She was still saying something, but Samir’s attention was already drifting elsewhere.
It had been nearly eight hours since he’d last seen Warrehn. They’d had a hurried fuck after breakfast that didn’t fully satisfy Samir, if he were honest. He’d orgasmed, obviously—for all his faults, Warrehn never left him physically unsatisfied—but Samir couldn’t deny that the sex hadn’t felt like enough. He’d simply gotten so used to prolonged physical contact during the tour that sleeping without Warrehn and not having access to him whenever he wanted made him hungry for more. A quick fuck with most of their clothes on just wasn’t enough anymore.
He hadn’t seen Warrehn since then. Warrehn had mentioned that he would be busy with Eridan that day, and it was pretty clear that he wanted to keep his precious baby brother away from the pure evil that was Dalatteya and Samir.
It was almost amusing—or would have been amusing if Samir didn’t feel so frustrated. Although the concentration of the drug in his system had been gradually falling, he still needed to scratch the itch fairly frequently. Eight hours was pushing it.
Looking down at his communicator, he messaged Warrehn. Are you busy?
He counted to seventy-two before he received a response.
Working.
Samir scowled at the screen of his communicator. Can’t you take a break?
He regretted the message as soon as he sent it. It sounded kind of… desperate and needy. Which he obviously wasn’t. He was just frustrated. And he wanted to get off. He could jerk off, he supposed, but he didn’t really feel like it. He wanted a hand on his cock, but only if that hand was Warrehn’s. His large hand felt so amazing when Warrehn jerked him off as he fucked him.
A small noise left his mouth, and Samir flushed, hoping his mother hadn’t heard it.
Unfortunately, his mother missed nothing. A frown was marring her beautiful features. “You’re not even listening to me, Samir.”
His communicator chimed, and Samir barely resisted the urge to look at it. “Of course I’m listening, Mother,” he said. “I just got distracted.”
Her lips pursed, but thankfully, she didn’t question him further and rose to her feet gracefully. “I will arrange a meeting with the foreign mind specialist,” she said. “With any luck, they’ll be able to remove the memory blocks and traps in my mind and I’ll find out who did it.”
Brushing her telepathic presence against Samir’s in farewell, his mother glided out of the room.
Relieved to be alone, Samir dropped his gaze to his communicator and looked at Warrehn’s response.
I’d like a break, but I can’t exactly walk out on Councilor Hirosh. He is pissed enough as it is.
Samir caught his bottom lip between his teeth, hesitating. He shouldn’t have felt sympathy toward Warrehn for having to put up with the insufferable old man. His mother would be pleased to learn that Warrehn was failing to find common ground with their nobles, all of whom had their own petty problems and demands.
But he wanted to see Warrehn—because of the drug. One unsatisfying quickie a day just wasn’t enough.
Discarding his misgivings, Samir typed, Councilor Hirosh has a feud with Councilor Zhang. Just say something uncomplimentary about Zhang, and he’ll consider you his ally and will stop nagging you for no reason.
There wasn’t a reply for a long while.
Finally, his communicator chimed again. Thanks.
Samir found himself smiling. He could practically see the dark scowl on Warrehn’s face, how much it pained him to thank him for anything.
Did it hurt? he sent.
Warrehn didn’t reply.
Samir frowned, tapping on his knee in impatience. What an ass. Replying to messages was only polite.
At long last, his communicator chimed again.
Hirosh left. But I can’t see you now—Eri is here.
Samir let out an aggravated groan. Eridan had the worst timing.
Your brother is no longer three, he typed. He doesn’t need you to hold his hand all the time.
He’s sulking over Idhron, Warrehn responded. He needs me.
I need you more. Samir typed it, but thankfully he had enough presence of mind to erase it before he could send it. Of course he didn’t need Warrehn. He needed his cock. The fact that Warrehn was attached to it was of no import. There was basically no difference between Warrehn and a sex toy: both were just tools to satisfy him physically, nothing more.
So instead, Samir typed, I can come, and you can leave your brother for a little while?
It still seemed too desperate for his liking, but he couldn’t not offer it. He missed feeling Warrehn with his skin. It was such a maddening feeling, but he yearned for it, for the sensation of Warrehn’s firm, hard body against him, on top of him, inside of him, for his hands and mouth on him. He despised himself for needing it so viscerally, but that didn’t change anything: his blood boiled with that need.