Desert World Rebirth (3 page)

Holding him as the kiss grew hungrier and more aggressive, Temar’s hand slid around to the back of Shan’s head, and Shan thrust up almost involuntarily, his body aching for this. Starving for this.

Temar’s other hand tightened on Shan’s shoulder, and he flinched in pain before Temar gentled his touch, fingers stroking over the abused spot. “Sorry,” Temar whispered.

“I want you,” Shan said. “I want you so much.”

“Then you should have asked earlier,” Temar said, a touch of condemnation still in his voice. A voice in the back of Shan’s head warned that Temar had been more hurt than he’d admitted, but Shan couldn’t fix that now. He could only show Temar just how much he wanted him. He slid his hands under Temar’s shirt, feeling the wiry muscles tense and relax under his fingers. Shan might not have been sexually experimental in his youth, but he knew what felt good. He reached up and ran a thumb over Temar’s nipple.

Temar arched his back and groaned. “Yes,” he said, the hissed word drawn out to impossible lengths. Shan’s balls drew up, his cock hardening even more in the prison of his jeans. Panting, lips parted slightly so that Shan could see the pink tongue inside, Temar yanked off his shirt and threw it to the side before pressing both his palms against Shan’s shoulders, pressing him back to the bed. Shan yielded, grateful that Temar was taking the lead in this. Shan would follow, but in this one area, he feared leading into dangerous territory.

Instead, he lay back, fisting the sheets and struggling against a need to come in his pants. He hadn’t ever let a man enter him, so his fears whispered warnings about being too tight, too small, too damn old to start learning new tricks. However, that whisper lived in the distance. Shan’s skin burned for Temar. His cock ached, and if Temar wanted to have full sex, a good 99 percent of Shan was on board with that plan.

When Temar’s curious fingers finally found the zipper of Shan’s jeans, each tooth of the zipper yielded with an audible click. Shan sucked in a breath as the pressure over his cock eased. His white underwear bulged up though the open zipper, his cock making it clear that it had no doubts. Letting go of the sheets, Shan reached out and caught Temar’s forearms and held tightly as he arched his back in need. He’d been denying himself for so long, this desire frightened him. It was as if the embers of lust that he’d hidden under the ashes of the priesthood had suddenly found oxygen and burst to life.

Temar settled onto Shan’s legs, trapping them, but then he didn’t do anything else. He sat, studying Shan’s bare chest and his hard cock, pressing obscenely up. Shan squirmed, cravings gathering in the pit of his stomach until he wasn’t sure he could control the need for more. His palms itched as he fought an urge to grab himself and start stroking his sweat-slick hand up and down his shaft.

“Anything,” Shan repeated hoarsely.

Temar’s smile was slow and silky as he inched his way backward to the edge of the bed. Shan frowned, not sure why Temar seemed to be retreating. He’d opened his mouth, on the verge of asking what was wrong, when Temar leaned down to mouth Shan’s cock right through his underwear. Shan shouted, the sound ripped from him as his cock twitched painfully. He needed to come. Oh, God, he needed to come. Temar sucked, the fabric making the sound almost obscene. Throwing his arms out, Shan fisted the sheets and cried out again.

“Temar,” Shan gasped out. “Temar,” he said a little louder. He needed to tell Temar to stop before he came in his pants. He needed to say it, but his words scattered like grains of sand in the wind. “Temar,” he gasped out for a third time.

Temar pushed himself up so that he was straddling Shan. “Good?” he asked.

For a minute, Shan could only breathe fast and try to regain his sense of balance, because he felt like the world was tilting and he was about to slide right off the bed. “Too good,” he finally agreed.

“Too good?” All the surety Temar had shown a moment before vanished, leaving him looking slightly confused and maybe even concerned. Shan reached out and caught Temar’s hand in his.

“I’m going to come in my shorts if you do that again,” he confessed. Shan ran his fingers over Temar’s pale skin. Tiny pinprick scars hid under blond hair—the sort that Shan had himself earned from welding, but he imagined working with hot glass would have the same dangers. That was the perfect description of his Temar—beautiful and strong and able to endure the heat of a glass shop, even if he looked ethereal and fragile. Shan’s cock was burning with need, but he was not going to be a selfish lover. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure exactly what to do. When Shan looked up, Temar smiled down at him.

