Chapter Seven #2
It was half the truth. Iver had been tense when William had stretched him in preparation for the plug.
It’d been a long time since another man had touched him there.
Now that William had fingered and plugged him and it hadn’t triggered any memories he would rather leave forgotten, Iver felt confident and relaxed.
He told himself that the barely restrained bond and that he and William were irrevocably connected had nothing to do with it.
It was time to play.
William’s teeth came down on Iver’s bottom lip and gently pulled at it. He sank a hand into Iver’s hair, fisting it, exerting force.
“You’re going to rough me up?” Iver asked when William let go of his lip.
“What do you think?” William’s hold on his hair tightened.
Iver gave an amused huff, intrigued. “Good thing I don’t bruise easily.”
William grabbed him, making a show of his strength, and tossed him onto the bed. Iver laughed as he bounced on the mattress and landed among soft sheets and fluffy pillows. Oh, giving William the fruit had been one of his best decisions. It fostered mouth-watering confidence in his husband.
Iver’s hard cock rested against his lower abdomen, the tip wet with arousal.
Absent-mindedly, he trailed his fingertips over his length.
William stepped to the foot of the bed, dark eyes glaring at Iver.
He had half a mind to give his cock a few good, long strokes to see William’s reaction, but there was no need to goad him.
Iver let go and folded his arms behind his head, stretching on the bed in invitation.
William ripped at his clothing, almost tearing the precious fabric. He disposed of it in a careless pile on the floor.
“Be violent,” Iver said and the corners of his lips lifted.
William’s skin was gold and shadow in the flickering candlelight. In a heartbeat, he was on the bed, on top of Iver, gripping his chin. “You want me violent?”
“I want you to rip into me.”
“Dark fae pleasures go both ways, don’t they?”
“Oh yes.”
During the evening, William had controlled his indignation over losing the fight and being taken.
He’d been well-mannered and polite, indulging in friendly chats with the fae guests—who were the same fae who’d seen him on his knees, subdued and mounted.
He’d endured stoically. Now he wanted retribution, and Iver was going to let him have it.
“You’re impossible,” William growled. “You’re driving me mad. I should tie you up. Maybe that would teach you.”
Iver shrugged with his elbows, indicating his hands were laced behind his head. “By all means, consider me at your mercy.”
William let go of Iver and yanked a drawer of his nightstand open, retrieving a vial of faerie oil. Iver, knowing what was coming, drew his legs up and spread them in invitation. If anything, that seemed to chafe William more, his lips twisting.
Well, that was his problem. Iver was going to lie back and enjoy whatever William had in store for him.
William uncorked the oil and drizzled it over his fingers, the familiar floral scent tickling Iver’s nostrils. One hand on Iver’s knee, spreading him wide, William placed two slick digits at Iver’s entrance.
And shoved inside.
The invasion was thick and rough, parting Iver by force, conquering his hole. Heat spread through his insides, making him keenly aware of every line and ridge of William’s fingers. The warmth was followed by a wave of tingles, and Iver moaned softly as they danced across his inner walls.
He bit his lip, regarding William from under lowered lids. He liked this rougher version of him. William’s digits were enormous in the tight confines of his hole. His fluttering walls constricted. The stretch of the plug had long faded, his insides retracted to their usual narrowness.
“Damn,” William muttered, desire drenching his tone, “you’re still tight.
” Iver squeezed him reflexively, provoking a pleased hum.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were the snuggest virgin.
” He twisted, withdrawing by an inch only to sink back in, Iver molding around him.
“There must be no greater joy than spilling inside this cock trap.”
“You want to own that hole, don’t you?” Iver had no problem spreading for him. Getting taken was a good way to relax, even if he hadn’t done it in a long time. Now that he was married, he might as well indulge in the pleasures he’d forsaken himself for all those years.
“There are many ways to own a hole,” William said, a spark gleaming in his eyes. He thrust with vigor. “This is one of my favorites. Don’t think I didn’t learn anything from playing with all those concubines.”
Oh, William was up to no good. With a smile, Iver leaned back, relaxing. A jolt went through him when William curled his fingers and hit his prostate.
