Page 95 of The Prince and the Ice King

“That he reached the wayward beastly king

And found him in the night.”

Find him he had, feeling up Jack’s body as he’d felt down his own. It was so rare that Reardon touched Jack more than fleetingly. Jack was the one who guided, who initiated, but now….

Reardon dragged his nails back down Jack’s chest, found his hand on himself and pushed it aside to hunker low and replace that hand with lips and tongue. He could only feel his way through what he was doing, but he barely trembled now, no hesitation as he licked—

Jack gasped!

—and then continued to sing.

“Lips and hands and hearts did touch

Knowing pleasures lost before,”

He licked again, swirling his tongue up Jack’s shaft and over his head, but then sat up to crawl forward, making Jack shake and clutch at him, drawing the long, lean prince atop him and spreading his legs farther to let Reardon settle between them.

“And the prince did reach the king at last

As the beast became no more.”

He kissed Jack, holding his face in possessive palms and rocking his hips to slide their lengths together.

“Ever was, ever more,”he sang softly,“love can conquer any lore.”

“You stole those words,” Jack whispered.

“The chorus is mine,” Reardon countered, looking quite comfortable atop Jack, circling his thumbs along Jack’s cheekbones.

“A dreamer’s refrain,” Jack said, though without the bite he might have used before. “And I think I’ve read a similarly tantalizing seduction.”

There, finally, came the blush that had faded. “You may have. Do you believe your own words, Majesty? It was beautifully written.”

“Reardon….”

“I love you,” Reardon said, hastily but earnestly spoken—what he’d implied so many times but hadn’t yet said aloud—and reached for the blindfold to slide it from his eyes.

“No.” Jack snatched his wrist to stop him, seeing the instant disappointment and sorrow that marred Reardon’s face. “But… you may take your king, my prince,” Jack conceded, drawing Reardon’s hand away from the scarf and down between their legs, lower than their connected hardness to where Jack was willingly spread and inviting him in. “You may yet change my mind.”

Reardon trembled once more as his fingers grazed the puckered skin.

“The oil is at your right,” Jack said. “Make all the mess of me and my bed as you wish.”

However Reardon had hoped his performance would end, Jack knew it hadn’t been this, but he took what he was offered, found the oil, and coated his fingers.

There was many a stable boy, nobleman, or passing nobody who’d had Jack bent or folded and begging for it. Demanding it, more like, since Jack had rarely if ever been sweet or needy when with others in that manner. With Reardon, however, he gave what he’d so often been given by his plaintive prince—the quick breaths and pleasured moans that meant,Yes, this is what I want and what I need—and let Reardon lead.

Reardon had poured more oil than needed, but that merely made the slide easier and the stretch respond faster, as his tentative but strong fingers found Jack’s entrance, circled his rim, and pressed inside. Reardon knew from experience now the right pace, the right depth, and every few moments, when he asked, “Is it all right? Is it enough?” he only pushed Jack closer to catching the pleasure he chased at having Reardon inside him.

Not ready for Reardon to see him, he’d thought this would be impossible, but Reardon didn’t need to see to feel Jack and bring him to the edge. He had two fingers scissoring inside Jack when he dipped down to lick up Jack’s length again.

“Is it—”

“Yes.I won’t break.”

Reardon’s confidence resurged with a wicked chuckle. “I wish I could see you… spread open and sprawled for my viewing. The feel of you….” He kissed Jack’s tip as he continued to stretch him with harder and faster thrusts, and then sucked him in as far down his throat as he could.

Jack’s cry caught on his tongue.

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