Chapter 2 #2
Hawk moved his hands from where he’d clung to March’s shoulders, and down to his own trousers. They were loose enough at the front that he could reach inside without issue, but he stopped short at the waistband, panting for air.
“Go on,” March said, pressing their foreheads together as they gazed down at the tented shape in Hawk’s pants. “I want to see how you handle your own hard cock before I do.”
Hawk involuntarily shuddered as he followed the instruction. He pulled his waistband down enough to free his erection—deep purple at the tip, glistening damp with his want. He fisted a hand over it and stroked himself once, twice, before he released a quiet wordless plea, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Good boy,” said March.
Hawk’s plea was less quiet this time.
“You liked that?” asked March.
Hawk couldn’t lie—he tried to shake his head no, but Truth kept him trembling in place instead. He whispered, voice hoarse already, “Yeah.”
“You’d like me to tell you that you’re doing good?”
Hawk swallowed hard. Shook his head no this time, because he could. And then he said, peering through blond lashes at March’s handsome, sincere-looking face. “I liked…” He didn’t know how to say it, and he bit his lip, and breathed out in frustration.
March chuckled and closed a hand around Hawk’s on his cock. He guided him to continue stroking again. And once Hawk had a rhythm built up, March released his hand, and whispered against his ear, “It wasn’t the praise. It was me treating you like my own.”
Hawk’s responding moan was his loudest yet.
“Aren’t you sweet?” March kissed the side of Hawk’s slack mouth. “When you asked if I’d fuck you, it wasn’t just simple curiosity. You want me to fuck you?”
Truth compelled him to answer sincerely, but it didn’t compel him to answer as sincerely as he did. Hawk said, “Please.”
“If you come for me, I’ll do it. Can you spend your cum for me? Go on, sweet boy. You’re close, aren’t you?”
Hawk managed a nod, and met March’s eyes. He leaned in for another kiss, which March gave. And when March licked the inside of his mouth, Hawk’s eyelids fell closed, and his mind fell out of his head, and he came, spilling wet and sticky over his own fingers.
March let him keep his clothes on, as they discussed, but that meant Hawk sweated, overhot, against his tunic and pants, resting face-down on the now-damp mattress.
He breathed out against the fabric of the sheets as March continued to stroke three fingers deep, in and out of his hole.
He’d lost his mind; nothing but a wanting body, arching his back, hips working forward and back against the pleasant stretch.
His only thought, as March mounted him from behind, was that he couldn’t be an adame after all. He couldn’t let himself be fucked like this every day, or else that would be all he ever did. He moaned as March slid home, and then kissed the back of his ear. “Are you comfortable?” asked March.
“Hot,” whispered Hawk, sweat sliding from his hair, down his cheek. March leaned in to lick it from his face, and Hawk whimpered.
“I’ll fuck you fast, so you can cool off, and bathe, and get breakfast.”
Hawk moaned and said, “But it feels so good.”
“Yeah?” March shifted back enough to snap his hips back, and forward, one short, hard thrust, and released a groan of his own. “You do feel good, my sweet boy.”
Hawk’s fingers tightened into the sheets, twisting them. He didn’t imagine a scenario where he would come again, but that didn’t matter—this heady, all-consuming pleasure carried him into a place he rarely got to go. “Please,” he begged, but he didn’t know what for.
March held onto his clothes as he began to fuck him. There was little preamble to it; he began to move fast, then harder, and the slap-slap of where their bodies met was punctuated by a clipped, wordless cry.
Hawk only realized it came from himself a moment later. “Ah, ah, ah—”
March covered Hawk’s back, hugging arms around him, with one hand that guided his head to turn. He whispered into his ear. “Hawk. Listen.”
“Mm…”
March’s thrusts slowed, punching deep and hard, and he exhaled a pleased breath with every one. “Listen to me, sweet boy.”
Hawk swallowed through a thick feeling in his throat, but he managed to contain his voice enough to listen.
“You can ask for more than they’ll offer.” His mind, bleary and fucked out, couldn’t follow. March knew that, so he slowed his fucking even more—grinding his hips instead, moving only slightly in place. “You’re valuable. You’re worth a high salary; higher than most apprentices at the start.”
“But…” gasped Hawk.
“No but. You’re rare. You’ve a rare combination of features, and you don’t even realize it.
There are so many patrons that will want you—like this,” He ground harder, deeper, stroking a point within Hawk that had him seeing stars, “Or even as a companion. I am not meant to tell you such a thing; I work for Sutaire. But you should know. I want you to know. You’re special. ”
Hawk bit his bottom lip and nodded once.
