Chapter 5 #2
“It is truth. It’s my truth.” His lips found mine, soft at first, tasting of mineral water and mountain air. Then with growing heat, growing need. “You’re overthinking again.”
“I always overthink.”
“I know,” he murmured against my mouth. “It’s oddly endearing, even when you’re being an idiot.”
“How dare you call a prince an idiot—”
He silenced me with another kiss, deeper this time, his body shifting over mine. The aches of the day transformed into something else entirely, a different kind of fire that had nothing to do with bruises or exhaustion or mountain baths.
His hands mapped familiar territory across my skin, each touch a promise that I was wanted—no, needed.
“No more thinking,” he commanded softly, and for once, I was happy to obey.
His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my head as the wet heat of his tongue slid from my chin to where my throat bobbed.
“Es, we can’t—”
His other hand found my stiffening cock and gripped.
All thoughts fled.
There was only feeling and sensation—and Esumi.
His mouth found mine again, his tongue no longer gentle or tender but hungry and desperate.
I felt his need.
It filled me.
It drove me.
My body responded, cock twitching, muscles tightening. Pain shot through me from the day’s practice, but I didn’t care. In that moment, Esumi’s touch was all that mattered.
“I love you, Akira Haru, Prince of the Empire,” he muttered between kisses. “You are my prince, my lord, my love. You will forever be mine.”
My mind thrilled at his words.
I knew them. Of course, I did. But hearing him whisper them into my mouth, against my tongue, filled my soul with wonder and hope like no sunrise ever could.
“Esumi—”
“Shut up and kiss me, you royal idiot.”
I barked a laugh into his mouth.
His head pulled back, a broad, toothy grin parting his lips.
“Gods, I hate you,” I said, planting both my palms onto his muscular chest.
“No, you don’t,” he replied, eyes glittering in the lamplight. “You love me with the force of a thousand suns. Just admit it and give yourself to me.”
I almost argued, almost teased back, but the way he saw me—saw into me—stilled my tongue.
“I do,” was all I could say.
His mouth smothered mine once more.
I kneaded his chest, loving the firmness of him, the feel of smooth skin against my palms.
He groaned, his hardness brushing mine, a thousand fireworks of pleasure flaring at the touch.
With a quick shove, he pushed me back, his head diving lower, biting one nipple, then the other. I nearly leaped off the pallet at the sharp sensation, but his weight pinned me down.
“Ow!”
He nipped again.
I felt his smile against my chest.
“Not fair,” I whined, reveling in how his tongue now swirled around the offended nipple, soothing and teasing and licking and—
“Gods, that feels good,” I crooned.
His head ducked lower, kissing my stomach, then my hip, then the other hip, before landing on the head of my cock.
“This is the sword I’ve wanted to work on all day,” he growled.
I chuckled. “Your bokken.”
“No bokken here. My gods-damned katana.”
“Too much talk. Not enough sparring.”
The sensation of him laughing as he took me into his mouth was odd but not unpleasant.
Then all thoughts of swords or bokken or sparring vanished. There was only Esumi, his mouth, and every flaming emotion I’d ever felt in my brief life blazing to life in my chest.
Up and down, his head moved, his wet lips slathering my skin with saliva, coating me, drenching me. He gripped my balls in his palm, tugged them down, forcing my cock to stand so erect, so taut, I wondered if it might slip free of my skin.
Teeth grazed about the sensitive head, just beneath the mushroom cap, sending fire up my spine.
“Esumi, damn it!”
His only answer was fingers pinching my already sore nipple.
I wanted to slap his hand away but couldn’t move. My cock was held captive between his lips, and nothing could ever make me pull back from that.
“Use my mouth,” he said as he gasped for air.
So I braced myself and pushed upward, driving myself deep into his throat.
He gagged, pulled back, then dove again, unwilling to stop.
I shoved in again.
This time he opened for me.
The whole of my length vanished, his hand gripping my balls so tight I saw stars.
But the pleasure mingled with pain was too much to sacrifice.
I thrust again and again and again.
“Gods, Es, I’m getting—”
“No, you aren’t,” he snarled, the sudden absence of his warmth leaving me feeling empty. Before I could think, he was straddling me, his frame towering over me.
I reached out and took his cock in my hand, stroking him, feeling him. He bobbed up and down, teasing my cock against his cheeks, letting it squeeze between them as he rocked.
“Is that what you want?” I asked.
His head rolled back, and he whispered toward the ceiling. “Fill me, Haru. Put yourself inside me and fill me, please.”
His tone pleaded.
It begged.
This man needed me, and I would forever give anything to make him whole.
I fumbled beneath the edge of the pallet to where we kept a small jar. One hand couldn’t open the lid, so I had to raise it before us.
His smile was immediate.
My pulse raced at the sight.
Fingers slick, I reached down and stroked him.
His whole body trembled.
“Oh, holy skies, that feels good.”
I stroked him again, thrilled at how his body tensed and eased.
Then, with my other hand, I reached between his legs and slipped a finger between his cheeks. He sat down, not giving me time to be gentle, forcing my finger inside him.
“Yes. Haru, gods yes.” He sank lower, my finger sliding in until it could go no further.
He lifted himself and then slid down again.
And again.
“Another. Give me another.”
So I did.
He winced but didn’t slow, driving me into him until two fingers filled him.
Again, he slid up and down, stretching, giving himself to my touch.
“I need more,” he begged. “Haru, please, I need all of you. Right now.”
My fingered popped free, and before I could move, his hand gripped my shaft, guiding me as he sat again. I’d barely had time to think before the tip of my cock slid inside him, and his eyes rolled back in pleasure.
“Oh, gods, you’re tight,” I said.
He pushed down, forcing me into him.
He wasn’t gentle as I would’ve been.
He shoved me in until my head struck some inner part of him that caused his body to jerk.
“Mother of light! Haru!”
Forcing himself up, I almost slipped free—but he slammed back down at the last second, shoving me in again . . . and again . . . and again.
Sweat glistened across his stomach and chest.
I reached up and gripped him, squeezed his arms and shoulders, yanked him down so I could kiss him as he rode me.
“Not enough,” he breathed.
I gripped his arms, hurled my weight, and flipped him onto his back. Magically, my cock stayed inside him as his legs flew up to my shoulders. I adjusted, balanced myself, then drove deep inside him with all the force I could muster.
“Haru!”Over and over, harder and harder.
Faster and faster.
Esumi gripped my sides, neither of us caring for bruises or pain.
He guided me into him, willed me to move, demanded everything I had to offer.
So I gave it to him.
I felt him stretch.
Let his grunts and groans drive me.
Dug my nails into his skin as sensations wracked my whole being.
I didn’t want to come, didn’t want the moment to end. I wanted to live inside Esumi, filling him with my body, my heart, and my soul.
But tension built.
Pleasure raged.
Release swelled.
When I knew I could hold back no longer, I gripped his shaft and stroked as fast and hard as I could.
Esumi cried out.
I shoved harder.
He clenched my arms.
And everything I could ever possess spilled into him, marking him as mine.
Forever mine.