Ghali's Story

Another day passed before Azim would so much as speak to him again. Ghali waited, constantly fearful of another beating, another bout of rage. But Azim held fast to his word, and did not touch Ghali again in anger.

The second day after the beating was spent in transit - they left before sunrise and traveled through the day until evening. Ghali was forbidden from leaving Al-Aera's sight.

On the third day after his beating, Azim brought him a gift. Relations between them had softened again, primarily due to Ghali's utter inability to envision any hint of an escape for himself in the future. He wasn't sure what had delayed Azim's claiming of him until now, but was certain his good fortune wouldn't last. He was right.

"Open it."
Ghali hovered his hands over the package wrapped in rags, feeling rather uncertain about it. Azim prodded him gently. "Go on."
Ghali took apart the ribbon that held it first, releasing the wrapping cloth after and revealing the package underneath. It only took a moment for comprehension to reach him, and he turned red and looked away from both the gift and Azim.
"It's sheets."
Brilliantly white, clean sheets, patterned intricately at the edges.
"Yes." the sheikh watched his bride's reaction carefully. "Wedding sheets."
Ghali folded the package back up and took a deep breath.
"Azim." was all he said, but the weakness in his voice and the unspoken plea made Al-Aera sighed heavily.
"Ghali." he replied, gently smoothing strands of unveiled hair back behind the carrier's ear. His touch lingered on Ghali's skin, tracing a cheek and jaw. Ghali trembled now, he could see that much.
"Azim, I - "
"It is time, Ghali." It pained him to rush his bride, but he had to be firm. "It's been too long already."
Ghali drew in a short breath and nodded.
"OK." he said, clenching and unclenching his hands on the package in his lap. "OK."
Azim stood and kissed the top of his carrier's head.
"Put the sheets on the bed."

~:~

It mortified Ghali to consider having to unclothe for his husband. Since he'd changed, not even Mahir had seen him like this; he had become fiercely protective of his modesty. True, Azim had seen him twice before - at the infamous river bath, and when he had been whipped after his return. But the circumstances had been different then.

Azim left him for a while, to let him bathe and prepare the bed, but he made certain Ghali was aware that guards waited just outside the tent. There would be no bolting again.

Ghali made up the bed first, fingering the delicate embroidery at the edges of the sheets. His sheets. Wedding linens were a gift to the bride. Azim had selected a fine set, and Ghali wondered where he'd gotten them, and how long ago.

Bed made, Ghali bathed and prayed for a while, then wrapped himself loosely in a spare cloth to wait for his husband. He didn't wait long. The fires outside had burned low in the camp and the rustling of footsteps and low voices of commands being given were audible outside the tent door. Ghali tensed on the bed and waited.

Eventually, Al-Aera made his way through the tent flaps, appearing again as a half-lit shadow against the fluttering cloth walls. He stopped short where he was, and looked over at Ghali, who pulled the cloth tighter around himself and shied away.
"Beautiful." Azim whispered, reverently, and Ghali flushed. The sheikh approached the bed - quickly, but hesitantly, not wanting to frighten his young mate. Ghali watched him approach with wide, worried eyes. Arriving by the bedside, Azim began to undress himself, beginning with his keffiyah. Ghali looked on in shy fascination - he hadn't seen Azim in his nudity since they'd been together, and had only the vaguest idea of his body's form. He was not disappointed now - Azim seemed to grow progressively more handsome as more of his body was revealed. First, the broad shoulders and strong chest; now, the waist trimmed by desert living; then the thighs, powerful and defined. Ghali didn't have time to admire much, however, before Azim was settling beside him, tugging insistently at the cloth which covered his carrier.
"Show me." he pressed, kissing Ghali's cheek chastely. "Don't hide."
Ghali glanced at him - the gentleness in his tone made him seem almost unfamiliar. Was this the same man who had beaten him days before? Ghali relented in short order - there was no point in hiding, after all, from the man who would inevitably become his husband. There was no point, ever, in hiding from the inevitable. His hands seemed to disagree with him, and he had some trouble letting go of the cloth, but Azim kissed him again, sweetly, and Ghali calmed a little down.

