Page 83 of Seducing the Sorcerer
Fenn put his arms behind his head and lay back.
Morgrim finished pulling off his gloves and started with the hidden button at the collar of his robe. He did it readily but his hands looked sore. Perhaps it would be a good idea to immobilise them, so he couldn’t use them even if he wanted. Fenn smiled at the idea even while dismissing it. Tying Morgrim up would be exciting, but he hadn’t agreed to it and it might be a step too far for a bloke who hadn’t even been made to strip for someone before.
And he could see that Morgrim was—well, not exactly enjoying it—but that it was doing for him good and proper. His hands were shaking and he was biting his lip. His robe fell to the ground and he pulled off his boots, rather clumsily. He glanced at Fenn when he got to the waistband of his trousers. Fenn gave him a glare. Morgrim undid the waistband and stepped out of them.
Now he wore only his black silk drawers. Morgrim glanced at him again, red-faced and trembling.
“Come on,” Fenn said. “Look slippy. The light’s much better in here than the last two times. Want to see what I’m getting, don’t I?”
Morgrim undid a button and let the drawers fall.
“Hands by your sides,” Fenn said, quickly.
Morgrim was hard, as Fenn had expected him to be, cock rising above a very nice pair of balls. Fenn admired everything, letting his gaze linger before moving on to Morgrim’s flanks and thighs, then back up to his stomach, ribs, chest, nipples, neck, face. Morgrim stood, waiting, but couldn’t quite keep still. He was breathing fast, almost twitching under Fenn’s appraisal. Morgrim surely must have had lovers look at him in the past, but maybe not when he was standing naked and they were lying fully clothed on his bed. And certainly not when the clothed one had just announced that one day Morgrim would be calling him master.
Fenn crooked a finger. “Bit closer.”
Morgrim stepped to the bed.
“Good. Far enough. Stop.”
Morgrim’s cock was now at eye level. Fenn smiled at it; well, more of a leer. “Very pretty.”
Fenn reached out a lazy hand, noting how Morgrim gasped and tensed. The bloke was desperate, that was what he was. Desperate for a fucking. Desperate to be taken, to not be the one in charge, to be nothing for a bit. At the last minute, Fenn let his hand drop. Instead of taking Morgrim’s cock, he ran a single finger up Morgrim’s thigh, stopping at his balls. Morgrim shuddered, brow creased into a frown that was more anguished than frightening. Bloody hell. It was like the man was ready to burst. Again. And they’d just done it downstairs not a couple of hours since. Fenn was no better. It was like being eighteen again. He felt as if he could do it twenty times in a row and still not get enough. And that frosty thread of magic was shooting through him, heightening everything.
Fenn said, “Legs apart.”
Morgrim obeyed. Fenn stroked the inside of his thigh. Very gentle. Morgrim gasped. His nipples were hard nubs, standing proud. A drop of moisture appeared at the tip of his cock. Fenn fondled his balls. Morgrim closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.
Fenn took his hand away. “Hey. No closing your eyes. Trying to pretend it ain’t happening, are you? Well, it is. And you’re going to keep your eyes open. Understand? You’re going to see everything that happens to you. Now, undo my fly and take my cock out.”
Morgrim did it, with shaking hands.
Obviously, he’d seen it before, but you’d think he’d never seen one in his life to judge from his expression, which was eagerness and conjecture and apprehension all mixed into one. If he was pretending to be a plaything, he was pretending to be a naïve one. Morgrim glanced at Fenn’s face, then back at his cock, as if he didn’t know where to look. Fenn lay back and closed his eyes.
“Ah, you know, reckon I can feel you staring. You want to look at it, eh? Pretending you don’t want to, but I know. Big, ain’t it? Head’s not so wide but look a bit further down. That’s good girth, that is. How do you suppose that’s going to feel? Reckon I might make you squirm. Or squeal. What do you reckon?”
He opened his eyes. Morgrim was still staring at his crotch in a daze. Beads of sweat had sprung out on Morgrim’s brow and the drop of fluid was descending from the tip of his cock, slowly, as if one of the raindrops outside had been caught out of time.
“Well?” Fenn prompted, a bit sharpish, like he was getting angry.
Morgrim flinched. “Uh...yes.”
“Aye, but which? Come on, pick one. Squirm. Or squeal.”
“Probably...both?”
“Both? Greedy, ain’t you?”
“I...don’t mean to be.”
“No? Just your nature, is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“No. Don’t reckon you do. Don’t reckon you know who you are when you’re naked in front of me. You’ll learn though: that you’re mine. My little whore.”
Morgrim was looking at him with such stunned intensity that Fenn wondered if he’d gone a bit far. Morgrim might well be wondering what things would be like afterwards.
