Page 33 of Palaces and other Prisons
Dawson nodded and eased down. Ul took a moment to appreciate Dawson’s slick hole, almost hidden by his hairy ass cheeks, before moving closer so his cock could find its way in. It was like a shorter, blunter tentacle. The tip wasn’t as fine as the ones on his back or his branches, and it thickened all the way to the base.
He didn’t rush, as he wanted to enjoy the way Dawson opened, and the way his hole gripped his slick cock as if to stop him from both entering and leaving. His cock undulated as he rocked forward, going deeper.
Dawson moaned.
“Too much?” Some found it too thick toward the base; his husband had never wanted even this much.
“No…it’s the way…uh…that.” His hips tensed as if to lift, though he was stopped by the grip of Ul’s tentacles, and ask for more.
Ul did it again, his cock moving within him, as he rocked forward. Would Dawson stretch to take him all? “You like it?”
Dawson tipped his head back. “Mmm.”
There wasn’t much left, a couple of branch widths at most. He rocked back, and this time, he thrust in instead of gently seeking more depth. Dawson’s fingers curled against the wood of the desk.
Each time he thrust, he sank a little deeper until the hair on Dawson’s ass cheeks was tickling his thighs, and his hole was stretched around him. He ran his hand over Dawson’s thigh as he made the small thrusts, humans liked while undulating inside of him, trapped in his tight heat.
“Fuck,” Dawson muttered, as cum slid out of his half-hard cock. He tensed and groaned again, like he was either dying or deep in pleasure.
Ul kissed the crease of his knee and closed his eyes, giving in to the way Dawson gripped him tight each time he groaned. He came, spilling inside the man who was supposed to be spilling inside of him. But in that moment, all he wanted to do was stay there, wringing every groan out of Dawson until he was as boneless as a krakke.
CHAPTER 22
“You’re very late.” Katrina was already in bed. Though she’d left one candle lit for him. It cast a small gold glow over the table while leaving the rest of the room in shadows, except for the fireplace where flames danced over the log.
“I was helping the king write a letter to management. There’s a big Samhain party happening next week.” It sounded like a lame excuse when it left his lips, probably because it was, but he didn’t want to share that he had just been railed by the king. Especially after they had agreed to keep it quiet.
Once he left home, he’d never hidden that he was gay, or was that bi or pan? But he’d never flaunted it either. It was no one’s business unless they were trying to get in his pants.
His underwear was slick, and his ass ached because it had been a while. It also was not how he had planned the conversation to go. Not only that, but he hadn’t asked about condoms or anything. He didn’t even know if they existed here, so he wasn’t sure how to ask.
“I heard. Is everyone invited?”
“No, only three from management. The party in the palace is for the officials who run the…local governments.” Ul hadexplained how the Felloi was divided into areas and that each area had someone who reported directly to him. “He said that he would encourage the farmers to invite everyone else. Do you want to go back to the platform?” He picked up the candle off the table, so he’d have some light to wash by, and started toward the screen.
“I put your bucket of water in front of the fire so it would stay warm. I put my bucket by the toilet.” She rolled over, and he assumed it was to give him some privacy.
While the bath had been filled the first night, since then it was clear that filling the bath was a big deal and that no water came out of the tap—what was the point of a tap if there was no water?—so they were limited to one bucket of hot water to wash in. As much as he wanted a proper shower, it was enough. Or had been, tonight he wasn’t so sure.
He stripped off, dropping the tunic to one side, and peeled off his underwear, balling them up to be dealt with after. He used the cloth and the tepid water to clean himself, remembering the way Ul had wiped his dick on the inside of his tunic before it softened and slipped back into the slit.
Dawson wanted to watch as it came out. He remembered the way it had wrapped around his shaft when they had been in the rock pool, and he’d felt it moving inside his ass, and not in the way some guys jackhammered. It had been more like the world’s deepest fingering, fucking the cum out of him and leaving him both wanting more, and unable to stand another touch.
Add in Ul’s use of tentacles to hold him and touch him, and those suckers around his hole…
He bit his lower lip, and his ass clenched as if wanting more of those kisses.
He scrubbed his underwear and socks in the bucket. Whatever they put in the water gave it a sharp scent, which he assumed was for cleaning purposes because he was not smellingfunky from a lack of showers or even full baths. Even his socks and briefs were going okay with the buck washes. He spread the clothing out on the hearth next to Katrina’s and got into bed.
He would much rather be getting into Ul’s bed, though there was nothing subtle about that. If he did, it was admitting they were sleeping together, and Dawson was fairly sure neither of them was ready for the gossip to grow legs and run when they weren’t ready to walk.
What would management say?
Would they make him return to the platform even though he was the one who’d taught the king English, or at least spoken so he could learn himself? But now that Ul spoke English, anyone could do the job of taking down his letters.
He wasn’t that important.
His only use was making Ul’s freckles turn pink. Was Ul only keeping him around until he decided what he was going to do about the heir situation? Once again, he found himself bound up in tentacles, only these ones were of his own making. He was afraid of being asked to stay and of being asked to leave. He was worried about fathering children he’d never see, and fathering children he needed to raise when he knew nothing about raising a child of any sort. He was scared about what was going on in the rest of the world and returning to that mayhem, while at the same time, scared of remaining here and missing out.
