His fingers scraped past Arthur’s navel, his belly there tight on strained breaths. When his knuckles bumped into a hard cock, he stopped, brushing them lightly over the hot skin.How long had he wanted something like this? Now that he lay skin to skin with another, he wondered if he would do it right. As many times as he’d imagined some scenario like this, he hadn’t accounted for the other man’s weight or strength. As in dreams, the men in the encounters he’d imagined—though sometimes recognizable—had been physically insubstantial. Seldom had he been able to touch them and feel supple flesh or hard bone. They hadn’t wriggled against him or had hair on their arses that brushed his legs. They hadn’t had bony ankles that scraped his own, hadn’t gulped air as if there weren’t enough of the stuff in the chamber. They hadn’t smelled of their day’s work so that he’d wanted to bathe them with his tongue.
None of those apparitions had been real. Any warrior knew he could only envision a fight so far. At some point, he had to armor up and face a man whose object was to kill him.
Secretly, though, Bedwyr was glad Arthur couldn’t see him. He brushed his mouth up the cub’s neck. “What do you want? Show me.”
The hand gripping his hip let go and covered his own. Arthur mashed their hands down his cock before guiding Bedwyr to curl his fingers around it. He squeezed Bedwyr’s hand once, then gripped the edge of the mattress.
The cock was longer than his grip, somewhat lanky, like Arthur himself. His fingers surrounded it fully; Arthur wasn’t as thick as Bedwyr was. He was no boy either, though, so perhaps it was time to stop thinking of him as a lad. He’d always been Cai’s younger brother, mouthy and annoying, more talk than good sense. Someone who needed protecting from himself. But the person arching against Bedwyr now, writhing to encourage him to stroke, was a man, with a man’s wants and a man’s voice.
A man’s orders.
He stroked his full length, and Arthur shuddered. After a few pulls, Bedwyr slid his hand down over the sac beneath. Arthur lifted his leg to let him in. Curling his fingers around the man’s stones, he pressed into the flesh behind them.
Arthur groaned and grabbed the bed frame.
Transfixed by the desperate clutch of Arthur’s hands, Bedwyr took hold of his cock again and began to stroke in earnest. Arthur’s legs straightened as he shoved his prick into Bedwyr’s fist. It pushed and pulled, growing harder as Arthur thrust. Bedwyr chased him with his own hips, pressing his throbbing cock into the tight muscle at the small of Arthur’s back.
Arthur pushed back.
It was awkward. As much as he’d been using his left hand in recent weeks, he’d not done this even for himself yet. But who was he to claim any finesse to begin with? He’d only ever been pleasured by his father’s women, and he’d kept the encounters as brief as possible, just enough to keep Uthyr from suspecting his true want. He’d never played the lover, never really reciprocated. He’d begun to think he’d only ever be able to do so in his imagination.
If the whispers he’d caught from the women around the village were true, and the prospects on the male side of things as lacking as they’d always seemed, Arthur hadn’t been with anyone at all.
Some possessive instinct made him want to be the first, to own this memory in Arthur’s mind. He squeezed his cock. “You want more?”
Growled. That was more like it. “How? Tell me.”
“Faster. Just…faster.” He half shouted when Bedwyr complied.
He stroked hard, his fist bumping the tight sac guarding Arthur’s stones. “How long?”
“Long as it takes.”
Cheeky. “No,” he chuckled, panting. “How long have you wanted it?” He’d wanted to fuck someone with a prick since his pubic hair had come in, so—
“Since your first patrol.”
His hand stuttered to a halt. His first… “What?”
Arthur gripped his hand. “Don’t stop.”
Bedwyr rose on an elbow so he could see Arthur’s face. “You’ve wanted this?”
Arthur’s eyes were wide and staring but not at him.
“Look at me.”
He did, and the force of it pushed air from Bedwyr’s lungs. Arthur swallowed hard. “Please.”
The possessiveness in him twisted itself into something more familiar, and he surrounded the cub with the shelter of his body. He resumed his stroking. “Like this?”
