Return to Duty
The sunrise is strong and unforgiving, on a day one week following Lumi’s departure. Lying in bed, Khimi shifts around restlessly, until he tosses the sheets aside with a frustrated sigh. What is wrong with me? His dark hair sticks to his forehead with the night’s sweat, and he pushes it off his face with an impatient hand. His mind churns, thick with thoughts he can’t shake. Maybe Lumi’s right. Maybe I’m the one who needs space. He has to recognize, yet, that space from Lumi has not silenced the gnawing sensation in his chest. He had worked all week to convince himself that distance affords clarity—that without Lumi near, Khimi could finally sort through his thoughts. He had found that every thought still led back to Lumi: how poorly he had handled their dynamic; how deeply tangled his sense of duty had become. I can’t have distractions. He is a distraction that I can’t afford right now.
He sighs loud into the quiet room. As he sits up, his gaze drawn toward the wading pool and what sits next to it. Lumi’s garb still lies where he had left it, since Khimi had stopped the estate housekeeping staff from moving it. Scattered anklets gleam in the light, where they had been hastily discarded. He imagines how Lumi must have felt entering the room after his brawl with Rashid. In his mind, Lumi rips off his clothing and runs into the cool water.
Khimi drags himself from bed, reluctant movement. He crouches beside the pile and lets his fingers graze the delicate fabric. When his eyes settle on a strip of cloth, the faintest smirk tugs at his lips: a loincloth, barely enough fabric to be called clothing. I wasn’t even here when he wore this. Shame, I would’ve liked to see how little of him this actually covers. His chuckle that follows is dry and humorless. He lifts up the cloth by its string, turns it in his fingers, and then—before he can stop himself—brings it to his face. The scent is unmistakable—Lumi. He can pick up on sun-warmed skin, a trace of rose oil, the lingering sweetness of his sweat. It curls around Khimi’s mind like a phantom embrace, seeping into his senses. Something tightens at the base of his skull—the sharp pull of longing, an ache just behind his ribs.
Memories rise unbidden: the heat of Lumi’s body, the way he feels pressed against him, tangled in their sheets, breath warm against his skin. The things I wanted to do to him, the things I still want. His grip tightens around the cloth, knuckles paling. Desire is a treacherous thing, he muses. He finds himself aroused at the imagery filling his head and takes a seat beside the pool. He grunts and lowers his back to the ground, his body tensing at the cold tile. With a sharp breath, he inhales Lumi’s scent from the dark fabric while his mind swims with fantasy, the sensation of Lumi lying on top of him, his tail flicking across his thighs. In his thoughts, Lumi’s expression is pleading, and Khimi can’t help but to touch him. His thick fingers grip into Lumi’s supple ass, as his cock rubs between the cleft of those soft cheeks.
In reality, Khimi wraps his hand around his cock, fingers gripping the shaft with a hunger that borders on desperation. Sticky warmth oozes from the slit and coats his palm, dripping over his fist, as he strokes himself with rough, unrelenting force. His hips buck upward, fucking into his fist relentlessly. His mind consumed by Lumi—soft, sweet, pliant Lumi. He’s always so godsdamned cute. He imagines those slender thighs straddling his hips, the heat of Lumi’s tight hole as it sinks down onto him. Khimi’s tongue darts out to trace the seam of the loincloth. The fabric had been suffused with the musk of Lumi’s arousal, the tang of dried sweat and the faint sweetness of precum staining the thin material’s inner thong. Khimi groans and his tongue works all the harder to lap at the fabric, as if he can taste Lumi through it. The thought of that weeping prick pressing against the silky fabric arouses him beyond comprehension.
“Fuck,” Khimi hisses, his hand moves faster now, grip tightens. He pictures Lumi’s flushed face, wide eyes pleading for more, pink lips parted when he comes. In that moment, the sensation of heat and weight on top of him feels so real and his cock strains with the phantom hole around it, tight and wet and perfect. The thought of burying himself balls-deep in that ass, of feeling Lumi’s nails claw at his back—it’s too much.
His spine arches off the tile, his abs tense, orgasm rips through him. Thick ropes of cum shoot up to splatter against his copper skin with a wet slap. The first spurt lands just below his navel, the second streaks across his chest and over his cheek, and the third drips down the base of his cock mixes with the pre-cum already coating his length. His hand works himself up and down through it, until he coaxes out every last drop of cum from his aching balls. His stomach is a sticky mess, pubes matted with the thick, white fluid.
Khimi’s chest heaves with ragged breaths as he slumps back against the tile, his hand trailing lazily through the mess. He smears the cum across his skin, fingers dipping into the coarse nest of hair at the base of his cock, teasing the soaked curls as he catches his breath. His cock twitches in response, still hard, still craving more. His fingers slide lower, brushing against his balls before dipping further back, pressing against his own hole. He groans, imagining it is Lumi’s tongue instead—those soft lips, that sweet little mouth tasting every inch of him.
The fuck is wrong with me? He can’t help but think about Lumi, no matter how hard he tries, thoughts of the aslan are invasive, permeating every corner of his mind. He relents, spreading his arms wide across the floor, his body cooling as he lay alone on the cold tile floors. A loud knock startles Khimi, jolting him upright. He curses under his breath, hurriedly shoving Lumi’s garments beneath the colorful pillows on his bed.
“A moment,” he calls toward the door, forcing his voice to remain steady.
A familiar, grumbling voice rumbles from the other side. “I don’t like standing around.” Another heavy pound rattles the wood. “Wake up, boy!”
