The Pleasure Rites Series

by Ines Johnson

  Merlyn looked at the wilting plant. It had been so vibrant when she rescued it from her Grand Mother's landscaping plans three years ago. "I know. I need to plant it in the field where it can take root."

  "Grand Mother will never let it upset her designs."

  Merlyn nodded. She didn't know what she was going to do about the plant. She couldn't give it a proper home for it to flourish. And if she kept it hidden in her lab it would certainly continue to lose its beauty and die. She turned away and peered down into her scope.

  She assumed the conversation with her sister was over. She and Alyss rarely had occasion to speak on a social matter. But it would seem Alyss wasn't done with her visit. She looked down at Merlyn's work.

  "What are you trying to discover now?" Alyss asked over Merlyn’s shoulder.

  Under the lens of Merlyn's microscope, sperm lay in wait, still fighting a battle. A few had made it past the barrier towards the egg. Merlyn saw the tail end of a spermatozoa that had just penetrated the egg.

  "I'm trying to understand the differences in spermatozoa."

  "You're playing with male ejaculate. That's disgusting, Merlyn."

  "No, it’s fascinating. We previously believed that all sperm went straight for the egg to be the first to fertilize it. But I've discovered that line of thinking is wrong. There are sperm that have evolved as fighters. Their sole purpose is to block foreign sperm from getting to the egg first."

  "What you're telling me is that men are mindless, violent brutes all the way down to their little swimmers."

  "Well... perhaps. But I believe there are female spermatozoa."

  "You've seen female swimmers?"

  She likely had, but she couldn't yet identify them. "We believe that the female spermatozoa are what make the fetus female, just as a male spermatozoa would make the fetus male."

  "The Goddess makes the fetus female," said Alyss. "Really Merlyn, this treads the line of blasphemy. Most other Physics are focused on herbal remedies, healthy diet, and physical fitness; all things the Goddess provides for our well-being. There's even a Physic, a Psychologist, who's doing an interesting study on color therapy, believing that it can calm boys with attention disorders. The same Physic just introduced a new theory on arts therapy using music. I believe Cousin Chanyn's bondmate, Lord Khial, is involved."

  "Art is not my area of expertise, Alyss. Perhaps you should join the Physic's research team."

  Alyss made a sound like a cat choking on a hairball. "I would never do such a thing." Alyss shoved away from Merlyn's desk. "I'm just noting that it is a far more acceptable trade then watching the sex wars of rodent sperm."

  And with those final words, Alyss stormed out of the lab.

  Merlyn reached for her personal notebook where she recorded her thoughts instead of clinical notations. The details of her time with Jaspir were fading fast. His tongue had been smooth, like velvet. She'd felt the rapid thuds of his pulse when his wrist pressed against her cheek.

  Movement caught Merlyn's eye and she looked up. A petal of her failing plant fell to the floor. Merlyn watched its descent. The plant seemed to slouch as though it had given up. The posture of the plant made her think of Jaspir's posture when he declined to see her again. That visual memory brought to mind the look of Alyss before she stormed out of the lab.

  Merlyn set down the pen and rose from the table.

  She went over to the closet and peered inside. She hadn't been in the closet in years. Inside were new paintings. A still wet canvas of colors of the most impossible combination. Merlyn had no eye for art, but the beauty of the painting took her breath.

  It was clear that Alyss loved her colors and her artwork. A passion that had been snuffed by her Mother and Grand Mother. Alyss had a way with people, just like she did with colors. They sought her opinion and she was able to sway them to her line of thinking. In all but this. Her artwork she kept secret, hidden in this small corner of their large house. It could never thrive in the closet.

  Merlyn turned from the closet and walked back to her work table. She gathered the plant to her. The drooping starburst rested against her breasts, one lone leaf tickled her neck. She took the plant over to the closet and placed it on the shelf with Alyss' brushes and blank canvases. With one final look, Merlyn shut the door of the closet, casting the paints and plant in the darkness.

  Going back to her worktable, she closed her personal journal. She opened the journal with her scientific notations, and got to work.

