Page 84 of Seducing the Sorcerer
Fenn said, quietly, “Want to do something else?”
Morgrim blinked and said, in a tight voice, “No.”
“Sure? Right. Then I reckon you’d best get on the bed. I want you sucking my cock. And no hands. You hear? Mouth only.”
Morgrim did as he was bid, settling himself between Fenn’s knees. He had clearly done this before, because he took Fenn in the way a well-trained horse takes the bit: easily, gently, no fuss or teeth at all. And he did it fervently, like Fenn was the one doing him a favour. His long hair pooled and slithered against Fenn’s skin as he moved.
“Gods,” Fenn muttered. He looked up at the black silk canopy of the bed, not really seeing it, but also, in the back of his mind, delighting in the ridiculous grandeur of the surroundings. He was in the black tower, having his cock sucked by its master, who was hard for him and naked, and like to do most anything Fenn told him to do. It was bloody magic.
Fenn clenched his teeth, and said “stop” before it got too much.
Morgrim sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, eyes huge and black and uncertain. He looked so vulnerable, so adorable, that Fenn was tempted to grab him and pin him down and bring him off, quick and hard and one-handed. And why the hell not? He lurched forwards, startling Morgrim, who reared up onto his knees. Fenn pulled him down sideways so they shouldn’t fall off the bed, pinning him chest to chest. He spat on his hand and grabbed Morgrim’s cock.
Even without Fenn’s cock up his arse, Morgrim did indeed squirm, but his squeal was more of a whimper. Fenn worked him fast and unmerciful, biting the meat of his neck as he did it. Just as Morgrim began to cry out, Fenn pulled away. Morgrim made a noise of protest, almost a sob. And well he might; Fenn reckoned he’d been just about to come.
Anyway, Fenn was going to give him something better. He shifted around to face Morgrim’s feet. He pinned Morgrim to the bed by his hips and got Morgrim’s cock in his mouth, at the same time plunging his own cock into Morgrim’s mouth. Morgrim bucked under him, grabbing at Fenn’s hips and arse. And for a few moments it was like some magic mirror of sensation; Fenn’s cock surrounded by wet heat as Morgrim sucked him, Morgrim’s cock in his own mouth. Then Fenn was coming and it was too intense to do anything but bare his teeth to the misty room and snarl as he emptied himself down Morgrim’s throat.
A few moments later he had control of himself again. He bent to his task, sucking Morgrim hard, more like war than sex, and squeezing his balls, probably just on the wrong side of pain. Morgrim convulsed under him, spending into his mouth, a sweet salty offering delivered with a strangled cry.
Then Morgrim went limp.
Fenn got off him, turned around and lay down next to him. Morgrim’s head was thrown back, neck exposed. Fenn could see the new purple bruise where he’d bitten him. Lucky for dignified high-necked black robes. Fenn put an arm over him and kissed the bite-mark.
“Ah, Gods, that was good. You’re lovely. Most beautiful bloke I ever had. That was good, eh?”
Morgrim made a noise that was likely affirmative.
“Wasn’t too much? Reckon we both enjoyed ourselves?”
Morgrim opened his eyes. They were drugged, unfocused. He turned his head towards Fenn and whispered, “I was thinking ‘master’ the whole time.”
Fenn felt as if his stomach had dropped out to be replaced by a tender triumph that put a lump in his throat. And Morgrim said ridiculous things after sex. Fenn knew he ought not to read anything into it. He knew that. And yet, he hoped that it meant something good and that Morgrim was giving him a glimpse of his soul.
“Aye,” Fenn said. “I am. In here.” He stroked Morgrim’s shoulder. “Next, you need to learn what that word means. Because it don’t just mean you do as I say and I get what I want. Also means I take care of you. See?”
Morgrim didn’t speak, but he sighed and closed his eyes again, all the tension drained out of him. It was so quiet Fenn could hear his breathing and the scrapes and clicks as the tower mended itself. After a while, Fenn realised Morgrim was asleep and likely getting cold. Fenn pulled the black silk eiderdown over him. Morgrim didn’t stir.
Fenn couldn’t sleep. Too much had happened. There was too much to get used to. He stared up at the black silk canopy and his thoughts spooled round and round for what felt like hours. Morgrim with no magic. Morgrim, using him, but to hold back a war. Jasper, a spy. Threats from all sides. Morgrim thinking that Fenn might see off an army with a worple horse. That wasn’t so much desperate as cock-eyed barmy. And Morgrim, naked in his arms. Morgrim saying “I never wanted you to go” and “I want to be your plaything.”
Fenn turned his head to gaze at the marvel lying next to him and found Morgrim looking back, eyes as sharp as ever, if a bit astonished.
“I fell asleep,” Morgrim said uncertainly.
“Aye.”
“Sorry, I’m usually a better host.”
Fenn tutted. “Going all polite on me? Don’t be daft. You needed it. Anyway, it’s a compliment.”
“Well. Yes.”
“Aye. Because it was good, wasn’t it? You still all right? With everything we did?”
Morgrim hid his face in Fenn’s shoulder and muttered “yes.” Bashful. It was sweet. Charming.
“Embarrassed?”
“Yes. No. Maybe.”
