Marcelo, a rare and naïve young prince of matriarchal Sheburat, shuffled sleepy cobwebs around in his brain but remained unmoving. A warm body shifted lazily beneath him as if the owner of said body was also awakening.
Inexplicable.
The ambient sounds surrounding him were unfamiliar, as were the scents filtering into his barely-awake brain. The captivating, musky scent of the man—he was definitely a man—almost overpowered the milder odors of the unfamiliar bedding and room in general.
Marcelo pushed all thoughts about the oddly pleasurable sensations coursing through him in response to the man’s body pressing against his own to the back of his whirling mind. Naked. The man was naked. They both were.
Marcelo breathed in a forcibly steady breath that he hoped emulated that of a sleeping