  Chapter Eight

  Jaspir ran his fingers over the leather binder at his desk. He opened the binder and flipped through pages. He had clients scheduled for months in advanced, most of them his regular customers: women who sought pleasure outside their martial bed, and a few moneyed men who sought his skilled touch.

  His scheduled appointments went on into the New Year. It, the pleasure service, wasn't grueling work by any stretch. Jaspir didn't do it against his will. He had choices, poor choices. He could work in a merchant's shop, for example. But the thought of being indentured to another being, human or god, chafed. At Stallions, he was free to choose his clientele, set his own hours, and when he finally left this place, this life, it would be on his own terms and on his own feet, instead of being asked to leave or being thrown out on his ass.

  Jaspir looked up at the man who paced the floors of his bedroom. Liam's copper hair glinted in the candlelight, his jaw tight. Jaspir was sure that was a sign the other male was calculating. He'd seen the same expression on Liam's face when he was a child, a child who caught Jaspir with his hands on the girl he was to bond with. As a child, Liam's jaw had clenched in that same calculating manner. He'd said no words to indicate what he saw that day or if he planned to do anything about it. The next morning, Jaspir had been kicked out of his bed and into the streets.

  Now, Jaspir ground his jaw as well. Ground it at the thought of Liam putting those soft, slender fingers on Merlyn's body. He'd learned from his time at the Pleasure Hound's temple that women didn't like men's hands to be delicate and soft. They liked the hands of a man who'd worked, a man whose hands were rough and calloused. They needed that friction on their skin.

  Merlyn needed that friction on her skin. She needed a man who would rub his coarse hands along the planes of her body. A man to make her feel and not think. A man she could lose herself in, not document every experience. This soft-handed man would never satisfy her. In five or ten years she'd be in an establishment just like this searching for—

  The idea of Merlyn coming into a room like this, a room like this after Jaspir left it for his dream home in the country, the thought gutted him. Jaspir clutched the binder in his hands. He heard the pages ripping. He didn't release them. He let them tear. He tore against the idea of his Merlyn being on some young buck's calendar. And he knew she would be if it were left up to Liam.

  Jaspir had seen the desire for pleasure in her in that first kiss. Though, as a thirteen-year-old child, he couldn't name it at the time. He'd seen it on her swollen lips today. Felt the heat from her gaze, heard it in her moan. She would be back, and he would be gone.

  Unless.

  Jaspir looked at Liam once more as the male continued pacing the floor. Liam was right. Though Merlyn's love was beyond Liam's reach, pleasure was teachable. If Jaspir taught Liam how to please her, she could be satisfied. If he instructed Liam on how to satisfy her, she would never need to seek pleasure outside of their home. She might never turn to some stranger's bed.

  "I'll do it."

  Liam stopped pacing. Shock clearly written over his pale features. "You will?" His voice was uncertain now.

  Jaspir held up his finger. "I have some terms."

  "Name your price."

  And so Jaspir did. Jaspir named the price of his dream home.

  Liam blinked. His jaw clenched.

  Jaspir stood, bound calendar in hand. "You know she's worth it." He paced over to the trash bin and tossed the binder in. "After what I teach you, she will never stray from yo
ur bed."

  Jaspir turned and regarded Liam. Slowly, the man's jaw unclenched. Liam stuck out his hand Jaspir took it.

  "She'll never leave my bed," repeated Liam. "Not even for you?"

  Jaspir would be gone without a trace. "Not even for me."

  "All right," said Liam. "When can we begin?"

  Jaspir crossed to the bed. "Right now."

  "Now?" Liam's voice raised an octave.

  Jaspir turned to him in the midst of tossing small pillows from his bed to the floor. Liam avoided Jaspir's eyes as he regarded the bed. "Yes," said Jaspir. "Right now. Time is money."

  "How long do you expect this to take?" Liam's hands fidgeted on the hem of his shirt.

  Jaspir regarded the man. "Three lessons."

  "Three separate lessons? I figured we'd be done tonight."

  Jaspir chuckled. "You think highly of yourself, don't you?"

  Liam flushed.

  "Sit down," Jaspir commanded.

