Page 80 of Over the Emerald Valley
He leaned down and returned the favor with keen enthusiasm. The taste of Solon deep in his throat drove him toward promised bliss. Solon’s palms spread his ass, wringing a mewling whimper from his throat.
Temaj loved this position, though he rarely received it from the men who took him. What could be better than a cock to tease and play with while someone teased and played with his? The sheer delight of it traveled from sealed lips to curled toes. The need to come warred with the desire to stay here forever, doing nothing but this glorious mutual sucking.
Solon pulled off him to nuzzle his balls, already tight and throbbing. He licked a wet trail to his rim. A shiver shot straight up Temaj’s spine.
“Do that again,” Temaj demanded and received even more ardent licking from Solon. “Keep doing that.”
Shifting his focus between Solon’s cock and his own ass, Temaj held back the rising surge of pleasure by sheer willpower alone. He wanted this to last. The control was utterly addicting. To order and be obeyed. To be the center of someone else’s efforts for a change. Temaj basked in every second.
He returned to Solon’s cock and swallowed the length with the enthusiasm of a jackal with a bone. Stuffed full, he had to breathe through his nose, which carried its own pleasure. This juncture was where Solon’s scent was strongest. He buried his chin in the soft curls.
It would be so easy to get lost in the pleasure, to let this play out until both of them came, but with Solon fingering his hole, he wanted more. Wanted to be filled there too.
And tonight, he would take whatever he wanted.
“Solon.” He huffed out the name, drunk on passion. “Make me wet for you. Give me more.”
Solon must be lost in it too; his response was sluggish. Though when he got the message, he pursued his task with a thorough and sloppy invasion of the best sort.
Temaj rocked back on his face, a little bit selfish, a little bit wicked, but Solon didn’t complain, only shoved his tongue in farther.
“Nnnn, fuck.” Temaj dropped his head to Solon’s thigh and closed his eyes. His entire body reformed around the wet intrusion and his trembling balls.
“Can I bite you here?” asked Solon, his voice husky, his mouth having moved from his ass to the join of his leg and body.
“Skies, yes.” The heady experience of having power over his lover, power over the pharaoh’s army general, power even over himself, thrilled him to the core, but ultimately, he was ready to be equal. To share all he had with Solon. “Please.”
A sharp burst of pain in the most delicate of places twisted rapidly to burning pleasure.
“Oh.” Temaj writhed into the bite. “Oh, deeper, Solon. Make it hurt.”
Solon hesitated, so Temaj did it for him, sinking his weight onto the fangs, relishing the cycle of pleasure-pain they created.
It was over too soon, the razor-sharp teeth replaced by the laving of Solon’s broad tongue. And that was delightful, but Temaj craved to be overwhelmed, utterly strung out on gratification. He wanted—
“In me.” He shifted. “Fuck me.” The lounge was too small for the acrobatics he had in mind, but they would make do. He wrestled Solon out of the way to sink onto his stomach, spread his legs, and canted his hips, making his meaning perfectly clear.
“We have no oil,” said Solon.
Temaj threw an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m covered in your saliva.”
“But—”
“I’ll heal, remember?”
For one bliss-filled moment, Solon draped his body along Temaj’s back, kissed his neck, then nipped his ear. “Wait here. Don’t move.” And the weight was gone.
Temaj groaned his displeasure at the interruption and watched as Solon gathered oil from the nearest lamp.
Solon coated his shaft until it glistened, then returned. Rough hands took hold of Temaj’s hips.Finally.Solon speared him, thrusting slowly all in one go until the stretch and fullness punched a moan from Temaj’s throat.
“Yes,” he hissed, pushing back. “Hard, Solon. I want it hard.”
The sounds filled his ears. The smacking of flesh, Solon’s brutish grunts as he thrust, Temaj’s whimpers as he weathered the welcome onslaught.
Solon laid a heavy hand on his nape, pinning him in place on the fabric beneath. As much as Temaj had loved being in control, he loved this even more—being held down and fucked within an inch of his life. His body sang for it.
Climax spiraled closer, surging through him like a desert storm, towering, hovering, leaving him balanced on the precarious edge of ecstasy, fighting to wait for Solon to come along for the ride.
