Ceremony
ARDOR’S HEART WAS remarkably steady as Leya poured sacred water over his body, despite his nerves. He’d mentally prepared for the resumption of their breeding ceremonies for months, and he was ready. Whether Sindar was ready was another matter.
Ardor had grown accustomed to having a besotted, eager consort, and the lack of attraction would be a cruel blow, but nothing could be done about it.
It was no one’s fault. The most important thing was making another baby.
Sindar was nothing like Xandar, and there would be no guilt or blame. They’d simply figure it out.
Xandar. Goddess, Ardor hadn’t thought about him in so long.
The former king might as well be dead, for how little he mattered now.
Ardor had long stopped investigating the fate of the eldest son of Kysan.
Sindar was here to stay, and Xandar would never hurt him again.
From a practical standpoint, it didn’t matter.
Leya toweled his body dry, helped him into his wedding robes, and brushed out his hair. When she separated several locks for braiding, Ardor said, “He likes it loose.”
“Of course, Eminence,” she said, smiling, but he caught a glimmer of anxiety underneath. She knew what this meant to him. She was nervous on his behalf.
His heart quickened at the knock on his door, but he calmed at once when he saw it was Lady Ambani.
“Your Eminence,” she said. “Shall I walk you?”
Lady Ambani would always be Sindar’s oldest friend, and she was loyal to him above all others, but Ardor had grown fond of her. Now that his position in the household was secure, he allowed himself to drop his guard and accept her friendship at face value.
They walked down the long hall, Leya on his right and Ambani on his left. Jain would join them soon. He had a support network. He could weather this.
“I should warn you,” Ambani said. “He is extremely eager to see you. Forgive him if he acts like a fool.”
Ardor didn’t know how to feel. By all accounts, Sindar’s attraction had not waned one bit, but he couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding. It was only a matter of time before it all fell apart. Happiness always precipitated disaster.
“How are you holding up?” she asked.
“I’m nervous,” he admitted. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
Tradition dictated that the first breeding ceremony of the season be in full view of the court. Everyone would see the change in Sindar’s attraction. There would be talk, but it couldn't be helped. Sindar would do his best and try to preserve Ardor’s feelings. They’d get through this.
Outside the court, Lord Patel was waiting patiently, his hands folded behind his back. When the little man saw their arrival, he hurried to greet them. “Your Eminence, you look well,” he said. “Good, good.”
Ardor could not know Sindar’s paternity for certain, but he had an idea.
Lord Patel had been most solicitous during his pregnancy and indulged Mindeh’s mischief in a familial way.
It seemed to Ardor that his daughter’s mischievous streak was hereditary, and she certainly hadn’t gotten that quality from him or Sindar.
Lord Patel gazed upward with that look of his. A look that seemed entirely too knowing. As the old king’s most trusted adviser, he knew more about Flowers than most. “Your Eminence, I assure you, everything will be fine.”
“Is that your assurance to make, Lord Patel?” Ardor asked, trying to keep his tone light.
“I deal with his nonsense every day,” Patel said. “Trust me. It will be fine.”
The crowd hushed when Ardor entered the court. Jain smiled encouragingly as he approached, and she reached to take his outer robe. “You have this, Beloved,” she murmured, taking the robes and stepping aside.
These reassurances strengthened Ardor as he slipped between the cool sheets.
He leaned back, his hair splaying across the pillows.
He waited, his stomach a jumble of nerves despite his best efforts to stay calm.
Fortunately, he did not wait long. Within minutes his consort walked stiffly down the row.
Sindar kept his eyes on the ground as he approached, as if unable to meet Ardor’s gaze.
Poor Sindar. It was exactly as Ardor had feared. His consort couldn’t unsee what lay beneath those sheets. Hopefully the sheet helped, at least a little. Sindar’s expression was fixed in concentration. He was probably trying to work up an erection to help preserve Ardor’s reputation.
Ardor willed calm. It would be over soon. They just had to get through this.
