I am starving for this, I suddenly realise. Cooper and the persona before him didn’t play like this. And this is more than a preference, it is an intrinsic part of my nature. It is a need. I should never have buried and neglected it for so long.
My hand moves steadily. Confident, unrelenting strokes. Llywelyn shudders and his eyes roll back. His nature responding to mine. The best fucking feeling in the world.
His cock is silken in my hand. His submission is a caress against my soul.
His head falls back and rests on my shoulder. He becomes a soft, quietly whimpering, needy mess in my arms. Leaning his entire body against me. Pressing in close. I love the warm weight of him.It feels like my arms have been empty my entire life and now they finally have what they have always been missing.
My plan had been to edge him, to make him beg. Force him to watch himself in the mirror. But this doesn’t feel like that. This feels tender. Kind. Nurturing and caring.
He shudders as he draws close to his orgasm. I snatch up a handkerchief from the dresser and hold it over his tip. No point in ruining all his silks.
He cums in my arms as I watch greedily in the mirror. It is a beautiful sight. He is a stunning man at all times, but while glowing with bliss and ecstasy, he is truly divine. Pleasure softens him. Smooths out his brittle edges. Euphoria suits him. He should wear it often.
He draws in a big shuddering gasp as his peak finally recedes, then suddenly he is moving, spinning around in my arms to face me and wrap his arms around my back.
He clings to me as if his life depends on it. Instinctively, my arms envelop him and hold him close. He is solid and real, and it feels like he is mine.
“Am I doing it right?” he whispers.
My throat tightens. The fey don’t hug. I gave him his first one the other day.
“Yeah,” I croak hoarsely.
He sniffs, and a moment later I feel a hot wetness on my shoulder. Before I can react, he lets out a sob and starts crying in earnest.
I hold him while my heart aches, and my chest constricts. I don’t know what else to do. I have no idea if there is anything else I can do.
“I’m sorry,” he all but hiccups. “I don’t know why I am crying.”
I do. I think I know. Or I at least have a vague inkling. He has been all alone his whole life. A stranger to kindness, to touch and affection. He doesn’t understand the feeling, and it isoverwhelming.
“It’s okay,” I soothe.
The lie burns my lips as it passes. Nothing in Llywelyn’s life is okay. I wish it were. I wish I had the power to make it so.
Chapter twenty-three
When I’m not being thrown into it, this enormous bath is wonderful. I really needed a good soak, so when Tae said there wasn’t a normal tub in Llywelyn’s rooms, I was disappointed.
But now I don’t know what I was thinking. This is a thousand times better than a pokey white plastic bathtub. All this space. All this heat. This is decadence and luxury, and I really could get used to it. It is even pretty to look at. All deep-green tiles and ornate arches. I should never have allowed my bad memories to taint my opinion of Llywelyn’s private Turkish Bath.
I let out a loud sigh as the last of my tension leaves my muscles. My head drops back onto the rolled towel Tae thoughtfully placed on the lip of the sunken bath. I could happily stay in here all night.
Although, getting out means putting on a robe and going to bed. Since it is late in the day and long past dinner. And bed isn’t a bad thing, at all. No, far from it. Heaving myself out of this glorious hot water, leads directly to climbing into a ridiculously comfortable bed. One that will have Llywelyn in it.
My cock stirs. I wonder if I can send Tae to ask Llywelyn to join me in here? That would be a truly marvellous way to end the day.
A soft footstep on the tiled floor lets me know that Tae has padded into the room. I open my eyes.
The little fairy holds up a beautiful book. It is roughly A5 in size, and a deep azure blue. Embossed with patterns similar to Celtic Knotwork.
“No charms,” he explains softly. “Library. Old book. Omegas.”
My eyebrow rises. “Good thinking Tae, thank you.”
My gaze runs over the gold letters swirling along the spine. It is written in Fey and the translator sewn into my ears doesn’t work on writing.
“Can you hide it in my drawer?” I ask. I can figure out a way to decipher it later.