Khimi exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. Fucking Rashid. Shaking his head, he strides into the wading pool, cupping water over his abdomen, rinsing away the evidence of his thoughts. AHe reaches for a bottle of perfumed oil, tipping the jasmine-scented liquid into his palm. As he rubs it across his skin, another memory surfaces—Lumi, laughing beside him in the temple baths, water glistening across his golden skin. That damn grin, teasing, disarming. Dammit! Khimi grits his teeth as heat pools low in his gut. Not now. Not fucking now. His hand drifts downward before he catches himself, fingers twitching as he forces the image from his mind. The pervasive thoughts continue against his wishes, images of Lumi laying against himself, naked with a cheerful grin. It clings stubbornly, as persistent as the scent of his salty seed on his skin.
“Khimi!” Rashid’s voice booms through the door, the sharp rap of his fist like a hammer striking metal. “UP!”
Khimi rushes from the pool, water splashing over the tiles as he grabs a linen cloth and hastily dries himself. “Fine!” he calls, irritation lacing his voice.
He dresses swiftly, pulling on loose linen trousers, the fabric cool against his damp skin. As he fastens them, a voice echoes in his mind, smug and teasing—Do you wear loose trousers ‘cause your cock is so big? A smirk tugs at his lips despite himself. Stupid, fucking smile. He shakes the thought away, buttoning his shirt before securing a brightly patterned waist sash around his hips. Pausing at the mirror, he takes a moment to survey his reflection. His fingers graze the stubble on his chin. He looks… composed. Finally, he strides to the door, sliding the bolt free. Rashid stands with his arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently.
“Did you enjoy grooming y’rself?” Rashid grumbles, his expression flat with impatience. Khimi ignores the jab. “We’re keeping Omar waiting,” he continues brusquely. “Bloody Omar.”
Khimi exhales, already feeling the day’s burdens settling on his shoulders. Omar—merchant prince, slaver, a perpetual thorn in his side. The man had spent months harassing the Cerulean Star, his men disrupting caravans, making their presence known in the worst ways.
“Omar can stew for a few more minutes,” Khimi mutters. “Could sweat off a few pounds while he waits.”
Rashid lets out a dry chuckle. “Best not to talk about y’r esteemed guests that way,” he mocks, then shrugs. “Though, he could afford to shed some of his excess baggage.”
Khimi presses his fingers to his temple, exhaling sharply. “My damn mind is poisoned, I swear it.”
Rashid glances at him sidelong as they walk toward the courtyard. “Don’t worry. I know y’r going through it… at least it’s sorted. It’s sorted, right?”
Khimi groans. His tone is tight. “I’d like your advice on something after we meet with Omar.”
“If it’s about the aslan, ya know my thoughts,” Rashid says, eyes narrowing. “But we’ll talk later. For now, clear y’r head. Only thing heavier than Omar’s weight is his intellect. Can’t have ya actin’ a love-struck fool now.”
Khimi exhales deeply. “Right, of course,” he replies, staring at the large man sitting at the small round table across from them.
The courtyard is eerily quiet, the only sound the rustling of palm fronds in the warm breeze. Servants stand beneath the awning, eyes carefully averted. At the small round table, Omar looms, the furniture almost comically undersized beneath his massive frame. But Khimi schools his features, forces himself forward.
Omar plants his hands on the table, as if to stand, but doesn’t bother rising when they approach. “Lord Zeybek,” he greets, barely lifting his bulk.
Khimi bares his teeth in something that might be called a smile. “Merchant Prince Omar. May the winds—”
“I haven’t the time for foolish pleasantries,” Omar interrupts, smirking. Sweat beads along his brow, dampening his already slick skin. “We’ve got business to discuss.” His thick fingers wring together. “Please, be seated.”
A slow burn of fury coils in Khimi’s gut. Offering me a seat in my own home?
His reply is smooth, cool. “Thanks, Omar.”
Rashid grimaces, but lowers himself into the chair between them. “Alright then,” he says, voice flat. “Let’s begin, shall we?”
***
Hours later, the grueling meeting comes to a close. Khimi sighs in the iron chair beside Rashid. Together they watch Omar stride through the rounded archway and toward the street, two servants trailing in his wake. Khimi glances at Rashid, noting the discomfort etched on his advisor’s face. The veiled threats Omar had issued earlier had become all too familiar to Khimi, but it was clear Rashid was unsettled. Rashid had warned Khimi, before he agreed to run his family’s trade routes through Rhaz, that the business was full of dangerous men—Omar among them. And Khimi knew better than to ignore Rashid’s advice.
“What’s the matter?” Khimi asks, leaning back in his chair, rocking it onto two legs. “Does big Omar put the fear of the gods into you?” he teases.
“We need to watch him, Khimi,” Rashid says in a whisper. “If we lose that trade route to Sidi, it won’t just be Omar ya’d need to worry about. Ziad will have something to say about it, too.”
Khimi’s lips turn into a thin line. “I would kill him before I’d allow that to happen,” he says, becoming suddenly serious. His eyes narrow at Rashid. “You know how much my family sacrificed to secure those routes?” he asks, unable to hide his increasing fury.
“Aye,” Rashid replies, nodding, “Ziad’s told me a dozen times, when ya were a kid. The Zeybek family sacrifice dozens of their best and forfeited most of their wealth to secure what would become the richest trade route on Talmus,” he adds in a playful sing-song tone. “It’s the pride of the Zeybek name. I know, I know!”
“Then you know that I’d never let Omar take control of it,” Khimi snaps, drawing a stiletto from his boot and methodically digging at his cuticles.
Rashid sighs heavily, rubbing his forehead. “I’m your advisor and protector, Khimi… I don’t take pleasure in hearing ya talk about murder. But if ya need to, just say the word, and I’ll send a message to Ziad,” he says, folding his arms on the colorful glass table before them. “Ziad can have a hundred mercenaries here within two days… and then the murder would be on his hands.”
