MORTAL LOVE - complete MxM paranormal romance

8

They walked through the moonlit streets in silence, close enough for their shoulders to brush on occasion. Close enough for Hiro to catch the glances Rama threw his way and his slow smile when their eyes met.

A cluster of dragonflies had taken up residence in his chest. Fluttering with every heated gaze until it became hard to breathe, on occasion slicing his insides with the unexpected sharpness of his desire. He craved the man walking next to him, no matter how many reasons there were to keep his distance.

Rama led the way into the warehouse they were staying at, lighting an oil lamp. The dragonflies fluttered as he watched the man's movements. Hiro's breath hitched at the thought of spending what remained of the night close to Rama. He wasn't sure how to act, what he was supposed to—

"Fight me," Rama said, his voice a little hoarse.

Hiro's head snapped up. None of the scenarios playing through his mind had featured this. "Wh—"

Rama unsheathed his sword and rested the tip against the muscles of Hiro's bare stomach. "Fight me."

Hiro tried to decipher the expression on the man's face in the flickering light. "Is this about proving your—"

Rama smiled. "Fight me, Hiro of the Arav. Fight me until I succeed in having you surrender. Until you're on your knees before me."

His blood turned molten, and his eyes nearly fell shut at the thought of dropping to his knees. It took everything in him not to give in right now. He had a feeling the warrior wanted more of a challenge. He swallowed hard and unsheathed the sword at his side.

"On the roof," Rama said.

Even the balmy night air felt cool against his heated skin when they got to the moonlit roof. Rama took off his scabbard, then his shoulderguards, and all Hiro could do was stare as more of the man's muscle and skin was revealed to him.

His hands started trembling when Rama looked over at him and gifted him with a knowing smile. All Hiro could think about was the heat of those lips claiming him, the silk of that skin against his.

Rama picked up his sword and fell into position, watching him, waiting.

He felt the heat of that gaze like a brand on his skin. His body felt slow, lazy with molten desire, when he took position too. Like a fledgling, he had to hold onto his sword with both hands to counteract the trembling.

Rama lunged, sword high, and Hiro blocked. The man stayed right there, metal against metal, facing Hiro. His smile turned feral when he turned enough to free his sword and hack at Hiro's side.

This time he barely had time to block before Rama whirled and came up behind him. Hiro's trembling limbs didn't obey fast enough. He'd only half-turned by the time Rama's blade laid against his ribs, a metal caress that would have meant the end of any real fight.

With a smile, Rama resumed his position on the other side of the roof.

Hiro tried to catch his breath for what came next. This wasn't a fight. This was pure temptation. The kind only this warrior, his warrior could pull off.

"Rama," he pleaded, knowing he didn't have the strength to resist. Despite all his reasons, he wasn't strong enough.

At the sound of his name, the warrior cursed and dropped his sword.

They locked eyes, and Rama took a step forward. Hiro couldn't breathe, couldn't think about anything but the man who was closing in on him.

This was...

Rama was a man. Mortal. He shouldn't—

The caress of strong fingers along his bare chest had him falter. By the time Rama had covered the distance from his collarbone to his sternum, Hiro didn't have a coherent thought left.

"Give up already," the man murmured.

Hiro shivered as the fingertipped caress followed a trail from his navel farther down. He let Rama peel his trembling fingers off the hilt of his sword.

The clang as it fell to the rooftop barely registered when Rama pulled him in. Stomach to stomach, eye to eye, Hiro found himself breathless, waiting.

The kiss that Rama claimed took everything Hiro had to give. Including his fucking soul.

When those talented fingers continued their exploration past the waistband of his dhoti, he stilled. His hips shifted forward, and Rama's hand closed around his cock.

"Fuck!"

Rama smiled against his lips. "Surrender," he whispered. "You belong to be me."

Hiro shuddered when the man tightened his hold.

"Say it."

He didn't know where to put his hands, whether to push the man away so the sweet torture would end, or to pull him closer as he gave in to the inevitable.

"Swear to the gods that you are mine," Rama commanded, voice low.

Hiro stopped breathing. He closed his eyes, and the fingers let go. The keening sound that escaped him took him by surprise.

"Look at me," Rama said. "Look at me, and tell me that you're mine. Or walk away."

Hiro's eyes flew open, locked onto the man's face. He fell to his knees. "Yours." It hurt to get the word past the tightness of his throat.

He wasn't sure what he was to Rama, how he'd survive the inevitable end, but walking away was not an option.

Rama crouched next to him. "Swear to the gods."

Locking eyes with the man, Hiro laid his hand over his soul, right underneath his sternum. "To Fate, to Chaos, to all the gods you believe in. I—" He took a deep breath. "I'm yours to fucking do with as you please."

Within moments, he was on his back, his vision filled with Rama's muscular body, the strong lines of his face, and that breathtaking smile. The man leaned down and kissed him, hard, a claim if Hiro had ever felt one.

He shuddered, dug his fingers in Rama's shoulder blades, and pulled him in.

Yours.

Yours for as long as you live.

He'd take every moment he could get.