9. A Trampled Heart #3
Aria swallowed as he took in the shapes and shadows of Noble's bare torso.
“You're—” he hesitated, still speaking silently.
“You're hairy.” Yes, Noble was muscular by virtue of his god ancestor, and covered in coarse black hair by virtue of being a human man.
Aria's surprise made sense. Elys elves like him had little body hair to speak of—some were completely hairless from the ears down.
Noble had not let himself wonder if Aria was one of those.
But this wasn't the first time Aria had seen a half-naked, hairy man.
How did Ellor look without a shirt? Better?
More pleasing to Aria's desires? The ghost of insecurity crawled into the periphery of Noble's mind as Aria said nothing else.
Perhaps he smelled—he'd showered that morning, and though he hadn't left the house, Noble knew he could go nose-blind to himself.
He stood. Aria scrambled off his lap, looking down at the floors instead of anywhere that might allow him to gaze at Noble again.
Noble could be the one to cry next. He released an exhale and said, “We'll find you some new gigs soon. And that way the city will know you’re a bard and not my adame. You needn't worry about that. Go rest. Tomorrow's a new day.”
Aria hugged one arm to himself and mouthed, “Wait.”
Noble did.
Aria said, silently, “Can we read The Bard Bride?”
Noble’s warm affection swelled inside his chest. “Of course. Come in.”
Noble walked Aria to his bed and fetched him a blanket from the end to settle with.
Noble circled the bed, climbed up, and grabbed the book from his nightstand.
He donned his reading glasses—forever frustrated that he needed such things—and opened the novel to the bookmark tucked within the pages.
They were nearly done with it—only two chapters to go.
Aria tucked himself against Noble’s side as he read. Eleanor had met with her dashing new prince beau outside the city, at an inn, but there was only one bed available for the night. They were going to share it.
Noble read, before it really registered, “Warmth pooled between her legs as the scent of The Prince wrapped around her, sensual and warm. She was ashamed at the erotic pulse, but The Prince whispered an apology of his own, and that’s when she felt it.
Felt him. His prick was hard, resting against her thigh.
Wordlessly, she lifted her dress, and guided his hand—”
Noble realized then what he was reading. The book hadn’t had sex before now, and it seemed sudden, and unexpected, and while Noble was no prude, he was all too aware of his near-nudity, and the weight of Aria against his chest.
He ground his teeth.
“Go on,” Aria whispered. Noble glanced down at the top of his head, unable to see his expression.
Slowly, voice seeming lower than before, Noble said, “Guided his hand to her wet sex. He touched her, and needed no instruction to slide his fingers back and forth until she moaned her assent. She parted her legs to welcome him, and The Prince put his manhood inside her inch by inch, until they were both.” Noble’s voice caught again.
He’d not read erotic novels before, and the words filled his mind with the image of it, of Eleanor finally making love to the man she wanted this badly, and—
Noble was hard.
He tried to ignore it as he said, “Until they were both pressed together as tightly as could be. Side by side in this bed, he moved into her again and again until she begged for more. He gave her more. He rolled her onto her front and rutted against her backside, his ample cock filling her dribbling cunt so completely that she couldn’t stop herself from coming against his assault.
She spent with a scream and he followed soon after, the wet splash of him making her feel all the more full and satisfied.
They fell asleep after, in one another’s arms.”
The chapter ended there.
Noble fortunately had a blanket pulled over his lap, but one wrong move, and his hard cock would be impossible to hide. He steadied his voice as he said, “Good for Eleanor.”
“I may never get to feel that again, will I?” Aria asked. He looked up, eyes glassy with tears again. “I may never find someone who loves me like The Prince loves Eleanor.”
“Yes, you will,” Noble choked.
“No,” Aria said, voice near silent, lips trembling. He sat up, shifting to his knees on the mattress next to Noble. “You don’t know that. I’m not like Eleanor. I’m not lovable like she is. I’m just—"
Noble sat tall, took Aria’s face into his hands, and kissed him. He couldn’t say everything he wanted with words. But this? He could say it with this.
Aria’s mouth smelled of salt, of fresh-baked bread. As soon as Noble backed away, Aria sat up to chase his lips. He gazed at Noble's mouth for half a second too long, and Noble knew.
He knew that Aria wanted this too.
He'd taken many women to bed, and he witnessed this every time, before they gave in—the moment they wanted him more than they wanted to maintain their solemnity.
He hadn't the fortitude to do anything other than kiss Aria again.
And it was Aria that licked the seam of his mouth, and sank against his chest. Noble knew another thing too: this would possibly be the only time he ever got to bed with Aria, and he had to make it count.
He had to make a point. If for no one else, for himself.
He loved Aria, but he didn't know if he'd love sex with a man, and he meant to find out now.