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Aught that Can Be Named

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The first time Csethiro introduced him to her phallic device, Maia had been exceptionally glad for the silken curtains around the bed, so his nohecharei couldn’t see what Csethiro referred to when she said softly, “I was wondering if thou’st’d like to try something new?”

He’d gabbled something incoherent, staring at the leather straps and carved wooden… anatomy, face burning to the tips of his ears. His wife was blushing too, expression somewhere between hopeful and defiant.

“Just think about it,” she’d said, pecking him on the cheek. He proceeded to think of nothing else for the next two days. The third time he asked Csevet to repeat himself while they reviewed correspondence over breakfast, Csevet had said, “Are you quite alright, Serenity?” and Maia had wished to melt into the floor with embarrassment.

Their first experiment with the toy was awkward and strange-feeling and so startlingly arousing that Maia had finished before they properly got it in him. But they found that the lethargy after climax made penetration easier, and Csethiro was able to take him to pleasure a second time with the toy. Sitting on the hard chairs in the Chorazhas had been an uncomfortable undertaking the next day, but the more often they did it, the more accustomed he became to it, until it was a regular part of their bed play, especially during the times of the month when Csethiro did not want to be penetrated herself.

On one particularly balmy night in late spring, with the bed curtains undulating in the breeze from an open window, Csethiro had Maia face down on the bed, whimpering in time with her thrusts.

Although he was naturally reticent, and shy of making noise in bed, too aware of his nohecharei listening, this particular act made him vocal. Csethiro liked to hear him talk, and would murmur encouragements to him. “Is it good? Tell me. Dost thou like it?”

“Good,” he choked, “Feels good. I… I love feeling thee inside me.” He’d had practice with phrases like that by now but they still made him feel impossibly dirty and aroused at once. It was a heady kind of freedom to let himself say whatever came to the tip of his tongue, when every other waking minute of the day, the emperor had to carefully guard his words.

Csethiro was a vision, wearing the toy; the leather straps stark against her milky skin, the carved cock rampant between her soft thighs. He loved her, and wanted her every way she’d care to have him, but sometimes, face down in the tumbled pillows of their bed, with the toy moving inside him, making his nerves sing and his cock leak onto the silk sheets, it was easy to imagine that it was… someone else. Pale hair, luminous skin, long fingers gripping his hips tighter than they ever gripped a pen… “Yes, please,” he gasped, insensible. “More, yes , there, right there. Csevet .” He didn’t even realize what name he’d spoken until he felt Csethiro’s strokes falter uncharacteristically, and he marshaled the messy chaos of his brain to replay the last few moments.

He froze, fingers curling on the bedspread in horror at himself and was about to start babbling apologies when Csethiro pressed a hand against the small of his back, holding him down, and thrust into him hard, precisely against that spot that never failed to undo him.

He choked on his own breath. His face was so hot that the silk sheets felt cool against his cheek, but Csethiro hadn't stopped, hadn't shouted or accused him. She just pounded into him, hard and merciless, holding him down on the bed. His cock which had flagged with mortification stiffened again at the stimulus. Confusion and shame and arousal all tangled hot in his gut. Csethiro leaned down over him, changing the angle of penetration and he muffled his moans in the pillows.

Mouth close to his ear, she murmured, “Serenity,” in a low, rough, masculine tone, and Maia’s whole body tensed. He climaxed with a noise almost like a scream, cock spurting onto the sheets, clenching down around - for a moment he let the thought fill his mind - around Csevet’s cock.

He collapsed face down on top of the wet patch of his own seed, and when his head finally began to clear a wave of shame swamped him so suddenly he was almost nauseous.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, rolling onto his side to look at Csethiro. His wife was sitting back on her heels, hair in stunning disarray, flushed a pleasant pink from her cheeks down across her chest. The phallus, wet with oil, gleamed between her legs. Maia could hardly look at it. “Csethiro, I’m so sorry, I didn’t me… I don’t… I didn’t…”

She raised a hand and he halted. “I’m not offended.”

“Thou art… not?” Maia said cautiously.

“No.” She ran a hand up his thigh to his hip, stroking the tender skin inside his hipbone with her thumb. “It would be foolish of me to think that an empress should possess all her emperor's attentions.” He eyes flashed playfully at him. “Especially when he spends the better part of eighteen hours a day with his secretary.”

Maia flushed again. “We have not… he and I have not…”

“I know. I know thou hast not been unfaithful.” In the darkness he could not quite discern her expression, only the glow of her pale cheeks.

He swallowed, uncertain. “I would not want to make thee unhappy."

Reaching up, she stroked his hair back from his face. "Makest me very happy, Maia. It would not trouble me if thou wert to allow others to make thee happy as well."

“Even if…” His voice dried up and he had to start again. They were speaking low enough, Maia hoped, that Cala, standing by the window, wouldn’t be able to follow the conversation. “Even if it were a man?”

“Even then.” For the first time she looked away, avoiding his gaze. “Why dost thou think I own such a toy?”

Maia considered for a moment, and then gaped at her. “With other women?” Such a thing had not been in Setheris’ lexicon of insults against marnei, but of course it was simply part and parcel of realizing that women could do whatever men could do. That led to some extremely distracting thoughts of Csethiro entwined with a woman who bore a passing resemblance to Min Vechin, engaging in any number of the pleasures Csethiro had taught Maia to give her. His spent cock twitched a little against his thigh, and he felt his face warm.

He forced himself to focus. His wife had offered him a great deal of trust in disclosing such a thing. “Is that… your preference?” he asked softly.

She shrugged, unbuckling the straps of the toy and wriggling out of it. “Before I met thee I did not think there was a single man who was not intolerably arrogant, narrow-minded and selfish. But I do not prefer thee less than… anyone else.” Stretching out beside him, she tucked herself against his side, comforting and familiar. “Hast thou a preference?”

“I don’t know. I have never had… a chance to explore. But…” Was he ever going to stop blushing? “Knowst I want thee.”

“I know.” Her breath was against the hollow of his throat, her tone amused.  “Thou art not such a skilled actor.”

They both dissolved into laughter at that, and feeling warm and giddy and sated, Maia curled his arm around her and let himself relax into sleep.