“Don’t involve him,” Khimi whispers, leaning forward, his gaze dark and intense. “Or else, Rashid…” He playfully brandishes the dagger toward his advisor. “I want to handle this myself.”
Rashid laughs thinly, his eyes lingering on the stiletto. “What was it ya needed my advice on again?”
Khimi pauses, tapping the Sidian stiletto against the glass. “I’ve been thinking about this all week,” he begins, his voice low and thoughtful. “Since I’ve been away from Lumi, there’s this sense of lucidity, like I’m finally seeing my duty to my family and my station clearly.” He hesitates, gauging Rashid’s expression before continuing. “But at the same time, I feel this emptiness… this longing.”
Rashid sighs and leans over the table. “I’ve already said it before, after Lumi and I had our little match. The aslan has a lot of life in him, I like him… but he’s young and immature. He’ll end up hurting someone or himself. I just don’t know if it’s a proper fit. But… I’ve also told ya for years, ya should have spent time being a kid and enjoying y’rself instead of worrying about y’r duty. So, if he makes you happy, then so be it.” He shrugs. “The Zeybek’s have enough wealth to hire any number of staff required to run this place.”
“I’m the last of my family’s line,” Khimi mutters, pressing his fingers to his forehead.
Rashid sighs and clears his throat, with a look of reproach he continues, “Khimi, I’ve raised ya as my own. Do ya understand how painful it is for me…” He says with, trying to maintain his composure. “I’d do anything to see ya happy, if it means forsaking your family and walking y’r own path in life. Then do it! I’d gladly protect ya from whatever displeasure y’r father sends,” he adds with zeal befit a paladin of balance. “But long as y’re here… I will make sure ya act the part of a Zeybek, the part of a proper lord.”
“Tch, always with the speeches,” Khimi replies, putting his hands over his face. “I will… take your words into consideration.”
“Far be it from me to attempt to hurry you along on your path, but an old friend of mine from the shrine told me Lumi’s taken up with some new friends. Travelers, from my understanding, a Lorian and another beastkin. A canis I believe,” Rashid says, leaning in to Khimi.
“I told him I thought he needed space… and time,” Khimi says, leaning back again with an exasperated sigh. “I said that maybe the time he was spending here in Rhaz was too much for him… I offered him my chambers. I even said I would stay in the main house.”
Rashid’s eyes widen at his words. “Y’re… atrocious with relationships,” he says, shaking his head. “I understand why the aslan left now. Ya told him that he needed time… I didn’t mean to make you second guess y’r relationship.” He scoffs. “I may not like him all that much, but at least I understand him.”
“You’re the one that said he needed time,” Khimi groans and looks about the empty yet comforting courtyard, its lush landscape speaks of the Zeybek’s success. “I… have feelings for Lumi,” he whispers in a dour tone. “I just feel my duty should outweigh my personal desires.”
Rashid pulls on his short beard. “There is a line that you can walk between the two, Khimi,” he whispers. “It doesn’t have to be one way or the other. If y’re worried about being the last of y’r line, perish the thought. That isn’t something that ya need to worry about.”
“Ignore my duty? Ignore my duty to continue the family line? The one my parents begged the gods to continue?” Khimi scoffs, tilting his chair dangerously far back. “Imagine it, if Aleyna discovered I threw aside all of her efforts to continue the Zeybek name… for nothing.”
Rashid leans halfway across the table. “I am serious, Khimi,” he says, tapping his finger on the glass. “Aleyna and Ziad will still love ya no matter what, y’re their only son!” he pleads.
“Aleyna… yes,” Khimi whispers, his voice trails thoughtfully. “But you know as well as I, Ziad… is not the same. If I don’t produce an heir…”
Rashid remains silent, only nodding his head at Khimi’s words. The truth, plain on his face. “Anyway, let’s change the subject,” Khimi sighs, allowing his chair to fall forward with a loud clang.
“No!” Rashid insists, he bangs his arms on the glass table once more. Small cracks forming across its face.
“Settle down, Rashid,” Khimi says, his eyes dart away from Rashid while he continues. “I just need some time… I need to figure out what I think is right.”
Rashid shakes his head in disappointment. “While I told ya to take some time… I didn’t mean that ya should allow the only person ya care about, the first one, might I add. To just walk away,” he groans, his cheeks turning red in frustration. “Ignore what I think about him and follow y’r damned heart!”
“I-I just need to think!” Khimi spits, slamming his arms on the glass table. Splits in the colored glass run across its surface. He exhales sharply, looking at Rashid. “I just need some time, Rashid… it’s difficult… I’ve never been one to express myself. You know that. The thought of loving someone… it’s like giving myself a weakness… something that can be exploited.”
“Love is like that,” Rashid says softly, his voice steady with wisdom. “It’s a weakness, yes, but it’s one ya learn to accept. One ya learn to live with. And throwing away your chance at happiness—well, that would be a damn shame.” He gives a slight shrug. “I may not love the idea of ya and Lumi, but if it makes ya happy… don’t let it slip through your fingers.”
“Noted,” Khimi says pointedly, crossing his arms in defiance. He sits staring at the red-faced Rashid until a calm comes over him. “I suppose I should prepare for Omar’s feast tonight, it would be in bad taste to not show up.”
“I don’t believe I will be going tonight,” Rashid mumbles, standing from the table. He looks down at the cracked colored glass. “Sorry about the table,” he mutters. “I need ya to take my advice seriously, though, Khimi.”
“I have always considered your advice,” Khimi says under his breath. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow?” he calls out to Rashid, while his advisor turns his back on him.
