Chapter 18 #2
Craning my head to the side, I granted him the space to explore, encouraging him to keep going.
He wasted no time, his tongue gracing my pulse point.
His breath chilled my skin, goosebumps rippling across it with a relentlessness I never wished to cease.
He was intoxicating—a wine I would never tire of tasting, a drug I would never curb my addiction to.
Gracing my collarbone, his words came like the blessing I’d always waited for. “Tell me how you want me.”
“Inside me,” I whined, my eyes opening to meet his lust-filled stare. “I don’t care how, but I just need to feel something other than the impending responsibilities that await me. My father—”
His mouth slammed into mine, silencing me before I could inform him of the burdensome weight I carried and the damnation my father had cast me into.
It was an abyss filled with obligation, societal restrictions, and everything the very marrow in my bones revolted against. I desired nothing more than to escape the confines of royalty, to break free from the shackles of all that awaited me and the expectations I’d never fulfill.
Because I didn’t fucking want to.
All I wanted was him.
Heavy and heated, fueled by the unspoken feelings we shared, our kiss bound us together in a complex web of emotions.
It contained the vows we wished to commit to and all we couldn’t express because my lineage prevented us from doing so.
There was nothing more that I wanted than to spend my life with him, but we both knew the nuances of our titles prevented us from even exploring the full depths to which we yearned for one another.
He was one of my right-hand men, tasked with guarding and devoting his life to me.
Yet, even as I watched my father swear him into his rank, I knew he would’ve offered his essence for mine without the implications of hierarchy.
And where I wished for nothing more than to provide for him, the crown and my inherited responsibilities snuffed out any possibility.
My last name tied me to the people of Serevalen, and as a consequence of my father’s never-ending need for control, the entire continent of Wraelira.
Percival and I were bound by service, not by love, and I loathed everything about that realization.
Using my agitation as motivation, I nipped his bottom lip, earning a growl of approval.
As his self-restraint slipped, he palmed my chest, every knead a display of his inability to resist his building desires.
Finally, he allowed the reins to slip, clawing across the fabric responsible for clothing me with every intention of destroying it.
One second, he was exploring, and the next, his fingers curled around my tunic.
Tearing it from my frame with refined speed, he freed me from the constricting demands of being a Marellan.
And as soon as the last strand of material slid from my body, I came undone.
The layers we wore peeled themselves from our bodies between each sloppy kiss and exchange of saliva. My hands roamed, caressing the raised scars littering his arms, back, and stomach, blemishes that displayed just how far he was willing to go for me—for us.
Threading my fingers through his silken locks, I tugged, forcing us to part, if only briefly.
As I secured my grasp, his chin tipped skyward, his enchanting emerald stare meeting mine.
Searching my hooded gaze, his blown-out pupils hunted for any sign or warning of what I was about to unleash on him.
But I didn’t give him the chance.
My palm slammed into his chest, forcing him onto my bed in the center of the room.
The windows on each side of its frame glistened beneath the sunlight, and unlike the throne room, its rays filtered through the varying colors of glass.
It breathed life into the room and wrapped Percival in its radiating warmth, bathing his bronzed skin in a rainbow pattern that marked him with the very definition of celestiality.
My god and my damnation wrapped into one—a man whom I desired to worship more than those I prayed to.
He propped himself up on his elbows, the plush duvet threatening to swallow him whole. “Well, my beautiful prince, what exactly are you waiting for?”
My canines dove into my bottom lip, piercing it with enough force to draw blood.
Basking in its coppery tang, I prowled toward him, coming to stand between his legs at the foot of the bed.
With the same sluggishness he’d kissed my neck with, I trailed my fingertips up his bare thighs, watching as the carnality bloomed within his irises.
“Have I ever taken the time to tell you how stunning you are?” I questioned, craning my head to the side as my touch continued, brushing over his hardness.
“Every damn day.” He pushed himself up, wrapping his hands around me, kneading my ass with reverence. “And it is something I will never tire of hearing, for any word you utter is pure poetism in the dullness of our reality.”
Lifting my hand, I trailed my thumb over my lip, gathering the blood that pooled there. As I reached forward, my tongue followed its phantom touch as I brought the offering of myself—my very life force—to the man sitting in front of me.
“Taste every drop of my devotion to you.”
His tongue curled around me, swirling around my thumb with an attentiveness I knew he wished to provide elsewhere. Unblinking, he held my watchful stare, pleasure swallowing every hue of green and replacing it with the inky black of his pupils.
A low growl reverberated from my chest as I slowly withdrew, his mouth popping against my skin as he sucked me clean. Using the same hand, I grabbed his throat, rubbing it with a promise of what was to come. Releasing him, I presented my palm, the command coming from me with ease.
“Spit.”
Gathering a mouthful of saliva, he obliged, its viscosity coating my calluses with an added layer of warmth.
I brought it to my cock, wrapping my fingers around my girth and stroking myself a handful of times as he watched.
Once I was satisfied, I stepped forward, my palms meeting the backside of his legs, only to push them up and out of the way.
“Look at me,” I hummed, grabbing the back of his head as the gap between us ceased, his ass lifted and ready for me. “Keep those beautiful emeralds locked on me as I fill you.”
Without warning, I pushed my entirety into him, his tightness devouring me in every way he’d devoured my soul.
Our breathless moans synced, my forehead coming to rest against his as he arched against me.
Rolling forward, I chased him, pressing my chest against his and tightening my hold to ensure he couldn’t escape.
