Page 49 of Blinding Light

Cyprian huffed, bringing the pencil up once more. “You know why I went there.” They both watched how the garden on paper was taking shape.

“Finding your family.”

“Yes.”

“And…did you?”

Cyprian swallowed. He slowly shook his head no.

“Whatdidyou find?”

“Poverty. Distant faces.” Cyprian shrugged and let out a small laugh. “Nothing I haven’t grown up with.”

He turned around, facing him, and Moargan couldn’t help but roam his eyes over Cyprian’s lean chest, narrow hips, and long limbs. He looked every bit the artist he was, an absent look in those glittering eyes as if he’d rather fantasize about his next drawing than talk to Moargan.

Moargan frowned. “What happened to your face?” In less than three steps he’d crossed the room and reached for Cyprian’s cheek. “Your eyes….” Cupping Cyprian’s face in both hands, Moargan didn’t miss how the clammy skin blushed even further. “Tell me who made you cry.”

Cyprian shook his head, inhaling shakily. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s them, right? Those people you went to visit?” Moargan barked. “I’ll send the Luminary in. How dare they?—”

“Moargan, stop.” Cyprian shook himself free, annoyed. “Stop treating me like a fragile child.”

He bristled. “What the?—”

Cyprian pressed a hand against his chest. “You ask me questions, but you already know the answers.”

Moargan pressed his mouth shut. Cyprian seemed okay. Then why had he cried? Someone had hurt what was his. Itdidn’t matter what his Royal Consort said. The guilty one would be punished.

“You asked me why I came to Helion, and I answered you. I’ve come here to find my biological family. To study art. To be left alone.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t come here to cry.”

“Didn’t I?” Cyprian stood his ground, pencil in the air, a golden glow in his wet, yellow eyes. He looked fierce and oh, so beautiful. “I came to find my roots. That’s all.” Those final words left his mouth in a faint whisper, but Moargan heard. He heard the fear of being caught once more in heartbreak.

Grabbing a fistful of Cyprian’s hair, he tilted his head back, admiring the long, slender curve of his neck. “And you will find them. But you won’t be left alone. You are mine now.” Before Cyprian could protest, he ran his tongue across the delicate flesh, lips closing in on his favorite spot. Cyprian moaned when Moargan nipped on the skin, kissing the burn he’d created. He gasped when Moargan circled an arm around his waist and pulled him flush against his chest.

Moargan walked them back toward his room. “I am not a nice guy, lover, though I will allow you to search. For now. But I won’t have you strolling around on your own. Not with this killer on the loose.”

They reached the bed and Moargan pushed him backward, smirking at the surprised yelp his littleaeonlet out.

“No! You don’t get to tell me what to do.” Cyprian looked up, eyes blazing.

“Yes, I do. I am the Imperial Prince, and you are my Royal Consort. You belong to me now.” Moargan grabbed hold of Cyprian’s pants, yanking them off. Then he spread his thighs. “Just like this. Fuck, littleaeon. Your dick is perfection.” He grabbed a pillow and pushed it under Cyprian’s round ass cheeks, lifting him up. “Look at that view. Good light, it’s perfect.”

“I won’t go around the streets with guards following my every step,” Cyprian snarled, though he let himself be manhandled. “I won’t—” His words turned into a breathless whine when Moargan’s hands hauled him in even closer, nuzzling the delicate skin of his crease. He let out a satisfied hum.

“Yes, you will,” he breathed against Cyprian’s quivering flesh. “There’s so much else you’ll let me do too. Like this.” Moargan’s fingers dug into the flesh of Cyprians’ cheeks, spreading them wide. “Look at your pretty hole. Hi, beautiful, did you miss me?” He probed his tongue past the clenching muscles. “Yeah, you look like you did. Hmm, I’m going to make you feel so good. Show you who you belong to,” he mused against scorching, delicate skin. Like petals of a flower, Cyprian’s muscles started to relax, and his hole slowly unclenched and opened. Inhaling deeply, Moargan traced the tip of his tongue over the rim, lapping and sucking as he entered Cyprian’s hole.

“That’s not what I meant,” Cyprian sighed, traces of his indignancy lingering. “I just don’t want them to follow me everywhere.”

Moargan pulled back a little to admire his work. Cyprian’s hole fluttered and loosened up enough to dip in a finger or two. He got to it, dribbling spit on the wet crease, then leaned in to watch his fingers enter from up close. “You won’t let me take control and protect you?”

“That’s n-not what I meant,” Cyprian managed. His hips gyrated sloppily, but when he slid a hand down to his own groin, Moargan slapped it away on a tssk.

“This is mine.” Grabbing hold of Cyprian’s cock, he stroked him slowly. “And I haven’t yet decided if you deserve to come at all.”

Cyprian replied with a sob, hips rocking back and forth into Moargan’s grip.

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