...Han’s sudden submission didn’t just confuse Itamun. It alarmed him. The man had tried to get him killed and now here he was, on his knees. He circled around the Hittite, looking him over as he thought. This wasn’t the submission of a household slave. It wasn’t that Han feared him and so was giving into his will. It was an active choice. Submission as a gift. An intimacy.

“You’ll accept anything I demand, hmm? Does that mean you’ll let me kiss you now?”

“If that is what you want.”

“Then stand up and kiss me.”

His captive rose to his feet and stepped forward. Some of Itamun’s alarm lessened as he saw the stiffness in Han’s shoulders and the slight hesitation at leaning forward. He hadn’t suddenly turned into another person, then. He’d relaxed his stubbornness on this, but it wasn’t gone entirely.

Rather than make it easy for Han and initiate it himself, Itamun loosely clasped his own hands behind his back as he upturned his face for the kiss, closing his eyes. Moments dragged on as he waited, before he finally felt Han’s lips brush against his. It was a brief, soft kiss, like the whisper of a warm breeze across bare skin. Before Han could pull away, Itamun wrapped his arms around him and drew him closer. One hand buried in the dark, silken hair of the Hittite as Itamun deepened the kiss. His lips parted against Han’s as his tongue forced entry into the other man’s mouth. It wasn’t simply exploration, but plunder.

His cock hardened as he felt Han give in to the kiss and respond. The hand that wasn’t in the Hittite’s hair slid down to grip the other man’s ass, squeezing it through his kilt and tugging his body closer to Itamun’s. Like always, touching Han awakened a raw hunger that Itamun had never experienced with anyone else.

Itamun pushed Han toward the bed with his body, then broke the kiss before he shoved the other man down onto the mattress. After climbing on top of him, Itamun peppered Han’s cheeks and throat with kisses while his hands rubbed over his captive’s chest, then started tugging at the jerkin Han still wore.

“Undress yourself,” he ordered huskily. Drawing back farther, Itamun kneeled on the edge of the bed to watch as Han pulled off the jerkin, then his kilt. His body was just as mouthwatering as it had been before, his cock jutting out as a straight, thick temptation.

“Now undress me,” said Itamun.

Han moved down the bed, his hands going to Itamun’s belt. Itamun forced himself to hold still while Han undressed him, wanting to savor this rather than hurry it along by helping. The other man didn’t tease as he pulled off Itamun’s tunic, then the short kilt and shenti he wore under it, but the fact that Han was doing this at all was more than enough excitement for him.

When he was done, Han leaned into Itamun’s body, his eyes closed, his head ducked down to rest his cheek against Itamun’s shoulder. Itamun drew him closer as he leaned forward and nuzzled at the other man’s ear, breathing against it. One of his hands slid down to rub and squeeze Han’s ass again.” You forgot something,” Itamun whispered.

Han’s eyelids fluttered open and he straightened up slightly. “What—”

Itamun pulled himself free from his captive to climb off the bed and stand at the foot of it, gesturing to his sandals. He couldn’t help but smirk. Things had moved so quickly since he’d stepped into his tent and he’d been so eager for the Hittite that he’d forgotten he was still wearing them.