William’s self-consciousness had disappeared. The ballroom and the bedroom were his arena. Here, he was at home. William wasn’t a man for the study or the library. He was a man for entertainment and the bed, and Iver was going to enjoy his greatest strengths.
“Do your worst,” Iver said. “Wreck me.”
William traced his fingertips over his prostate, grinning when he provoked a full-body jerk.
“So responsive,” William marveled. “I should tease you until you lose your mind.” In the low light, shadows darkening his face, he looked like a predator.
“You think you can do that?”
William didn’t answer. He circled Iver’s gland, tormenting him with the possibility of touch but never giving it to him. Until he did, swirling across Iver’s prostate, making him drop a breathy keen.
Iver panted, his erection twitching in the air, precum gathering in his slit. With such exquisite pleasure bestowed on his core, he didn’t know how long he could last. He better not come straight away—this was their wedding night, and Iver loathed to disappoint.
William regarded him intently, his gaze traveling across him as if cataloging the tells of his desire.
He pressed his fingertips into Iver’s love spot, eyes sparking when the pressure on his gland produced a bulging drop of lust on his crown.
There was no stopping the involuntary squeeze Iver graced William’s digits with.
“You keep clenching,” William said. He nudged him again, eliciting the same response.
“You keep touching the spot that makes me clench.”
“This one?” William asked innocently, probing him.
Pleasure shot through Iver, and he bucked, dislodging the fat bead on his glans. It dripped onto his stomach in a long, clear thread.
“Yes, that one,” Iver said dryly.
He’d always been receptive to having that small knot of nerves stroked and teased, and William knew what he was doing. If he wanted Iver on his knees, begging for more, he could get him there.
William kept his touch light, his fingertips whispering across Iver’s sweet spot.
Part of Iver wanted him to press down on his gland, forcing his body to unravel, but another part enjoyed the agonizing delight of William’s featherlight caresses.
No matter how subtle his touch was, it did foster the urgency building in Iver’s core.
Iver had no control over his bodily reactions, his inner muscles answering William’s every brush. His balls, heavy with need, were pulling taut and drawing toward his taint. Liquid welled in his slit, forming a shiny pearl of desire that glinted in the candlelight.
His body was preparing for orgasm, but he would have to delay that final surrender if he wanted to prove his endurance.
The faerie oil would allow him to come over and over, but a man’s prowess in the bedroom was measured in how long he could withstand the all-powerful lure of that first, devastatingly intense climax—and how quickly he could induce it in his partner.
Iver shook with the lazy circles William drew around his gland.
His will to resist was waning, the urge to unload growing by the minute.
He tightened his inner muscles. If he locked them, his hole would be unable to explode into contractions.
But as he narrowed, he inevitably closed around William’s digits, pulling them firmly against his prostate, eliciting a moan from him.
“So eager,” William said and stroked Iver’s special place.
Tremors rattled Iver; his insides undulated. He was close. The plug had been a tease, but William’s fingers were purposeful. They beat and thumped him until he went cross-eyed and his cock drooled incessantly, streaks of precum decorating his sweat-slick stomach.
Iver’s balls, plump and full, settled at his base, his cock and hole twitching in time with William’s strokes.
He groaned like a whore, failing to hang onto the shreds of his self-control.
He was going to come regardless of how hard he tried to hold it in.
William’s ministrations felt too good, were designed to take him over the brink.
Everything inside him tightened, condensing to a point of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He clenched in a last effort to keep his body from falling over the edge so soon, but it was useless. William was a virtuoso, and Iver wanted nothing more than to come.
William pulled out. In the silence of the room, Iver’s panting was obscenely loud. He stared at William, who had the nerve to beam at him.
“Would you like me to continue?” William asked, regarding his oil-slick fingers, the digits still in a position that gave away what they’d been pressing down on.
“You’re insufferable,” Iver ground out, his body buzzing with the need to come. He’d been close. So damn close. William had known and yanked the climax out of his reach.
“You won’t get what you want by insulting me.”
William returned his fingertips to Iver’s stretched entrance and ran them across it. Iver couldn’t help opening and closing in response. His eager hole kissed William’s digits, begging them to come back inside and finish what they’d started.