Page 26 of His Summer Prince

In moments like these Elior envied the humans’ ability to lie. He could’ve never deceived his mother this easily.

“Andre gave you a room?” Wren asked when he strolled out of the kitchen.

Elior fell into stride by his side. “He did. You’re going to love it.”

Wren beamed. “I can’t wait.”

They reached the great hall, and Elior held the door open for Wren, receiving curious looks he chose to ignore.

When the evening turned to night, Elior broke out his lute and played a wistful piece. The guests loved it, one young lord dabbing at the tears in his eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.

As he plucked the strings, Elior’s sight came to rest on Wren time and again. Each note resonated in his soul, making his blue gaze brighter and his smile wider. The hall full of people be damned, Elior was playing just for him.

When he changed the tune and played a cheerful melody, the human guests turned from teary-eyed to apprehensive—they’d been taught to fear the faerie dance. But they were neither in the faerie realm nor were there drums—the most dangerous part of faerie music, as it was their beat that compelled humans to keep dancing. King Malorn and Master Henry were the first on the floor, followed by Wren, who, at this late hour, had little work left to do.

Elior couldn’t resist. He jumped off his chair and joined Wren, playing and dancing alongside him. Plucking the strings faster than any human could, Elior played a wild tune. Guests raised eyebrows and watched in fascination as he swung around with Wren, never missing a note. Human musicians rarely danced while playing, but it posed little challenge to a fae.

Wine emboldened the guests, and a handful joined them. More followed when they saw that their friends were able to stop at will. Soon, the floor was filled with spinning bodies, people merging into a moving mass of color as Elior strummed the strings, beaming at Wren. He couldn’t wait to be alone with him.

The untamed dance wore the wedding party out, and one by one, they departed to their chambers. When the crowd had thinned, Elior left the hall through the door opening into the courtyard, cool night air enveloping him.

Wren followed him at a distance. With the bond, they didn’t worry about Wren losing sight of him, their connection like a trail leading them to each other. Did they have to sneak around? Probably not. Was it fun? Oh, yes.

Elior unlocked the door to his guest chamber, leaving it ajar for Wren, who followed moments later. The door fell shut, and Elior watched Wren as he took in the lavish interior. A heavy four-poster bed of cherry wood dominated the room, red velvet curtains hanging from the ornate tester. Pristine white sheets covered the bed; golden embroidery decorated the pillows. An enormous chandelier hung from the ceiling, a dozen candles burning on its brass arms. It brought the otherwise dark room to a mellow glow.

Wren’s lips pulled into a smile. He raced across the room and jumped onto the mattress, arms and legs spread wide. “This is nice,” he laughed and rolled onto his back, grinning at Elior.

Elior took his shoes off, toes threading into the plush, red carpet as he walked to the bed. He lifted his golden circlet offhis head and placed it on the nightstand before unbuckling his gilded belt that held his robe in place.

Desire and curiosity coursed through the bond. Tugging at the laces of his robe, he turned to Wren, finding his eyes locked on him. Wren licked his lips. His fingers went to the hem of his shirt, untucking it.

Elior tugged the laces free, opening his robe and letting it glide to the floor. He climbed onto the bed, soft sheets sliding across his naked body. Wren stripped off his shirt, revealing that familiar landscape of pale skin and firm muscles. His trousers were next, easily coming off his slim hips once he’d unfastened them.

Elior draped himself across the sheets, and Wren crawled toward him, hands and knees dipping the mattress as he advanced, not a shred of clothing on him.

Excitement flared, and Wren descended on him, aligning their bodies, bringing them skin to skin. Elior clasped his hips, pulling him flush against him.

That first contact of their hardening cocks was a lightning strike, shocking in its intensity. Sensations bounced between them, bliss circling through the bond. They kissed, gentle yet hungry, love and desire flowing freely.

Wren’s parted lips dragged over Elior’s, then wandered to his jaw, giving it a loving nip before he slid lower, kissing and licking his neck. Elior moaned, dissolving under the damp caress. Wren moved down his chest, peppering him with kisses until he arrived at Elior’s pecs. He gave the firm flesh a tender love bite, causing Elior to shudder as his teeth carefully pressed into his skin.

“Wren,” Elior gasped, bucking against him.

A wet, hot tongue flicked across his sensitive nipple, dragging a breathless sound from him. Cool air wrapped around the damp skin, making it prickle and pebble. Wren latched onto it, suckingand licking, each sensation shooting into Elior’s cock. Curious fingers found his other nipple, teasing, plucking and twisting until Elior was squirming, pushing into Wren, demanding more. His erection brushed Wren’s stomach, the engorged glans rubbing across smooth skin and leaving a sticky trail. He couldn’t believe Wren was touching him like this, pleasuring him. Not long ago, Elior hadn’t dared to dream of it. At the next lick, precum flowed from his crown, a desperate rut smearing it across Wren. He grabbed Wren’s ass with considerable strength, holding him close enough to grind against him. And grind he did.

One final, hard suck and Wren unlatched, his blue eyes sparking with mischief as he looked up at him. “Your leaking dick is making a sweet mess.” He took hold of Elior’s cock, thumb dragging across his sensitive glans to swipe up the fat bead collecting in his slit. Elior whimpered, and Wren’s loose fist stroked him once. It was too much and not enough. He moaned as pleasure sparked, and a violent shudder seized him. Wren touching his cock was so much better than his own hand.

Wren let go and brought his thumb to his mouth, tongue darting out, licking up Elior’s arousal. His expression grew dreamy as he took his digit between his lips, thoroughly cleaning it. Wide-eyed and panting, Elior watched him relish his taste. He gripped Wren’s unruly copper mane and pulled him into a kiss. His tongue slid across Wren’s, and his own flavor, sweet and fruity, exploded on his taste buds.

They groaned into the kiss, Elior sending love and shy need, receiving fierce adoration and raw lust. That was oil poured onto the flames of his desire. He rutted against Wren, seeking relief.

Wren smiled and lifted his hips, taking away that sweet friction as he hovered above him. He straddled Elior, eyes roving his body. Under his watchful gaze, Elior’s cock pulsed needily, and heat crept into his cheeks.

“So pretty when you blush,” Wren murmured and cupped Elior’s face, thumb stroking his cheek.

A thought flashed over his face, and he broke away to grab his discarded clothing. Sifting through his pockets, he extracted a small vial filled with cherry blossoms and flower petals floating in an amber liquid. Faerie oil.

“Where did you get that from?” Faerie oil was a lubricant well-loved across Vale. It was produced by fae, though humans bought and used it all the time. Applied to the most private places, the oil magically heated, bringing pleasuring warmth, which was followed by flashes of tingles.

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