Azim began slowly, and made evident that he planned to take his time with Ghali. Kisses were soft and pleading - never demanding, never too intrusive. Touches were gentle and came with warning - Azim's hands hovered for long moments before laying across some part of Ghali or the other. Explorations were done with only the most explicit of permission. Eventually, however, even Azim's patience began to fray, and he kissed Ghali more firmly.
"Darling?" he asked, in that curious accent of his. "May I?" he accented his question with a gentle probing of Ghali's opening, and the carrier bit down on his lip to contain his anxiety and nodded.
"Gently?" he asked, placing one hand on Azim's bare chest. "Please?"
Azim smiled, and the heaviness of his features - the fatigue, the stress, the demands of this way of life - disappeared momentarily, leaving behind just the handsome visage of Azim, the young king, the man who had been thrust rather abruptly into life. He leaned forward and kissed Ghali.
"Of course. Nothing else."
Ghali nodded and tried to brace himself, but Azim distracted him momentarily with another kiss, so that the penetration caught him off guard and he hissed out a curse that made the sheikh laugh.
"Such a mouth on a virgin!" he teased. Ghali narrowed his eyes and tried to clench his fists to take his mind off some of the discomfort. Azim was not overly-well endowed, but he was large nonetheless and he was Ghali's first in a tender place only recently formed. Ghali continued to flinch and bite his lip for a little while longer, and Azim, again evoking all his self-control, stayed as still as possible.

After a few minutes, he felt inspired enough to push things further.
"Alright, my love?"
Ghali exhaled a shaky breath and nodded, and Azim gave him a rewarding kiss. Deciding that nothing was gained by waiting any longer, he thrust shallowly into his carrier and received a quiet moan in response. Taking this as a good sign, Azim pressed in again, going farther this time, and Ghali gave a little gasp but did not resist. Azim smiled and kissed him at the top of his brow, tangling one hand in Ghali's long hair that was now spread out beneath them.

It was difficult for them to find a rhythm at first, with Ghali balking at his sore spots and Azim out of practice and overwhelmed by the pleasure of finally being inside of his carrier. Eventually, they settled into a pattern of yield and seize; Azim braced himself above his carrier and Ghali held tight to his husband's arms as he lifted to meet his thrusts. It was over sooner than either of them had expected, and with less fanfare - Azim groaned, mumbled something under his breath, and came unceremoniously inside of his wife. He glanced self-consciously up at Ghali, who just gave a little smile and ran his hands over his husband's shoulders and kept his legs wrapped around his husband's back, savoring in the closeness. Eventually, Azim kissed him and retreated, leaving Ghali with the abrupt sensation of withdrawal.

Afterwards, Ghali turned over onto his belly, just to think about things, and Azim left the bed, retrieved some kind of salve, and rubbed it into the carrier's sore back for a while. After a few moments, he moved his hands to Ghali's neck and stroked it, then spoke.
"Come. Get up."
Ghali tensed up and pulled the sheet closer around himself. Azim kissed him on an exposed shoulder.
"Come. I have to take the sheets."
Ghali sighed and scooted to the far edge of the bed so that Azim could remove the linens from beneath him. He laid on the bare bed as his husband sat up, still nude, behind him and began to gather the corners of the cloth.

Ghali sat up, too, perched on the edge of the bed and watched numbly as Azim carefully folded the sheet, making sure to preserve the blood within. Ghali felt weak, suddenly, watching his husband perform this simple task. He felt helpless, and dizzy. Confused. Was this what he had wanted? No. Anders was what he had wanted. Anders with his gentle hands and his slow smile and his constant presence in Ghali's life. But perhaps on some level, Ghali had wanted this, too. He had begged to be a carrier, absolutely asked for it, even knowing that this was a risk. Knowing that for many who changed here, in his homeland, this was their fate.

Perhaps he had only wanted certain parts of this. Something different from Anders. Something stronger. Anders was untraditional. He was too soft, too gentle, too easy to survive in a place like this. The desert was a difficult place to live. And yet Ghali had never been able to bring himself to leave it. Wafra was his home. The sand was in his blood.

Azim had it too, Ghali could tell. The hint of desert-dwelling ancestry, the whisper of a distant tribe. Azim was strong, in the traditional way, the only way that mattered in the desert. He had fierceness in him, and the determination yielded from generations of families born under the scorching red sun. He did things for Ghali that Anders could not. Azim had come for Ghali like a king demanding his due; he had demanded and taken. He had desired Ghali, not for youthful dalliance, as Anders had, but for more permanent things - the creation of a life, a family.

Azim had gotten up by then and crossed the room to the door of the tent, carrying his bundle laid tenderly across his arms. He parted the curtain just slightly - not enough to expose Ghali to view - and passed the bundle through.
"Make sure this gets to his father."

~:~