Page 31 of His Summer Prince

Elior took it as encouragement and dragged his tongue up Wren’s length, flicking his frenulum before sliding across his aching crown. Holding onto the blanket for dear life, Wren threw his head back. Sweat beaded on his skin, slicking his chest and stomach.

Pleasure ricocheted through the bond. Was Elior…

“You feel the ghost of it,” Wren said, not bothering to make it a question.

“Of course I do.”

“Use me to make yourself feel good. Lick me how you want to be licked. I want to share this with you.”

His tip, slick with Elior’s saliva, pulsed with need, pushing more liquid from him. Elior was on it, lips closing over his glans and drinking up every drop. Wren’s eyes rolled back in his head, sharp breaths rushing in and out of him. Elior engulfed him, tongue dancing over his cockhead.

Inside Elior’s mouth, he felt exposed and protected at once. Exposed to that questing tongue, his essence rolling over Elior’s taste buds. Protected by the one person he loved the most.

Wren squeezed his eyes shut, hoping Elior found his flavor acceptable. But he needn’t have worried—Elior’s delight at every droplet became evident in the bond. He suckled Wren’s tip and was rewarded with another slosh of precum. Wren’s insides contracted, and he cursed.

Elior licked at his slit as if to encourage the dribbling. A few flicks of his tongue, and Wren’s body eagerly complied, feeding him more.

He was a helpless mess, throwing his head from side to side as Elior coaxed drop after drop from him. His tongue strayed to Wren’s frenulum, and a quick swirl across provoked a whole stream to flow from him.

Wren soared, his cock rejoicing at every scrap of attention. And when he thought it couldn’t get better, Elior relaxed his jawand opened wide, swallowing him whole.

Wren screamed. He bucked. He fucked himself into that warm, wet cave. His hands clutched Elior’s head, holding him in place, keeping him exactly where he wanted him. Where he needed him.

All semblance of control lost, Wren drove into Elior’s throat, which swallowed willingly around him. Soft tissue closed around him, robbing him of all senses, begging him to spill his seed.

Elior’s desire shone between them, and he held onto Wren, keeping him at the back of his throat. Wren keened, desperately rutting, pressing his depraved tip into Elior.

Elior, gasping, pushed off. Wickedness played on his features. “Keep still.”

Wren let go of his head. “Sorry if I hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

Elior licked his lips and descended on Wren, welcoming him back inside. Fresh surges of pleasure washed over them, Elior’s eyelids fluttering closed. He bobbed his head, sliding up and down.

Filthy moans poured out of Wren as Elior took him apart. That nimble tongue whirled along his underside, snaking along his veins, at times pressing into them. Wren twitched and throbbed inside Elior’s mouth, relishing every lick and suck. Waves of heat rolled through him.

Elior blew him with reverence, and Wren almost fainted when their joint passion escalated. Elior’s desire conquered and overwhelmed him, and his mouth did the rest. Wren groaned, and when Elior took him once more to his root, all was lost.

With a husky shout, Wren exploded into that tight, wet heat. His groin tensed and erupted, shooting volleys of cum down Elior’s eager throat. He writhed as he came, crying out when Elior reached his own peak, his climax barreling into the bond. Fierce love pulsating through their entire beings.

Wren orgasmed deep and hard, every muscle flexing and pumping, firing rapid spurts of cum. He was drowning Elior in his release, and with a final twitch, he finished. He sagged onto the blanket, wrung dry and completely satisfied.

Elior pulled off and crawled on top of him, a pleased smile on his lips. “I ruined you.”

“You did,” Wren mumbled through his post-orgasmic fog, pulling him into a hug.

Elior kissed him, and he opened up, inviting him into his mouth. Wren hummed with delight as he tasted himself, rich and salty, on that perfect tongue. A strange pride filled his chest. Elior had allowed him to spill inside his mouth. If it was possible, he loved him all the more for it.

“I came untouched,” Elior whispered, contented.

“That’s what you get for lying with the filthy shepherd boy.”

“I like filthy.”

Wren chuckled. “Of course you do, Your Highness.”

“Shut up, Prince Wren.”

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