Page 8 of The Minotaur's Maze
"That's it," he encouraged, working his way down my spine. "Let go. Give in to me.”
His hands were magic, finding every knot, every point of tension I'd been carrying. When he reached my lower back, I was practically swaying on my feet, drunk on the sensation of finally, finally releasing the physical manifestation of my stress.
"Lie on the altar," he instructed, guiding me forward.
The stone should have been cold, but it was warm beneath my skin as I stretched out on my stomach. The surface was smoother than it had appeared, worn by time and use into something that cradled my body perfectly.
Lakovos’s hands returned to my body, this time with something slick and fragrant coating them. Oil, I realized, as he worked it into my skin with long, firm strokes.
The oil's warmth spread through me, carrying hints of sandalwood and something earthy I couldn't identify. His massive hands worked their way down my legs, each stroke unwinding years of tension. I moaned softly against the stone, my body melting under his skilled touch.
"That's it," he murmured, his voice rumbling through me. "Let everything go."
When he reached my feet, he massaged each one thoroughly, his thumbs pressing into pressure points that seemed connected to every part of my body. I'd never experienced anything like it. It was as if he knew my physical form better than I did.
"Turn over," he commanded gently.
I obeyed without hesitation, rolling onto my back. My cock was fully hard now, jutting up toward my stomach. I should have felt exposed, vulnerable, but instead I felt seen in a way I never had before.
Lakovos stood at the foot of the altar, his amber eyes glowing as they traveled over my body. His own massive cock had thickened, hanging heavy between his powerful thighs.
"Beautiful," he said, and I felt myself flush with pleasure at the simple praise.
He began working up my legs again, his oil-slicked hands moving with deliberate slowness. When he reached my inner thighs, I instinctively spread my legs wider, inviting him to touch me where I needed it most. But he bypassed my cock entirely, continuing up to my stomach and chest.
"Please," I whispered, my hips lifting slightly off the stone.
"Patience," he rumbled, a hint of amusement in his deep voice. "Tonight is about more than just release. It's about surrender."
His massive hands worked over my chest, thumbs circling my nipples until they hardened into sensitive peaks. When he pinched one lightly, I gasped, arching into his touch.
"Good boy," he praised. "Don’t hold those sounds back."
I basked in his words, letting them wash over me like physical caresses. My cock throbbed, untouched but harder than I could remember being in years.
"Tell me what you want, Julian," Lakovos said, one hand sliding down to rest just above my groin, tantalizingly close.
"Touch me," I breathed. "Please."
"Where?" he asked, his voice gentle but commanding. "Be specific. Tell me exactly what you need."
The directness of his question broke through my hesitation. "My cock. I want you to touch my cock. Please."
His smile was approving. "Good boy."
His massive hand wrapped around my shaft, and I moaned at the contact, my hips bucking involuntarily. His grip was perfect, firm but not too tight, slick with oil that made his strokes glide effortlessly.
"Look at you," he murmured. "So beautiful when you give in."
I whimpered as he stroked me with a rhythm that seemed to match my heartbeat, his massive hand engulfing my cock completely. Each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body, making my toes curl and my back arch off the warm stone.
"That's it," he rumbled, his free hand coming to rest on my chest, pinning me gently to the altar. "Let me hear how good it feels."
I hadn't realized how loud my moans had become, echoing off the hedge walls surrounding us. But with his encouragement, I stopped trying to hold back, letting every gasp and whimper escape freely.
"Please," I begged, though I wasn't even sure what I was begging for. More? Release? Something deeper?
Lakovos seemed to understand my incoherent plea. His strokes slowed, becoming more deliberate, his thumb circling the sensitive head of my cock on each upstroke. Pre-cum leaked from my tip, mixing with the oil to create an exquisite slickness.
