Chapter 35
Trove
His cock was still hurting. It throbbed so painfully it made him grit his teeth.
Freed now from the confinements of his clothes, it stood straight in the air, standing tall and proud and unmanageable.
He couldn’t get it to go down. It felt like it might never soften again.
An irony, considering how long he’d considered it broken completely.
Chee, soft and sweet, could not possibly be a threat to him now. Down on her knees, hands on her thighs, eyes closed, she was helpless and vulnerable.
So, why was he so uneasy? So nervous? Like he was doing something he wasn’t meant to do. He was not worthy of this, of her. He was weak and pathetic and his only purpose was to service females, not have them service him.
But he pushed past that feeling, forcing it out and silencing it as much as he could. Those thoughts didn’t belong to him. He would overcome this. He would enjoy her. Just as she gave him the privilege of seeing to her pleasure, he would give her that same joy in return.
She was so beautiful. Kneeling before him. Waiting for him. Trusting in him. She wasn’t afraid of his touch at all. She didn’t fear his command. She would do anything he told her to, and she would smile at him gratefully for the chance.
Even now, when he did not promise her pleasure, he still had control.
Somehow, wearing her silver shoes and still draped in jewels, she looked more naked than when she was fully bare.
He reached up and, with a few quick movements of his fingers, freed her hair from its confining bun.
The frizzy waves immediately burst free, an explosion of golden red strands that immediately filled his hands.
He buried his fingers into her hair, holding onto her scalp with both hands. He tilted her head back and, by consequence, her lips parted. They shined, glossy and plump, even in the low light coming through the window.
“You are so beautiful,” he praised, breathing the words in wonder.
She smiled, but her eyes remained closed, and except where he moved her, she remained still. She was so sweet and obedient.
He trusted her.
“Open your mouth,” he said, a tingle going down his spine, turning into a flame that ached in his balls, up his shaft, turning into a burning bead of precum at his tip.
She did as she was told, her tongue resting there against her lower lip. That little mouth – he was going to fuck it. And he forced down the immediate thought that he shouldn’t, that he had no right, that she would get no pleasure from him for that.
“This is not about you,” he said, as much to her as himself. “I will fuck your face until I come. You will stay there and you will take it. Understand?”
“Yes,” she said, mouth immediately opening again after she spoke.
“Good,” he let out a shuddered breath of excitement and nerves, his cock twitching. He hesitated only a moment longer. “If it’s too much for you, pat my thigh, okay?”
She smiled. Like she couldn’t resist. Then hummed in agreement as her mouth opened back again.
He wouldn’t run off if she touched him, but he would know to stop when she was unable to speak.
When he had his cock in her throat. When he was fucking her face until she sputtered and gagged.
This was about his pleasure, but that would never come at the risk of her safety.
There was nothing else to be said. But he didn't just shove his shaft past her waiting lips. Though he was sorely tempted. He wondered how good it would feel to have that hot, sweet mouth closing around his head. Sucking gently.
He tilted her head back further, and he straightened. Her mouth opened just a bit further. Waiting for him. Anticipating him.
But she didn't move. She didn't take more than he offered. Even when he rested the head of his cock there against her chin, she didn't try to take him past her lips. Her tongue didn't dart out for a taste. She was patient and obedient, waiting for his choice.
Trove shook from the power he held over her. From the absolute control. Then, he pulled her head forward, rubbing her lips across his cock head.
And groaned. It still hurt, burning like a brand against the sensitive skin, but he craved that pain with a riotous hunger. He wanted more.
So, he took it.
He pressed his head against her lips, pushing forward.
The heat of her breath, the slickness of her tongue, the stretch of her mouth made him groan as his hips, quite involuntarily, jerked forward.
His head popped past her lips and she started in surprise but quickly gained control over herself and returned to obedient stillness. Unmoving. Not sucking.
“You’re so good,” he praised, rubbing her scalp.
He began bobbing her head up and down, fucking her mouth. She remained so perfect, just letting him take as he desired.
It felt unreal. Incredible. He couldn’t quite describe the feeling.
It was heat and electricity and silken softness all bundled up in one sensation that seemed to center his entire being on that small point of connection between him.
Like the rest of his body didn't exist. His entire being was reduced to nothing more than his head rubbing against her smooth tongue and the harder roof of her mouth.
“Suck,” he ordered, pressing further. Burying more of his shaft into her mouth.
She groaned and obeyed.
Trove groaned as her lips tightened around him. As her tongue rippled and pulled. She sucked as instructed. Turning herself into a toy for him. One that just slurped messily as he continued bobbing her head up and down, pushing himself deeper and deeper.
Then, he reached her throat. He felt it like a wall in the back of her mouth. She gasped and gagged, automatically, reflexively drawing back.
He tightened his grip on her head and pulled her in. She didn't tap his thigh; she didn't try to pull away again. She hummed low in her throat, and the vibrations against his cockhead sent a shudder all the way up his spine. His eyes rolled back.
And he forced his way into her throat.
Pulling her head down, he pushed past the tight ring at the back of her mouth. Even as she choked. Even as it spasmed against his head. The spasms, her choking, only made it better. She groaned, and the vibration being that much closer made it even better.
His stomach was tightening. His sac was pulling. He was on the verge of something incredible. Dancing right there on an aching edge that felt like it was going to rip him apart. If not destroy him completely outright.
It was good. It was incredible. It was wrong.
No, it was right. This was right. He loved it.
He hated himself.
Chee’s tongue undulated under his cock, the grip of her throat spasmed, she had tears rolling down her pretty cheeks, but her eyes were still squeezed shut. He wanted her to look at him. He wanted her to grab him and pull him close.
