by R. Cooper
Trenne nudged Taji’s head up when Taji started to pull away, and pressed his parted lips to Taji’s jaw and chin.
Taji sighed, a short, delirious sound. “On the planets that used to belong to the Bilroch, ages ago, kisses were called “salutations” no matter how long or passionate they were.” Taji licked the corner of Trenne’s mouth, briefly kissed his way back inside though he knew Trenne was probably baffled by the whole thing. “I could salute you all day and night.” A human would have recognized Taji’s heart bleeding into those words. Trenne may have, but was too distracted to comment. And maybe, if he did, it could all be blamed on the reaction of a shehzha.
Taji went liquid at the realization, melting and warm under Trenne’s attention. “Maybe I am drugged already,” he suggested fuzzily. “Was that all right? The kissing? Not too human and weird for you?” Taji brushed his lips over some of Trenne’s facial markings. “I want to be what you want, though I’m only me. You don’t get the full eshe experience, to have a shehzha who physically can’t make you lose control—emotionally, that is. But maybe that’s best right now. Less danger for you.”
“Less danger?” Trenne echoed, questioning. “Your desire is kind—or soft. I do not know the right word. Kahne, open. Gives much. Not a vessel. Not the joke it has become. You use your mouth this way. Taji shehzha, the oreh.”
Taji nuzzled Trenne’s cheek. Oreh was not a word he’d heard at any political meeting. “Passionate,” he translated absently. “Caring.” He went still. It shouldn’t be possible for him to blush from head to toe. “That’s how you see me?”
“Kahne,” Trenne said again. “Hungry. To be filled. Taji shehzha, the ravenous.”
Taji turned his head away from that word, even if it was true. “You might think you have to do whatever I want right now,” he whispered, “but I would prefer it if you stopped me if you are unhappy.”
“My shehzha,” Trenne answered, just as quietly, “terrifies the emperor but has such concern for me.”
Taji’s head filled with stars.
“You do not understand.” Trenne brought a new rush of heat to Taji’s skin. “You have chosen to be shehzha for me. You asked me for this honor. You give me your words and your kisses on the mouth. You let me please you. I have no complaints with you.”
Taji put a hand over Trenne’s mouth. “Stop. Please. I am ravenous and I can’t…stop there before I do something I shouldn’t.”
Trenne easily pulled his hand away. “I will be happy to drink from you.”
Taji briefly shut his eyes at that image. “Trenne,” he protested, weak. He should not have discounted the effect of the hunt on Trenne, even after two orgasms.
“Taji,” Trenne answered, patient and warm.
“Okay,” Taji told him, to forestall any more declarations from Trenne that he couldn’t handle. “I’m a kahne. I’m your shehzha. I trust you. I trust you to take care of me if—when—I lose my sense. I just…I have never been like that, not for anyone. And we’re here in this place, and Larin wants—”
“We will be careful. Next time, and after that,” Trenne said it as if he had thought about it before. “You will tempt me, as you have made a habit of doing, but I will say no. For you, I will tell you no on this one issue. You will keep your senses while we are here, Taji shehzha. I do not trust these Sha with you.”
Taji blinked, shocked into sobriety. “So you can say no to me?”
“For this, I can,” Trenne was solemn. “You will not make it easy.”
“But someday?” Taji asked, too exposed to hide the need in his voice. “Someday, when we aren’t in Laviias, you’ll stop saying no?”
“My honor,” Trenne answered seriously, and Taji yanked him down to press a desperate kiss to his mouth. Trenne let him, shifting to hold Taji tightly. After a while, he began to subtly rock his hips again.
Taji parted his lips to pant for air, and relief, and more. It was already too much, but his greedy fingers were in Trenne’s hair and his whining turned to shaky moans in moments. For now, they had this, and he wasn’t going to stop it.
He wrapped his arms around Trenne and muffled his whimpers against Trenne’s throat and wanted to be a real shehzha so much it was visceral.
But a real shehzha wouldn’t muffle anything, and he was Taji, the ravenous, so his whimpers became Trenne’s name, became pleas, became shouts, and the noises he made as he came for the third time echoed beyond their room to anyone listening.
Chapter Eleven
WHEN TRENNE opened the door several hours later, it was to Markita, who had replaced Nev and been tasked with handing over the pouch of things Trenne had requested. Behind Markita was a servant in skirts with a knife in his belt, who, unlike Markita, did not raise his eyes to peer into the bedroom. He had a black and white bundle in his arms, which was also given to Trenne.
Trenne, cleaned and dressed, looked almost like his old self. He stood in the doorway, blocking most of the view of Taji from the eyes of Markita or any prying Imperial Guards. Good of him, since Taji had managed to use the toilet and then, with Trenne’s assistance, scrub himself clean, but that was all. He was now lying among the pillows and bedding in a state of trembling exhaustion.
The hurat serving girl would have approved. Taji had a pillow over his crotch and decided the rest of his sense of modesty could return later when he had energy for it. He was hungry but had whined about not wanting to go to the feast. Trenne had politely listened and then handed Taji the soap and oils for his skin anyway.