  "You mean I'm to do... this?" Liam swallowed. "With you?"

  "How else would you learn?"

  Liam looked around for help. "I don't know? You're the expert."

  "Exactly." Jaspir motioned towards the bed once more. "So, come sit down so that we can begin."

  Liam hesitated once more.

  "What is it?" Jaspir asked.

  "It's just... I've never been attracted to men. I know it’s not normal. But there it is."

  "You don't have to be attracted to me," Jaspir assured him. "I'm not attracted to you either."

  For some reason Liam bristled at that. Jaspir found it amusing, the crinkle at the side of the other male's mouth.

  "It'll actually make things easier," Jaspir said. "Having no emotions involved."

  "Oh, there are emotions involved. I hate you."

  "The feeling is mutual. Can we get on with this? I would like to get some sleep at some point instead of tutoring you all night."

  That got Liam into motion. Jaspir made a note. Demean his intelligence if you want to get a rise out of him.

  Liam trudged over to the bed as though it were his death march. Jaspir took a seat at the edge and waited.

  Liam paused before him. "When I saw you two, all those years ago, you were kissing her. For the past ten years, when she thinks no one's looking, I see her touching her lips. I know she's thinking of you."

  Jaspir's heart swelled.

  "Is that all you did tonight? Kiss her?"

  Jaspir nodded. "Yes."

  "All these years, she held onto that memory. And that blasted plant. That's what I want to know. How to kiss her like that so that she thinks of it for years after."

  Jaspir held out his hand. At first, Liam shrank from it, but then with ginger fingers, he took it and lowered himself to the bed.

  Jaspir regarded his longtime foe. Set in Liam's pale face was green eyes with thick lashes, a strong jaw and a mouth with a thin upper lip, but full lower lip. Jaspir had hated this pale face for many years. He blocked out Liam's face and focused on the man's lips. As he did with his more unattractive clients, Jaspir pictured Merlyn in his head, narrowing his world to what these lips would do for her.

  Jaspir grazed his fingers along the lips before him. They were thinner than his own. His lessons would have to account for that. "Lesson number one," he said. "The bedroom is the only place where a man can truly rule a woman."

  Jaspir clasped the chin that belonged to the lips, eliciting another gasp.

  "You need to take charge," he said. "Be in control."

  Jaspir's fingers curled about the neck and the lips parted as he did so.

  "Merlyn thinks too much. Her head rules her entire body. If you have control of her head..." His fingers went into the red hairs at the nape of the neck that belonged to the lips. With a firm tug, the head went back exposing the neck. "...you have control of her."

  Jaspir let his focus extend from the lips to the exposed neck. His tongue struck out and he licked. He felt the body trembling in his grasp.

  "Lesson number two, never do what's expected." Jaspir bit lightly at the chin. "Merlyn will anticipate your every move. She can't help it. She remembers the sequence of things. If you are repetitive, you will lose her. Do you understand?"

  Jaspir watched as the lips tried to form words, but the trembling thwarted them. In the end, Jaspir was given a nod of acquiescence.

  "Good."

  Jaspir focused on the lips once more. He nipped at them. He nipped at the bottom lip, which was plumper than the top. He nipped at the corner, flicking his tongue out. He continued this random pattern as the lips tried to anticipate his next move, each time failing to predict it.

  "Lesson three, make her chase you. Once you—"

  The lips cut him off. The lips Jaspir had thought so small covered his own and tried to devour him. For unpracticed lips they were warm and wanton. Perhaps Liam could please Merlyn after all. But first, he had to pay attention.

  Jaspir used the hand still at the nape of Liam's neck to yank him away. Liam groaned at the loss, his chest panting, his eyes hooded.

  "Are you listening, Liam?"

  Liam blinked once, twice. By the third blink, he'd recovered himself and yanked away from Jaspir's hold, embarrassment clear on his face. "All right," Liam said. "You've made your point."

  "I don't think I have."

  Liam clenched his jaw.

  "Show me what you've learned."

  Liam's eyes whipped to Jaspir's. Jaspir placed his hands in his lap and waited.

