8. Discoveries #3
When Rerdas sagged back down again, his chest was heaving. His eyes were glazed, and a feverish red spread from his cheeks down to his chest. His stomach was a slick mess of clear fluid, but his cock was still impossibly hard.
Imalroc ached just looking at it. If he kept looking, he might just have to stroke himself off from the sight. He had a hand on himself, he realized, squeezing, trying to stave off the building pressure. Like there was a dam holding back magma inside him, threatening to crack.
Gently, he eased his fingers from the throbbing grip of Rerdas’s body. He brushed the back of his clean hand over one of Rerdas’s blazing cheeks. “Did that…”
“Yes. So good. But I can take more,” Rerdas whispered. “Please. I need you.”
Imalroc swallowed. “Turn around.”
Rerdas shifted onto his hands and knees, spreading without shame. “I won’t last long,” he said, breathless.
“Neither will I,” Imalroc admitted. His heart beat too quickly as he moved incrementally into overwhelming heat. His cock jerked with his pulse as Rerdas’s body swallowed him.
At first, the huntmaster was tense, twitchy, holding his breath. Imalroc drew on every last ounce of his control to keep still and let Rerdas adjust. He was wrapped in sensation, sending waves pulsing back through his skin. The heat of Rerdas’s body melted through him.
“Alright?” His voice shook.
Rerdas let out a sound like a breathless sob, burying his head in a pillow. The long, perfect expanse of his back glistened, begging to be touched.
The huntmaster shifted, settled, relaxed, and Imalroc sank deeper before he could help it. When he tried to correct by pulling back slightly, friction and pleasure twisted up into him like lightning. “Fuck,” he gasped. His well-tested leash was fraying.
“There,” Rerdas moaned. “Again, Imalroc.”
He was going to lose his entire shitting mind with the way Rerdas said his name. He clutched the hinge of Rerdas’s hips and thrust into the huntmaster’s helplessly responsive body.
Pleasure tore through him, white-hot. It made a mockery of his mental leash, burnt straight through it. Nothing existed but Rerdas, and the need to have more of him. He curved forward over the huntmaster’s back, pinned him down, and pressed panting, open-mouthed kisses to his salt-soaked skin.
He slid a hand up Rerdas’s thigh with single intent.
“Don’t!” Rerdas cried. “Don’t want to stop.”
Imalroc kissed the surging muscles in his shoulders, licked the rivulets of sweat from his back, and bared his teeth.
“Gods, Rerdas, I need you to come. Please,” he whispered.
“I want it to be so good—show me. Show me how to make it good.” He caught one of Rerdas’s hands in his and laced their fingers, bringing them to stroke Rerdas’s swollen cock.
His huntmaster bucked hard, riding Imalroc ruthlessly as their entwined hands worked up and down the length of his shaft.
Wet heat, hot as blood, spurted between his fingers. “Yes,” he hissed, as Rerdas shuddered through another orgasm, his body closing in on Imalroc’s. “Yes, yes, that’s it, like that, Rerdas, yes, you’re fucking ruining me—”
Everything drew tight and close as a furled wave, swelling to a crest. Pleasure streaked down through his core, embers roaring through him, and he was ablaze, Rerdas in his arms, Rerdas against his lips, all around him and all he wanted.
He spilled out of himself and into Rerdas with a strangled cry. He was never going to be able to deny himself this again.
***
Imalroc lay on his back, sagging into the pillows with Rerdas beside him. His breathing quieted and his skin cooled.
Every muscle felt stretched and soothed, and an unfamiliar contentment eddied from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. He rolled onto his shoulder to look at the source of this incredible satisfaction.
The huntmaster flopped toward him, heedless of the mess they had made of each other. He let out a heavy, dreamy breath and pressed a lazy kiss to Imalroc’s chest.
Imalroc tugged him closer. This felt new and precious. He’d never lain in a quiet bed with a lover after. There hadn’t really been an after.
As good as it felt, he could do without the stickiness. It was becoming slightly more than an annoyance. He kept himself still, refusing to acknowledge that there was anything at all that might make him push Rerdas away even a little.
The huntmaster mumbled something into his neck.
“Hmm?” He was apparently equally incapable of words.
“Washcloth?”
“I can get a few,” Imalroc said, half grateful, half disappointed. Rerdas probably wasn’t willing to stumble across the room with his arms still around Imalroc’s neck, which was where Imalroc wanted him.
Rerdas climbed out of bed before Imalroc could muster the will to do it. He returned with a pair of damp cloths and cleaned Imalroc first.
Gently, Imalroc returned the favor. His cleaning turned into teasing before he could help it, and Rerdas plucked the cloth from his hand and pitched it onto the floor, climbing into his lap to kiss him breathless.
“Those should really go in a basket,” Imalroc mumbled.
Rerdas nuzzled his neck. “You are obsessed with laundry.”
A serious topic indeed. Imalroc cleared his throat like a lordling about to give a completely worthless speech. “I’m glad you brought that up. These sheets—”
“No,” groaned Rerdas. “This bed is huge; we can just sleep on the other side.”
Imalroc swallowed, and Rerdas must have heard it.
The huntmaster drew back slightly, looking down at him. “That is, if I can stay?” He pulled back further. “Understandable, of course, if you’d rather be alone. I can—”
Imalroc smoothed both hands up his back. “Go put out the lamp and come back to bed.”
Rerdas smiled and disentangled himself for a second time. He was back before Imalroc could think too hard about whether it was a wise idea.
In the dark, the kisses were like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Unhurried and intense. He could only bring himself to stop when he felt Rerdas’s mouth slackening beneath his, weighted with sleep.
Rerdas made a slurred, feeble protest. “More.”
“You need to sleep.” Imalroc kissed him again, just a small brush of lips, because he couldn’t go an entire heartbeat without taking advantage of the proximity of that lush mouth.
He stroked Rerdas’s back and nosed into his hair, breathing in a wash of earthy vanilla and citrus. This wasn’t precisely the way he’d meant for it to go. He hadn’t imagined this part at all.
He had Rerdas completely relaxed and draped over him, safe in the dark. But they couldn’t keep each other that way.
The thought hung over him like a blade-sharp icicle, but he turned from it. For now, he was warm and happy, and he would guard that. He folded Rerdas closer, pressing his cheek to the huntmaster’s hair. Holding him like a shield against the thing that still hovered overhead.
Blood and pain and iron will for years, and in all that there was only one night in his life that he had been desperate to please his handler.