“Course,” Rashid responds, waving his hand behind him before he walks beneath the arch of the courtyard. Khimi sighs and stands from the table. He takes a moment in the silence of the empty courtyard to look at the glass table. The cracks running through it create a beautiful and dazzling effect when the light shines through. With his stiletto, he smashes the pommel against the top, the glass breaks and scatters onto the sandstone. His eyes brim with tears of frustration, he thinks back on the conversation. Even though you so clearly dislike him, you’d want me to pursue him? Blood drips through his fingers before he notices the shard of glass jutting from his flesh. He snorts and pushes the stiletto back into his boot, then returns to his room, deep in thought.
Omar’s Feast
Khimi ascends the marble steps of the Kappas Estate. As he reaches the top, he exhales, shaking his head at the excessive grandeur. Through a wide archway, a sea of nobles and merchants flits about. Goblets clink, voices rise and fall, and still the feast dominates, an ostentatious sprawl of decadence: butter-drenched cuttlefish, veal shanks slick with their own juices, and gilded figs bursting with honey and almonds. The courtyard’s covered walkways stay aglow under grand chandeliers, dripping wax from pillar candles slowly burning overhead. Crimson curtains billow around the marble columns, offering a thin veil of privacy for those skulking along the walkways. Figures drift in and out, slipping through a seemingly endless number of entrances. It all feels rehearsed, every figure a part of some play.
Near the far end of the courtyard, a vulpo woman sings, her voice rich and honeyed, weaving through the revelry. Khimi approaches one of the silver-laden tables, plucking a small almond and orange blossom pastry from an ornate tray. He lifts it to his nose, though he knows the gesture is futile. Not like I could smell poison anyway. He takes a bite, the flaky crust melting on his tongue. A troubling thought sneaks into his mind. Is Omar’s baker better than mine? He chews slowly. Shit. I think his is better.
“Something wrong, Khimi?” a voice taunts from behind.
He chuckles, turning just as the last of his pastry disintegrates in his fingers, raining golden flakes onto the pristine floor. “Shit,” he mutters, crouching to make a futile show of cleaning up the mess.
Ennui laughs, the sound dry and amused. “Just leave it. Everyone here is trash anyway.”
He straightens, studying her attire, then his eyes widen, surprised. “I’m more shocked to see you in something that isn’t leather.”
Ennui twirls, her midnight-blue gown catching the light with every movement. Golden embroidery coils over the fabric. “You like it?” she asks, mock-innocent. “Too much?”
Khimi tilts his head, considering. “I’m hardly the authority on fashion,” he admits, then smirks. “But the blue and gold suit you.” He scans the room. “Who’d you come with?”
“No one that important,” she replies, her laughter light but dismissive. “And you’re looking rather dapper yourself.” She swats his arm before striding past him toward a cluster of men.
Khimi stands by the table, watching Ennui walk towards a large crowd of men. Must be looking for her next victim, he thinks to himself. Walking around the open courtyard, he spots various merchants he had worked with in the past. Many of them offer gestures of greeting from a distance but none approach. Cowards. Annoyed, he climbs a set of alabaster stairs to the second floor. Along the balcony and above the covered pathway, Khimi finds himself enjoying the view of the fête. The show is a treat for the eyes, and he finds himself enjoying watching the way the merchants interact among one another. A mental list of those who approach Omar and those who keep their distance begins to form in his mind, while Rashid’s words of warning ring in his ears.
The spectacle undergoes changes with the passing time and the crowd continues to pour in. His eyes trained on Omar, Khimi watches the merchant prince make his way around the courtyard, making sure to stop and speak with the most prominent merchants. Beside him, a woman on occasion makes an appearance. Young, beautiful. He wonders if it’s one of his wives. Khimi chuckles to himself as Hessiah, a merchant of the Cerulean Star places a kiss on the back of Omar’s limp hand. If he can’t see through his bullshit, he’s the dumbest sack of shit. The spectacle continues, and he finds himself leaning over the edge of the balcony, searching for Ennui.
A sudden unnerving feeling comes across him, his hairs stand up on the nape of his neck. He smirks, sure of himself. “Ennui,” he says as he spins around.
The woman standing before him is not Ennui. It’s her, the woman who had stood at Omar’s side through parts of the feast. She approaches, a large colorful glass in her hands. Her long red hair spills just past her shoulders, catching the candlelight. She brushes a few loose strands aside, revealing freckled skin and smooth, milky collarbones.
“Wine?” she offers, extending the glass between them.
Khimi shrugs, accepting the drink. “S-sure,” he stammers slightly, eyes flicking over her features. “And who do I have to thank for this… generosity?”
She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, fingertips trailing down the gold choker at her neck. At its center, a cut emerald gleams, matching the green of her eyes. “Just call me Jilliana,” she whispers.
Khimi frowns, his fingers drifting to the scar between his brows idly. “That name sounds familiar.”
“My family’s from Loria,” she replies, raising her glass in a lazy toast. “Not many connections here in Rhaz.” She takes a long sip, then studies the goblet in hand. “Besides, it’s better to forget who we are at these things, don’t you think?”
“Well then, Jilliana… what brings you up here?” Khimi asks, swirling the wine around the chalice before taking a careful sip.
Jilliana leans in slightly, her voice dropping into something smooth, teasing. “If I told you I spotted a striking man standing all alone, what would you think?”
Khimi blinks, caught off guard for a breath. Then he recovers with a lazy smile. “I’d say ‘handsome’ is far too modest.” He lifts his glass toward her, letting the light dance along its rim.
She laughs, eyes glittering. “Dashing, then?”
“Some say handsome,” he corrects with a chuckle.
Jilliana shakes her head, red waves tumbling across her cheeks. “I don’t even know your name and I can already tell you’re going to be a handful.” She takes a step closer. “So? What name does the charming stranger go by?”
