Page 93 of Blinding Light

Moargan chuckled, then shook his head. “You’re funny when you’re aroused.” He dribbled spit onto his own shaft and resumed stroking himself. With one smooth suction, Moargan swallowed down his dick. Their eyes locked.

Cyprian let out a dirty moan, toes curling at the nearing orgasm. “Good light.” His eyes rolled back in his attempt to keep them focused on Moargan, and he cried out when his release exploded inside his body. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure went through his insides.

Moargan Moargan Moargan.

Moargan growled through his own release, the sound grounding him. His mind clicked back in place as all earlierthreats of stairs and chains were replaced by a blissful feeling of belonging.

Silence.

An arm curled around his shoulder, a hand pressed against Cyprian’s cheek until he turned and faced a pair of lilac eyes. Lips pressed onto his, his tongue entered his mouth. The sensation gave him a warm glow and he eagerly tasted himself. Anything to be close to every single part of his prince.

Moargan pulled back a little, hand cupping Cyprian’s face. “Mine. Myaeon.” He pressed a kiss onto Cyprian’s nose, then lifted himself off the couch. “I want to show you something. Come with me?”

They got dressed and then Cyprian followed Moargan out of the empty lounge and into a large corridor that gave way to two spiral staircases, climbing up toward the ceiling. A spacious, glass elevator stood in the middle.

Moargan pressed a button, and the glass doors slid open. “Aviel collected some more information for you on the adoptions.”

The elevator brought them up. “I didn’t realize this house had so many floors.”

“Well, believe me when I say this house has more surprises.”

When the doors slid open, the roof became visible. They’d barely made it two steps outside when Cyprian’s mouth fell open. “What’s that?”

“It’s called a Waltr, an oval-shaped glass house. Come. Let me show you.” They circled the structure that sat on the roof of the Imperial's mansion. “Some people use them to live in, others use them to hang out.”

“Remember the cabins we have in the arena? This is the same glass. Opaque. When you’re inside the Waltr, you can look outside. But those on the outside, can’t see what’s inside. Come, lover.” Moargan pressed his multi-slate against the slick cabin.The glass doors slid open, revealing a darkened space that lit up at the first step he took inside.

Cyprian followed Moargan inside the Waltr, which was surprisingly spacious. “It’s so pretty. What is this place?”

“This was my bedroom.”

Cyprian paused. Looked around him in awe. “Your bedroom? Really?”

“Really.” Moargan turned around, lips twitching.

“No, I—” Cyprian could only stare. At all the little details that filled the room. The miniature soldiers stood lined up in colour. Black, silver, golden, purple.

“I used those to beat Helianth’s ass whenever we played warzone.”

“You played warzone with miniature soldiers?” Cyprian chuckled. His eyes had found a list of books. “That’s so sweet.”

“Don’t tell me you’re already swooning. I should have taken you up here weeks ago instead of my mansion. Those—” He took out a book and showed Cyprian. “Were my mother’s. She loves stories.” Cyprian bit his lip as he looked at the book. It was a children’s tale. Moargan never mentioned his mother, but by the sound of it, she was still alive. “Nowadays, it’s me who reads to her.”

Cyprian flicked through the pages. He wanted to know more about Moargan’s mother, but it felt strangely intimate to pry for more information on her. “Is this your local tongue?” He asked instead. The language looked unfamiliar to him.

“It is. I’ll teach it to you one day if you want.”

“I’d love to.” Cyprian carefully placed the book back.

There was a king-size bed with black sheets and plenty of pillows. Furs with exotic animal skins were randomly placed. Cyprian lovingly touched the chair that stood in front of a desk. “Is this where you studied?”

“It is.” He took Cyprian’s hand and guided him toward the window. “Tell me about your room?”

“There isn’t much to say, really. It doesn’t look like yours.” Cyprian tensed at the memory. “We shared a room that was probably about the size of this place. There were three bunk beds. The older kids slept on the top. We didn’t have any desks, so it was mostly just doing homework in bed. When I was older, I’d go to the library or to my friend Grady’s house. Spending time alone was scarce, which wasn’t easy for someone like me.”

“For someone who loves to lose himself in his own little world, you mean?” Moargan’s hand landed on Cyprian’s nape, and he started rubbing slow circles that made Cyprian purr.

“Maybe,” he admitted.

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