Page 54 of Prince of Flowers
“No, I don’t. I like you. A little.”
“You didn’t like me this much then,” he said, taking my cock in his oil-slicked hand. I threw my head back against the mattress, the smoothness of the oil, the roughness of his palm sending sparks flaring throughout my body.
“Don’t,” I said. “Please, don’t. I’ll come if you keep going.”
Sylvain obeyed, removed his hand. “As you wish, summoner.”
He shoved his cock inside me instead. I bit on my knuckles, holding back a scream that threatened to rip from the very bottom of my soul. He went slow at first, testing the waters. Maybe he was worried about the pact, or maybe he genuinely didn’t want me hurting.
And when he heard me whimpering, saw my eyes rolling into the back of my head, Sylvain went all the way in, and out, and in again, building to an excruciating, ecstatic rhythm.
“Look at me, Locke. Look at me.”
I wrenched my eyes open, seeing the bright gold of his as he drove himself into me, over and over. So much of him. Almost too much.
“Beautiful,” Sylvain said. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
I ran a hand along his torso, fingers digging into his gorgeous chest, his abs, those insane lines at his pelvis, telling him with my touch what I thought of him. I moaned, incapable of speaking, every last one of my breaths focused on keeping me alive, on holding on to this overpowering sensation.
Sylvain dipped his head, mouth and tongue working at my nipple, eyes burning into mine. I groaned, terrified that I couldn’t hold myself back. He watched me throughout everything, wanting to see how I would react to his slightest touch, the smallest adjustment of his powerful hips. I felt so wanted, so important. I felt adored.
I threw my head back, feeling his fingers tighten around my throat. Not hurting, not choking — claiming me, possessing me. A reminder that the writhing, whimpering thing beneath him belonged to him and him only. Fine. I could let him have that. I was happy to. This one thing for the prince.
“Play with yourself,” he said, never letting up his rhythm, never slowing. And I knew it would make me lose all control, but I obliged, gritting my teeth as I stroked myself, my cock throbbing, my insides glowing hot.
Maybe that was what I needed, to be told what to do, a summoner commanded by his eidolon. I laughed into the air with understanding. I was giving myself over to him, body and soul, letting an eidolon ravage me, do as he pleased.
Father would hate this. Maybe that was why I loved it. And what would Aphrodite think? I had no way of telling, but no way of hiding from the entities, either. Was she watching? For the first time in a long while, all the burden of shame fell away from my body, my shoulders light, my body limber.
Fuck it. If the gods and demons were watching, then let them.
I was happy to give them a show.
“Fuck me as hard as you dare,” I growled, relishing the shock in his eyes, how quickly it changed to delight. Here was a man so unused to being told what to do, and here I was, his summoner, his caller, for once actually ordering him to do my bidding.
He plunged into me again and again, slamming against my ass, his inhuman strength and fluidity driving him into the brightest, most electric parts of me. The bed frame creaked, begging for mercy. If we broke the bed, he could fuck me on the floor.
So huge. So strong. I’d never felt more ravenous, and yet I’d never felt more complete.
“Fill me,” my voice said, hoarse and scraping through the room, the sound of it so foreign to my ears, like it had come from someone else’s mouth. “Sylvain — fuck, oh, gods.”
I came harder than ever before, in thick, hot slashes across my belly. The sight of it broke Sylvain’s stride, momentarily threw off his rhythm, and then he thrust deeper, deepest, the animal within him groaning, roaring as he trembled from release.
And I shuddered, a mound of quivering flesh underneath him, panting, gasping for breath. Sylvain planted his hands to either side of my head, kissed me hard, pulled away again. With eyes like twin suns he stared into my soul.
“Was it worth it, oh summoner? Was I worth it after all?”
He collapsed against me, heavy, huge, solid, the most solid thing in my life. Every muscle on his torso printed sweat against my skin, the scent of his musk something I would wear like cologne.
I tangled my fingers through his wet hair, filled with his adoration, filled with him. I stared at the ceiling, my vision swimming, dizzied and exhausted by his performance, perhaps, or dazzled by the sunlight of his eyes.
Satisfied, spent, and utterly out of breath, I couldn’t answer. But it was true. Despite the taboo and the tantrums — maybe even because of them — Sylvain was worth every second.
He was worth every inch.
21
I openedmy eyes to the sound of rustling, something that had become so familiar in recent time that it was almost comforting. I was alone in bed.
