Chapter Fourteen #2
That was an understatement. Heat was rolling through him in waves. They washed all the blood in his body south, bringing his cock to its full size, leaving it angrily pulsing against the restrictive fabric of his breeches.
Iver palmed him through his clothing, and William arched, chasing pressure as Iver pulled away.
“I’ve got a feeling we’re going to get a nice, big sample from you,” Iver said, sounding pleased.
William whimpered. His body took over, and he wrapped his limbs around Iver, pulling him close.
He hugged Iver tightly and humped him. A spark of pleasure shot through him, and he shuddered.
He couldn’t be close enough to Iver. His hands were fists in Iver’s shirt, his ankles crossing under his ass.
He didn’t know whether it was the faerie wine, but something in William yearned to unite with Iver in every possible way. He craved to be one with him.
They were doing this because William had agreed to help produce an heir for Iver, but that didn’t feel like half the reason.
With Iver in his arms, William had trouble separating what was genuine and what wasn’t.
Iver kissed the sensitive side of his neck, and William quaked against him.
Warmth filled his chest, and he knew that that wasn’t the wine.
He’d grown to like Iver. More than that. And he reveled in making love with him.
Desperate to be closer, William brushed Iver’s shirt off his shoulders and worked his breeches open.
“So eager,” Iver said. He dropped his shirt and undressed William, who wasn’t making things easier by trying to shove Iver’s breeches down his legs.
Finally, they’d shed their clothing, and William pulled Iver on top of him.
He sighed when Iver’s weight dropped onto him, pressing him into the divan, Iver’s shaft long and hard against him.
Iver’s skin was silk under his fingertips, which he ran up and down his back and along his sides, never getting enough. “You feel so good.”
Iver hummed. “Once we have a child, we’ll be family. Our bloodlines will forever be entwined.”
“My House merging with yours.”
Having children would complete the agreement they’d struck in Winterbourne. William should’ve been apprehensive about giving up his line’s right to the throne of Vale, but it was only contentment that filled him. He was where he wanted to be.
Iver brushed a strand of hair off William’s forehead, dipped down and kissed him. Slowly. Gently. Butterflies erupted in William’s stomach as he melted under Iver, returning the kiss in the same careful, reverent fashion.
Iver took his hand and interlaced their fingers. “My family will be your family.”
“As mine will be yours.” William threaded his fingers into the softness of Iver’s mane.
“I’m glad to have you.”
“Yes.” William pecked Iver’s mouth. “And how lucky you are to have the king of Vale under you, at your beck and call.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” William said and grinned. “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
Iver kissed him once more, his tongue sliding into William’s mouth, taking possession of him. Owning him. William could do nothing but press against Iver and rock into him.
“Turn around,” Iver said, easing off.
William managed not to wince at the loss. He wanted Iver on him, around him, in him, need heightened by faerie wine. Obediently, he rolled over, resting his head on his arms. The position trapped his cock between the velvet upholstery and his abdomen, his heated flesh pulsing against his skin.
Iver palmed his cheeks, then firmed his grip and parted them, exposing William’s pucker to the cool air. Iver’s weight shifted as he lowered, and then his face was between William’s cheeks, his breath ghosting over his bare entrance. “Don’t come until I have the jar ready for you.”
Iver dove into his crease and tongued his opening. William arched, eyes wide, jaw slack. He gasped, moaning when Iver repeated the motion, his tongue dragging across his hole.
William’s concubines and lovers had sucked him off, but nobody had ever put their mouth there. Iver’s tongue on his rim was a boon, that powerful muscle slick and lissome, licking him every which way.
William groaned and twitched under the attack, his guardian muscle opening and closing to Iver’s rhythm. When he widened, Iver wormed inside. William constricted, and a choked sound broke out of him. His hole fluttered against Iver, undulating at the slickness filling him.
Iver twisted, stretching him. He burrowed deeper.
The orgasm rushed onto William from out of nowhere.
His balls drew high; his cock drooled precum onto the divan.
William strained his insides, fighting to contain the surge of ecstasy threatening to carry him away.
It was a losing battle. Pleasure crested, William hanging onto control by a thread, a slew of grunts rushing out of him.
Iver withdrew, and William sagged as the oncoming climax ebbed off before it could hit him.
