Page 69 of Seducing the Sorcerer
“Right. But—”
“Fenn. So we can fuck. On the other side of it. Yes?”
“Oh! Aye. Aye.”
“Yes, because I don’t want anyone watching and I don’t trust Jasper not to snoop.”
“Got it. Anywhere, then. I got linseed oil in my pocket.”
Morgrim gave him a look that nearly made him spend right there without a single touch exchanged, and breathed, “Gods, could you be any more perfect?”
The word “perfect” left Fenn silent and staring. Did Morgrim really think that? About him? Couldn’t be. Must’ve been a sort of joke.
Morgrim gave a shaky inhalation, turned away and began walking again.
Hadn’t sounded like a joke, though.
Hadn’t sounded like one at all.
Fenn went after him. Morgrim was now threading his way through the collection of items that turned this part of the room into something like a dark second-hand furniture shop or a scrap merchant’s yard. There were towering dressers, vast chests, immense settles and a series of solid benches. Also, a pile of doors, lots of stacked casement windows, brass chandeliers in a many-armed pile, and some sort of instrument that gave a ghostly musical sigh as Morgrim swept past. And there, overshadowed by a towering wardrobe, an opening in the stone wall and steps leading down.
But Fenn wasn’t waiting any longer.
Perfect. Morgrim had called him perfect. Fenn was shaking with desire and reckless with it. He caught Morgrim’s elbow and pulled him into an embrace, chest to chest. “Far enough.”
“No door,” Morgrim said, not pulling away.
“Don’t care.” Fenn got his hand under the hem of Morgrim’s long robe. He fumbled for the buttons of Morgrim’s waistband, undid them, took a moment to squeeze his cock through the damp fabric. Morgrim gasped, hardening in Fenn’s grip.
Fenn was hard too. Already. It was as if the fear and danger of the morning had been transformed into some elaborate foreplay that had gone on and on until he was at breaking point. He was going to spend in a few moments no matter what happened.
“What about Jasper?” Morgrim said in his ear.
“Won’t come. Guaranteed. And even if he did. Too dark over here. Too far away.”
“Yes, but—”
“And this is going to be the hardest, fastest fuck you ever had. So, shut up and it’ll be done and no one the wiser.”
Morgrim half-laughed, half-whimpered and tore at the front of Fenn’s trousers. Fenn tugged at Morgrim’s trousers and drawers, yanking off one of Morgrim’s boots so he could get them down properly and off one leg. Morgrim’s hands were everywhere, pulling at Fenn’s shoulders, at his hips. He was muttering in Fenn’s ear, “Quick. Quick.”
Fenn got his hands under Morgrim’s arse, lifted him and took a couple of strides to some dark bit of furniture by the doorway. It had a front that sloped backwards, likely a writing desk. He wedged Morgrim against this, got the bottle out of his pocket with one hand, pulled the cork with his teeth, spat it away and slopped some oil onto his fingers. Morgrim had dealt with his robe, bunching it up at the front. He was leaning back onto the dark wood, breathing fast, his eyes bright slits, half-closed. His trousers trailed off one knee and his legs were wrapped around Fenn’s waist.
The only downside was that Fenn now had his back to the main tower doorway. “Keep a look out,” he ordered.
Morgrim made a noise that was part affirmative, part protest, part plea. Fenn gave his own cock a slathering of oil. Personally, he didn’t much care if Jasper came in. It was only fucking and Jasper had proved last night he was no prude for all he was young. Anyway, if the whole army came in with a general on a white horse at their head, Fenn would still want to get his cock home. Right now.
He fumbled the bottle down somewhere, got an oily finger inside Morgrim’s arse and pushed, slow. Morgrim writhed and made a keening noise that set Fenn’s blood on fire. Fenn got a second finger in, preparing the way. Then he got both hands under Morgrim’s arse again, lifting him to the right height, and pushed forwards with his hips. The angle went wrong and he cursed and spared a hand to guide the head of his cock inside. Morgrim hissed and threw his head back.
Fenn pushed in part way, feeling the resistance, waiting. Then he thrust, slowly the first time. But it was so good, so sweet, so right that the second time he gave it everything. The back of Morgrim’s head hit the wall, but he didn’t seem to notice. Fenn thrust again and again, everything in him already screaming to come, everything black and red and furious. Faster and faster. Nothing but perfect rising bliss. Dimly, he felt Morgrim worm a hand down to grab his own cock. Then Morgrim gave a great shudder and Fenn was gone himself, lost in a sensation sharp as a series of slaps and sweet as a hundred kisses.
Fenn came back to himself to find his face buried in Morgrim’s neck, Morgrim’s hair in his mouth and everything wet, meaning he’d drooled over the man like a dog over a roast chicken. Fenn straightened and wiped his mouth dry on the back of his hand. Morgrim still had his head thrown back, eyes closed, face slack.
So much for keeping a look out.
Fenn glanced over his shoulder. Empty doorway. Empty room. Good. He’d never thought Jasper would disobey orders today anyway; lad had been too rattled. Although Fenn had forgotten that sex seemed to cause a dramatic abandonment in Morgrim, almost as if it were a drug. Well, he hadn’t forgotten. He just hadn’t really believed it would happen again. And he’d wanted Morgrim so badly that nothing else had felt important.
Anyway, the whole thing had taken less than five minutes.
