Chapter 11
Belle-Belle
Igripped the chin of the man kneeling before me, marveling that he, the consummate runner, held so still for me.
After I had gotten over the initial shock and angst at Lucas running from me, I found that I was quite sympathetic to his reasons for doing so.
Like Benoit, he had suffered at Matapa’s hands, and also at those of the fae, though ostensibly they had meant to help…
however, one could never quite tell with the fae.
Having now heard of the actions of Matapa’s army firsthand from both Benoit and Lucas, I was developing a healthy level of trepidation for what we might encounter while we served the king. There was no guarantee that we would be successful in reinstating our king, nor that we would all survive it.
All the more reason to become close now, to learn each other’s strengths and weaknesses, to better guard one another’s backs.
Trusting my instinct, though I was still sorely lacking in experience, I drew Lucas’s chin up, forcing him to rise up on his knees so that his head was level with mine. He acquiesced with a soft sigh, and then I brought his lips to mine to kiss.
Unlike Benoit’s scruffy chin, which had delivered its share of ticklish and pleasurable sensations, Lucas had little facial hair, and his lips were pliable and smooth.
Unlike Benoit’s build, Lucas’s frame was slender, not dissimilar to mine.
And unlike my time with Benoit, I was the pursuer, not the pursued.
Both my hands remained at the back of Lucas’s head, with his dark hair knotted at the back of his neck.
I entwined my hands in his hair and pulled him in even closer, opening his lips with my tongue so that I could explore.
His breath tasted faintly of cinnamon, and he pulled his tongue back as though to welcome me, letting me roam where I pleased.
I explored his lips, teeth, tongue, and gums, losing myself in the sensations of him. After kissing like this for some time, I noticed his moans increasing in volume.
I let go of the back of his head, rolling to my side on the bed.
“Lie with me,” I murmured, pulling the shirt over my head.
Lucas stood and divested himself of his clothing as well. Lean muscles stamped his golden brown skin, while his erect member bobbed as though pleased at my inspection.
In a quick display of his power, he appeared on the far side of the bed, and was soon cradling his body against mine, his front to my back.
“Please instruct me on how to touch you, Milord,” he whispered against my hair. His breath sent tingles down my spine, and deep into my hips.
“I am still learning,” I whispered back, “but I would like you to caress my chest before moving downwards.” The role of directing him, telling him what I wanted, began to excite me, and I wriggled my backside against him.
He did not respond verbally, but instead, began planting kisses on the back of my neck. I arched into him, feeling his member pressing into my back, swollen with want.
His hands snaked around my body, beginning to lightly touch and tease all around my breasts.
“Like this?” he murmured, his breath heating my ear.
“Yes,” I exhaled, reveling in his touch.
“Gentler? Harder?”
His hands roamed, rolling my nipples one moment and pinching them the next. The sensations that curled all around my breasts were beginning to make me pant.
“Yes, both…just keep touching me.”
Between his pliable lips on my neck and shoulder blades and his nimble fingers on my breasts, I felt the heat between my legs growing. I was already squirming a little bit, but now my hips were becoming ever more mobile, as though seeking further stimulation.
“Would you like more touch?” he whispered, nibbling gently on my ear in the process.
I gasped an affirmation, and felt his fingertips moving down my belly, towards my core. One hand remained locked on a breast, while the other began to play with the same nub Benoit had urged to release with his tongue.
I could feel the heat and pleasure building, but it also felt as though something were missing.
I knew I could take a man’s cock inside me if I wished it, but years of farmyard animal observations also had ensured that I knew it came with risks, and wartime was no time for bearing children.
Especially not when I had to masquerade as a man.
Barring an herbalist or a magic charm, my options were limited.
But my squirming seemed to say enough for Lucas to interpret my desires, for he clamped his hand down on my nub, applying even pressure: it was still pleasurable to be touched in that way, but oh so tantalizing, since the stimulation that urged me towards climax was no longer building.
“Would you like my finger inside you, Milord?”
I nodded frantically, pushing my hips back against him.
“Is this a first for you, Milord?”
Once again, I nodded, too aroused to feel shame at my inexperience. If the previous night with Benoit had taught me anything, it was that new experiences were a joy to be shared, rather than a lack to lament.
His touch vanished entirely for a moment, and then he reappeared around the other side of the bed, gathering me up into his arms, leaning his back against the headboard.
“Tell me if it is too much,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. And again, his hands subjected me to delightful torture, plucking at my nipples as though they were instruments, then migrating downwards to spread my thighs.
I moaned. His cock was hard against my back, a small trickle of moisture from it making my backside slick. His hands left my thighs, with one going back to my nub and the other playing around the slit that was my opening.
As soon as he touched me, I knew how wet I was. He must have noticed too, because he groaned, and I felt his cock jump.
Ever so slowly, one of his fingers entered me.
Immediately, I noticed that it gave my muscles something to clench onto, as his other hand worked my nub.
With his long, delicate fingers, only having one inside me was no strain at all.
He seemed to realize this, and began to slide his finger in and out of me, ascertaining a rhythm that had me moaning in his arms.
After witnessing his faerie-gifted speed, I’d not expected him to be so slow and tender in his touch, so attentive to my needs. The fact that he knew when to slow down made the possibility of having him back in my bed shine with allure.
His finger’s insistent thrusting drew my mind back to the present. He murmured soft words I could not understand against my neck. I would have to later ask him what he had been saying, but for now, it only increased my arousal.
Before long, I could feel my hips rocking in time with his finger’s penetration, and with a sharp intake of breath, I felt my climax.
Waves of pleasure radiated out from my core. I felt my lower half clenching, anchoring Lucas’s finger inside me, pulsing around where his hand entered me.
He buried his face in my shoulder while I rocked and cried out.
When the sensations eventually subsided, I moved one hand down to gently disengage him. I turned partially to look at him, and saw both satisfaction and raw need on his face.
“Would you like to as well?” I asked.
He nodded, with an exhalation like a sob.
I moved aside ever so slightly, so he could reach a hand around to touch himself.
It did not take long until he was also rocking, crying out, spurting his come onto my back.
It was warm, like his eyes. He stayed bonelessly slumped against me for a few moments, before prying us apart and giving me a shy smile.
“May I clean you up, Milord?” he asked.
I inclined my head.
“Yes, there is still the bathwater, and it may even still be a bit warm.”
He vanished with his alarming speed, but was quickly back, with a warm cloth to hold to my skin, mopping up every trace of his pleasure.
Then he simply held me, tightly, as though I were a treasure.
And while my time with him had been so very different than my time with Benoit, I was pleased. I was equally enamored of both men and was resolved to keep them by my side. I reluctantly sent Lucas away, and drifted off to uneasy dreams about the king’s court and what might lie ahead.