“Fuck, Kael,” he whined, his palms cupping my jawline as he yanked me toward him.
Our lips met again, meshing with the groans of pleasure that escaped us.
With each kiss came a thrust, my hips driving into his ass with a relentlessness he knew wouldn’t cease until he fell apart for me.
It was a rhythm I kept, challenging his restraint as I tormented every inch of his sensitivities.
He leaned back, his eyes finding mine, and as soon as I’d caught the shift, I was already too late.
His teeth latched down on my nipple, a bite harsh enough to cause pain.
But he knew my weaknesses: wherever there was pain, there was pleasure, and there was nothing more I enjoyed than indulging in both simultaneously.
“Shit—Percy—”
The sharpness vanished, his tongue replacing it as he coaxed my angered flesh. And then, without warning, he nipped once more, but this time, far harder.
Hissing between clenched teeth, my hand found his throat, clamping down on it with the intensity I knew he was searching for. It had always been an intricate dance between dominance and submission with us, the two of us switching fluidly with every need to experience the nuances that both entailed.
My grip tightened as I forced him back, pressing him against the bed as a lengthened growl left me. “Is that what you want? For me to pin you to this fucking bed by your neck and fuck you until you cum? Until your seed coats every inch of your body?”
The quiver of his bottom lip was enough of a giveaway; words were no longer needed as a confirmation or denial of anything. He wanted me to destroy him, to fuck him until he was sore, until every time he sat down, he was reminded just how deep I’d buried myself inside him.
How I owned him.
My lips brushed the shell of his ear as I leaned forward, my promise coming out as a heated groan. “Say less, my knight.”
Using his body as leverage, I pushed myself upright, squeezing both sides of his throat as my arm straightened. With a simple lean, my other forearm came to rest beneath his knees, pushing him back to grant me a deeper angle and more access.
My lips curled into a snide grin as I looked down at him, rendered mindless beneath my touch.
Drawing back my hold, my palm connected with his cheek before returning to where he’d craved it the most. “You’re going to stroke yourself and look at me as I take what is rightfully mine. Do you fucking understand?”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
That was all I needed.
Driving forward, I positioned myself to ensure every inch of me tormented every inch of him. And as I slid inside of him to completion, the breathless whimper he released confirmed everything I needed to know.
With one rock back, I removed myself from his warmth, and only when his pleading gaze met mine did I return.
Each successive thrust became far rougher than the last, my hips slapping against his ass, matching my rhythm.
I watched as he desperately stroked his cock, his eyes rolling into the back of his head with the building pleasure.
And the sight alone nearly became enough for me to reach my peak.
Slapping him again with a force far harsher than the first time, a gasp left him, which was quickly silenced by the return of my hand. “Are you ready to cum for me, baby?”
His back arched as an answer to the question, shoulder blades pressing into the bed as the euphoria threatened to consume his senses, and I willed it.
Grinding into him with every desire to express my love and the very need to dominate him, I drove myself as deep as I could, my balls coming to rest flush against him.
As my length settled in him, he unraveled in my arms, and I followed.
Erupting from him to match his lengthy moan, his seed painted his abdomen while mine filled him. Our groans matched in octaves, filling my room along with every secret its walls harbored.
I loosened my hold on his throat, leaning down to pepper a handful of kisses where my hand had been. Making my way from his neck, I explored his jawline, my lips devouring its sharpness. I nipped at his ear, earning a breathy chuckle from him.
“Gods, sensitive…”
Crooning, I pulled back, lacing my fingers through his curls once more to bring his forehead to mine. “You’re amazing, baby.”
With fluttering lids, his shrinking pupils found mine, the vibrancy of his emerald stare slowly returning. “No,” he breathed, lifting his hand to my mouth to silence me before I could argue otherwise. “You are amazing, my lovely, breathtaking prince.”
Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes. “For you, I won’t argue.”
He gave me a lazy smile, exhaustion coating his features. “Good.”
My legs trembled as I pulled myself from him, my fist closing around the duvet as if it could somehow hold me upright. Flattening my palm next to his head, I pushed myself up, and he reached for me, grabbing my wrist.
“Where are you going?” The fear lacing his question made my chest ache.
Combing through his hair, I leaned down, placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’m not leaving you, I promise. I’m just going to grab a warm rag from the washroom so I can clean you up. Stay here.”
He tightened his grip, only releasing when I cupped his cheek. Leaning into my touch, his eyes closed, and his fatigue took over, robbing him of his consciousness.
I smiled softly, pulling away from him slowly so as not to disturb his slumber. He remained unfazed as my touch vanished, the exhaustion from our shared moment of intimacy alongside his duties rendering him useless against his looming dreamscape.
Pivoting, I moved from the bed, my eyes scanning the room and the trail of clothing we had shed. There was something irreplaceable about seeing him in my bed and his garments littering my floor; it was something I wanted to bear witness to every damn day.
I needed him far more than I needed the crown.
I loved him far more than my own father.
Whether that made me selfish or soulless, I wasn’t entirely sure. But after a life of serving, twenty-eight years of standing in my father’s shadow, it was about damn time I did something for me—for us.
So, as I stepped into my attached bathing chambers, I decided that was exactly what I would do.
Fuck societal standards. Fuck being disowned by my father for my sexual preferences. Fuck the judgment and assumptions.
I would escape the confines of royalty for him.
I would run from the crown and the weight of my responsibilities for the man who’d already vowed himself to me in this life.
I would become a wanted man for him if it meant he continued to want me—continued to love me—even if it were just for a bit longer.