Finally, Sindar met his eyes. Sindar sucked in a breath and stumbled to his knees in front of the bed. He gripped the sheets, shutting his eyes as he whispered, “Sweet angels, fuck.” A gasp went through the crowd.
Ardor fought to keep his expression neutral. It wasn’t Sindar’s fault. It was no one’s fault.
“I’m sorry,” Sindar managed, his face flushed as he fumbled to disrobe. “I’m sorry, forgive me… Two years is a very long time, and you are—sweet Goddess, you are so fucking lovely I want to die.”
A ripple of surprised laughter wafted through the crowd. Ardor frowned despite himself, perplexed, but in a moment his question was answered.
Sindar rose to kneel on the bed, his achingly hard cock slick with pearly cum. At the mere sight of his waiting Flower, the king of Kysan had prematurely ejaculated at the foot of the breeding bed.
Heat rose on Ardor’s face at his consort’s massive erection. “Oh Goddess,” he said before he could stop himself, and the crowd laughed again. Warmth flooded him as Sindar crawled to the bed, lowering his face to kiss Ardor’s exposed foot.
That press of lips set Ardor on fire. Something was happening beneath the sheets. His Flower pulsed, responding. Hungry. Wanting. Eager for its consort.
Sindar tugged the sheet aside enough to expose Ardor’s leg and kissed his shin, then his knee.
His thick, eager cock dragged across the sheets as he made his way closer.
Sindar gave himself a single, slow stroke, gathering up the cum that had spilled down his shaft.
The slow slide of his hand made Ardor’s belly tighten.
“May I?” he whispered, his breath warm on Ardor’s skin. “Touch you... Please? May I help?”
Sindar’s voice was breathy, and deliciously close to begging.
Ardor’s vision briefly swam. Sindar’s nose grazed the sheet covering his hip as he kept crawling, up, up…
Humans didn’t emit pheromones, but whatever Sindar was wearing smelled positively heavenly.
Ardor’s flower ached. His cock was stiffening and warm against his thigh.
He caught Sindar’s wrist and guided his hand underneath the sheets.
Sindar’s breath caught, his free hand tightening in the cloth, as Ardor brought his cum-smeared fingers to his entrance. His flower remembered its mate. It yawned open as much as it was able, the single petal folding back, the narrow channel gently heaving.
Sindar slid his finger inside, and the flower promptly clenched, pleasure surging up Ardor’s spine.
He nearly cursed. If they hadn’t been surrounded by people on a breeding bed in view of everyone, he surely would have pulled Sindar atop him.
As it was, he shivered, biting back a moan as his flower hungrily suckled the king’s offering.
“Sweet angels,” Sindar murmured, pressing his forehead to Ardor’s as his finger sank deep in wet, welcoming heat. He slowly moved his finger in and out, and Ardor’s breath hissed between his teeth. For a moment, he thought to grab Sindar’s wrist and stop him, but—why?
Sindar had been undone, and in front of everyone. Why shouldn’t he allow himself to do the same? It was politically advantageous, but more importantly, he wanted to come undone. For the first time, Ardor ached to feel pleasure in the breeding bed.
“More,” Ardor breathed, biting back a moan when Sindar’s fingers withdrew.
His eager consort hastily stroked his hard cock, shuddering and moaning softly when he came again, a trickle of pearly white lacing his palm.
He coated his fingers with it, slipping his hand beneath the sheet.
Ardor’s flower, warm and pliant, now had a taste of its mate’s seed, and it wanted more.
This time, Sindar could slip two fingers into the opening, and Ardor’s back arched as his consort’s cum-soaked fingers sank deep, as deep as they could go, his flower eagerly drinking up every drop of offered semen.
“Sweet goddess, you are truly the most beautiful man on earth,” Sindar breathed, and Ardor yearned for his consort to peel back the sheets and mount him.
He wanted this man’s cock inside him, filling him, cumming in him, and with a smothered groan he came, his aching cock emptying against his thigh.
Pleasure rolled through him, warm and unstoppable, and his lips parted at the wave of foreign sensation.
Divine nectar ran down his leg into the sheets, and the delicate fragrance of a Flower’s pleasure filled the room.