“That sounds like it’s a good thing,” Temar said.

“Very good, unless you do that again, and then this is very over,” Shan warned. Temar’s smile grew wider. Temar trailed his longer fingers down Shan’s arm, stopping at a scar just above his wrist. He frowned, and Shan could almost feel the unspoken question. “When I was seventeen and working for Holmes, I burned it on an exhaust,” Shan explained. When he had first changed from an apprenticeship in mechanics to one in the priesthood, he’d thought it would be safer. Clearly God had made a jest out of that belief. Temar’s fingers continued down to the back of Shan’s hand, tracing the lines of veins. Shan watched.

Moving slowly and carefully, Temar closed his hand around Shan’s wrist and brought Shan’s hand up to his chest. Shan spread his fingers against the pale chest and looked up into Temar’s blue eyes. After a few seconds, Shan started slowly tracing tiny circles over smooth, soft skin. Temar’s eyes drooped in pleasure, and Shan allowed his hand to wander up the side of Temar’s neck and face. This slow, intimate exploration of another’s body was foreign to him.

Temar’s eyes slowly opened. “Anything covers a lot of territory.”

Shan swallowed, his mouth dry as dust. It
did
cover a lot of territory, but he’d wanted Temar so long, and that want grew stronger the longer he knew Temar. The man’s strength and goodness had survived so much darkness.

“Anything,” Shan repeated. He could see the desire in the curve of Temar’s neck and his half-closed eyes as Shan ran fingers over his chest, pausing to tease a small, dark nipple. Temar sucked in a harsh breath when Shan pulled at the nipple. Emboldened, Shan moved his hand down and ran his finger along the smooth skin above the waistband of Temar’s pants. Shan had to slow his own breathing and concentrate to get the zipper down.

Temar’s cock pressed out through the underwear, the tip visible and a tiny spot of moisture like a dark target on the white fabric. “I’m really not sure what I’m doing here,” Shan confessed in a whisper.

Temar caught his hand and kissed the palm. “I’m not either. But it feels good.”

“We’re both going to die of blue balls at this rate.” Shan gave a little huff of laughter. Here he was with his first lover after leaving the priesthood, and the man had more experience being abused than sharing intimacies. They were the sunblind leading the sandblind.

Temar smiled so that little lines gathered at the corners of his eyes. “We aren’t doing bad.” He shifted back, leaving the bed altogether before he moved to the side and sat down. Shan scooted back so that he was all the way on the bed, and in the process, he managed to wiggle out of his pants—more by accident than by intent. Temar watched, his gaze focusing on Shan’s hard cock. “We aren’t doing bad at all,” he repeated, his voice a distracted whisper. He reached over and traced the line of Shan’s jaw with a single finger.

Tracing the line of the jaw back, Temar slipped his fingers behind Shan’s neck and slowly pulled him close. Yielding to the gentle pressure, Shan leaned forward. Temar gently sucked on Shan’s lip, dull teeth running along the edge, and Shan pressed closer, his cock demanding touch. Rocking his body against Temar, Shan gasped, which allowed Temar’s tongue to slip inside, and suddenly Temar was pressing in, pushing Shan onto his back.

Shan squirmed and dug his heels into the mattress as he pushed up. Hands scrambled at his underwear, and Shan divided his attention between kissing the sensual mouth that was devouring him and raising his ass so Temar could get them off. Thank God he didn’t wear shoes around the relay station, or they’d have a tangled mess.

Warm skin pressed down on him, and Shan shivered as he pulled a nude Temar closer. He wasn’t even sure when Temar had shed his pants, and he didn’t care. Shan opened his mouth more, and the kiss grew more frantic. Now Temar was groaning in need as he thrust down into Shan’s body. Fabric tangled around Shan’s legs, and he struggled to kick his shorts free. However, Temar shifted, and Shan was suddenly frozen by the realization that Temar’s hard cock was pressed up against his. He had one second of panicked indecision before Temar wrapped his hand around both their cocks and started thrusting against Shan. Shan knew this. This was familiar. This was good.

