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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.
Defending Hearts – Rebecca Crowley
Author Links : Website | Twitter
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After another couple of minutes fumbling in the dark, trying not to make a sound, he finally made his way to the bed and eased in between the sheets.
Kate rolled over and pressed into him. “Hello.”
“I was trying not to wake you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her.
“I’m a light sleeper. Did you have fun?”
He hummed affirmatively. “Jonas was incredible. The whole club was jumping. Awesome vibe.”
“I’m sorry I missed it.”
“No, you’re not. But I don’t care,” he assured her, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I want you to be happy, not try to make me happy.”
“Sounds good. By the way, I rearranged all your clothes to give myself a drawer and moved in a bunch of my stuff.”
Panic shot through his chest and he froze, horrified by the mental image of his carefully ordered drawers in disarray.
“I’m kidding.” She laughed, propping up on one elbow. “I would never. Oh my God, you should see your face. You look like I just told you I crashed your car.”
“Not funny,” he informed her, slipping his hands under her shirt to tickle her sides. She squealed and wriggled in his grip, until his fingers brushed over her nipple. Then she grew serious, placing her palms on his cheeks.
“Hi,” she murmured before she kissed him.
He inhaled sharply as she ground her hips against him, stiffening his already aching erection. He slid his hands to her rear, pushing down her panties to grip her firm flesh. She purred encouragement against his lips and he tugged the garment down to her knees, then pressed his fingers between her legs.
He growled a curse at the wet heat he found. He started to move his hand but she grabbed his wrist and held him still, nipping lightly at his lower lip.
“I want it fast and hard tonight, and I want it now. Think you can deliver?”
“Anything,” he promised, his heart pounding so wildly he could barely breathe.
She pulled her T-shirt—his T-shirt—over her head and tugged impatiently at his briefs. He yanked them off and rolled over to open the top drawer of his bedside table. As he rooted blindly for the box of condoms he felt Kate’s body against his back, and then she reached around to bob her fist once, twice, three times along his shaft.
He groaned involuntarily, his hands shaking as he opened the packet and rolled down the latex. He turned around just in time to see Kate spread her knees on the bed and brace her hands on the headboard, inviting him to take her from behind.
His dick throbbed and he offered a brief, grateful prayer in Turkish to a God he was confident wouldn’t begrudge this happiness.
He moved into position and gently pushed one, then two fingers inside her, assuring himself she was ready. He replaced his fingers with the head of his erection, sliding it along her folds and over her clit, then easing the tip inside.
She shot him an impatient glance over her shoulder. He buried himself in a single stroke.
Her moan was guttural and she repositioned her knees, moving them wider. He took several long breaths, adjusting to the sensation of her warm, encasing flesh, pulling himself back from the brink of climax. Eventually his breathing calmed and he slowly stroked in and out.
Kate met each thrust of his body with one of her own, urging him faster, harder, rougher. He obeyed gladly, sliding one hand up her stomach to thumb her nipple and cupping her sex with the other, holding her against his hips and teasing her clit.
They went from zero to a hundred in only minutes. After a handful of thrusts Kate arched her back, begging incoherently before her inner muscles tightened around him in a way he knew broadcast her impending climax. Just the anticipation of her pleasure rocketed his own to new heights. He rubbed merciless circles over her clit as he increased the pace. She came within seconds, whimpering as her whole body stiffened, then trembled.
The sight of her shoulders heaving with the force of her orgasm pushed him over the edge into his own. He clenched his jaw as he thrust into her and held himself there, pressure building almost unbearably and then exploding into a dizzying climax. He emptied into her, throbbing inside her hot sex, then gingerly pulled out, feeling like every one of his nerve endings was exposed and raw.
Kate flopped onto her back. He tossed the used condom into the trash and stretched out beside her, trailing his fingers through the sheen of sweat between her breasts.
“Good?” he asked.
He smiled into the darkness. “Could’ve been longer.”
“Sometimes I like it quick and intense. Plus it leaves time for a second round.”
“I’m in bed with a hot man and I want to take advantage. Can you blame me?”
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