Khimi musters a wry grin. “Friends call me Khimi,” he murmurs, gaze sinking into his chalice as if searching for answers in the dark red depths.
“Well then, Khimi,” she purrs, the corners of her mouth curling with intrigue, “why don’t we cast aside all these dull obligations and indulge in something a little more… intoxicating?” Her fingers find his arm.
He exhales through his nose, and searches the revelers below. “I can’t say no to a drink or two,” he concedes, swirling the wine before sipping. “But tell me something, Jilliana.”
She tilts her head, eyes bright. “Of course. Isn’t that the whole point of these things?” she says lightly. “To connect, to discover… perhaps even unravel one another.”
His tone shifts, sudden and sharp. “Do you have anyone important in your life?”
For a moment, her mask falters, but only just. Her eyes drift over the crowd before she shrugs. “No one that matters,” she says, voice airy again. Then, flashing him a sly grin: “And I’d ask you the same, but honestly, I don’t care.”
Khimi huffs a laugh. “I’ll fetch us a few bottles,” he says, peeling himself from the balustrade. “Something tells me this night’s going to stretch longer than I’d like.”
Jilliana’s soft lips curl into a smirk. “I’ll keep our spots,” she says. “They’re the best seats in the house, after all.”
The two polish off bottle after bottle of strong Sidian red before he feels the effects of the drink. The courtyard spins and everything seems to shake up and down slightly. Jilliana, seemingly unfazed by the drinks, switches to the more potent ouzo. Khimi, not wanting to be outdone by the lean red-head, begins to drink more heavily to meet her pace.
After hours of watching singers and performers from the balcony, the two begin to explore the estate, the drunken Khimi stumbling slightly. Jilliana offers to help stabilize him while they walk down the beautifully decorated hallways and past gaudy marble pillars. The estate is just how Khimi had anticipated, an ostentatious display of wealth. Alabaster statues line the halls, figures Khimi would recognize if he could see straight. They continue onward, a familiar figure walks past Khimi, hanging onto a man’s arm. Ennui pauses a moment, raising her eyebrows, and watches him walk past her with Jilliana. He whips around and looks at Ennui, while she turns back to look at him. He can see her mouthing something to him, confusion clear on her face. Khimi smirks drunkenly. What in the blazes is she doing? They round the corner, Jilliana opens a door and Khimi looks at her with a baffled expression while she tugs him into the darkness.
“I thought you may want a bit of privacy,” Jilliana says, leading him by the hand to an upholstered chair with a Rhazian pattern.
Khimi looks about the room. “I should prob-baly go home,” he stutters, while Jilliana removes her sandals.
Jilliana glides toward him and pushes him onto the chair. Khimi leans back while she eases onto his lap and faces him with an excited grin. Khimi can smell the strong scent of roses from her hair. His nose sweeps across her hair while her fingers run beneath his shirt, scraping across his abdomen.
“You’re muscular for a merchant,” Jilliana whispers into his ear, then peers into his eyes. “I’m so glad you decided to look around the estate with me.”
“I-I try to keep up with myself, I suppose,” Khimi replies, watching the woman on his lap.
“Suppose,” she laughs at his choice of words. “This,” she begins with a teasing squeeze on his chest. “Is more than ‘I suppose’. This is craftsmanship. Hells, the girls would eat you up in Loria.”
Khimi tilts his head back, again pervasive thoughts of Lumi flood into his mind like a plague. His cheerful laughter and stupid smirk are enough to cause Khimi’s heart to thump.
Jilliana sits up, looking directly into Khimi’s eyes. Khimi stares back into the woman’s bright greens. Her hand grazes against the nape of his neck while she pulls him towards her and presses their lips together. Jilliana’s lips part, attempting to press her tongue into Khimi’s mouth. What am I doing? Khimi thinks. His lips slowly open, allowing her slick tongue to brush against his own. He closes his eyes, feeling his shirt being lifted under his arms. She pulls back from their kiss and pulls Khimi’s shirt over his head. Her fingertips press against his chest, squeezing his musculature and without warning brings her lips back against his, her hands move down his abdomen, tugging at his sarouel. Khimi pulls on the knot of his silk waist cloth, feeling it slide from his hips. Why? She reaches into the trousers, palming along the base of the softened cock.
“Something the matter?” she asks, pulling back from their kiss. “Too much to drink?”
Khimi closes his eyes. “Perhaps it’s the drink,” he whispers, pressing his eyelids shut.
Khimi struggles to become aroused. Jilliana pushes herself against him. He tilts his head to the side and begins to imagine Lumi. The boyish figure laying on his bed, the smoothness of Lumi’s skin beneath his fingers while he traces along his body, the heat which had enveloped his fingers. Desperately, he finds himself imagining entering Lumi, pressing inside. He can hear the soft whimpers from Lumi’s lips. His cock gradually hardens and Jilliana’s hand moves more rapidly. She slides his trousers down to his mid-thigh, his erection leaps firmly before her. Khimi opens his eyes and Jilliana pulls her shift up, exposing her fattened pale lips. She grips the base of Khimi’s girth, then flicks the swollen head between the wet slit. He closes his eyes again and imagines Lumi atop of him. The cheerful laughter, the soft lilting accent, his sing-song voice. The way his ass feels in his hands, how his cock wants to pierce into Lumi’s warmth.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Jilliana asks, observing Khimi’s expression.
Khimi shifts his head. “Can’t say I’m not,” he mutters. The memory of Lumi lying naked before him after their night in the alley pops back into his mind. Fuck me. Hells. Desperately, he wishes to relive that night. He would wake Lumi and have his way with him time and time again, yet instead, he suffers with regret. No matter how much he tries, each time he opens his eyes, he finds himself wanting to close them again. He forces himself to imagine Lumi, to feel Lumi. The sharp aetherial eyes stare back at him, piercing through his soul. Even now, he can feel Lumi’s want. The desire that Lumi expressed for him, and he so callously denied it for the sake of his duty.
