“We didn’t have sex last night,” Samir said, clearing his throat a little.
Warrehn’s eyebrows drew together. “Are you sure?” he said, rubbing at his stubbled jaw. “Maybe we slept through it. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I’m quite sure,” Samir said dryly. It was pretty hard not to notice a lack of come in his asshole. “You aren’t exactly small. I always feel it in the morning.”
“Let me check,” Warrehn said, and before Samir realized what he meant, he was between Samir’s legs, spreading his thighs and looking at him.
Samir flushed, trying to close his thighs. “Stop that,” he hissed. He’d never had anyone look at him down there, not so up-close.
“Don’t be ridiculous, let me look,” Warrehn said, but paused and looked at him. “Are you embarrassed?”
Samir glared at him with as much dignity as he could muster. It was difficult, considering that his face felt on fire and Warrehn’s head was between his thighs and the view was making it hard to focus. “Of course not,” he said, trying to appear more experienced than he actually was.
Warrehn narrowed his eyes. “You’ve had sex before this, right? Before me?”
“Of course I have,” Samir said stiffly.
“How many times?”
“Why does it matter?”
Warrehn’s fingers gripped his thighs harder, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make him pay attention. “How many times?”
“Four,” Samir grumbled. It was technically closer to three, because he had left after a handjob the first time, but four sounded more impressive. He wasn’t sure why he even wanted to impress Warrehn with his sexual prowess, but he could tell Warrehn was a lot more experienced than him, and it bothered him for some reason.
“Four,” Warrehn repeated, and there was something in his voice that sounded… skeptical? Baffled?
Samir darted his eyes to him. “What?” he said, lifting his chin. “How many times have you had sex?”
Although Warrehn didn’t smile, something in his eyes told Samir that he wanted to. “More than four,” he said mildly, somehow managing to sound insufferably superior.
Samir glowered at him, but before he could say anything, Warrehn moved his head down and licked between his thighs. Samir jerked as if electrocuted. “Stop—what are you doing—” he said breathlessly, grabbing Warrehn’s hair. “No—Ah! Ah! Don’t stop…”
That was how he’d found out that he absolutely loved having his asshole licked. Eaten out, as Warrehn said. They did it all the time after that morning, but Samir had mixed feelings about the whole thing, no matter how much he loved it. The problem was, it served no purpose. Samir couldn’t blame his desire to be eaten out on the drug. The drug made him want Warrehn’s cock—Warrehn’s seed—in him. This was… just sex. Mind-blowing, addictive sex they shouldn’t be having.
But Samir didn’t voice his doubts aloud. He wasn’t sure Warrehn had noticed the difference, and if he hadn’t, Samir didn’t want to be the one pointing it out. As long as they didn’t speak about it, they could carry on as they were and Samir could get his ass eaten every day.
Fuck, Warrehn had turned him into a slut.
***
By the time the publicity tour was over, Samir had had twenty times more sex than he’d had before that, and yet he and Warrehn had barely spoken beyond the same old arguments about Dalatteya and Samir’s role in the whole mess. Not that their arguments stopped them from fucking—far from it.
“I’m so glad you’re finally back, darling,” his mother said, hugging him tightly when they arrived back at the palace.
Samir returned the hug, smiling. He’d missed her. She smelled familiar but kind of weird. It took him a moment to realize why: he’d gotten used to smelling Warrehn’s aftershave when he was touched.
“Let’s go inside,” Dalatteya said, tucking her arm into his and leading him away.
Samir glanced back at Warrehn, who was speaking to his publicist outside the vehicle. Samir frowned as he turned away, feeling a little strange. After nearly a month in close quarters with Warrehn, Samir was used to feeling Warrehn’s telepathic presence all the time and it felt… odd to walk away from him.
He shook his head. It was probably natural. Forced proximity and lots of physical contact would do it.
“How are you, sweetheart?” Dalatteya said, squeezing his arm.
Samir smiled thinly, knowing what she was really asking about. “It’s better, Mother. It’s not as bad as it used to be.”
It was true. By the end of the tour, they could go up to seven hours without sex and sometimes didn’t even have sex at night. They still slept in the same bed because—because it was easier not to have to get up for morning sex.
The relief was plain on his mother’s face. “I’m glad. Do you think it’ll be over soon? Doctor Jihan hasn’t made any progress on the antidote.”
Samir shrugged, unsure what to say. While the frequency of spikes of need had decreased, he’d found himself spacing out a disturbing number of times lately, just looking at Warrehn and wanting his hands and mouth on him. He wasn’t sure what to think of it. He hadn’t mentioned the new symptom in his video calls with Doctor Jihan, feeling too awkward, especially considering that Warrehn was right there.