Chapter 7 #3
The world narrowed to this single point of connection, every nerve in my body singing with pleasure so acute it bordered on pain.
I was suspended between earth and sky, teetering on the edge of something vast and transformative.
His movements were eager, sometimes clumsy in their passion; when his teeth caught me unexpectedly, I gasped not from discomfort but from the raw and genuine authenticity of it.
This was no practiced seduction but something genuine, born of years of unspoken longing finally given voice.
It was more wonderful than anything I had ever imagined, more sincere than any fantasy my mind had conjured during endless nights of secret yearning. Here was Serin, not as a distant prince but as a man trembling with desire, offering himself with the same desperate hunger that consumed me.
But as the tension built to an unbearable crescendo, as my body strained toward a release that would leave me shattered and remade, I found myself pulling him away, my hands gentle but insistent on his shoulders.
"Serin," I breathed, lifting him until he sat before me on the bench, moonlight painting his skin in shades of silver and gold.
The last folds of his seret whispered to the ground like fallen silk, revealing the full glory of his form.
I had glimpsed him naked before, brief moments while helping him dress, but always when he was soft.
Now he was fully aroused, magnificent in his desire, and the sight stole what little breath remained in my lungs.
He was bigger than I could have imagined, and I had imagined it countless times despite chiding myself for it.
I knelt before him on the sun-warmed earth, my prince seated above me like some ancient god receiving worship. The position should have felt natural, I had knelt before him countless times in service, but this was different. This was not duty but devotion, not obligation but offering.
When I leaned forward to return the gift he had given me, I was overwhelmed by the intimacy of it, the salt-sweet taste of his cock, the warm musk that was uniquely his, the way he trembled at my touch as if I held something infinitely fragile and precious.
Every sense was flooded with him, every breath filled with his essence until I felt drunk on his presence alone.
His fingers tangled in my hair, not demanding but pleading, and I understood that this moment was as overwhelming for him as it was for me.
We were crossing a threshold from which there could be no return, transforming from prince and protector into something new and unnamed, something that existed outside the rigid boundaries that had defined us for so long.
When he whispered my name in a pained, cracked voice, my head dipped lower, bobbing down his big, hard cock until I felt him lodged in my throat.
Serin took my right hand off his thigh and stuck my fingers into his mouth.
I let him not because I wanted it, but because the sensation of his wet tongue moving over my fingers locked me in my own body. I couldn’t move. I could hardly breathe with the thought of what he wanted my fingers to be slick for.
And when he said the words, navigating my hand down and spreading his smooth, creamy thighs apart, I nearly unraveled. “I want you inside me, Rhazir.”
My finger, warm and wet, moved between his legs, while he impaled my head on his cock.
I didn’t know what to expect. I had never imagined it with such detail or to such extent. All I knew was that Serin had asked for it, and I would have served him the sun and the stars if he’d wanted them.
I pressed my finger against the hard length of muscle between Serin’s balls and his warm, tight hole, slickness trailing behind it. When I touched him there, in the place of his greatest pleasure, Serin moaned, and his thighs trembled.
My finger did not slide in easily. Serin squirmed the first time, and the second it seemed to make him breathless.
I lifted my hand off his cock long enough to spit on my finger, then wrapped my lips around him again.
Now, my finger broke into him, and found an immense warmth nothing could have prepared me for.
Serin’s cock throbbed inside my mouth as I rammed my finger into his beautiful, innocent flesh. He speared my mouth and my throat harder, hips lifting off the marble bench, and his tight hole loosening with movement and wear.
I couldn’t resist the urge to hold myself, to touch my cock even as it was wound as tightly as a good bow.
As I closed my left fist around myself, my head dipping lower and saliva trickling from the corners of my mouth and down Serin’s cock, I shoved my finger inside my prince. And in that moment, I knew we had both leaped off the precipice.
Heat filled my mouth and throat, coating it in a layer of creamy salt-sweet pleasure. My cock pulsed, and my seed spilled on the ground and into the discarded pieces of our garments. The sudden tightness around my finger relaxed and clenched rapidly, matching the rhythm I felt inside my mouth.
I swallowed his seed and begged the gods for more as Serin sat on the bench against, his bare flesh making a small sound against the marble surface.
My finger was cold when I pulled it out of Serin’s body, and my eyes were full of wonder when I lifted them to meet my prince’s gaze.
“This…” he whispered. “This was beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you are under the silver moonlight, Serin,” I said.
He smiled fondly. “You need not woe me, Rhazir,” he said. “I am already yours.”
“I only speak the truth,” I said.
He thought of it for a moment, the corners of his lips curling up. “And I ask you to kiss me again.”
This time, when I pressed my lips against his and felt his tongue exploring the depth of my mouth, it was much softer than before. This kiss, unlike the yearning that was ripping me apart, was ponderous and slow, reveling in our youth and beauty rather than hurrying in our lust.
I feared, then, that the dawn light would wake me up from the sweetest dream I had ever dreamed, and that it would find me on the Three Isles in a cold chamber with one small window overlooking the cliffs where waves crashed against the edges of the castle and the sea spray relentlessly rose to my room when the window was unshuttered.
But it did not. There was no dawn light or the small window letting it in.
There was only the olive grove and two naked bodies held in a safe, warm embrace.