Time seemed to positively drag.
When Seyn started thinking that Ksar wasn’t actually doing anything, he felt it. The…something at the back of his mind, something he hadn’t even noticed until now, was weakening, thinning, stretching to the limit. It made Seyn’s whole body tense up involuntarily.
“Don’t resist,” Ksar’s voice said in his head. “Isn’t that what you want?”
It was. Of course it was.
Seyn forced himself to relax, bracing himself for what was about to happen.
He still wasn’t ready. All his senses went overload in an instant, like a forceful current trying to fit through a tiny opening, and a low whine left Seyn’s lips as he gulped the air greedily.
He was hyperventilating, Seyn realized dazedly. He was trembling all over, feeling hot and cold all at once. His clothes felt like too much, and he wanted to crawl out of them, out of his own skin. His sense of smell and his hearing seemed to become ten times sharper, and he could even hear the frantic beat of his own heart. He took a deep breath and he could feel every molecule in his lungs, feel each one racing through his arteries. He could feel his body as he never had before, he could feel each muscle tightening and loosening, and—
Squeezing his eyes, Seyn moaned, overwhelmed and disoriented, trying to adjust to the sensory overload.
“I did warn you.”
Snapping his eyes open, Seyn glared at Ksar, whom he found watching him with mild curiosity, as if he was a lab rat.
“Fuck—you,” he stuttered through his clanking teeth. “Asshole.”
Leaning back against his desk, Ksar raised his eyebrows. “You must feel well enough if you can still insult me.”
“I would find—strength—to insult you—even if I were dying,” Seyn managed, glowering at him. The longer he stared at the bastard’s face, the hotter he felt. Rage felt different without the bond, sharper, more intense, his skin tingling all over with it. Fuck, he wanted—he wanted to destroy Ksar, bury his hands in that dark hair and mess it up, yank it until the asshole cried out, and then—and then—
Ksar’s shoulders tensed up, his disinterested body language disappearing. “Of course,” he murmured, eyeing Seyn with an expression that was half-speculative, half…something else. “I should have expected this.”
Seyn stepped closer to him, clenching his trembling fingers and unclenching them. “What?” he bit off. Although he’d stopped stuttering so much, he still felt too hot and shaky, his skin oversensitive. “Why are you looking at me that way, asshole?”
Ksar’s lips twitched. “Your ignorance is as appalling as your language. What do you think you’re feeling?”
Seyn wanted to punch him, slam into him, wrap his fingers around that muscular throat, and squeeze.
“Disgust and hatred.”
Ksar laughed, white teeth flashing. “Hatred, maybe. Disgust? I don’t think so.”
“You actually think you know better than me?” Seyn bit out, shoving at Ksar’s chest with his hand. “You impossible, arrogant—”
Ksar caught his forearms and flipped them over so that Seyn was the one pressed against the desk. “Is this disgust?” he said, grinding his hips into Seyn’s.
Seyn’s mouth went slack, his eyes widening and his body jerking violently as flames erupted under his skin—or at least it felt that way.
“Let me tell you what this is,” Ksar said. He pushed his crotch flush against Seyn’s, making Seyn go cross-eyed with weird, violent pleasure.
Ksar leaned into his ear and said,
“Desire.”
No!
“I don’t desire you,” Seyn managed, his gaze becoming unfocused as he struggled not to grind against Ksar’s muscular thigh. “I hate you.”
Ksar chuckled, his grip on Seyn’s forearms not loosening one bit. “Newsflash, you little fool: it’s entirely possible to want someone you loathe.” He pushed his erection against Seyn’s, making Seyn shudder and whine. “Or I wouldn’t want an annoying, spoiled little shit like you.”
“Fuck you,” Seyn said, even as his hips pushed back against Ksar’s. It was mortifying, but he couldn’t stop doing it, all but riding Ksar’s thigh, needing the friction, needing it like air.
Ksar made an irritated noise and, letting go of Seyn’s arms, slipped his hands down to work on their flies.
Seyn’s hands were free now. He could leave. He should leave. Now.
Except his body refused to listen to the commands of his brain, fine tremors of need racking his body violently. He wanted. Seyn groaned as a warm, big hand closed around his aching cock—around both their cocks.
“Want me to stop?” Ksar murmured into his ear, breathing unsteadily as he rubbed his leaking cock against Seyn’s. “I can stop.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” Seyn bit out, grabbing fistfuls of Ksar’s muscular buttocks and yanking his hips closer.
Ksar’s hoarse laugh was the last thing Seyn remembered before he was lost to a daze of need so violent he was shaking with it. Ksar’s hand felt amazing on his cock and the velvety hardness of Ksar’s erection felt even better. It felt so wrong and yet so good. It had no right to feel this good, not with this man. They both had all their clothes on, their cocks in Ksar’s fist the only skin contact between them. It felt obscene. They rutted together like animals, and a part of Seyn was utterly disgusted by the dirty, base nature of the act. He was a prince—they both were—and yet he was whining and thrusting into the hand of a man he hated more than anything, like some kind of animal in heat. But fuck, he needed it, this filthy, base act, and before long, Seyn found himself on his back with his legs wrapped around Ksar’s waist, moaning lowly as Ksar thrust against him so hard that the sturdy desk beneath Seyn creaked. Seyn didn’t care. All he cared about was the pleasure fogging his mind at every thrust of Ksar’s erection against his own aching cock. He was clawing at Ksar’s back, trying to tug him closer, needing just a bit more—