Page 47 of His Summer Prince

“Aren’t you worried,” Wren said with a grin, “that if you start selling faerie oil, people will think about the things we’re doing behind closed doors?” He pulled Elior into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

“Don’t you think they already know?” There was a spark in Elior’s eyes. “We could sell faerie oil all along the coast. We’d make a fortune. But first, we must test the quality of the sample.”

Elior went for the hem of Wren’s shirt, untucking it before slipping underneath. Wren gasped as Elior’s fingers settled on his midsection, soft and smooth. Their lust merged, and everything else faded.

Wren pulled off his shirt, granting Elior time to slide his hands over his front, fingers following patterns of freckles. After almost a year in the sun, Wren’s skin had taken on a seemingly permanent tan, just as Elior’s golden glow had deepened.

He dropped the shirt on the cool stone tiles, and Elior popped open the buttons of his breeches. As the garment fell off Wren’s hips, Elior gripped his buttocks with firm hands and lined uptheir bodies.

Wren grabbed at the belt holding Elior’s aquamarine robe in place. He smiled as Elior leaned in for an open-mouthed kiss. His lips were soft as always, inviting him inside. The bond hummed as Wren worked the belt buckle loose. When it came undone, Elior’s robe fell open and he shrugged it off, revealing the full glory of his naked body. Their cocks met, hard and ready. A jolt of electricity went through Wren.

He stepped out of his breeches and retreated toward the bed, the soles of his bare feet slapping against the smooth tiles. As if connected by an invisible band, Elior followed, crawling onto the sheets after him. They’d spent the past year getting to know each other’s bodies, the bond announcing what they liked, turning them into masters of their pleasure.

Elior slid on top of him, his strong, lithe body pressing him into the mattress. God, he loved Elior’s weight on him. He ran a hand down his back, and Elior invaded his mouth, kissing him hard.

When Elior withdrew, he took the oil and uncorked it. Wren’s attention was glued to him as he poured some of it into the palm of his hand, then dragged two fingers through it.

“Turn around,” Elior said.

Wren was dizzy with bliss. There wasn’t much that was better than Elior opening him up. Obediently, he rolled over and got onto all fours.

Elior kneeled between his legs and parted his cheeks. Cool air ghosted across Wren’s entrance, and he shivered in anticipation.

Elior set a fingertip on him, and Wren moaned as the oil heated the skin surrounding his most private place. Drawing slow circles around his entrance, Elior coaxed him open, the tingling caused by the faerie oil making him twitch against Elior’s middle finger. Wren bit his lower lip as Elior pushed into the resistance of his guardian muscle.

Elior dove inside, sliding deep into Wren’s channel. After such a long time together, Wren was used to the penetration. He slept with Elior every day, varying between sucking each other off, rubbing their cocks together and penetration. There wasn’t a week when he didn’t have Elior inside him, and he’d grown looser. Still snug and tight, as the bond told him every time Elior slid home, but the initial entry had become easier after he’d welcomed him so many times.

Elior granted him a moment to get used to the stretch, then gently thrust in and out, providing his hole with light friction. Tingles rushed through Wren, and he moaned, his buttocks flexing as he squeezed Elior’s digit. He gripped him, holding on as Elior eased out, then drove back in.

“Can’t wait to be inside you,” Elior mumbled, rotating his hand until his palm faced down. His fingertip slid along Wren’s inner walls, seeking that little knot of nerves.

Wren pushed up against him. Elior’s fingertip slammed into him, hitting his sweet spot. A shock went through him, and he trembled, hands curling into fists in the pillow. Elior sucked in air through his teeth, no doubt feeling a shadow of the touch.

“Fuck!” Wren clenched his jaw against the onslaught of pleasure threatening to tip him over the edge already.

Elior stroked that sensitive little spot. His hand trembled.

Wren closed his eyes and saw the golden glow of the bond enwrapping him. Elior’s finger penetrated him, and then his soul joined the stimulation, reaching into the most private part of his being.

Elior nudged him, and a happy cry escaped Wren. His insides narrowed, embracing Elior, holding onto him with all his might. After a year of regular fucking, his inner muscles had become stronger, deliciously squeezing Elior whenever he was inside him. Wren’s orgasms, too, had escalated in intensity, cum shooting out of him in rapid, powerful spurts anytime Eliorpounded his prostate.

There had been times when the olive oil hadn’t kept him from getting sore. If Elior was able to produce faerie oil… With its endurance-enhancing and healing properties, they could go back to fucking four times a day. Wren’s cock twitched.

“What kind of particularly enticing thought was that?” Elior asked, a mischievous smile in his voice.

“I like this way too much. We really should start making faerie oil. This feels so damn good.”

“Hmm.”

Elior’s middle finger circled his prostate, teasing him with the possibility of touch but carefully avoiding the center of his pleasure. Round and round he went, driving him out of his mind.

“Don’t play with me,” Wren ground out, his helpless hole quivering.

“You know I enjoy playing with you. Withus. And you like it too.”

Of course he did, and Elior knew it.

He let out a groan. The oil had his hole buzzing with need, and he panted as Elior avoided his core, that lone digit stimulating every other part of his channel.