Iver caressed his cheek. “You got very tight just now.”
“I almost came.”
Iver gave him an affectionate squeeze. “Get on all fours.”
William obeyed while Iver picked up the black jar from the side table. He placed the shallow container under William’s hard cock. “You’ll have to aim when you do come,” Iver said, giving his buttocks a playful slap. “Keep your eyes on your cock and the jar. I don’t want you to waste a drop.”
“I won’t,” William said, warmth spreading across his cheeks.
He let his head drop, the sight of his precum-wet erection greeting him. Iver knelt behind his spread legs, one hand on William’s hip, the other sifting through his pile of clothes until his fingers closed around something in the jumble of garments. He retrieved a small vial of faerie oil.
The cork popped off with a loud, wet sound, and a fresh, floral scent permeated the winter air. Smacking noises announced Iver slicking his fingers and cock.
An oiled fingertip brushed William’s entrance, and he bore down, easing Iver’s entry.
He breached him, his digit wriggling deep.
The faerie oil warmed and prickled William, readying him.
Two, three little shoves, and Iver added a second finger and then a third, stretching him as far as his tight ring allowed.
Iver filled him so good. William bit his bottom lip, eyes closing as Iver rocked back and forth, widening him.
Despite his constant thrusts, Iver avoided his prostate, driving William to the brink of madness.
“Fuck, Iver,” William panted, “please touch me.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get to your special place soon.”
“Please.”
In and out Iver’s fingers went, never curving to touch the spot William craved them at. Then, he pulled out, and William whined in protest. His objections died in his throat when a fat, slick cockhead bumped his entrance.
“Oh God, yes,” William moaned, pushing out.
Iver clasped his hips and asserted pressure. His bulbous crown shoved inside, William crying out at the intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain. The faerie oil alleviated the ache, leaving nothing but glorious fullness as Iver’s glans speared him open.
Inching inside, Iver fed him his cock. As he progressed, his thick and heavy shaft dragged across William’s prostate, sending a wild tremor through him.
“Here we are,” Iver said, pulled back and thrust, hitting William’s sweet spot.
William jolted, a surprised keen tearing out of him as an ecstatic shock bolted through him.
Iver knew where to hit him, and he did so with unfailing precision, driving his cockhead into William’s prostate.
Each thump beat William closer to orgasm, the constant jostling making it difficult to maintain his position above the small jar.
It was a shallow dish with a wide mouth, but aiming was near impossible with those rocking motions.
At the next shove, William involuntarily clamped down on Iver.
“Fuck!” Iver cursed breathlessly. “You feel too good. It’ll be a real test not to come the moment you do.”
Iver had a point. He, too, had to come in his jar, not buried in William. And while William loved coming on Iver’s hard cock, he didn’t need to have him inside him to climax. Strictly speaking.
“It’s fine,” William said. “You can pull out and just… stroke me till I come.”
Iver ran a hand up William’s back, the simple touch sending a thrill through him. “No.”
“No?” What did he mean, no?
“It’s important that you come properly, that you have a full, deep orgasm.”
“So that we get a big sample.”
Iver stilled. “No.” He hesitated. “I mean, yes, that too. But you’re my husband, and I want you to derive maximum pleasure from every climax.” He splayed his fingers and ran them through the thick curls at the back of William’s head.
That sounded very noble, but… “Why?”
“Because I… because I want you to want me.” Iver seemed to press out these words against great resistance as if part of him would’ve preferred to leave them unsaid.
“Every time you feel the slightest twinge of arousal, I want you to think of me. I want you to come to me. I want you to demand my cock, demand that I sate you. When we negotiated the terms of our marriage, I insisted you take no other lovers. It’s up to me to meet your needs.
I want to give you no reason to think about others.
” Iver gyrated his hips for emphasis, sliding his cockhead over William’s gland.
William gasped, his hole clenching on Iver. “You’re the jealous kind.”
“I want a happy, satisfied husband. For that, I’ll grit my teeth and hold it together while you fall apart on my cock.”
“It’s just one orgasm, it doesn’t matter if—”
“It matters to me,” Iver said with a finality that had the hairs on William’s arms stand up.
Iver resumed his attack on William’s prostate, rubbing his cock against it until William was whimpering incoherently.