Chapter 7 #3
I’ve had a few boyfriends and a healthy amount of sex with them, but there was always a stressful undercurrent of worry.
About my body, about our relationship and how sex will influence it.
With Tristan, this man I met yesterday, I’m already feeling more at ease than with any guy before him.
He makes me laugh and feel relaxed, as if my pants aren’t pulled down to my knees.
I kick them all the way off, staying in my socks and the shirt, and pull Tristan in by the thick belt embossed with a cornucopia of complex patterns.
“I will,” I promise him. But not yet. First, I need to be closer.
I pull up his shirt and push my face into the bunched fabric, until all I smell is the warm fragrance of herbs and the sea, and my tongue finds his toned stomach.
It’s so addictive I’m already feeling faint, but that won’t stop me, and I shamelessly explore the skin over his ribs, all the way to the pec.
“Oh yes, just like that,” he mumbles, and the excitement in his voice makes my cock twitch.
I want to please him. He grabs the back of my head through the shirt and presses my face against his body.
He’s so meaty. I can’t get enough. Whatever he’s doing with those boulders in pastures, it’s doing wonders for his physique.
This hunger shouldn’t be new, but it is, and as I suck on his flesh, digging my fingers into skin, he cradles me close until I’m stuck on the crossroads of absolute peace and raging arousal.
I flinch, stunned by the unnatural movement on his skin, but my heart calms at the sight of the eels creeping closer to my face.
It’s so hard to accept that Tristan has tattoos which move over his skin like living creatures, but they’re there, pushing their faceless heads at the sliver of saliva left by my kisses.
The damp smudge adds dimension to their slithering forms, making their scales shimmer like the ocean in bright moonlight.
I see beauty in those strange creatures, and they seem just as fascinated by me.
There is no grand inspiration behind the kiss I press to one of the heads, but as it throbs under my touch, vibrating when Tristan gasps, I lick my way along the first eel, and then another.
When Tristan leans back, I pull on his nipple with my teeth, then suck on it, and reach to the bulge in his leather pants.
A happy rumble comes from deep in his chest, and the clink of his belt buckle opening leaves me salivating as I breathe in more of that spicy, smoky aroma that’s already becoming my addiction.
He asked me about pastimes I might want to pursue at court, and I think I’ll just spend the first year under him.
Though I would also settle on sucking his cock because it’s— oh, it’s so damn beautiful with its proud curve and red curls at the base.
I kiss it like I want to kiss Tristan—long, and sweet, with a lot of tongue and spit.
“Sweetie… doing so good…” Tristan groans, spurring me on.
Not that I need encouragement to suck a cock this perfect.
It’s overwhelming just how much I want to touch him everywhere all at once, because it’s impossible.
I have to focus my effort somewhere, but I still glide my hands over his hips and to the prize that is his muscular ass.
I knead it, letting his cockhead poke at the back of my throat. No need to take me to fantasy land, I guess, because I’m already in my dream world, sucking on the nicest dick I’ve ever seen.
Impatient, I push his pants lower, because I need to touch his thighs too, and his balls, and lick the warm crevice of his groin…
Time stretches like bubble gum, and I only withdraw when Tristan gently pulls at my hair.
Kissing his cock goodbye for now, I slide out from under his shirt and look up, on my knees like a dog begging for treats.
Tristan grabs my jaw, all flushed. “What do you say? Pauldrons on or off?” he asks, already pushing off his boots with his feet.
Just seeing him like this, with the eels on his chest languidly drifting lower, makes me salivate. I offer him a hazy smile, reaching to the buckles. “Off tonight. On another time,” I tell him and kiss the side of his jaw.
This man… how is he making me this horny?
I feel like I’ve been starving for sex for months! Is he insanely hot? Sure, but it’s not just that. I love the way he makes me feel relaxed in what could otherwise be a stressful experience despite my lust.
He’s playful with me, wrestling off my shirt as I try to open the straps of the pauldrons, giving us another opportunity to laugh despite both our dicks being hard and needy. I don’t know how he does it, but it’s like he disabled the anxiety setting in my body.
And then, somehow, we’re both naked. He’s between my legs, stroking every bit of me as we kiss, entwined like two creatures eager to share warmth in the middle of the night. Each other’s only chance for survival in the midst of a season of cold and cruelty.
Dramatic? Maybe, but that’s how I feel, and I refuse to stifle my thoughts this once.
I want him.
I want him.
“Tristan,” I rasp, spitting on my hand and squeezing our cocks together. I love how his shaft feels against mine when we both move, grinding gently.
“Give me your palm,” he says, breathing hard, and I follow the order without a second thought, shivering when he adds his spit. “Squeeze us both nice and tight…”
He’s a beautiful animal when he pushes on top of me, spreads my legs wider with a nudge of his knee, and then fucks into my hand. My brain is melting. Tristan places one hand by my ear, and I don’t have a single cohesive thought when I turn my head to lick his toned forearm.
Tristan takes this as an invitation to gorge on my neck. He is being gentle, but teeth will inevitably leave a bit of bruising. I don’t mind. I want him to mark me like this, because the cum he soon spills over my stomach will end up wiped off.
Everything about this moment is intense, and I let it carry me ever higher. The spit isn’t quite enough for me, but when my lover stirs, and his warm seed flows through my hand, two more strokes are enough, and I’m there too. Full-on-arched-back-and-moans coming.
By the time I’m spent, my throat feels like it’s been grated until it bled, but Tristan’s there, soothing me with little kisses. I hope Viola is still in the living room, all the way across the apartment.
“So pretty when you come,” he mumbles sleepily, settling his substantial weight on top of me. He’s gently rocking against me and spreading the cum all over my chest and belly. I can’t say I hate it. “Sweet and eager, I love it.”
I love you too, I almost say out loud, even though I know it’s only something I’m feeling in the moment. He’s perfect. Too perfect, and I don’t really know him. But maybe once I do, I will be able to think that and smile to myself rather than cringe.
So yes, I might have been still undecided, but as he cleans us with tissues from a stack on my bedside table, I know I want to know him. And so, if he’s still here by the time I wake up, I’ll follow wherever he leads. As long as he lets me do some basic shopping and call my grandparents first.
“May I stay here?” he asks with a yawn, even though the answer is obvious. It’s nice that he doesn’t take it for granted, though, since I’d expect a prince to feel entitled to my space.
“As long as you don’t leave the bed,” I say, yawning, because now that we’ve both finished, my body is definitely checking out from the real world and ready to rest.
Tristan stretches and pulls my head on top of his pec. “A pillow can’t leave the bed on its own,” he teases, stroking my hair. I love how affectionate he is. A rare thing in the world of Grindr and my emotionally avoidant boyfriends.
I’m half asleep when I hear his voice again. “Nate?”
“Hm?”
“Will you come with me?”
“After this? Yes.”
Tristan lets out a happy chuckle and finally settles. I open one eye and see moonlight stroking his face. You only live once. If my grandparents can sell their farm and go on a cruise, I can do this.
Whatever this is.