Arching his back, Shan thrust up so their bodies rubbed against each other, their cocks trapped in the heat and sweat that gathered between their bodies. Shan cried out softly with each thrust until he finally felt his balls tighten. Shan pulled Temar close and thrust up wildly as need erased anything other than the movement of body against body. Temar thrust down equally hard, and Shan yelled out as he came.

His mouth hung open, and he thrust into their slick bodies as he came with a flare of pleasure. Waves traveled his spine as little shivers stole his control, so that Shan arched and writhed mindlessly. With a few more thrusts, Temar came, his own back arched so sharply that he was nearly bent backward, his hands braced on Shan’s shoulders. He came and then dropped his weight down onto Shan.

Lethargy dragged Shan down as every muscle that had been tense for the past three months decided to relax at once. He was sand-shifting into a new shape, a new drift, and the old simply vanished. He was Temar’s lover. That was the new shape. Shan panted, and he could hear the heavy gasps as Temar struggled to regain his own breath. Temar shifted so that their legs tangled, and his weight slipped off to the side of Shan, only one arm still draped over Shan’s stomach.

They lay still and silent, and Shan could feel the fever-heat fading as his body cooled. His cock itched, and Shan reached down to rub it; he came away with a sticky hand that he wiped off on his own hip.

“Very not bad,” Temar muttered sleepily.

“Worth leaving the priesthood for,” Shan agreed without opening his eyes. He never would have left for sex, but sex this good was a nice bonus. “No offense, God,” he added with a quick gesture as he crossed himself.

“I promise to leave your brother out of our sex life, if you promise to leave God out,” Temar said as he shifted so that he could press closer to Shan’s side. Shan followed the muscle on Temar’s arms, tracing it back and forth with his fingertips.

“Deal,” Shan agreed. They lay in silence, the wind whispering against the metal building as their bodies finally cooled enough that Shan started eyeing the covers at the foot of the bed.

Chapter 3

THE silence settled around them, and Shan gave up on the covers, settling for the warmth of his love settled next to him. At thirty-two, he’d finally found himself… a little later than most. Most people, by this age, were taking on their first apprentices and considering children. However, this had been worth the wait. Temar shifted against him. He was a slight man, but he had sharp knees. Shan grunted as one caught him on the thigh.

“Sorry,” Temar offered.

“Not a problem.” Shan traced circles on Temar’s skin. It had been so long he’d forgotten the simple pleasure of exploring another’s shape, the texture of their skin and the warmth of it.

“You didn’t actually leave the priesthood for me or sex or anything, did you?” Temar asked, unexpectedly breaking the quiet mood.

“Um…. No. We talked about this. I always was more interested in fixing the church’s pews than its sinners. That’s not a good combination for a priest.” Shan opened one eye and considered Temar. For someone who was generally more open and communicative than most, Temar wasn’t doing a lot of communicating lately. Shan studied Temar’s tense shoulders and the way his gaze kept skittering off to the corners. “Why are you asking now?”

That got another sigh. Given that they’d just had really good sex, Shan was starting to develop a neurosis of his own. “Have you heard Wistia’s latest ballad?” Temar finally asked in a near whisper.

“No. I mean, there’s a lot of technical reading around here, and every day I find out that some other piece of maintenance has been ignored for twenty years. I’ve been too busy to come to town.”

“‘The Ballad of the Lonely Priest’,” Temar said softly.

Shan felt a wave of horror run through him. “Oh, please tell me that it’s not about….”

“Yep. You get the starring role. I’m the sweet young man who makes you question your faith.”

Shan closed his eyes and struggled to find some core of calm that would allow him to avoid the emotional explosion he could feel building in his chest. She had no right. Worse, her ballad was a lie, and considering that Livre’s history was largely told through song, that was a sin in itself. “I’ll hold Wistia down if you want to drop the sandrat on her stomach and let it chew through her,” Shan finally offered. No wonder Temar was having trouble keeping his emotional balance. It worried Shan that Temar didn’t react to his joking threat at all. He decided to take the ballad more seriously.