Page 55 of Prince of Ruin

His lips curl back from his teeth. “I’mnotyour sweetheart.”

“Shut the fuck up and put my cock back in your mouth.” I shove it in. A smile tugs at my lips when he does as I say, slipping his hand beneath the hem of his pants and stroking himself.

“Pull it out,” I breathe while I sink in and out of his mouth. “I want to see it.”

His glare hardens, but he pulls his cock out from his sweatpants, and I’m pleased to see it hard, an angry red shade, and slick with precum.

“Yeah, just like that, baby.”

Some of his resistance leaves his features as he strokes himself. His eyes fall closed for a moment, and I let them, enjoying the sight of him pleasuring himself while sucking me down. Even as a human, he’s beautiful and perfect. Clavicle’s flaws are all tucked away beneath his skin, within the dark crevices of his black heart. But on the surface, he’s all beauty and charm and perfection, just like he was as a fae.

I’m so close to coming now.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” I order.

He reluctantly opens his eyes and meets my gaze as I slow my rhythm. But he’s not glaring now. His eyes have softened, almost like he’s forgotten that he’s supposed to hate me. Only longing fills those gray eyes as he bobs his head on my cock, as if disappointed that I slowed down my rhythm. I’m not even holding his hair anymore. Both my hands are planted on the wall behind him as he sucks me down…willingly.

And that’s my undoing. He moves on my dick, taking it deep down his throat on his own volition until I unload into his mouth, giving him no choice but to swallow every fucking drop of me down. The movement must be his undoing, too, because ribbons of cum squirt out of his cock, pearlescent against the black marble floor.

When I’ve found my full release, I pull out, bracing myself on the wall. Because that blowjob nearly did me in. Clavicle hunches forward on his hands and knees, over his pool of cum, gasping for air. The sight is a painful reminder of what we used to be, what we used to have before his hunger for power fucked it all up. With my cock limp and my hunger sated, anger steadily takes up the space where the lust was.

And I hate myself.

I hate myself for being weak enough to want to fuck the enemy.

I hate myself for forcing him to suck me, even if he is the enemy.

I hate myself for snapping at Aden when I first walked into the room.

Self-loathing pours over me like oil, heavy and impossible to wash away.

“Ulna,” I shout, making Clavicle flinch. The general steps in. She seems a little surprised by what she sees—Clavicle crawling in his own cum at my feet, and me completely undone, my robes draped open.

She knows what happened, and more shame fills me, but I plaster on a hard face and jerk my chin to the prisoner as I tie my robes back around my body.

“Bind him and take him back to his cell. Don’t give him any clothes except the sweatpants he already has on.”

She opens her mouth in a silent gasp. “But it’s cold—”

“Do as I say,” I snap. Before I can do anything else I’ll regret, I shove past her. I don’t go to my chambers. Not when Aden will be in there waiting for me, stewing over how I snapped at him. Not after what I did to the person he believes is innocent. Instead, I take the grand stairway to the first floor and stride out of the palace into the cold night air, as if the wind couldblow my sins away.

Clav

It’s cold in the cell, but not as cold as it was when my clothes were damp. Still, I’m shirtless and freezing. I’m not chained to the floor this time, thank God. Tarsus must realize that if I had any power whatsoever, I would have used it by now. Ulna thrust me in and slammed the door, as her lord ordered, but didn’t bother chaining me up.

The taste of Tarsus’ cum is still fresh in my mouth, their saltiness still coating my lips the way shame coats my heart. I hate that I enjoyed their dick in my mouth. I try to convince myself that it’s some sort of fae compulsion that made me enjoy it. I mean, Tarsus has been nothing but rude to me since they captured me off the battlefield, so why the fuck did I enjoy sucking their dick so much that I came myself?

Stockholm syndrome is a real bitch. Because the reality is that I’m drawn to Tarsus. Besides being a built, beautiful, powerful fae, their quiet andmysterious demeanor is a huge turn on for me. It doesn’t help that they have power over my very life.

Hunching in the corner of the cold cell, I wrap my arms around my drawn-up knees and fall into a fitful sleep, wondering how long Tarsus will wait this time to feed me, give me water, and let me out of this cell. Or if, now that they’ve had their fun with me, they’ll let me rot here.

I hope Tarsus at least had the courtesy to tell Aden, and I hope they’re apologizing—no,groveling—right now for fucking me behind his back. I know enough about polyamory that it’s not about keeping secrets from each other. It’s about honest, open dialogue, boundaries, and compromise.

I hope they’re making up through some hardcore lovemaking. I briefly allow myself to imagine them together. Aden’s pliable, golden body as it fluidly moves to the rhythm of Tarsus’ rough thrusts. I imagine myself between them, sucking Aden’s dick while he fists my hair while Tarsus claims me from behind, that broody frown settling between their brows.

My cock grows hard at the image, and I dip my hand beneath the hem of my waistband and grip my length. God, what I would do to be fucked by both of them at once. I imagine me in chains while they do filthy things to me, and I realize this is a new kink for me, and I stroke myself, picturing things that willnever happen until cum spurts all over my sweatpants again.

Releasing a heavy sigh, I lean my head back, and wait for whatever revenge Tarsus has in store for me for me.

---