Jilliana presses her lips against Khimi’s neck. I can’t do this… I can’t. I’ll never see him again. Khimi puts his hands on Jilliana’s shoulder while she begins pressing herself down over his girth. She gasps loudly once the swollen head pushes into her. I can’t. Khimi grasps the waistband of his sarouel and pulls them up. He tucks his cock away, pulling his trouser back on. Jilliana stares confused at Khimi and presses her hands against his bare chest. Everything he had been building with Lumi would crumble if he found out, yet he knew he had to tell him everything that transpired.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, a worried expression on her face. “It’s only natural to be a little shy.”
“I’ve got somewhere I need to be,” Khimi replies, pushing her off of his lap.
Jilliana growls. “Excuse me?”
“This isn’t a good idea,” Khimi replies, collecting his waist sash from the floor. “It’s late.”
Khimi rushes to the door, the immense guilt of his actions weigh down upon him. What have I done? Aslan keep multiple spouses… maybe he won’t think anything of it, he thinks, knowing better. He rips the door open to find Ennui standing on the other side, her pinched face a mix of anger and disappointment. His head aches with pain.
“What the fuck,” Ennui says in an angry whisper, looking first at Khimi, then Jilliana behind him. “I… thought we talked this through?” she asks, with confusion.
“Look, Enn-” Khimi begins, stumbling forward and leaning his arm against the wall. He empties the contents of his stomach on a beautiful hand-woven Rhazian rug.
“How much did you drink?” Ennui grumbles, watching Khimi hurl repeatedly. “Seriously, Khimi? Get the fuck up.”
“Apparently, too much,” Jilliana says, slamming the door in Ennui’s face.
“Bitch!” Ennui shouts against the wooden door.
“It wasn’t the drink,” Khimi says quietly. “I feel… I made a horrible mistake.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Ennui agrees, shrugging in frustration. “You’re lucky I have a soft spot for you,” she groans, grabbing Khimi by the arm and lifting. “I suppose it would be too much to ask her for your shirt?”
“Ennui, let’s go,” Khimi says, looking at the door. “I’d rather go shirtless than spend another moment here.”
“Fine, let me find your shirt first,” she chuckles, then rips the door wide open, returning a moment later with Khimi’s linen shirt.
“Thanks,” Khimi mouths while they begin walking down the extravagant hallway.
“I know you’ve had a lot to drink… any chance you’d want a bottle for the walk home?” she asks with a grin.
Khimi smirks sheepishly. “You know I can’t turn down a drink.”
Khimi watches Ennui dash down the hallway then vanish around a corner before returning with two large bottles. He cannot stop himself from smiling and begins to chuckle. Palming the bottle over in his hand, he struggles to see the vineyard’s mark. The cork slides out with a pop, and he takes a swig while Ennui does the same with hers.
Ennui raises her brow. “So, shall I escort you back home?” she asks while walking down the marble stairs.
Khimi looks up to the stars. “I’d like to walk around a bit before going back home,” he says, turning to face Ennui. “I think there is something I-I need to do.”
Broken Trust
Khimi and Ennui flounder through the streets of Rhaz, their path illuminated by the golden glow of the ever-burning lanterns. Palms sway gently in the wind, the bellies of their fronds shining with the light. Khimi thinks back to weeks ago when he had carried Lumi past this very spot and remembers telling the sleeping aslan about the origins of the city, hoping to make conversation. Lost in his thoughts, he sighs loudly. Ennui cocks an eyebrow at him and tosses the emptied wine bottle down an alleyway. The sound of it breaking against a wall brings a drunken chuckle from her as she grips onto Khimi’s arm. Just ahead of them is the shrine, a location that Khimi had been circling for some time; he wanted to rush in and tell Lumi everything. Every step up the sandstone stairs is a battle, and Khimi gathers his courage bit by bit.
“I want to watch,” Ennui says, grinning drunkenly. “I did all that work, and I never got to see the boy that caught Master Zeybek’s heart… or cock, whichever it is.”
Khimi looks up to the stars. “It’s late, I doubt he’s still up, only a few hours till sunrise.”
“He’s up,” she insists. “Ikati enjoy being up during the night and sleeping in the sun, just like their beast counterparts. Hells, that’ll be something for you to look forward to, being woken up at the wee hours of the morning when he begs for his morning meals.”
“W-we can, we can look,” Khimi says, taking his first step onto the path to the shrine. “Morning meals?” he asks with narrowed eyes back at his friend.
“Yes!” she exclaims, squeezing Khimi’s arm and bringing her hand to her mouth in a lurid sucking motion. “You know, his morning milk… but anyway, I’ll stay back and let you do the talkin’.”
Khimi grimaces. “You really are a devil, aren’t you?”
They walk up the small sets of stairs into the shrine, the sound of trickling water grows louder. Atop a set of sandstone stairs sits a large arch, water drips across its front to create a screen of rain. Torches on iron sconces burn low around the vicinity, the area much darker than the streets they just left. Khimi shrugs to Ennui, and they walk through together, the trickling water soaking through their clothes. He takes one last sip of the flask, wiping his mouth with his arm after he finishes. Ennui stands back, allowing Khimi to continue past her for some distance before she seems to mysteriously vanish into the darkness. Walking deeper along the path, the surrounding area grows darker by the moment, the distance between torches growing further apart. Eventually, Khimi hears the sound of men laughing, and he perks up at the sound of Lumi’s voice. Of course, he’s up. Beneath an overgrown palm, Khimi spots Lumi seated on some uneven cobbles, a small group of acolytes playing cards. That familiar feeling comes across him, filling him while he steps forward. Lumi’s tail sways behind him across the tiles. He brushes his hair from his brow, and another man reaches forward, pushing it back for him. The drunkenness leaves his body, instantly sobering him as he watches Lumi flash his fangs and laugh. Who the fuck is that? His thoughts break the moment Lumi’s eyes look up and meet his gaze. Khimi stops in his tracks and Lumi stands swifter than Khimi can blink, cards falling from his trembling hands.
