Page 110 of Heart of Winter
A hand shot up, vial held aloft in triumph, and Erik grinned when he crawled back into position.
“Entertain many guests here, do you?” Oliver asked, teasingly polite.
“None. We’re woefully short of auburn-haired Southerners here. Lie back.” He uncorked the bottle with his teeth – oh, that did things to Oliver’s insides – and poured a generous amount of oil into his hand, the scent of roses blooming between them.
Oliver reclined back on the pillows, legs falling open again, and was already shivering in delighted anticipation before the first touch.
Erik leaned down to suck more bruises into his throat while he worked the first finger inside.
“Oh. You’re – you havebighands.”
“Too much?”
“No. No, it’s – oh, yes, just like that.”
A pleased hum against his throat. A flex of clever fingers. Erik stroked him all over with his other hand, teasing caresses along the join of thigh and hip, and over his chest, plucking at his nipples in turn. He thumbed a damp curl off Oliver’s forehead, and stroked along his cheek, his eyes wide, and dark, and wondrous. “You’re so very pretty, little drake. How did I get so lucky?” He added another finger, pressed deep, and Oliver couldn’t fight the moan that caught in his throat, nor the way his eyes fluttered shut.
By the time Erik was working three fingers steadily in and out of him, Oliver was sweating and trembling all over, fully-hard again. Erik was vibrating with restraint, biting at his own lip, when Oliver peeked.
“I’m ready. You can” – the fingers paused, and slowly withdrew – “you can fuck me. I want it. Please.”
There was more oil, and then Erik was settling over him, blunt pressure. Oliver hissed – because it had been a long time, and Erik washuge– but when Erik hesitated, he tightened his legs around his waist and urged him forward. “Come on, come on,” he chanted, and Erik pressed in, and in, and filled him, their hips snugged together, both of them breathing raggedly into each other’s mouths.
“Are you all right?” Erik asked, voice rough. “Can I–”
“If you don’t, I’ll die,” Oliver pleaded, arching again, clenching around him until it was Erik hissing. “Please.”
“All right. Hush, sweetheart, I have you.” Erik’s hips drew back, and surged forward, and it was every bit as overwhelming as Oliver had always hoped.
Oliver clung to him, and the first few careful thrusts became long, deep strokes that would have pushed Oliver up the bed if he hadn’t been holding on so tight, overcome with sensation, marveling at the strength and power of Erik above him, moving now with low, guttural moans and murmured praise, sweet nonsense pressed into Oliver’s throat between kisses and bites.
The rhythm built, faster, harder; sweaty skin sliding, clawing to get closer, muscles straining. Oliver clutched fistfuls of hair, and then dug fingertips into the strong, flexing back. Pleaded, and gasped, and gave himself over to Erik’s driving thrusts – gave everything.
“Gods,” Erik murmured. He thrust hard, grinding in – and came with a wounded sound. Oliver felt the kick and bloom of heat deep in his belly, where they were joined. And Erik was still coming, his hips still kicking and cock pulsing when he reached between them to stroke Oliver to completion. Until black spots clouded his vision, and his whole body tensed, lit up electric with the force of his second orgasm.
It was exquisite.
They came down together, Erik heavy and limp above him, his breath hot in Oliver’s ear. Oliver clung to him, liking the pressure, wanting – needing the contact, his eyes beginning to sting, traitorously. It was the best fuck of his life, and certainly the one that meant the most – and that was why, as aftershocks rippled through him, and Erik slowly softened inside him, the reality of their situation, of their respective stations, crashed over him, and left him reeling. He was afraid for Erik to pull back, because once he did, they would be king and bastard again, and this couldn’t last – this had all been a yuletide dream.
But Erik did eventually draw back: he pushed up on his arms, and Oliver let his hands drop. Erik met his gaze – and then froze.
Oliver blinked, sniffed, and smiled – he did not cry. He clamped it all down, because he was damn-near professional at suppressing emotions, when he wanted to be.
Erik looked startled…and then his expression melted into one so tender it had Oliver’s eyes stinging all over again. “No,” he murmured, and touched Oliver’s face so gently, his smile soft as the press of his fingertips as he smoothed them over Oliver’s cheek. “No, it’s all right, darling. Don’t be upset.”
“I’m not,” Oliver lied, trying to scowl, voice quavering terribly.
Erik’s smile deepened. “Here. Come here to me.” He slipped out of him, and then shifted over to lie on his side, both arms enfolding Oliver and pulling him close, hugging him tight to his chest.
Oliver was proud, but not too proud to keep from ducking gratefully beneath his chin while he fought to regulate his breathing and blink his eyes clear.
Erik stroked his hair, and his back, sweet, undemanding touches, now. “I want you to listen to me,” he said, voice a comforting rumble that rippled through Oliver’s whole body. “I’m many things. I am stubborn, and I am prideful. I can be selfish, and lustful, and I don’t ever like to look foolish. I am flawed, same as any man – but I don’t lie. And so I hope that you will believe me when I tell you that I would never have invited you into my bed, would never have asked to braid you hair if I meant to abandon you to the gossip and censure of my people.” He stroked the back of Oliver’s neck soothingly. “I will not hurt you, Ollie. Not on purpose, I swear.”
“You’re horrible,” Oliver sniffled, but he wrapped his arms around strong ribs, and held him in return. This impossible, sweet, fearsome man who was a king of a wild Northern nation, and who had – if he was honest with himself – not simply fucked Oliver, but made love to him. Called him pretty. And now held him so tightly and securely.
Erik hummed, and petted his curls.
Oliver let the day’s exhaustion sweep over him, and fell asleep with his cheek pressed to the steady beat of Erik’s heart.
