I wake up early, at first confused as to where I am, then surprised by the presence of a warm body next to me. Usually, I send my lovers away after they have performed their marital duty. This time, though, even though no duty was involved, I have slept deeply and soundly with my arms around Emilio.

It feels good to feel his steady heartbeat against my skin. Perhaps it's because of the hours I've spent the day before believing him dead that now his presence next to me feels like a gift.

I tighten my hug slightly and his body tenses in response.

"Awake?" I say.

"For ages," he says grumpily. "You're so damn hot, and you held to me for dear life."

I smile a little. "I like to hold on to my possessions."

He shifts a little and I allow him to slip out of my arms. He sits on the bed and drapes one of the furs over his shoulders, then looks me over. His gaze stops on my morning erection of which I only now become aware.

"Go ahead," he says bitterly. "Stick it in, why don't you? That's what I'm here for."

His naked body is lit softly by the morning light and even with his disheveled hair and all the bruises and scratches marring his skin he still looks beautiful. Having him so close and so available is a turn on, yet the memories of the previous day hold me back.

"No." I shake my head.

"Oh, sure, you don't want me anymore. I forgot about your aversion to whores."

"Stop calling yourself that," I snap, and then add to soften it, "I just don't want to hurt you."

"Right." He rolls his eyes. "Harpax the warrior, the burner, the treasure robber, is such a tender soul he doesn't want to—ouch!"

He jerks as I put my hand on his thigh, hitting one of the bruises, and squeeze.

"Your sarcasm is up early today," I say. "I'm willing to be kind, but don't push your luck."

"All right, all right." He brushes my hand away and rubs the place on which my fingerprints fade slowly. There're tears in his eyes, but thankfully it doesn't seem to be the beginning of a new crying fit, just a reaction to sudden pain.

I move closer to him. He tenses a little, but remains in place, leaning with his back on the headboard. I put my arms around him and we sit next to each other for a few minutes, silent. I can feel him relaxing gradually in my embrace, until he leans on me, his head resting against my chest.

"I still want you," I say. "I also want you to want me back." I close my eyes and nuzzle at his hair. "I won't force you, surely not after yesterday. Do you still hurt?"

"In more places than you can count."

"You underestimate my counting abilities."

He sighs. "You're making this complicated. Things have been easier when you just acted like a thug."

"I haven't changed. You're just getting to know me better."

He sighs again. "Yes, and it's confusing."

We sit still, listening to the birds chirping outside. Mindlessly, I lower my head and trace a few kisses down the side of his neck. The skin is tender and unscarred there, and pleasant to the touch, begging to be sucked on. He raises his hand and brushes his fingers through my hair, a mindless gesture of his own. Taking it for a good sign, I let my lips to continue exploring his neck and shoulder, the most I can reach without shifting my position.

Eventually, he moves a little, escaping my lips and my hands that have already gone on their own to caress his chest and stomach. I look down to see if I have hit one of the bruises, and then I notice that he's aroused, too.

I bring my face to his, and then I kiss him.

His lips are soft and accepting, not quite kissing me back, but lacking the wooden unresponsiveness they had when we did it last, on the ship. It's as if he's willing to try now, to go a little further, to attempt accepting what I'm willing to offer.

I cup his face with one hand and he jerks a little when my thumb hits the bruise on his cheek. My tongue finds his, and my hands slip down his body, and as the kiss gets deeper, so does my passion, until the desire to consume and possess him is too much. I grab him, and he moans into the kiss, and tries to wriggle out, and I realize that now he's really hurting, so I let go.

He pulls back and looks at me, wide-eyed, panting a little. I sit back, annoyed, confused and still aroused. Yet it's clearly not a good time to press further, not with him so easily hurt. The bruises will only make it a torture for him, even if he seems willing now. If another of my wives was in his place, she would certainly offer to at least please me with her mouth or her hands, but it's clearly not on his mind, and forcing him is, once again, not on my agenda. Perhaps I'll pay a visit to Narin or someone else in the harem to take care of my little problem.

"All right," I say, perhaps a little grumpily. "We better continue when you're better."

He looks at me with expression that somehow incorporates both relief and disappointment. Then, he bows his head.

"Join me at breakfast," I say before slipping out of the bed and heading to my room.

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