Time stills, their gazes fix on another from across the short distance. Khimi wants to run, to embrace Lumi and hold him in his arms, but he waits; frozen. The acolytes begin to rise around Lumi, surprised by the disturbance. Feet like lead, Khimi takes the first step forward, their eyes continue to pierce into each other. Lumi. Lumi’s cheeks brighten and Khimi can see the excitement across his face.
“Khimi?” Lumi stammers, his body shaking.
The man next to Lumi shields his eyes from the nearby firelight. “Who is it?”
Feeling overwhelmed with emotions and the effects of the alcohol. Khimi stumbles for words. “Lumi,” he whispers so softly it is almost inaudible to himself.
Lumi jumps over the few seated acolytes and dashes to him, the heat radiating from Lumi warms him. He wraps his arms around him, his face pressed tightly to his chest. His tail jerks and flicks from side to side in excitement. Unsure of how to respond, Khimi brings his arms around him, pressing Lumi’s face against his chest, his hands coiled in the blond locks. Lumi’s scent is fragrant as ever, and Khimi inhales deeply in an attempt to cherish every bit. For a moment, the two stand in silence, the figures stare at them from a distance. Khimi holds his embrace, Lumi’s rounded ear near his chest. The weight of his guilt makes his heart race, I have to tell him. But… not—I must. He bends his head forward and lets Lumi’s scent fill his nose once again. Lumi’s thick ear twitches against his nose, knocking him back to his senses.
“Can we talk… ?” Khimi whispers while he pushes Lumi back to arm’s length. His hand on his shoulder, he continues, “somewhere else, maybe.”
Lumi shuffles his feet nervously. “Sure,” he mumbles after a moment, looking back at the other acolytes. “You guys keep going without me! I’ll be right back!” he shouts.
Khimi and Lumi turn back towards the trickling archway, walking in silence, they make their way along the shadowy path. Under the dancing shadows of a small copse, Khimi takes Lumi’s hand and brushes his fingertips over Lumi’s soft skin. Lumi’s fingers twitch and reach out, intertwining between Khimi’s. He begins to pull himself closer in the quiet. The uncomfortable guilt stabs him, a pain in his chest, his heart drops.
“I-I have to tell… there is something I need to tell you,” Khimi stumbles, averting his gaze, glancing into the overgrown bushes alongside the stream. He looks for any sign of Ennui before continuing. “I made a mistake tonight,” he says, his fingers squeezing Lumi’s tightly.
Lumi chuckles nervously. “It couldn’t have been that bad,” he says, following Khimi’s eyes to the bushes. “Just speak plainly, Khimi… it’s just us. There are no acolytes hiding in the brush… they’re weird, but not that weird.”
“Fine, I’ll just be out with it then. I… thought about what I said, about you needing time and space. That was wrong of me. So wrong, I never should have said that to you…” Khimi starts again, he squeezes Lumi’s hands and continues. “But I felt I owed myself the time to think about the future… about the duty I owe to my family, how I would be tossing that aside to live my life with you.” He pauses, gauging Lumi’s expression, then sighs again. “Tonight, I felt a moment of weakness in which I drank until I felt nothing anymore… I wanted nothing more than to be with you, but I was—”
“What’re you saying?” Lumi interrupts, confusion flickering across his face.
Khimi continues, “I was in the company of a woman. We had been enjoying one another’s company and… I found myself in a room with her.” Khimi stops, watching Lumi’s face change from upset to enraged.
“You… slept with someone?” Lumi asks, his face twisting in rage as he throws Khimi’s hand aside. “You told me that you’ve never—that you never… had been with a-anyone,” he sobs, tears spilling down his cheeks. “You BASTARD!”
“Lumi!” Khimi exclaims. “Listen to me, listen!”
Lumi, filled with determination and rage, continues, “I don’t understand. Did you need time away from me, or did you need time to think? Did you just want to put your dick in something? I would have given you that! I would have gladly given you that! Hells, I even tried!” he shouts, the pace of his speech increases rapidly.
“Lumi…” Khimi pleads. “It meant nothing, I was drinking… she put her lips on mine…”
Lumi’s aqua eyes flash a piercing crimson. “And drinking is an excuse?” Lumi asks, cocking an eyebrow in anger. The braziers along the path grow in heat, their fires reaching for the sky to match the boy’s rising temper.
A strange heat pulses through the air, an unusual dryness forms in Khimi’s throat.
“Khimi…” Lumi growls, his hands shaking as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I… just… tell me what happened,” he whispers, tears pool in his eyes.
“Well, she forced me into a chair and climbed atop me…” Khimi replies, a hint of nervousness in his speech. “Are you sure you want to know?” he asks.
“I’d rather know. I need to know,” Lumi prattles manically. He bites his nails and turns to Khimi.
“She… pulled off my shirt and kissed me, I insisted I needed to leave, but she pressed on. Then she put her hands in my trousers and attempted to mount me… Lumi, this is enough,” Khimi pleads again, his hand reaching out towards Lumi. “I’d rather you not hear this. You don’t need to hear this.”
Lumi slaps Khimi’s hand to the side, crossing his arms again. “Khimi! Just! Tell! Me!” Lumi shouts, panic in his eyes.
