Chapter Fourteen #4
“You’re close,” Iver said in his ear, “so snug around my cock. You’ll come so hard when your body finally lets go.”
William stared at the scene between his legs, his desperately leaking and twitching cock in Iver’s hand, the tip aimed at the open jar. The tender humiliation of being made to come this way heated William’s cheeks. He loved it, loved the control Iver wielded over him.
William’s hole constricted further, trapping Iver’s flared head against his eager bundle of nerves.
Arousal mounted, his focus narrowing to the point where their bodies most intimately connected.
The small place sizzled with lechery. Every passing second escalated the tension gathering in his hole.
What had started as a little ball of lust expanded into an all-encompassing need to orgasm.
William knew then that he’d not only be able to come like this, he’d have no choice but to climax.
“Come for me,” Iver said, and William obeyed.
A gasping shout broke out of him. He clamped down on Iver’s dick and erupted into contractions. His cock surged in Iver’s sure grip and hurled a long, white rope of cum into the jar. Iver grunted, and his teeth sank into William’s neck as he fought to contain his climax.
William convulsed all the harder for it, emptying into the dish, the constant strain on his gland sending him into bouts of release. He filled the jar, Iver cooing as William cramped deliciously, producing more of that milky-white liquid.
“You’re doing so well,” Iver whispered in his ear. “Keep coming for me.”
William did. Every part of his groin contracted as he gave Iver his seed, moaning through his orgasm. He finished with a hoarse cry, his legs giving out.
Once more, Iver caught him, setting the jar aside before gathering him in both arms. He kissed the spot where surely a bite mark was blooming. “You came like a fountain.” Iver sounded pleased.
“Now you,” William said, though it took another minute for his sense of balance to return.
When it did, he clasped the white jar and sank to his knees in front of Iver. William kneeled for nobody, but he did now, with pleasure, for his husband.
Gazing up at him, William wrapped a hand around Iver’s cock and stroked him furiously, the jar ready. Iver had made him come so good, and it was time William returned the favor.
Iver’s cock pulsated with unspilled lust. His pupils were blown, and he stared at William with burning intensity. Stroke for stroke, William brought him closer, jerking hard and fast to give him the most intense release. He deserved it after denying himself twice in William’s clenching hole.
Precum dripped from his flushed, swollen crown, and William couldn’t resist catching it with his tongue, relishing its sweet taste.
Iver sank a hand into William’s hair, forming a fist. The pain as he tugged was exquisite.
“Now you come for me,” William said.
Iver threw his head back. The muscles in his abdomen flexed, and cum shot from his glans. William caught it in the dish, stroking Iver through his orgasm as he groaned and cursed, spitting thick wads of release. His cock jolted and twitched, William draining him until he had nothing left to give.
His chest heaved, and William had to help him onto the divan, where he collapsed. William pecked his cheek, then closed the jars and returned inside. He threw on a robe and called an attendant to hand off the jars to with instructions to bring them to the midwife.
Back outside, he lay down on top of Iver, kissing him, stroking his velvety skin. Iver stretched like a cat, and William ran his hands over his limbs, touching as much of him as possible.
“You drained me,” William said as he rested his head in the crook of Iver’s shoulder.
Iver chuckled. “Did I?”
William hummed his affirmation. “I’ve never felt so satisfied.”
“I’m glad.”
“It’s strange… I’ve always had a lot of sex, but it was never enough. It only scratched a superficial itch. You sate something deeper.” William drew circles on Iver’s chest. “The way you take me… it does things to me. It makes me feel like I’m yours.”
Was he saying too much? If his words bothered Iver, he didn’t show it. He wrapped William in his arms and kissed his brow. It’d never been like this with his concubines and former lovers. They’d never been equals. He and Iver understood each other like nobody else did.
William had never brought anyone to his bed. Iver slept in it every night, and William loved drifting off in his arms. He felt at home with him.
William wished for their connection to go even deeper. If only they hadn’t agreed to keep the bond muted… What would it feel like to have Iver’s soul resting against his, to be flooded by his emotions? William yearned to be joined with Iver in every way.
But the one time William had brought it up, trying to prove his innocence, Iver had been adamant that it was out of the question. William had to accept that. No use mourning something he could never have.