“The hair you hide around your pretty purple cock,” he added, his second hand sliding down Hawk’s body, and into his pants. His fingers stroked the wet curls surrounding Hawk’s shaft. “It’s desirable to many.”
Hawk’s brows pinched close. He panted as he said, “But it’s…not…”
“It’s desirable to me,” he emphasized. He combed his nails against the pubic bone beneath his hand, “Will you let me see?”
Hawk trembled before he said, “If you want to, then…” He managed one slight, shy nod yes.
“Yes, please.” The world was a dazzling blur; a kaleidoscope of color and shapes and textures that surrounded Hawk as he was turned around, back flat on the mattress as his pants were pulled from his hips.
Both of March’s hands explored the soft blond curls that crowned his cock, which twitched in a concerted effort to participate.
Hawk shivered, the cool air of the room drying his sweat-damp skin. “Such a pretty boy.”
Hawk had never imagined a time where he’d lay beneath someone and have them speak such things; he never imagined it would happen with Truth in the air around them. “March, please,” he whispered.
“Yes, I know. You want me again, yes?”
“Please,” he begged.
March folded him in half, holding the back of each knee, as he slid his cock inside again. Hawk’s eyes rolled shut as he was fucked again—fast and hard like before. They carried on, and on, until finally—“I’m going to come,” said March. “Alright?”
Hawk swallowed hard before he said, “Uh huh.” He squinted his eyes open, peering up at March pumping, now-sweaty; Hawk gazed through blurred vision at March’s deep concentration, his narrowed eyes, his kiss-swollen lips. Hawk asked, “Did I do alright?”
March moaned, eyes falling shut, and he shuddered as he came. Breathless, he gasped out, “Yeah, sweet boy. You did good.”
At some point, the candle had gone out, and neither knew when, because they were luname, and the difference in light from the candle had been negligible. The darkness of the blue-curtained room looked as bright as day. Especially when they’d been distracted with the best sex Hawk had ever had.
Hawk looked over at March’s smooth, hairless, gray-skinned body, subtly shining with sweat. March stepped out of the rumpled bed and examined the spent candlestick, silent, but his shoulders were tense, muscles tight.
“Does that mean I failed?” asked Hawk. He’d worn himself out so entirely that the idea of it didn’t bother him. Maybe he was only meant to have had sex with March and nothing more; perhaps some elven gods wanted him to pursue work elsewhere, and had divined for the candle to go out.
But then March said, “No.” He looked over his shoulder at Hawk.
“I will pass you. That is—you’ve passed.
But when we talk about this trial, this morning together…
” He approached the bed again, and sat on the edge, body warm against Hawk’s thigh.
“You will tell no one what we’ve done. Speak nothing of the candle.
Speak nothing of the…” He paused, brows furrowing.
He gathered himself and said, “Say as little as possible about it all. Alright?”
Hawk said, “Alright.”
March ran a finger across Hawk’s jaw. “There’s a bath through that door. Hot water, fragrances; whatever you’d like. And then we can go have breakfast.”
After bathing in the attached bathroom, in a large clawfoot tub, Hawk dressed in a spare satin robe provided by Sutaire, and sat in the bed that March managed to tidy up in his brief absence. He stared down at the second bag of coin he was given. “March?”
“Hm?” March put away the boxes of things they hadn’t used—phalluses, cuffs, links, rope, an assortment of oils aside from lube—and spun around to face Hawk.
“You meant what you said. I can ask for a higher salary?” Truth meant he hadn’t lied, of course, but some small part of Hawk wondered if his mind had been broken by the fucking. Maybe he’d hallucinated it. All of it. Especially the part where March called him pretty and baby.
March blinked at him a few times. And then laughed, a rosy color pooling upon his gray skin, across each cheek. “Why, I don’t know what you mean. I said no such thing.” And then he swept forward, leaning across the mattress, and he kissed Hawk’s temple. He whispered, “Yes.”
Hawk turned to capture his lips before he could pull away. March startled, but then leaned into it, allowing Hawk to frame his face with both hands, and lick between his lips. Satisfied, Hawk pulled away, and shifted out of the bed.
March blinked a few times before he said, “What was that for?”
Truth had already been dispelled; Hawk didn’t have to answer sincerely, and he wasn’t going to. I did it because I wanted to, because I like the way your mouth feels against mine.
It wasn’t as if they were lovers. March was an adame; a master of the craft he may choose to teach Hawk.
“I don’t know. Nothing.” Hawk huffed, popping his back. “Breakfast?”