He did his best, distracted as he was by the contortions of Arthur’s face. How his brows were drawn as if he were in agony. The way his mouth lay open against the mattress, the jerking of his hips as he fucked Bedwyr’s fist. Something grew in his chest at the notion that he was the one causing this, and that something felt like responsibility. What little experience he’d had must be brought to bear, to make this right and good.
He also felt a fierce pride in Arthur. He had faced Bedwyr and asked for what he wanted, and now was taking it. He’d strapped on his armor and faced his opponent, except Bedwyr didn’t want to end him. He wanted to give him everything.
“Ah—” Arthur stretched against him. His eyes closed before flashing open again. “It’s happening.”
“Fuck,” he moaned. “Fuck.”
Arthur’s body seized, and seed shot from his cock. It pulsed in Bedwyr’s fist as it spent itself. He milked it until the curve of Arthur’s arse pressed against the underside of Bedwyr’s prick. Letting go of the man, he gripped himself as best he could between their bodies and stroked. The firelight etched sharp shadows along Arthur’s ribs and shone on their ridges as he breathed. This was life, this man and the fire that shaped him in the dark for Bedwyr to see. He wanted it, clutched and pulled desperately to be part of it, and then he was spattering Arthur’s back with slick streaks.
He stared at them, panting, as they began to drip down his skin. When they touched the bedding, he pushed on Arthur’s shoulder until he lay on his back.
“What did you mean, since my first patrol?”
The light was dim, but still he could see the wariness in Arthur’s eyes when they met his. Part of him wanted to temper whatever made Arthur look that way. But the warrior he’d been made into knew to strike when the other man was most vulnerable.
He didn’t expect to get struck in return.
“That’s when I started wanting you,” Arthur said.
A wicked smile curled my mouth. Sam had taught me a way to bring a man to knees without ever physically touching him. I cradled Tihar’s face between my palms. “Using just my mind, I’m going to show you Earth’s version of a thousand delights. I’m going to give you the blow job of the century.”
I quickly scanned for kids. Yay! They were under the bed, sleeping. “You’ve never heard of a blow job?” Color me amazed.
“You’re in for a treat.” I wrapped a mental hand around his penis and squeezed.
Tihar’s eyes widened in surprise and his tentacles stood out from his head.
Using my psychic talents, I stroked his long, hard length faster and faster; while simultaneously licking his testicles like they were my favorite chocolate ice cream. Following Sam’s directions, I worked him into a frenzy by simply swirling the tip of my psychic tongue around his scrotum.
Tihar threw his head back and howled.
For the piece de resistance, I simulated ramming the tip of his dick into the roof of my mouth and gently manhandled his balls.
Shazam! Tihar’s body bowed and shook violently as I launched him into an orgasmic tsunami.
Were his eyes crossed? Kind of looked like it. God, had I maimed him?
For the longest time, Tihar stared blankly as tremors continued to shake his body.
Had I put him into sensory overload? Or a sex coma? I patted his face. “Hello? Anyone home? Gonna add blow jobs to your thousand delights?”
“Yes.” His voice was a harsh whisper. “Who taught you that?”
“My cousin Sam. You met her, remember?”
“Yes, Rho took her.” Tihar’s tentacles moved restlessly.
Whew! His eyes were back to normal. “Sam said she learned the technique from a holy woman in India.”
“I cannot believe a holy woman would know of such things.”
I shrugged. “You could be right. Personally, I think Sam picked up that little trick from Jed, her low-down snake of an ex-boyfriend, along with a bad case of genital herpes. He was a big-time man whore.”
“A man whore?”
“Yep, not only did she catch Jed in bed with another woman, he betrayed her to the Coletti. Sam blew up his prized ’68, canary yellow Mustang. Sam’s got a nasty, vengeful streak and so do I. If I catch you in bed with another woman, I’ll cut your pecker off.”
Tihar winced. “You are my chosen. No female can replace you.”