Taji had kissed Trenne’s shoulder, and then his stomach, and he really should have been too tired to come again but somehow Trenne leaned him against the wall and jacked him off and that was exactly what happened.
Taji had insisted Trenne do the same to himself, because fair was fair, and whined some more until Trenne let him taste his semen. It was an important part of the whole shehzha deal, and Taji was curious about his future.
His future had an odd but not terrible nutty-sweet taste, a fact that made sense considering the amount of proteins and fruit Shavians consumed. It was slightly different from his other secretions, but with that same base.
“I don’t want to go to the feast,” Taji complained again, but sat up when Trenne indicated he should. He downed three of the capsules Trenne handed him and then twisted around to let Trenne rub a numbing ointment into his hip and lower back. “But I’m hungry.”
“The ravenous,” Trenne answered calmly.
Taji huffed and only realized he had been quietly going along with Trenne’s fussing when Trenne closed the container of ointment and went into the other room to clean his hands.
“How am I supposed to get over this?” Taji put the forlorn question to the pillow in his lap, then tossed it away to lean over and poke at the black and white bundle. It tumbled to the floor, revealing itself to be a small black soria, covered in painted white blossoms or stars. Painted decorations meant it could only be worn a few times, an incredible expense for someone like Taji. Two shiny metal bangles were in the midst of the fabric, the kind Mos wore.
Trenne came to a stop in front of it to stare at it the way Taji was, though he picked it all up a moment later. “This, or your other soria.”
This one looked softer than synthetic silk, and like it would actually fit him. Taji hesitated, then crossed his arms. “I don’t want to wear it if Larin sent it.”
“A better guess would be Olea Rinnah or Inri Mos.” Trenne came closer. “Inri are proud of their jewelry.” He took Taji’s unresisting hand and slid the bangles onto Taji’s wrist. “You do not allow yourself pretty things, but I believe you like them. I could call you sehn if you prefer.”
“You’re a pretty thing,” Taji answered to watch Trenne’s ears flick uncertainly at the compliment. “Sadly, I can’t wear you to the feast.” He probably could, but it was a little too like Elii straining to get closer to Larin for Taji’s comfort. “All right,” Taji sighed at last, wriggling into the soria. It was as soft as i
t looked, almost slick against his skin. The blossoms were starflowers. He touched one with a fingertip before looking up to Trenne’s admiring gaze.
Taji had never worn a soria without a shirt underneath and felt almost indecent, although that might have been the quality of the fabric. He’d spent too long in cheap shirts and IPTC-issued gear.
Trenne went to get Taji’s pants while Taji was still admiring the details on the flowers. But Taji got to his feet with a struggle when Trenne returned, and blushed a dozen times over at having to be dressed like a child. But the reason that Taji could barely walk or stand right now was kneeling at his feet, so he sighed and said nothing except, “I want to go barefoot.”
Trenne looked up at him. He was exceptionally beautiful from that angle. He was also visibly tense. The sex had not calmed him, not really. Taji had questions about what had happened during the hunt but didn’t want to upset him more. He’d ask Nadir or Rodian at dinner, since he assumed they were invited too.
But Trenne nodded and Taji collapsed back onto the bed, waiting for the pain meds to kick in while Trenne did his hair, straightened his formal blacks, and arranged his knife just so.
Someone knocked at the door, and Trenne was immediately at Taji’s side with Taji’s data device.
Taji stopped himself from putting too much shimmer on his lip and did his best to move smoothly. He tucked away his DD and looped his arm through Trenne’s to let Trenne take his weight, and tried to exhale his tension away before Trenne opened the door.
The Guards turned to them impassively. Markita looked at Taji, goggled, then turned away. He moved with Taji’s other watchdogs after Taji did. Taji walked slowly. If the Guards didn’t like the pace, they didn’t say.
Taji leaned against Trenne’s arm, aware the Guards could hear him, Anglisky or not. “The other thing you said,” he murmured. Talfa had said something similar about Taji’s possible genders. “I don’t…I guess I’ve never really had a chance to think about, um, how I act or am or how I might dress or feel or…” Taji knew of dozens of different cultures with different concepts of gender. This shouldn’t be difficult. “I…could never afford anything, you know, to try. Never even really had the time to look at other people and admire or want.” Except he had. “Or I was busy or alone, so it didn’t matter what I wore or how I looked or felt. No point in questioning, so this is…” He sighed heavily. “I like to wear shimmer,” he admitted for the first time, liked how he felt when he put it on, liked how Trenne looked at him. “But I can’t. There’s no time for this right now.”
“Later, peha. Whenever you like.” Trenne nuzzled the top of Taji’s head. Markita, blissfully, was silent, and once the others came into view, Markita headed off in another direction, probably to his assigned quarters to rest and wait.
Tsomyal was outside their rooms, flanked by Nadir, Rodian, and Lin, who were all in formal uniforms. Nadir had gone so far as to wear shiny rings up the shell of one of his ears, and winked as Taji stared, as if Nadir knew exactly how sensitive Shavian ears were and had chosen that look on purpose.
