Literally.
Chapter twelve
I’m drooling and my hips are humping Tristan’s lap. I don’t understand how it is physically possible for my cock to still be hard, but it is. And it is rubbing eagerly over the damp towel beneath me. The thin wet silk of my robes is no barrier at all. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve cum, though I think that is a sign of how melted my brain is, not that it is such a large number that it is impossible to count.
Tristan is showing no sign of mercy yet, so I’m pretty sure I’m going to leak through this towel and soak the bastard’s legs. It is exactly what he deserves.
Another intense wave of pleasure washes over me, scattering my thoughts and leaving only euphoria behind. The oil is warm and slick. Tristan’s fingers are sliding in and out of me. Filling me. Stretching me. The pressure is divine. The pace is hypnotic. Soporific.
I always thought fucking was a fast and furious thing, done as vigorously as possible for maximum friction, with the sole aim of cumming as soon as can be achieved.
This slow gentle build up, these waves that build and build, increasing and swelling, it is incredible. Not at all what I expected. It has shifted me into an altered state.Shifted my perception. It feels far more like meditation or a massage than being fucked.
A long, low moan pours through me, and suddenly my body is shuddering through another orgasm. Tristan keeps moving his fingers at the exact same steady pace.
“That’s it, Little Nisny. Let yourself go. I’m here to catch you.”
I groan as a burning, stretching sensation explodes through me and suddenly I’m a lot more full. I can feel my body trying to come down from its high, but this new shockwave of sensation is confusing it and keeping all my senses heightened.
Oh my stars. He has added a third finger, and nothing has ever felt so good. This is my new favourite thing.
“You like that, don’t you, Little Nisny,” rumbles Tristan, his voice sounding hoarse.
“What…the…fuck…is…nisny,” I pant.
“Nisny is the Fey word for a fey descendent,” he explains calmly.
My heart flutters. Stupid thing. He is not claiming me on behalf of his race. It doesn’t mean that I belong or I am wanted. It is a simple statement of biology, or genealogy, or whatever. And it absolutely is not a term of endearment. It is like calling a chihuahua, a chihuahua.
All of a sudden, with absolutely no warning at all, Tristan’s fingers stop moving, and a pathetic whimper trembles out of me.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he says.
And then his fingers move, but not in and out. Now he is spreading them. Stretching me wide. Almost unbearably so.
I make an utterly filthy noise and my hips go still and my back arches instead. I have no control over my body. Zero. None whatsoever. It is doing its own thing and I’m merely along for the ride.
“Beautiful,” rasps Tristan in a voice several octaves lower than his normal range. “You are going to be able to take me.”
Oh my stars. The thought of Tristan’s giant cock impaling me, is making my eyes roll back. I want it. I want it so very much. I want him to be inside me. I want him grunting his pleasure into my ear. I want to make him feel as good as he is making me feel.
To be so close to him, so intimately joined while our bodies entwine, would be nothing less than a spiritual experience.
His fingers stretch me some more, and just like that, I’m yelling my way through an orgasm. My legs are spasming and my cock spurting.
I suck in a lungful of oxygen as the intense pleasure recedes. All my muscles are weak. I’m covered in sweat. If the palace caught fire and Tristan abandoned me, I’d just lie here and burn. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to move again.
“Good boy. You are doing so well.”
His fingers pull out of me. Leaving me empty and hollow. I’m not sure if I like it. But there is no time to ponder it, because now there is something pushing at my hole. Something that doesn’t feel at all like fingers. Something slightly cool and fairly hard.
Tristan rubs my lower back. “It’s a plug,” he soothes. “Relax and take it.”
Easy enough for him to say! This thing feels huge!
I whimper, but suddenly it is in and I can’t breathe. It is so heavy. So big. So absolute.
It is stretching and filling me in a way his fingers didn’t. It is smooth. Metal, I think. I’ve never had a toy inside me before. It is intense. Overwhelming. The heavy weight of it is pressing against my heightened and overstimulated prostate.