The next afternoon, the midwife surprised them with a request for another sample. In fact, she explained, she would need samples for five more days.
William and Iver spent most of Twelvetide going at it like rabbits.
They fucked in every room of the monarch’s apartment, on every piece of furniture: against the wardrobe in the dressing room, on the fluffy fur rug in front of the fireplace in the drawing room, across William’s desk in the study.
That damn table had never been put to better use.
William dedicated an entire afternoon to making Iver orgasm over and over again, filling his jar to the brim.
Iver was halfway through a sentence begging him for more when he passed out from the force of his climax.
William cleaned him with a wet cloth and carried him to their marital bed.
There, he cradled him in his arms, stroking him until he regained consciousness. They cuddled for a long time.
“I’ve never come so much in my life,” Iver said, uncharacteristically mellowed. “Not in two hundred years, not even when I was young and had just found out how to use my dick.”
“It’s the faerie oil.”
“No.” Iver shook his head and laughed, drunk on the dozen orgasms he’d had. “It’s you.”
It took them two days to recuperate from their frenzied lovemaking. For a while, William worried that neither of them would walk straight again. But then the winter solstice rolled around, and the festive atmosphere dragged them out of bed.
Everyone wore white in honor of the occasion, William and Iver dressing in velvet finery trimmed with silver brocade.
They met Charlotte and Ailenor in the drawing room where gifts lay under a richly decorated tree.
An evergreen festoon hung from the fireplace mantle, and holly adorned the walls.
Twelve red candles burned on a Twelvetide wreath, heralding the rebirth of the sun.
William couldn’t meet Charlotte and Ailenor’s eyes, his cheeks warming at the thought of what had happened over the past week. God, he hoped the midwife hadn’t let them see the sheer quantities of seed he and Iver had provided.
In the hall, a commotion arose. Charlotte’s children burst into the room, the door banging into the wall.
The nursemaid peeked inside and threw William an apologetic look—the poor woman had tried to contain the children, but how was she supposed to do that when there were presents waiting to be unwrapped? William waved her off with a smile.
The children ran about excitedly as they tore into their presents, finding wooden toys, books and dolls, which they showed proudly to their mother. When they’d calmed down, playing among themselves by the tree, the adults exchanged gifts.
Charlotte and Ailenor sat down in the alcove, smiling and talking, while William and Iver withdrew to the divan on the other side of the room.
William’s heart pounded as Iver opened his present and jerked back as he saw the golden lion-head ring.
“That’s…” Iver said, “your signet ring.”
“I wouldn’t know what to do without you,” William said, a little shy. “You’re always giving me good advice. A fae might never reign Vale, but I want you by my side and the people to know that you are. Should there come a day when you have to act for the good of Vale in my absence, you can.”
“You put a lot of trust in me.”
“Too much trust?” William took Iver’s hand and pushed the band onto his ring finger.
“No,” Iver, incapable of lying, said.
William felt dizzyingly light. This marriage was turning out to be an even better arrangement than he’d hoped for. Iver pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss, cupping his face.
When William pulled back, Iver’s eyes were still closed, his lips soft. He’d never looked more content.
“I have a gift for you too,” Iver said, “on top of what’s waiting for you under the tree. It is a promise: I won’t ever use this power against you.”
William kissed Iver’s knuckles, never taking his eyes off him until a knock on the door interrupted the intimacy. Charlotte answered, and a train of servants marched inside, carrying platters of breakfast food, fresh juices and hot drinks.
“Silenia’s children are departing this afternoon to attend festivities in the forest,” Iver said as he handed William a mug of a warm, blue drink topped with cream. “Try this, it’s one of my favorites. Blueberry milk.”
Nobody left the midwinter festivities at a family member’s house until the day after. This was unusual. If they were William’s guests, he’d think the departure rude. “Are you offended they’re leaving early?” He sipped his blueberry milk, closing his eyes in pleasure at its warmth and sweetness.
“No,” Iver said with a huff. “I’m glad they’ll be gone. I’ve never liked looking at Silenia’s children, and we’re not close. Silenia wishes to join us for the feast tonight, and then I’ll see that she leaves tomorrow. Once they’re all gone, I will ensure they’re not coming back.”