Nadir also gave Taji a critical once-over after that, and whatever he saw made him glance to his sergeant major and nod in approval.
Before he could blush, Taji turned quickly to Tsomyal, who had no obvious reaction whatsoever to Taji in a quality soria, exhausted, walking slowly, and leaning on Trenne. That was somehow worse than a wink. Taji went hot all over and hoped it was the medication kicking in.
Lin was standing partially in front of Rodian and Nadir and seemed to have no intention of moving out of their way. Taji was going to be in a room full of people that tense. It was not a comforting thought to have on his way there.
He forced himself to stand on his own and took a step toward the ambassador, but Nadir leaned down to accept Tsomyal’s arm as the ambassador murmured, “Let us not upset our hosts anymore today, Mr. Ameyo.”
Taji went even hotter, skin prickling with it, because only Trenne was supposed to touch him now. Which was ludicrous. A pang went through him anyway because he didn’t want to go to this feast. He wanted to go back to bed with Trenne. He wanted to be touched.
“Shehzha don’t want to leave the house,” he complained in Deshtani to Nadir alone. “They’ve got everyone thinking it’s the other way around.”
Nadir opened his mouth as if to answer, but then Tsomyal politely indicated they were ready, and Taji wound up in the middle of a circle of soldiers, with Tsomyal in front of him, on their way to a feast no one wanted to attend.
TAJI NOTICED some of his discomfort slipping away at the exact moment he was ushered into the rooms that had been prepared for the feast, which was probably a good thing. He and Tsomyal and the others were possibly late, since most of the low tables were full.
Shavian nobility, in their finest clothing once again, looked over the small group of offworlders as they were led in. Lin, Rodian, and Nadir were directed to a smaller table. Part of the feast, then, but not honored guests. Trenne was also invited to sit with them. The servant practically trembled as they said it.
Taji wondered if that was fear of a supposed animal, or nerves at being the one to separate an eshe from a shehzha. Either way, Taji turned to lift his head for the kiss he knew Trenne would leave on his crown. He had to tear his fingers from Trenne’s coat. He wished it left wrinkles, but there was no trace of him on Trenne when Trenne stepped away.
Trenne looked steady and Taji almost believed it. But being far from the ambassador and Taji while surrounded by potential enemies was basically Trenne’s nightmare, even on a normal day. To help Trenne be calm, Taji straightened his shoulders and continued on, walking a step behind Tsomyal as they were led to another table, not far from the table where Larin and Rinnah were seated.
The two highest-ranking of the Olea were the only ones at that table. Not even Nikay was with them. In fact, Nikay did not seem to be anywhere Taji could see. Gia was also not at the table with the Koel. Eriat looked away when Taji accidentally met his gaze.
Taji glanced to where Trenne sat next to a stone-faced Lin, tried to smile for him, and got a serious stare in return from both of them. Trenne and the others were counting on Taji, so Taji turned to Tsomyal only to have to hover uselessly, unable to touch them to help them get seated on their cushion. Then he had to get himself onto the floor and slid down to his knees first to make the landing slightly more bearable. Maybe he should start doing stretches like Trenne whenever he got his leg repaired or replaced.
He straightened his soria instead of looking back at all the people who had witnessed his clumsiness, and now more than ever, wanted to know if Shavians made private accommodations for the wounded, disabled, or ill, since they didn’t make public ones.
Nev must have sent a narcotic with the rest of the pain medication because Taji’s thoughts felt slow. He realized, a bit too late to be useful, that he had forgotten to wear a translation device. He lifted his head, frowning, and then gave a start to see no one looking at him except Trenne. He smiled again, softly this time, before turning to discreetly study Larin and Rinnah at the table in front of him.
Larin wore white, with no decorations or accessories. He sat with several bowls in front of him, as well as a cup too big to be full of midye. He had his eye on the room, though he spoke quietly to his sister. Taji had expected him to be triumphant. Though his ears were up and he gestured expansively, Rinnah did not react with pleasure or joy.
Unlike the others in the room, Rinnah, who had not hunted, was still, no restless quality to her movements, her attention apparently on her brother. She was in green. Mos was not with her, or anywhere to be seen. Inri were probably not invited.
Taji tried to catch her eye to acknowledge the gift of his soria, but Rinnah was focused on her brother. Taji exchanged a look with Tsomyal. Shavians were not given to bouts of dancing or merriment, not in public, but for a room celebrating a successful hunt, the mood was not calm.
Some of that might have been the same instinctual
ferocity that Lin and Trenne were dealing with. The rest of it might have been worry over the injured or embarrassment at not hunting well. Maybe the feasts after imperial hunts were only fun for the victors—including any new emperors.
Taji searched for Talfa and found them holding a cup of midye. A lot of the others were as well, Taji noticed, and then stared in surprise when a cup was placed in front of him too. He watched someone several tables away take a long drink of their wine and quickly turned to Tsomyal to express his shock.
Tsomyal was almost as still as Rinnah. Taji tensed up even through the slow wave of pain medication working through his body. He would really, really like to not be scared for longer than the few hours spent in Trenne’s arms.
On that thought, he had a sip.