  Slowly Liam raised his hands. They grazed Jaspir's chin. The soft, un-callused fingers reminding Jaspir of a woman's gentle touch. Before Jaspir could process the softness, Liam's fingers tangled in his hair and wrenched Jaspir's head back.

  Jaspir barely held back his moan of pleasure. He liked it rough from time to time, but that would not do for Lady Merlyn. "Not that firm. She's more delicate than I am. Just enough to let her know that you're in control."

  Liam loosened his grip a fraction. He looked to Jaspir for approval. Jaspir recognized the spark of need in the other male's eyes. How this man lived ten years under Merlyn's roof and never stole a single kiss was a true mystery to Jaspir.

  "Good," Jaspir nodded.

  The spark in Liam's eyes ignited into the smallest of flames before he dipped his head and put his mouth to Jaspir's throat. Liam's movements were unpracticed and hesitant, but the heat of his mouth sent a message to Jaspir's dick. Jaspir focused on his breaths instead of the heat climbing across his hips.

  There was no way he'd be turned on by this soft-hand, unpracticed, First, virgin.

  Liam nibbled at Jaspir's lip now, his hunger making up for his lack of skill. Jaspir knew desire. He understood wanting something that he thought was off limits to him. Jaspir softened and turned his head into the kiss.

  For a moment, Jaspir allowed Liam to claim him. Allowed him to taste that thing that he could never possess. To pretend for just a moment that it could be this way; that they could be together always. That they could live on a land away from society and everything tearing them apart. To live in a small cottage surrounded by impossible flowers of red, purple and green.

  The kiss turned brutal as both men fought to stake their claim. Until finally, Jaspir gave a tug of Liam's hair, pulling them apart. Both men stared at the other, panting, eyes clear, realization dawning that neither held the object of their desire.

  "That'll be all for today's lessons."

  It took a moment, but finally Liam rose. "When do I—" He stopped and cleared his throat. "When do I come back for our second appointment?"

  Jaspir turned to him, his face a mask of unconcern. "Pick any day you'd like. I've cleared my entire schedule just for you."

  Chapter Nine

  All the way home, Liam couldn't stop touching his lips. He was certain that they were swollen, that they told everyone on the streets what he had been doing. He was also having trouble walking. His cock was ramrod hard in his pants. He hopped into his conveyance and adj
usted himself in the seat. Liam hissed as his hand grazed his stiff cock. He turned the air conditioning on full blast, taking deep breaths until his erection began to cool off and go down.

  He was truthful when he'd told Jaspir he'd never been attracted to a man. He'd always been concerned about how he'd manage a triad bond having no sexual desire for another male. As he drove, Liam looked at the men walking down the street. Some had their arms around each other. Others pulled one another into a dark corner for an embrace. The sight of these displays of affection didn't make him uncomfortable, it was the norm of society. But neither had these displays ever aroused or interested him. He'd always thought of himself as heterosexual, an outdated label from the twentieth century, but one he'd always held to.

  Another label Liam held to; scientist. And scientists did not believe in magic. But that label, too, felt as though it were slipping through his fingers this evening. Liam passed by the Temple of the Pleasure Hounds. He'd never put much into the beliefs of the hounds, but now he wondered if they were not monks, but magi.

  Merlyn's cousin, Lady Chanyn, had married a hound, a feat unheard of. For ten years, Merlyn could not stop thinking of a single kiss from one who was selected for their ranks. And now, long moments after their encounter, Liam felt the heat of Jaspir's lips on his own.

  Liam's hand continued to rub against his lower lip until he pulled up to the house. He pulled his car around back and parked alongside the manservants' conveyances. Liam disembarked from the car and went in through a side entrance. He took a hallway which led him directly to the lab.

  When he went into the lab, she was there. Her back was to him. She was bent over her workbench like always. Looking into the microscope, adjusting the lens with one hand, making notes with the other hand. He hadn't expected her to be back at work after spending time with Jaspir. Liam's body felt heavy, full of unnamable feelings that begged for quantifying. He had no interest in numbers at present. He had the urge to go to her, to test the expensive lesson he'd just learned.