It felt like a small eternity passed before his communicator chimed again.
My brother doesn’t know about our situation, and I don’t want him to know.
Samir threw his communicator on the couch.
Fuck Warrehn. If he chose to spend his time with his little brother and didn’t want Eridan to find out that they were fucking, Samir wasn’t going to beg him.
He had his pride, damn it.
***
Unfortunately, by the evening, Samir’s resolve had weakened. He’d forgotten how bad it was, to feel so unfulfilled and unsatisfied, desperate for Warrehn’s come inside him and unable to focus on anything else.
He didn’t trust himself not to jump the asshole in front of his mother and Eridan, so he didn’t join them for supper. He holed up in his rooms, put on his favorite relaxing music, and tried to think unsexy thoughts.
Spoiler alert: it didn’t work.
He was still beyond horny, his thoughts having trouble focusing on anything but sex and Warrehn.
Samir had never hated himself more—and he’d never been angrier at Warrehn. So what if his precious little brother found out about their situation? Was Warrehn that ashamed of having sex with him? The answer was clearly yes.
And it pissed him off.
Apparently, being pissed off and very horny wasn’t a good combination. That was how Samir ended up telling his personal assistant to find him a discreet escort for the night. Warrehn wouldn’t fuck him? Fine. He could get another man to do it. And never mind that the thought of sex with another man absolutely repelled him. It would be worrying if Samir wasn’t sure it was the alien drug’s doing. He could turn off the lights. He could trick his brain into believing that it was Warrehn. How hard was it to fool some alien drug?
“Any particular requests?” his PA, Tanita, said timidly. She emanated surprise, and no wonder: Samir never used Calluvian escorts, due to NDAs being a headache. NDA-tech didn’t work on telepaths.
Samir kind of wanted to ask for a well-endowed man, since his thoughts kept fixating on Warrehn’s thick, veiny cock, but he still had some dignity left.
“None,” he said, turning away. “Discretion is obviously of paramount importance. I’ll be waiting in my rooms.”
He had expected that he’d have to wait for half an hour at most—there were perks of being a royal—but an hour came and went.
Frowning, Samir was about to call Tanita when she called him herself.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” she said. “But the escort I hired wasn’t allowed into the palace.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It appears it was on His Majesty’s orders.”
Ending the call, Samir marched out of the room. His expression must have been thunderous, because the few servants he encountered shot him startled looks and hurried on their way.
He found Warrehn in the portrait gallery. He and his brother stood in front of the portrait of the former royal family: King Emyr with his golden-haired wife and two sons. Eridan looked uncannily like his mother, as similar to her as Samir was to his own. Warrehn didn’t look much like his parents, though he had clearly inherited his height and build from his father. King Emyr’s hair had been darker than Warrehn’s, his blue eyes narrower and not as expressive. He had been as handsome as Warrehn, in a different way, but he emanated coldness that was obvious even in the picture. If Warrehn was fire and rage, the man in the portrait was ice and arrogance.
Not that Warrehn wasn’t capable of being a high-handed, arrogant dick. He was very much capable of it.
“Care to explain yourself?” Samir said, stopping in front of Warrehn and glaring up at him. “Since when are my guests turned away without as much as asking me?”
“Your guests,” Warrehn said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest, “have to pass the same security checks everyone else does. And that guest didn’t pass them. He was unable to present a respectable reason for his visit.”
“Bollocks!” Samir said, curling his hands into fists. “You can’t control who I’m seeing—or what I’m doing with them.”
“Do I need to remind you that this is my palace,” Warrehn said. “Only I get to decide who enters it—or doesn’t.”
“You arrogant, controlling ass! Fine! I’ll go to a hotel, then.”
“You aren’t going anywhere,” Warrehn said, grabbing his arm.
“Unhand me,” Samir said, shaking with a horrible mix of rage and need. It felt like the touch seared him. “You don’t own me. What I do is none of your concern!”
“I’m the head of the Fifth Royal House,” Warrehn bit off. “I pay for your bills, for your clothes, and for your entertainment. So you’re very much my concern. Not to mention that the moment you check into the hotel, it’ll be all over the gossip sites.”
“Since when do you care about gossip?” Samir said, lifting his chin. It brought his mouth maddeningly close to Warrehn’s, which didn’t help his ability to think—or stay angry. Gods, he wanted to bite him, mold their lips together and kiss, and kiss, and kiss. He wanted it so badly he was having trouble focusing.