This was wrong.
No, this was incredible.
He was already ripped apart. Standing right there on the precipice, his vision turning gray, his body stiffening as every muscle locked up at the same time.
Trove came down her throat with a roar. His head thrown back, fingers digging into her scalp, forcing her even closer, his cock even deeper, as the aching throb of the shaft, of his sac, turned into waves of ecstasy that burned through every cell, razing him to ash.
It felt so good.
He was so wrong.
Chee was sputtering and trying to pull back, but his grip only tightened as he pumped his hips, chasing that tortuous pleasure, pumping his seed directly into her belly.
His knot was up. It was throbbing at the base of his cock. Aching so painfully. He released her head to grab it with both hands. Needing the pressure, not able to push the girth all into her mouth.
But releasing her head meant she could finally yank herself free. Coughing, sputtering, gasping desperately, Chee gagged and choked as she struggled.
Trove was barely able to focus on her. He squeezed his knot with one hand, stroking his shaft with the other, and was able to watch as the last of his spend splattered on her face. The shiny white fluid mixing with her tears and spit.
She was a mess. The most beautiful mess. And yet her hands were on her thighs, her nails digging into the plump flesh, and her eyes remained closed. Still obedient. Still giving him control.
And as the devastating power of his orgasm faded into a steady throb of pleasure that echoed up from his groin, through the rest of his body, something else came rushing in to replace it. Something almost as powerful, and fully unexpected.
Shame.
Bitter and tarry, it clung to him as he looked again at his pretty mate. Unsatisfied. Used. He’d treated her like a toy, sought his own selfish pleasure, and took what he didn’t deserve. A weak, useless male like himself did not deserve pleasure.
He collapsed to his knees before her, struggling to breathe. Shaking. Sick to his stomach. Any lingering trace of his own pleasure buried under the wave of self-disgust.
He couldn’t breathe. He was worthless. How dare he do this thing?
“Trove?”
Chee’s voice was a warped echo in his ears.
“Can I touch you?”
He could barely understand her. He knew she was talking, but it took so long for him to understand the words that he knew it was a while before he could force himself to nod.
But it didn’t matter that it had taken so much time. Chee was right there. Putting her arms around him. She pulled him in by the head. Resting it against her chest. Holding him close, one hand rubbing along his back, the other fingers scratching on his scalp.
She was speaking to him again, but he was having such a hard time understanding her. He was trapped in a spiral of disgust and hatred and anger – all of it directed at himself. All of it screaming at him in voices that sounded like his aunt and mother combined together.
He didn’t know how long they sat like that on the floor. But at some point, he grabbed her around the waist and yanked her onto his lap. So he could hold her closer. So he could bury himself in her warmth, in her softness, in her comfort.
This touch wasn’t sexual, so it wasn’t negative.
No, this touch was loving, comforting, and totally unfamiliar. He could handle this. No, he craved this kind of touch. He didn’t ever want to let her go again.
She didn’t get impatient with him. She didn’t pull away first. She just kept stroking him, holding him, her head resting on the side of his, letting him bury his face in her neck. Like he was a pup. Like he was helpless.
Worthless.
Weak.
“Thank you, Trove.”
Those words were the first words he could say made any sense. They penetrated his brain like a knife and made him still.
He didn’t understand. Why did she thank him?
The confusion made him pull back. He stared at her. Not understanding. Why she said that. Why she was smiling at him now. Just why…
She stroked his face and pressed her forehead against his.
“Thank you,” she said again. “Thank you so much.”
“Why?” He asked, his voice broken.
She looked so happy. She smiled so tenderly. “Thank you for letting me give you pleasure.”
He stilled. “What?”
“Thank you for letting me hold you. Thank you for letting me be close to you. Thank you so much, Trove, for giving me this.”
No. This wasn’t a privilege. He’d used her. He’d treated her like… like…
Like she was weak and worthless and had no use but to serve him.
Except she thanked him. She looked so happy. Though he hadn’t pleased her, she was still so joyful for what he had done.
“Why?” He asked again, searching her expression for clues. For understanding.
She brushed his hair back, making sure she could see his face as she smiled. “Because I love you. Because I want to make you happy. Because giving you pleasure is something I get to do and no one else. Just like you’re the only one who can make me happy and give me pleasure.”
It was an honor for her to pleasure him. Just as it was an honor for him to pleasure her. That was their right to each other as mates. And she was happy because just as his purpose was to serve her, she considered it hers to serve him. They serviced each other.
“I am worthless,” he said, but it was more like a question.
She shook her head quickly. “No, Trove. You’re amazing. And I’m so happy right now. Thank you for feeling good for me. Thank you so much. I love you.”
She pressed a kiss on his nose.
“I love you.”
She kissed his cheek.
“I love you.”
She kissed his other cheek.
“I love you.”
She threw her arms around him, holding him close as she laughed. It was such a happy, relieved sound. Like this was the best thing she could have imagined happening to her. She said she loved him for using her like this.
No. He hadn’t used her. And she wasn’t using him.
They were adoring each other. They were giving each other gifts.
That’s why she was thanking him. Because his pleasure to her was a gift. Just as hers was a gift she gave to him.
A gift that others had perverted in his life. One they had stolen and traded and treated like an object to be claimed and conquered.
She was right. This was something beautiful and special and it was everyone else who had turned it into something rotten and worthless.
And it hurt.
That realization hurt so much.
He clung tight to her. Hating them all. Hating everyone who had dared to make this gift they shared something sour and bitter like the shame he still felt swirling low in his gut.
“Thank you,” he mumbled against her neck as she continued to stroke and hold and love him.