When Keenan's lover, Naro, reveals the deep, dark secret of his past, Keenan must decide how strong their love really is. But Keenan has a secret of his own—one that's right up Naro's alley.
Naro yawned and stretched, languishing in the warmth of the bed and the memory of last night. His first night with Keenan. And things had gone so well! He'd been terrified of revealing the secret of his past, but if anyone had deserved to know—if he'd wanted anyone in the world to know—it had been Keenan. Keenan hadn't turned from him, as he'd feared. He rolled over onto his stomach and gazed out the window. Keenan had apparently opened it before he'd left for his duties this morning; a light, crisp breeze ruffled the curtains and the scent of the flowers in the garden wafted in.
Just beyond the fence that bordered their land, Naro could see the birds flying on their way to their winter homes, and two horses out for a romp around the neighbors' grounds. He could hear the steeds' happy whinnies and snorts as they ran after each other, pawing the ground and shaking their heads, their manes flaring out around them. Naro climbed lazily from bed and stretched again, standing on his toes, arms reaching out above his head, the chilly air raising bumps on his naked flesh. He turned to head into the washroom, but something caught his attention.
A plainly wrapped box sat on the chair in the corner, his name written on it in Keenan's handwriting. Keenan had left him a gift? How very thoughtful! Naro hurried across the room, feeling a little childish for such an eager response, but he did love presents! He plucked the package up, lowered himself into the plush chair, and ripped the outer wrapping off, digging into the box.
Naro frowned as his hands encountered something soft and frilly, but the frown quickly turned to a gasp of wonder and a large, excited grin. He held up a long sleeved dress made of shimmering forest green satin, embellished with delicate velvet roses, and trimmed at its collar and cuffs with white lace. Tucked into it was a note also written in Keenan's handwriting. You never know unless you try.
Naro stood and carried the dress into the washroom, to the floor length mirror that hung on the wall beside the pedestal sink. He held it up to himself, gasping at his reflection, and the swell of pride and happiness that soared through him. Eyes tearing up, he hung the dress on a hook by the door, keeping watch on it—though he wasn't sure why, it wasn't like anyone was going to steal it—as he drew himself a bath.
He washed quickly, barely able to contain his nervous excitement, not wanting to delay the moment of truth any longer. Naro stepped from the tub and dried himself off, then moved to stand in front of the dress. He took a long, deep breath and reached for it. There were no buttons or other fasteners, and he was glad for that, for he wasn't sure how he'd get them closed without help anyhow. He pulled the dress on over his head, eyes closing at the shock of sheer pleasure that met him as the soft, silky material slid along his skin, leaving a trail of tingles.
Naro fluffed his hair, straightened the dress's tight-fitting bodice—Keenan had gauged his size perfectly—and stepped over to the mirror. The air left his chest in a wheeze as his muscles constricted with joy and he began to cry in earnest. He'd never felt so right, so complete. So beautiful. "Oh…my…"
To be continued...