt some inkling for me what I had begun to feel for him. Then, one day, I tried to kiss him.”
Jeffrey shifts up the bed so our eyes are more parallel, and although I will always be the larger between us, it feels like he is now holding me. I have told this story very infrequently, because most of my masters never inquire about it. “He didn't feel the same way?” Jeffrey asks.
“I don't know. At the time, the king's favored of the clerics were those dedicated to the god Enki, mostly for that god's connection to magic. One such priest was the king's most trusted advisor. He caught us. Caught me stealing that kiss. He told the king, and I was punished for it.”
“Because you were both men?” Jeffrey asks in a furious whisper.
A common guess at any point in this world’s history but not the reason. “Because I was a slave, and I was initiating. I was not my own master. Therefore, surely, I must be some seductor, some daemon come to claim the prince's soul. If he had chosen to bed me on his own, it might have been different, but I was the pursuer when I was not allowed to pursue.
“Normally, our judicial system was quite fair and forgiving, but where the king’s son was concerned, he left the verdict and my punishment to his priest.”
“The priest did this to you?” Jeffrey is still angry but also in awe. “He turned you into what you are with magic? With magic from a god?”
“I cannot say whether gods exist, but magic, power, that is very real.”
“But why did the priest do this? It’s so extreme for a kiss.”
“Perhaps he wanted the prince for himself. Perhaps he simply did not like me. Perhaps he did not like a slave daring to take something for themselves. Regardless, now...” My tongue trips on what I intend to say for it has not been directly asked of me.
“Now what?” Jeffrey presses. “If what you are is a punishment, what does that mean? You need to fulfill wishes, you need to fulfill desires and be… intimate, but the more you succumb to that, the more wishes you grant, the more you need to, right?”
“Yes.” Yes, understand, Jeffrey, please.
He takes hold of my face, delicate fingers at the edges of my hair. “Promise me—no. I wish for you to tell me the truth. Do you really want to grant what I ask? Do you want to be with me, or is it all only because you have to?”
Those are not the right questions, but my answers are easy. “Yes, I want to. I want you.” I place my hands over his. “I swear to you, Jeffrey. I promise you. With you, those answers are always yes.”
He looks so relieved, always worrying that I might not truly want him, when he is easy to want, and I am the one who will wear out my welcome. “Then I guess I just need to keep wishing and giving you what you need, right?” He kisses me, but all I can think is…
I wish that was enough.
“Do you know what else I wish?” Jeffrey whispers.
Every time he says it, every time it is something I can grant, the elation is immediate, followed by an equally immediate dread once a wish is granted because, eventually, I will crave more than he can ask for.
“I wish for you to tell me something you wish, Odai.”
