Page 21 of A Fragile Heart

Kurosh pushed him to his knees, not quite as rough as he could be, probably still mindful of his healing wounds, even though he was basically fine at this point and everyone was a worry wort.

His harem loomed over him like a sultry tribunal, and Bakhtiar had never been so delighted to submit for judgement.

"He does look pretty on his knees," Reza said idly, as though he was talking about the weather, turning to look at Farrokh.

Bakhtiar quirked a brow. "Just how long have you been talking about me inappropriately with them."

"Shush," Farrok said in his teacher's voice, which just made Bakhtiar's cock harden further, and he damn well knew it. "Since the beginning. They both knew where this was likely to go. We weren't letting just anyone into your chambers, Bakhti. No matter how pretty their voice or ridiculous their muscles."

Taher cast him an amused look, then finally broke the line of wicked promise to circle around behind him, pulling Bakhti's hair free of its loose braid and casting it to spill over his shoulders. "You're so beautiful, my prince. I'm told you're even pretty when you're a filthy mess."

Bakhtiar's face heated. "You won't find out if you just keep talking and—" He glared up at Farrokh, who'd shoved two fingers in his mouth.

"Better," Farrokh murmured, eyes heavy-lidded and full of slow-burning heat. "You've gone too long without if you can be this mouthy, little prince."

Bakhtiar just sucked on his fingers like he'd soon be sucking on someone's cock, meeting that heated stare unflinching until Farrokh withdrew, and Kurosh took his place, kneeling naked in front of him to work on the loose ties of Bakhtiar's pants. "Are you ready, Bakhti? To show your new concubines what a desperate, insatiable, cock hungry little slutyou are? How you're not satisfied until you're so used up you can barely crawl into bed? How even then you're not happy until you fall asleep stuffed full? Maybe with four of us we can keep up with how greedy you are."

He shoved Bakhtiar to the floor and yanked his pants off, and it was Reza who wrapped around his cock and stroked him teasingly, long, loose strokes that weren't nearly enough to satisfy, rubbing a thumb over the tip before spearing it over Bakhtiar's lips so he could taste himself.

When they rolled him over and put him on his knees, Taher knelt in front of him. "You have tattoos," Bakhtiar said breathlessly, leaning forward to drag his tongue across the beautiful songbirds perched amongst impressively detailed branches and leaves. "How very bold of you, storyteller."

Taher gave a short, breathless laugh as he took hold of Bakhtiar's hair and guided him further down, cock in his other hand. "Not as bold as making the crown prince himself suck my cock."

Bakhtiar dragged his tongue across the tip of it, then suckled teasingly. "You don't seem to be making me do anything."

"We told you he was a brat," Kurosh said, and then his hand was on Bakhtiar's head as well, fingers tangling with Taher's as he roughly shoved Bakhtiar onto his cock, forcing it deep, giving Bakhtiar no time to adjust, unable to do anything but take and take.

It was far less a matter of him sucking cock and much more a matter of hole being used with abandon, until he was desperate for every bare chance to breathe they gave him, throat sore and jaw aching, sweat dripping down his face and tears stinging his eyes.

At one point Taher roughly withdrew and was replaced by Kurosh, who used him even more roughly, fully aware of justhow much Bakhtiar could take. "I can't believe you ever thought we'd grow tired of you, Bakhti. All else aside, how could I ever stop enjoying the way you so eagerly take my cock?" He thrust deep, held himself there, fingers painfully tight in his hair, until Bakhtiar's vision went spotty and his lungs were burning—

Kurosh withdrew, leaving him gasping for air, and he'd only just gotten enough breath back when Taher returned, clearly having taken some cues from Kurosh. Back and forth they went, chasing their own pleasure in his throat, until Taher shoved in deep and held him there in an echo of earlier, spilling hot down his throat as Kurosh came across his face. The mess spilled across his nose and cheeks, his lips, clung to his eyelashes, forcing him to wipe at it in futility as they drew away.

He was yanked back, thrown once more to the ground, and it was Reza who settled between his thighs like he owned the space, big and broad and beautiful as he stared down with fire in his eyes. "What a delicious, decadent display you are, my prince."

Bakhtiar didn't even bother to try not preening at the words, stretching out to put himself on further display. "Do I meet the expectations of your daydreams, faithful guard? Is this what you pictured standing there day after day?"

"Better," Reza murmured. "Especially since now Icanfollow you into your office and bend you over that table and fuck you so hard everyone outside knows exactly what I'm doing."

"That's not going to help me focus on my workat all," Bakhtiar said, and moaned as his thighs were grabbed almost bruise-tight, Reza's fingers digging deep into the muscle. Farrokh settled as his side, but instead of touching Bakhtiar yet he leaned in to kiss Reza hungry and sharp. "Fuck." That was a pretty sight.

Kurosh settled at his other side, and it wasn't hard to tell from his well-used lips and mussed hair that he'd beenexchanging some kisses of his own while Bakhtiar was distracted entirely by Reza and his little fantasy. As Reza and Farrokh drew apart, Kurosh kissed Reza. Behind Bakhtiar, Taher pulled his head into his lap and leaned over to kiss Farrokh. Fuck, he could watch the four of them trade kisses all day long.

And so much more of course. There was an endless pile of all the ways he could watch the four of them. Kurosh and Reza together, the soldier more than a match for the assassin, playing rough and fucking rougher. His storyteller and his scholar would be sweeter together. Kurosh and Farrokh had been playing a game of push and pull from the beginning, taunting and provoking. Would Reza be obedient for Farrokh's stern teacher mien, or would he be a bad student? How sweetly and prettily would Taher obey Kurosh?

So many combinations, so many ways to play.

He was jerked roughly from his thoughts and admiration by two familiar fingers shoving crudely into him. "Fuck!"

"Soon," Farrokh murmured, stretching and twisting his fingers, making him gasp and try to twist and writhe away from thetoo much, too fast.

He was still reeling from two fingers when additional ones teased at the edges of his hole, working around Farrokh's presence, before a third, unfamiliar finger pressed inside. Bakhtiar looked down to where Farrokh and Reza were working him open together then let his head fall back as he moaned, landing heavily in Taher's lap, grinding against his cock, already hard again. "Too—too much—"

"Liar," Kurosh murmured, shifting and lowering himself to kiss Bakhtiar's mouth, biting and sucking at his lips until they were throbbing, already well-used from the earlier face-fucking. "It's never enough for you. Did you tell your new concubines the stupid thing you used to do when you were younger? Before you had us here to keep you satisfied?"

Bakhtiar tried to reply, but there were five fingers in him now, stretching him wide, pushing deep, their arms rubbing against his thighs, and it was all so much, too much, but still not enough.

"What did he do?" Reka asked.

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