That was…
An orgasm.
He’d just orgasmed. He’d never done that before. Ardor’s face was heated, his breathing heavy, as he processed the lingering pleasure and heat.
“Oh, Beloved,” Sindar whispered in Pavarian, his cock twitching against the sheet covering Ardor’s thigh as he pressed his mouth to Ardor’s curved neck. “Do that again…” He kissed Ardor’s neck, his cum-slick fingers still moving within him, teasing out the last vestiges of pleasure.
The kiss broke the spell. It was one thing to climax during a breeding ceremony with his consort, and quite another to share forbidden intimacies in front of the entire Kysanian court.
Ardor’s eyes popped open. Dozens of nobles were watching them, their expressions ranging from curious to aroused.
Clearly, they were quite eager for the show to continue, and the warmth swelling in Ardor fanned out over his body, and he briefly considered it.
But only briefly.
“Darling, we should stop now,” he whispered in Pavarian, elbowing his consort.
“Stop?” Sindar asked, immediately drawing back. He blinked, seemed to register the gathered crowd for the first time, and said, “Oh. Right. We’re—yes. We’re done now. With the, uh, the kingdom’s business. Thank you all for attending. Carry on, everyone.”
Again, a ripple of laughter wafted through the crowd, accompanied by enthusiastic applause. Sindar’s nose brushed Ardor’s cheek as he contemplated a kiss and wisely decided against it.
“Visit me tonight,” Ardor murmured in his ear, and Sindar’s hand briefly tightened in the sheets. With obvious reluctance, Sindar retreated. A ceremonial robe was wrapped around him, and even now, there was a tent in the fabric. He bowed to his Flower and departed.
Ardor was scarcely aware of being draped in silk and escorted to Jain’s office. Warmth twisted within him, eager and ready, his heart swelling…
He had not, in one million years, expected to share intimacy like that with a consort. Even as his heart raced, a peace enveloped him. He was excited, yet calm. Eager, yet sated. And confident…
Never had he been so confident about the future. Sindar knew him more intimately than anyone. He was the only one to touch his most sacred place, and he venerated it.
“Eminence, that went perfectly! I’m so—” Jain trailed off as he sat. “Oh! Beloved!”
He was crying. Or something like it. Tears slipped quietly down his cheeks. In Pavar, crying was discouraged. He never shed a tear after reaching adulthood, even when they unbound his flower. He wasn’t sure if what he was doing now was actual crying, or some Pavarian facsimile.
His champion gripped his arms, her eyes darting back and forth between his, seeking some answer. “Eminence, what’s wrong? Tell me.”
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing. I… I love him?” The words came out as a question.
He’d had a fondness, a softness, in his chest these past few years, bolstered by Sindar’s letters and stolen glimpses of his consort with Mindeh.
Now, he could finally admit that the affection he felt for his consort differed from the love he had for Jain and Leya.
It was sharper, digging deep into his chest, and it manifested into yearning when they were apart.
Jain’s entire body relaxed. “Oh, Beloved, you must be the last person to realize it.”
All at once, his face burned. “I’ve been perfectly professional,” he said. “I’ve done nothing at all to suggest our relationship is anything but proper!”
Jain laughed quietly, brushing his hair away from his damp cheek with a gloved hand. “Beloved, the way you look when you open his letters or hear his voice… You positively glow when the king is about. I think you’ve been in love with him for years now.”
Ardor cleared his throat. Having named the feeling, he could hardly deny it. “Is this a breach of decorum?”
“The Kysanians have different ideas about the consort relationship. The people are pleased their Flower likes their king. If appearances are holding you back, don’t let them. Be yourself. Enjoy this, Beloved. You deserve happiness. It is so rare to see a breeding match where hearts meet.”
“Well,” he said briskly, wiping his cheeks. “Good, I’m glad I haven’t disrupted anything. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so stringent in decorum. You’re right. The Kysanian national character differs from Pavar’s, after all.”
She gave his arm a squeeze. “I’m happy to hear that.” Her smile spread into a grin. “His Majesty will be even happier.”