Given leave to explore Hossa's naked body was an opportunity Radu had long desired. Already at the Sultan's side with the ravishingly beautiful Tursun, Radu watched with nervous delight as the tall, slender eunuch disrobed. "Come here," Radu beckoned, but there was a playfulness to the order that seemed to relax Hossa's tensed, muscled shoulders. In the half-light of the candles, Radu could nearly make out the more curious scars of his anatomy.
Without hesitation, Hossa crossed the room, approaching the Sultan's bed; Radu smiled openly and the slave smiled back with genuine affection. At once, he dropped to his knees, but as Mehmed was already caught up in the honeyed skin of Tursun, Radu leaned over the edge of the bed and wordlessly extended his hand to his friend. Hossa rose with such grace that Radu's heart leapt into his throat. Of course, like Radu, he had been trained to serve; knowing when to play coy and when to be forward, how to circumnavigate boundaries that otherwise remained unchallenged, except in the most private of chambers.
Adept Hossa, naked, scarred, lovely Hossa, leaned over him and preemptively kissed him, another testament to his skill. The lips were warm, full, and as soft as silk. Radu raised his hands to the man's beardless face, drawing the bottom lip down as his fingers caressed Hossa's cheeks, his tongue seeking the heat of his lover's mouth. He had been fearful of this moment, of the possibility that he might desire no man but Mehmed. Relief sent a warm pulse between his thighs, winding its way around his other limbs before settling low in his belly.
Encircling Hossa's neck, he knelt on the high bed and pressed against the other, letting Hossa's hands trail up and down his back as their kiss deepened. Hossa cupped the seductive curves of the prince's buttocks, his fingertips glancing over the most sensitive areas.
The throaty sound Radu made was enough to disrupt Mehmed from Tursun's amorous teasing. The sultan chuckled softly when he saw what had aroused his vassal. Before Radu could shake free from wave of bliss traveling up his spine, Mehmed extracted himself from Tursun's attentions, satisfying a whim by grasping one of Hossa's arms and adroitly fixing a kiss on Radu's hip as the eunuch trembled. "I should have known it would take his hand on your ass to rouse your heat," he laughed. "But it does defeat the point of this whole excersize. You are supposed to be fucking him, remember?"
Radu looked down at the Sultan's dusky face, hovering somewhere near his thigh. Releasing Hossa's arm, Mehmed stroked Radu's right buttock. Giggling, he slapped the shapely mound with the palm of his hand. The sting caught him off guard and he fell forward into Hossa. Hossa laughed, stumbling backward on impact, but clutching him closer, passionate, his eyes locked on the Prince's. Mehmed appeared amused by the ardent play of his two loyal followers, and retreated back to Tursun's side.
Still aroused, but distracted, Radu at last succumbed to his curiosity. Lowering his eyes from Hossa's, he traced his fingers over the other's collarbone, reveling in the texture of the smooth, ruddy skin. His hands traveled the length of his lover's torso, feeling each rib as it slid under his fingers, stopping as his hands came to rest on the splay of his hips, the velvet drape of his skin resting like a veil over the bones. Bending at the waist, he planted a slow, wet kiss on the other's navel, then sat back on his hauches to admire the rest of the slave's body.
Up close, Radu saw that only an inch or two of the other man's penis remained. He'd felt it brush against his belly in their love play, but now, innocently, Radu stared at the strange appendage with a mix of fear and awe. Hossa seemed to expect this reaction; reaching out, he grasped Radu's hand and placed two of his fingertips at the center of the scar. Radu flinched.
It was nothing like the smooth, even skin of the rest of his body. Rather, the skin bunched inward over the lump of flesh. A nub of silver peeked out of the center. Radu touched it and watched Hossa flinch, not in pain, but out of embarrassment. "How do you take a piss," Radu asked inquisitively.
"I take it out."
"Does it hurt?"
Hossa nodded. "Not so much now, though. And only if I leave it out for too long."
Radu stroked his cheek, admiring the wound. Poor, sweet Hossa. "Monsters," he whispered, tasting the disdain as he spit out the word. Turks did not do this. No Muslim would castrate a living creature. He recalled what Hossa told him earlier of his life before the harem: tales of slavers and pirates, his own father no better, and the capture of his small coastal village in Bosnia. Never once had he discussed the terms of his agonies or the gruesome specifics of his castration.
"It's not so bad as some of the others."
Radu tilted his head. "Still."
"I am glad I am here. I am very happy." He looked as if it were true. Of course, it was his pleased smile and not the rapture of his body that gave Radu that reassurance.
On his back in the Sultan's bed, Radu straddled Hossa in the luxurious linen. Dreamlike, he smiled, then bent over between Hossa's legs to lick the eunuch's hairless crotch. "Don't waste your time, Radu," Mehmed said, reaching to lightly shove Radu's shoulder. Radu's fingers traced along the edge of the scar below the shaft that barred Hossa from this pleasure.
"That's too bad," Radu said, feeling a little dejected.
Hossa sighed lovingly. "I would like it if I could taste you," he offered.
