Chapter Ten
William
“Please,” William whimpered as Iver’s wicked fingertip danced across his helpless, exposed frenulum. “I can’t come like this. I need your mouth, your hand, anything. Please, let me come.”
Iver’s impish grin didn’t bode well. “No.”
William’s insides were as taut as a bow, muscles ready to release and contract endlessly. All he needed was friction, and he’d explode into orgasm.
His cock palpitated in time with his heartbeat. As Iver continued his fiendish tease, the world shrank to nothing but the tiny place he relentlessly caressed.
William was so raw there, so desperately in need of touch. Iver’s fingertip provided too much for him to lose interest and too little to climax. There’d be no orgasm like this. Was this retribution for the way William had forced Iver to come the night before?
“Goddammit, Iver, use your hand!” William snarled when begging didn’t get him results.
Iver arched an eyebrow. “Is that how you talk to your king?”
The growl William was about to let loose got stuck in his throat when Iver circled his thumb and forefinger around his base, exerting pressure. It killed all chances of climax.
“You vicious bastard,” William ground out.
Iver pressed harder, his fingertip ceaselessly circling that sensitive fold of skin. “Do you want me to add more obstacles to your release?”
William’s heart thundered in his chest. He needed to come; he’d have a heart attack if he didn’t. Not wanting to aggravate Iver further, he lowered his eyes in deference. “No.”
Iver traced his frenulum, and everything inside William constricted. His cock pulsated in Iver’s unforgiving hold.
“What can I do for you to allow me to come?” William asked quietly. He’d offer his firstborn child if he hadn’t already promised all his children in their marriage contract. “Tell me what will sway you, and I’ll do it. I promise. No matter what it is, I’ll do it if you let me come.”
“Oh, you don’t understand,” Iver said. “The only thing I want is you, desperate to unleash. I rather enjoy this.” His fingertip tickled William.
The faerie oil made it worse, intensifying each touch.
“I had your public surrender the other day. Now, I will have your private one. Last time, you came on nothing but my cock. Now, this ghost of a caress will have to suffice. It’s all you need to honor me with your orgasm. ”
William swallowed his disagreement—it wouldn’t change Iver’s mind. Instead, he asked, “So you do want me to come?”
“Oh, I want you to come so hard you go mad with it. But I also want you to submit. I want you to come because you’re in my presence, because I’m your husband, not because someone is stroking your cock hard and fast.”
So he’d have to make do with whatever Iver provided. That delicate tease was devastatingly arousing. He just needed… more. And Iver, that bastard, was determined to give him nothing. The escalating tension in his groin wasn’t going to help him either.
Iver’s fingertip delivered irresistible strokes, and William heeded their call. He relaxed his inner muscles, allowing the sublime sensations to wash over him like the warm water lapping at his thighs.
A spark ignited inside him, and he focused on that and the growing need in his deprived cock.
His slit glistened wet with arousal. His glans had swollen to the point that the stretched skin there had turned shiny.
The pressure of Iver’s fingers around his base had his cockhead going from angry red to furious purple.
Every vein along his shaft pulsed. He twitched with unspilled lust.
Each brush brought him closer to release, but no matter how high his arousal spiraled, orgasm remained out of reach.
“I c-can’t,” William gasped, fighting to suck air into his lungs. “I can’t fucking come when you’re gripping me, when you’re giving me nothing but a fingertip. Please, Iver. Please.”
Iver had the audacity to give him a long, pensive look.
“You need to surrender.” He wet his finger with fresh faerie oil.
When he resumed his caress, the heat on his frenulum nearly robbed William of his senses.
He moaned when under Iver’s gentle touch, the oil pleasured him with a surge of tingles.
Iver slowed his ministrations, reducing the friction William needed so badly.
“P-Please…” William begged.
“It’s not up to you how you get to come,” Iver said calmly. “You’re going to climax with nothing but this.” He gave William a faint little brush, causing his cock to ooze a sluice of precum. “Oh, you’re so ripe for an orgasm. Spill your seed, William.”
“Can’t…”
“I’m not asking, William.” Iver’s grip on his root turned iron.
William’s cock quivered against Iver’s fingertip. He throbbed with need. If only Iver let go of his base, if only he jerked him to completion.
