Kass gave a little moan. “I can do two things at once.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it.” Hen smiled into Kass’s neck. “Tell me what you want, Kass.”
Kass adjusted himself in Hen’s lap, until Hen’s hard prick pressed into his ass crack through two layers of clothing. “I want you to throw me down on the bed, tear my clothes off…” He took a break here, to nibble on the ear into which he was whispering.
Though he tried not to, Hen couldn’t help readjusting just a little, trying to get more friction against Kass’s backside. “Go on, sweet boy,” he broke out the pet name, used only in these very specific situations. He had a feeling he knew what was wanted, considering the way Kass was grinding on his lap, but he liked to hear it all the same. “Tell me.”
“I want you to tease my ass until I can’t fucking take it,” Kass breathed. His sweet voice saying deliciously spicy things like that always set Hen off.
“And then what?” Hen licked up the side of Kass’s neck, tasting sweat and salt, as a preview of the coming teasing.
Kass shuddered. “Then fuck the cum out of me.”
“You ready to go? Or—?”
“I hoped you’d come back horny,” Kass said with a breathless laugh.
Suddenly, locking his arms beneath Kass’s ass, Hen stood. Kass’s legs wrapped tight around him for the three strides it took to get to the bed. Then Hen twisted slightly to get a little momentum, Kass let go, and Hen threw him. Kass bounced on the mattress twice, his hair a mess, his prick struggling to escape his hose, his tunic already up around his navel. His lips, pink and swollen from kisses, were parted, breathless, inviting. He had never looked more fuckable in his life, which was saying quite a lot.
And he could never look more like a god. Inheritance or no.
Chapter 3: The Complex, High City, Stone City
The next visitor’s day, family and friends started arriving early, bearing baskets heaped with offerings: honeyed fruits, fine fabrics, fragrant herbs, and other luxuries most Stone City households would have to save years to acquire. It didn’t make much sense to bring offerings before the Children of the Blood inherited, as far as Hen was concerned. On the other hand, seeing as the guards benefitted as much as their charges, far be it from him to complain about the tradition. The basket that came from Kaspar’s family was as rich as any of them, probably brought up by a maid from his mother’s kitchens and left outside their cell by a Complex guard. Kass dug through for the honeyed apricots and ignored the rest, leaving it on the table for Hendrik to rifle at his leisure.
“Is Kajja coming?” Kass asked around a mouthful of sweet fruit candy.
“If you’re sure it’s alright.” Hen knew it was, but even with the closeness of mind between guard and charge, they still observed certain forms. There was something comforting in it, and in how Kass inevitably replied by waving him off.
And he did. “I’m not fresh out of creche and worried about my status.”
“Or mine.”
“Only where it counts.” Kass laughed. “I really think it’s only the kids who care about that kind of thing. Imagine being embarrassed because your family wants to see you.”
Hen looked up, searching for the slightest sign of pain in Kass, but there was none. His family was neither here nor there to him, and he simply couldn’t fathom how anyone’s would be, was all.
“It’s different when you’re blooded,” Hen said gently. “For the rest of us, our days in the mines and fields are a little too close for comfort.”
“Well, if no one was in the mines, where would we get all this stone?” Kass patted the blocks of the wall beside him. “Or this metal?” He fingered the thick, gold chain around his neck. “It’s good, honest work, and deserves to be rewarded.”
Hen smiled. Of course, when he was a god, it would be Kass’s personal mission to make sure great blooded houses like his and fresh refugees in the mines alike received his protection and guidance. “I agree—you know I do. But when I was fresh out of the Academy, I was always embarrassed when my parents would visit.”
“It’s just their way of showing how proud they are,” Kass protested.
“I know that, now. But at the time, all I could think was that it marked me as low class, to have parents hanging around like that. A blooded family would never.”
“Because they can afford to send honeyed apricots,” Kass pointed out, popping another one into his mouth. “But it’s just as meaningful to give time and effort as any other offerings.”
Hen chuckled. “If the masters failed with the rest of the Children, at least they’ve perfected their teachings in you.”
Kass rolled his eyes—but jumped up when there was a knock at the door. “Kajja?” he called as he bounded to open it.
“It’s me!” came the reply from beyond the heavy door.
Kass swung it open and held out his hand. Kajja shifted her overladen basket to the crook of her left arm and reached out with her right to grasp him. “Kaspar, you’re taller!”
“So are you! It’s been an age; come in, come in.” He all-but-pulled her in and shut the door behind her.
The cell never felt cramped when it was just the two of them; it had been a while since anyone but Jak had visited, and seeing as he was generally on top of one or both of them, he hardly seemed to take up any space. Kajja was another story.
Kass led her to the spare chair, which had a fancy cushion with a linen cover on it. She admired it with a little “oooh” before sitting delicately on it, as if she was afraid she’d break it. “Here, this is from Alara.” She held out her basket.
Kass accepted it with a murmur of thanks and settled it next to his family’s much larger one on the table. “Did she send pickles?” he asked eagerly.
Kajja nodded and laughed. “I can’t believe you like them so much.”
“Why? They’re delicious. What kind did she make?” He retrieved a jar of mixed vegetables and another of hot peppers. “My favorite!”
“Of course.” Kajja’s eyes sparkled as she watched Kass treat their mother’s “miners’ pickles” like luxurious honeyed fruit. “Only the finest offerings, here.”
Kass cracked open the peppers immediately, releasing a vinegary scent that made Hen’s mouth water. Hen took the opportunity to ask Kajja, “How’s home?”
“It’s good. Konstantin was all broody when he came back from your walk on the full moon. What’d he have to say?” Kajja leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her belly.
“He was just asking about my plans,” Hendrik said.
“What are they?” Kajja asked.
