Son of the Sands

Rook laughed as Noor dropped him down on the bedding in their tent. “If it’s too hot to travel or work, don’t you think it’s too hot for any exertion, savage?” He reached out as Noor began to work on the fastening of his robe, grabbed Noor by the front of his robes, and yanked him down. Noor fell on top of him, barely bracing himself on his hands in time to avoid colliding painfully.

Noor bit his throat, chuckling. “Do I need to get the silk ropes, heathen? And it is only too hot to be outside. The Lady herself knows better than to try and tell men what to do within the confines of their tents.” He backed away enough to flip Rook over, snickering at his protesting yelps, then grabbed his wrists and bound them behind his back.

He pushed hand up beneath Rook’s robes, pushing fabric out of the way as he teased Rook’s thighs, slid fingers along the crack of his ass, and slowly pushed one finger inside Rook. “It will never be too hot for me to fuck you, heathen, I promise.”

Rook squirmed, unable to move, unable to see. Even breathing was proving to be difficult, between the heat of the day and the heat that only Noor could create. He shivered again as Noor simply shoved his robes up to bunch around his waist, fingers vanishing only to return a moment later slick, eager as one quickly became two and Rook could only moan impatiently.

Though he wore lighter robes while resting in the tent, still they stuck to his skin with sweat. More sweat soaked the blindfold around his eyes, stinging his eyes. The greater part of Rook’s attention, however, was for the hands that wrapped tightly around his hips, the cock pushing into him, the slap of skin against skin as Noor rode him hard.

His shoulders pulled but the ache only made everything more acute, made him mewl and beg and bite his lip against a scream as he came so hard he couldn’t breathe for what felt like an eternity. Not that keeping quiet meant the rest of the camp didn’t know what they were doing, but it was habit. He panted as Noor pulled out of him and undid his bindings. Rook sat up, pulling off the blindfold, and smiled down at Noor.

Reaching up, Noor carded a hand through Rook’s damp, messy curls, then tugged him down for a long, slow kiss that promised they were far from done. They would not be doing anything until it began to grow dark and the heat lessened, and it was the closest they’d been to alone for a long time. Rook would be lucky if he had enough energy to work later that night, but he had no complaints. “Still think it is too hot, heathen?”

“Yes,” Rook said, and stripped off his robes, throwing them aside. He straddled Noor, tossing his hair and smirking. “But I have never known that to stop a son of the Sands when he wants something.”

Noor laughed. “I do not know that I can keep calling you heathen. You belong to the Sands now as well as any of us.”

Rook flushed, suddenly at a loss for words—there was no higher compliment that any foreigner in the Great Desert could be given. He had not expected to hear it, for all he felt truly at home there as he never had elsewhere. “I—do you really—”

“If you ask me if I really mean that, Rook, I will bind you and then beat you,” Noor replied, mouth curving in amusement that belied the threat. “You are a savage, made if not born, and Ghost has long considered you one of our own. Surely you know these things?”

“I hadn’t really thought about,” Rook said. “I am happy so long as I belong to you.”

Noor smiled and pulled him down. “You will always belong to me, even when the Sands vanish.” He abruptly moved, rolling them, pinning Rook to the bedding again. “Now, let us see just how savage you have become, hmm?”

Rook spread his legs, groaning as Noor pushed back inside him unable to believe they were both hard again already. “I can take whatever you can give, savage.”

“This is certainly true,” Noor replied, kissing him. “Always one step ahead of me, and I would have it no other way.”

Rook smiled at him, and stole another kiss, and then there was no more talking, only heat.