Prince-Consort Mehmer leaned against the doorway, watching his husband kiss his daughter good night.

In all the years of their marriage, he’d never seen Jamil look so… soft. Granted, the child was ridiculously cute, but still. Jamil held the child like she was the most precious thing in the world, inhaling her scent deeply, as if she was something more than a tiny person that could only eat, shit, and sleep.

“She looks like you,” Mehmer said.

Jamil’s back stiffened. Kissing Tmynne on the forehead, he put her into her crib and murmured something to her nurse.

“Yes, everyone says so,” Jamil said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He all but pushed Mehmer out of the child’s room and closed the door.

Mehmer raised his eyebrows. Not for the first time, he got the impression that Jamil didn’t like it when he got close to his daughter—which was pretty damn weird, considering that Mehmer had been magnanimous enough to tell his husband that he would raise the kid as his own. He had told Jamil that he understood that Jamil had needed an heir and had no choice but to use another man’s gic material. He had expected… not gratitude, exactly, but… something other than this strange possessiveness.

One might think Jamil didn’t want him to be her father.

It wasn’t the only thing strange about Jamil’s behavior.

He seemed oddly distant. Even now, Jamil was striding away toward his bedroom as if he hoped Mehmer wouldn’t be able to keep up with him. It was starting to piss him off, to be honest. Mehmer glared at Jamil’s back. Against his will, his gaze traveled down, to Jamil’s round, perfect ass, and his cock twitched as he remembered digging his fingers into it as Jamil fucked him that last night before his… death.

Dammit, he was so horny. He had the most handsome man on the pl as a husband and he was sexually frustrated as hell, because said husband had shown no interest whatsoever in pounding him into the mattress. Hell, Jamil hadn’t even kissed him for real since his return, treating him as if he had a life-threatening injury. Mehmer had tried to be patient, he really had—he knew how uptight Jamil could be—but a man had limits, okay?

Mehmer followed Jamil into his bedroom, determined to get to the bottom of it—and hopefully finally get fucked.

“Are you avoiding me, Jamil?”

Jamil’s shoulders tensed up. Slowly, he turned around. Mehmer licked his lips, taking in his strikingly handsome features. Jamil somehow managed to be eous without looking feminine, his firm jaw contrasting with his plush, sensual lips and wavy brown locks.

“Of course not,” Jamil said, averting his gaze.

Mehmer scoffed. “Right. I was declaredpletely healthy three days ago, but you still haven’te to my bedroom.”

Jamil’s jaw clenched slightly. He tugged his cravat off. “I have been swarmed with work.”

Mehmer rolled his eyes. “You always have been. It never stopped you from fucking me.”

The old Jamil would have laughed and told him to cease using such vulgar language.

This Jamil just pursed his lips, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. He still wouldn’t look at Mehmer.

Mehmer sighed. Jamil had always had a bit of a stick in his ass; it was probably natural that he’d gotten even more uptight without him.

“Is this about our lack of bond?” Mehmer said. “I mean, I get that it’s a little awkward now—we feel a bit like strangers, right? But the awkwardness won’t go away if we don’t make an effort to move past it.” And by ‘move past it’ he obviously meant fucking the awkwardness out of Mehmer’s ass.

“It probably doesn’t help that our bond is gone,” Jamil said, turning away to unbutton his jacket. “A bond makes intimacy easier.”

Mehmer’s eyebrows furrowed. If Jamil thought about sex in terms of easier, there really was something wrong. They’d always had a good sex life. Granted, Jamil had never seemed as enthusiastic about sex as he was, but he’d never denied him a thorough fucking when Mehmer was in the mood.

“What’s wrong, Jamil?” Mehmer said with a frown, his horniness otten.

Jamil sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I have something to tell you.” He was silent for a while, his back still to Mehmer. “When you were presumed dead, I had—I had a… liaison with another man.”

Mehmer blinked. He would have been less surprised if Jamil told him he was rejecting his crown prince duties. He felt a little hurt too, though he knew it was irrational. He had been presumed dead. He could hardly expect his widower to be a monk for the rest of his life.

“Why are you telling me this? Are you feeling guilty about it?” Knowing Jamil, he was probably beating himself up over it. Mehmer shook his head with a wry smile. Walking over to Jamil, he took his shoulder and forced him to look at him. “Is that why you don’t want to touch me? Because you feel guilty?”

Jamil’s eyes were full of contradictory emotions. “Of course I feel guilty,” he said with a laugh. “But it’s not just that.”

Mehmer searched his face.

He let out an uncertain chuckle. “What, you liked his ass so much better that you can’t get it up for mine?”

Jamil’s expression became pinched. “I never… I didn’t fuck him, Mehmer. He fucked me.”

Oh.

Mehmer stared at Jamil, absolutely stunned. He’d always assumed Jamil liked being on top, that he was fine with Mehmer pretty much always being the one to take his cock rather than vice versa. Fuck, how had he not noticed that? Except he had. He’d always known Jamil wasn’t as enthusiastic about sex as him, but he’d assumed Jamil just had a low sex drive. It hadn’t even urred to Mehmer that he was being selfish in bed.

“We can switch, I guess,” Mehmer said, his forehead wrinkling. Jamil was certainly beautiful enough to inspire the desire to fuck him in any man—any man but Mehmer. Mehmer blamed it on his throwback genes: he was naturally submissive when it came to sex and had no inclination to fuck and take. The few times he’d fucked Jamil in all the years of their marriage had been… not bad, exactly… but definitely weird. Still, if Jamil actually preferred being fucked too, it would be extremely selfish of Mehmer not to find apromise that made everyone happy. “I could fuck you,” he said, firmer, feigning enthusiasm. “Sometimes.”

Jamil let out a laugh, shaking his head. “I know how much you don’t like it, so it isn’t exactly arousing to force you into it. And it isn’t—it isn’t just about sex, Mehmer. I need—” He cut himself off, looking away.

Mehmer frowned again, studying him.

His mouth fell open. “You got attached.”

Jamil flinched. His throat working, he looked down. “It’ll pass. You’re my husband. You’re… very dear for me. I’ll et him. I will. I promise.”

Mehmer wondered if Jamil realized how unconvincing he sounded. Now that Mehmer looked at him—really looked at him—he could see the dark circles under Jamil’s eyes, the air of desperation around him. Despite being tall and muscular, Jamil had never looked so small. Fragile. It seemed as though he was holding himself together only by sheer force of will and might break at the slightest provocation.

So Mehmer pushed away his own hurt and wounded pride and tried to be a good friend. They had been friends before they were husbands, best friends since before they could talk. This was nothing they couldn’t ovee. “Hey,” he said softly. e here.” He pulled Jamil’s tense body into a hug and stroked his rigid back until Jamil relaxed slightly in his arms. The hug was still a little awkward and strange. He wasn’t used to hugging Jamil and giving himfort—it was normally the other way around, with Mehmer being the more emotional, sensitive one. It had always seemed natural to him: Jamil was the eldest brother, the Crown Prince, and had always been much better at being the strong, responsible one than Mehmer was. But at that moment, he could feel that the man he held in his arms wasn’t capable of being his rock; he was worn thin at the edges and needed something Mehmer was ill-equipped to provide him with.

“Who is he?” Mehmer said, unsure why he was even asking. He didn’t know if he wanted to punch the guy in the face for turning Jamil into someone Mehmer didn’t recognize or demand him to fix Jamil.

“No one you will ever meet.”

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