“If it helps, I had to think of you to even get… aroused,” Khimi says plainly, shuffling on his feet. “And, she began to force me inside of her. I knew I couldn’t do it, so I got up and left the room… then felt my stomach knot right as I walked out of the room,” he adds anxiously.
“You… could have told her at any point, Khimi…” Lumi says, looking down at his feet, “you could have told her that you were taken. You’re not weak… you could have pushed her off.”
“I doubt that would have stopped the woman,” Khimi mutters, looking at the distance between the two of them.
“And you were completely… helpless?” Lumi spits in anger. “You weren’t strong enough to stop her advances?” he asks, trembling. “I’ve… met very few men stronger than you, Khimi… you can throw me around like I am nothing… and yet, this?”
“I don’t know, my mind wasn’t where it should be,” Khimi replies quietly. “I would do anything to take it back,” he adds quickly, and takes a step forward.
Lumi grits his teeth and recoils. “You don’t know?” he growls, shaking his head in fury. He doesn’t look up from his feet. “I may be leaving at the end of the month,” he whispers, his ears drooping. “I think it’s best that maybe we just forget each other…”
The distance between them vanishes as Khimi grabs Lumi’s wrist. “Why?!” he snarls, a flash of anger igniting in his eyes.
Lumi’s eyes flare red again, that unusual heat appears again and a glow similar to those of evening fireflies appears around them then fades just as quick. “Why…?” Lumi replies, looking up from the ground. Wet streaks run down from his eyes. “Because, an opportunity somewhere else suddenly seems a lot more promising. Because the person that I love will never love me how I love them, because he’s a bastard!”
Lumi’s tail swings from side to side, his ears laid down. Khimi understands after spending some time with Lumi the way his body moves, he can tell how upset Lumi is… yet in desperation, he attempts to reach out. Lumi allows Khimi’s hand to cup his chin. Lumi’s words weigh heavily in Khimi’s heart, and he is not sure if he had ever loved anyone, but seeing Lumi like this is painful.
Ziad’s words appear once again in Khimi’s mind. Only a weak man apologizes. He does not care, he just wants Lumi to be happy.
Khimi sighs. “I told you I was sorry. I was wrong about what I said, I shouldn’t have put this distance between us. I made a mistake… can you accept that?”
“I… love you,” Lumi cries. “I’ve loved you from the moment we met, my heart hurt the first time you wrote to me. Every second you weren’t near me, I felt as though I were breaking. Then… you asked me to come to Rhaz with you, and I was happy. So happy… then you asked me to leave,” he sobs, his voice trailing. Wet tears run over Khimi’s fingers. “Then you do this! With some woman! Khimi it’s too much!” Lumi shouts and shoves Khimi away from himself. “I think you need to go back home. I need to get away from you,” he says quietly, turning back to the path back.
Khimi stares at Lumi’s back. “You don’t get to just walk away!” he barks. “You don’t!”
“I do!” Lumi exclaims, turning on his heels. “Because you did it first! Maybe… now I need time. Time to think if this is what I really want. Someone who can’t even tell me how they feel, someone who will constantly put me behind everything else.”
“I’ve made up my mind. I swear it,” Khimi replies in haste, “I’ve thought about you every single moment since we had our talk… I wasn’t thinking properly.”
“I’ll talk to you… when you’ve had time to think. Perhaps when you’re ‘sorted’ we can continue this conversation,” Lumi says mockingly before walking away, his tail swinging back and forth in frustration.
Khimi sits in the near darkness of the pathway. If I just shut my mouth and didn’t say anything, then… everything would have been fine. He walks back towards the entrance of the shrine, passing through the trickling archway. He pauses, the cool water licks against his form. I’m a fool.
“You’re gonna get sick,” Ennui chatters quietly in a sing-song voice. She looks up from the stairs at Khimi, watching the water drench him. “That was pretty sad,” she teases.
“I told him what happened. Then I apologized,” Khimi replies, tapping his hand against his leg. “What more could I have done?” he asks with a sigh.
“For one,” Ennui says while chuckling. “Someone tells you they love you. They typically would like to hear it back. Hells, even I know that, and I have never used that fabled word in my life. ‘Love’,” she says, speaking the word like it’s a curse.
“Fuck!” Khimi growls, slapping his cheeks with both hands. “What the hells is wrong with me?”
Ennui snorts from a few steps below. “Maybe you’re not as clever as you think,” she teases, smirking. “Or maybe your daddy rattled that soft little brain of yours one too many times.”
Khimi exhales hard, descending the sandstone stairs toward her. “I’m starting to think you’re right.”
“That whole performance back there?” She chuckles, adjusting the gold ring looping around her horn. “Kind of pitiful, honestly. But hey—you said what you felt. That’s more than most people ever manage.” She pauses, her voice softening. “Now go home. Sleep it off.”
He opens his mouth to argue, but something in his chest twists. Without thinking, he reaches out and grips her shoulder.
“Oh,” she says, caught off guard. Her voice drops to a hush. “It’ll be okay,” she whispers, pulling him into a quiet hug. She gives his back a couple of firm, awkward pats.
“I fucked up,” Khimi whispers, his voice breaking while he attempts to continue speaking.
“You’ll be okay,” Ennui repeats gently. Then grimaces. “Gods, you’re wet.”
“Sorry,” Khimi mutters, sniffling.
“I’ll walk you home,” she sighs, peeling away from the hug. “And Khimi…”
He pauses, rubbing his nose with the heel of his hand. “Yeah?”
“He’s a cute boy, I guess.” She shrugs, lips quirking. “If he tries to run, I’ll tie him to a chair.”
Khimi lets out a wet laugh, his head drooping against her shoulder. “Really?”
“You know I’d do anything for you.”