Page 41 of The Pastel Prince

Every grimy thing I had worn landed in a pile atop my dirty boots. When I looked over my shoulder at him, his eyes were dark with wild passion.

“Never have I seen a more glorious creation of the goddess than when I drink in your beauty,” he said, his hands yanking at his clothes as he strode across the room to where I stood by the tub. He touched my face with rough fingertips before gently turning me with the lightest touch to my shoulders. He pulled the knot free, sending the thick mass of braids down myback. The tips tickled the cleft between my buttocks. My eyes closed as my breathing began to rise. He lifted one braid, untied it, worked the plait free, and then kissed my bare shoulder. Another braid, another kiss, over and over, dozens of times. My balls ached and my cock leaked steadily by the time he had the last plait unraveled.

I turned to face him, hungry for his lips on mine. He drew me close. I went to my toes as his mouth fused to mine. His tongue delved deeply into my mouth just as his fingers were now seeking my hole betwixt my cheeks. A whimper escaped me when one thick finger found my opening. As his tongue swirled over mine, he pressed on the edges of my entrance, lighting me on fire.

“Now we wash,” he said into my mouth, easing away to step over the side of the limestone tub. “You look aggrieved,” he teased, standing in the water, his prick thick and hard.

“I feel aggrieved,” I replied, climbing over the edge, uncaring if I kicked the washrag or bar of scented soap into the water. The water was hot, just this side of painfully so, but I went to my knees just the same, gasping only slightly when the hot water hit my balls. “I think your cock in my mouth will lessen my irritation.”

He tipped up my chin. “You do not need to take me into your mouth.”

“I think that I do,” I argued, splashing about for the rag and soap. I lifted the sodden rag from the water and wrung it out over the thicket of auburn hair at the base of his shaft. He sucked in a sharp breath. I wet his body from the waist down, using the rag over his thighs, between his legs, and even on his firm ass, my mouth always close to his cock. The shaft twitched when I took him in hand to lather his cock and balls.

“By the goddess,” he groaned, his hands moving into my hair, carding the white locks tightly, then releasing them. “I may spend before you even place your lips on me.”

I worked his cock wantonly, rinsed it several times, and then let the soap drop into the water. I plucked a petal from his abdomen, kissing the thick line of hair that ran to his shaft before I eased the furl of skin back and tongued the slit of his cockhead. His hips lurched.

“Slowly, my love, for I am teetering on the edge,” he begged, but I had no intention of going slowly. I ran my tongue up the sides of his cock, moaning at the taste of soap and man as I licked my way up and down. His fingers worked my hair, knotting it and smoothing it. I took him into my mouth hungrily, the head of his prick hitting the back of my throat. I gagged, but dug my fingers into his thighs to ensure he did not withdraw. I had no practical knowledge of cock-sucking but I knew what I had enjoyed when he had done it to me, so I did what he had done. “Kenton, your mouth is a…gods be damned…”

He pulled out of my mouth with a hiss, bent down to lift me from the water, and swept me off my feet. Out of the tub we went, water running from us, on a direct course to the bed. My back hit the mattress, and he was atop me, his lips seeking mine. I arched up to drive my stiff cock into his belly. He growled low in his chest as his tongue danced with mine, his prick riding beside mine as he began to pump.

“Please…I need you…in me,” I cried out as my release neared.

“We have nothing to ease the way,” he said, reaching between us to gather both of our aching cocks in his large hand.

“I do not care!”

“You will, trust me. Let us find our pleasure this way for now.”

My heels dug into the goose down bedding as he began to stroke us. The press of his prick next to mine was sublime. His thumb gathered the droplets of spend that gathered, then spread it down and over. I bit down on his shoulder as my release arrived out of nowhere like one of the summer storms that swept over the vills. Hot spurts of spend coated his hand, making the sensation even better. My balls contracted. Then he grunted. More hot warmth. More slick thrusting and stroking. Eyes closed, I rode out wave after wave of pleasure, his big frame pressing me into the bedding as his prick jerked.

When I floated down from the clouds, he was resting on his heels, rubbing our spend over our shafts, the pearly white liquid thick on our cocks.

“Did you enjoy that?” he asked, lifting his fingers to his mouth. I watched spellbound as he licked his digits clean, his eyes still black with lust, his hair sticking to his whiskers. “Mm, we are delicious.” I took his wrist and brought his hand to my mouth, taking his thumb between my lips. We were salty and bitter. “Your face says that you are unsure of this manly delicacy.”

“I need more to decide,” I replied before licking his palm clean. He moaned softly. “I’m not sure I will give up honey cakes for spend anytime soon.”

He chuckled warmly, stole a kiss, and then moved from the bed. “It may grow on you.” He offered me his dirty hand. I placed mine in his and he tugged me to my feet. We moved to the tub, easing down into it, my back to his chest. The water was perfect now. The petals floating on the surface had wilted and broken apart, releasing yet more of their floral scent into the air. Beirach washed me with infinite care, soaping, then rinsing me off twice, before moving to my hair, which he lathered thrice, rinsing with handfuls of water while I battled to stay awake.When the water ran clear, he dropped small pecks along my neck, shoulders, and arms before scrubbing at his chest.

“No, I wish to tend to you,” I said, easing from between his powerful legs to face him. “It cannot always be you pampering me.”

One side of his mouth hitched up. “I find myself to be much riper than you, my sweet.”

“Pah, you smell like a man just as I do. Now lift your arm.”

He did as bid. I took my time with his bath, learning his body well as I soaped then washed clean the suds. He was slouching in the water when I placed the soap on a small stool next to the tub. The water had cooled off. With a yawn, he reached for some drying cloths made of fine linen, pristine white with bold borders of darkest red—the Stillcloud color.

With his arms around me, his lips to mine, we stumbled to the bed and fell into it. I curled into and around him as if I were a tender clematis and he a robust trellis. I kissed his chest. He ran his fingers along the sharp point of my left ear, his heart thumping slow and steady under my cheek. We spoke of things that lovers do as the sun slipped overhead. The one thing that we did not discuss as we rested in each other’s arms was the future. He would leave on the morrow, and I would remain. Aelir needed me. This vills needed me. Change had to happen, and it seemed that I was the one to make that happen. No other would. If I wanted my people to be treated as equals, then I must be the Rhaes to begin that slow process. Starting with trying to eliminate the use of that slur. But that was a worry for later. Now I wished to dream of days ahead where this man lay beside me in a marriage bed much as we were doing now.

Sleep arrived on silent slippers. The exhaustion of the past several weeks caught up to both of us, pushing us into a dead sleep that was broken in the later afternoon by solid hammering on the chamber door.

Beirach sat up, silken sheet slipping off his fuzzy chest to puddle in his lap. I moaned as I buried my face into a pillow stuffed with the softest down I had ever rested my head on.

“No, make it go away,” I grumbled into the pillow as he left the bed, pulling the sheet with him. I scrambled to find the coverlet that had knotted around our feet to cover myself just as Beirach gruffly called to the knocker to enter.

A slim elven servant, short strawberry blond hair and pale green eyes, slipped in. He wore the ebony robes of the castle staff. Over his arms were thick velvet capelets and what looked to be trousers and shirts. On his fingers dangled fine leather shoes with brass buckles. He bowed deeply.

“Good eventide, Elder Dreyath and Prince Amergin. My name is Larell. I am to serve as your attendant for this evening. The grand advisor has had these sent up from the finest tailor in Renedith for you to wear at the feast.” He remained bent as he spoke.

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