Iver stared into his eyes. “When you married me, you vowed to honor and obey me. So honor me. Obey me. Be a good, obedient husband and come for me.” He brought his mouth level with William’s cockhead and opened.
His tongue glistened wet as it slid out.
If William came now, his seed would paint it white.
With his face near William’s crotch and his tongue presented, Iver looked obscene. Like an expensive whore.
William’s body responded faster than his mind. Pleasure crashed into him. His balls, tight and full against his taint, shuddered. His insides narrowed; his cock jolted. He couldn’t have stopped his body from heeding Iver’s command if he’d wanted to.
With a strangled cry, William erupted into orgasm.
His cock and hole twitched as cum exploded from his crown, shooting into Iver’s waiting mouth.
The next spurt hit his pink tongue. That was the last William saw before his vision dropped away.
He screamed as glorious, violent convulsions rampaged through his loins, pumping the seed from him.
He’d never come this hard. No skilled concubine sucking his cock had ever brought him to such a mind-shattering climax.
He came in Iver’s honor, on his command, and it felt so damn right.
He wouldn’t come for anyone else ever again.
“Iver!” William screamed as he emptied. With one last, powerful spurt, he finished.
His vision returned as Iver retracted his cum-drenched tongue and swallowed. He swallowed. William’s spent cock gave a twitch. Thanks to the faerie oil, his arousal, despite his orgasm, was not wearing off.
The wet strands of Iver’s long, soft hair slid over William as he moved up to kiss him.
William opened willingly, groaning as Iver’s tongue rolled over his, sharing the taste of his release with him, a surprisingly sweet flavor. Was it all those faerie treats? William smiled, reveling in the bliss of Iver’s body against him.
“Your cum tastes so good,” Iver muttered into the kiss.
William licked over Iver’s bottom lip. “Does it?”
“I want more.”
A thrill went through William. More? He’d happily give him more.
Iver reached for the vial, and with an evil grin, he poured faerie oil onto his fingers. Oh, damn. He was going to tease William in the same slow, tantalizing manner, forcing his body to orgasm with devastatingly little stimulation.
But just as William was going to beg for more, Iver slid between his legs and stroked a slick digit over William’s entrance. Heat and tingles enveloped that small, delicate area, drawing a choked whimper from William.
Iver wanted back inside? William had enjoyed being invaded at their wedding, but it was still new to him.
Iver circled his pucker, spreading the oil into every furrow. It ignited William. He bit his lips to hold in the depraved sounds rising in his throat.
Iver rounded him once more, then nudged William’s entrance. “Push out.”
William obeyed, his rim widening, and Iver breached him. As the oil touched the inside of his ring, William lost control. He moaned, unrestrained and drawn-out. His voice echoed in the grotto, the cavern walls multiplying the sounds of his wanton desire.
“So needy.” Iver pushed inside to the first knuckle, setting off another groan. “Yes, that’s it. Let me hear how much you enjoy this. Be loud. With any luck, they’re going to hear you up in the castle.”
They wouldn’t—the grotto was set deep in the hill—but not for a lack of trying. William’s blissed-out shouts reverberated through the cave, his own pleasure assaulting his ears.
Precum welled in his slit, more oozing from him as Iver inserted his finger all the way.
God, it felt great to have something lodged inside him.
He squeezed Iver, his inner walls closing around the oil-slick digit.
He gasped as need sizzled, the faerie oil working its magic to bring him to the brink of despair.
All he could think about was his next orgasm, the clenching of his hole and the shuddering tremors that’d wreck him.
He couldn’t wait for Iver to crook his finger and press against that eager spot begging for attention.
Iver didn’t. He leaned in and dragged his flattened tongue over William’s glans, collecting the precum, which he swallowed with verve. William melted under the caress, his tip finally receiving attention.
“I could lick you all night,” Iver said.
“Please do.”
Iver swirled his tongue across William’s cockhead, flicking his slit just as another drop emerged. Then he returned to slow, broad strokes, each one licking up the welling precum.
William’s arousal built, each wet slide against his crown feeding the hunger coiling in his loins.
Like a kitten lapping at milk, Iver greedily rolled his tongue over his glans, refusing to waste a drop.
He looked at William from beneath his lowered lashes, the picture of depravity.
That and his devotion to drinking every sluice drooling down had William’s core tightening with desire.
Those blue eyes never left his, staring into his soul as Iver consumed his essence.