Milan didn’t even know how that arrangement would work. Lasair was a deity, and creatures like him should have innate pride within their bones. However, after all those centuries, he finally had a living bride—one that didn’t become a doll. That living bride was heavily favored by him, yes, but when it came to reaping the returns, someone else would receive it.
The bride pulled Owen’s head a bit to lock their lips together again. He used his naked body to push the other back slowly, just enough for his feet to leave the clothes on the floor. The fragrance of the beauty soap was quick to mix with the air, suffocating Owen as he moved to kiss more of Milan’s neck.
“Owen, no one’s going to magically show up to fetch me here…” Milan chuckled as he slid his hands down Owen’s chest, feeling the firmness he liked on men. “I can freely pray to Lasair here…”
