When they break apart, both breathing hard, Ivah draws him into the room and closes the door behind them with movements that suggest barely controlled restraint.
He could reach out for him then, throw him down on the bed to make worthwhile use of its silken covers and plush pillows—something better than sleeping. But there's a gleam in Bellamy's eye that bewitches him, and so he stands looming over the smaller man, breathing in his clean scent and learning the lines of his face as if for the first time.
He doesn't look away even when Bellamy reaches for his arm, and he feels delicate fingers begin to unbuckle his bracer. One leather strap is undone, followed quickly by the second, and then the metal cuff comes away in Bellamy's hand. It's set on a nearby table, and shortly after that the other is removed with just as much care as the first. All the while Ivah watches closely as Bellamy remains attentive to every detail, his green eyes tracking the path of his own fingers as they caress the worn leather guards strapped to Ivah's elbows. Piece by piece he slowly removes the remaining armor until there's nothing left but Ivah's pants and boots.
A small, warm hand comes to rest between his shoulders, firm but soothing, as if reminding him that someone else is there. It's soon joined by another, and then Bellamy's palms are sliding over him as he moves from one side of Ivah's body to the other, mapping the deep scars and hills of muscle on his back, side, and finally his chest.
They stand facing one another, and this time it's his eyes Bellamy holds with his steady gaze throughout the ministrations of his fingers.He pulls roughly at the leather ties of Ivah's pants, trying to wrench the knots apart. His mouth is set in a firm, determined line that dares a response when they refuse to give, and Ivah bites back on a smile. Eventually they come undone and Bellamy hesitates for only a few seconds before he slowly lowers himself to his knees, his fingers curling around the top and taking the worn leather with him inch by inch as he goes. When the stiff length of Ivah's cock comes free he hears Bellamy's breath catch and feels the slight tremor that shakes his hands.
Bellamy remains on his knees while Ivah steps back out of his boots. His trousers are banished to whatever dark corner his armor has gone. Two rows of dark lashes hide the prince’s eyes from view as he studies the thick shaft standing before him, and it takes every ounce of Ivah's will not to take him by the back of the skull and hurry him along.
Instead he waits, his nerves burning with need. Eventually he feels soft lips brush first the tip, followed by the tentative lick of the young man's hot, wet tongue. With each touch Bellamy grows bolder; he opens his mouth wide and takes some of Ivah's length, holding it steady with a gentle hand wrapped around the base. He strokes it slowly while he makes an admirable attempt to fit more into his mouth, but even determined as he is it seems too much for him. When he moans his frustration the sound vibrates through his throat, and Ivah growls at the shock of sensation that lights through him. His hands are fisted at his sides, every instinct to take control held back lest he risk harming his beloved.
It isn't long before Bellamy, clever as he is, finds a different way to achieve his desire. Soon his lips and tongue are making their waydown the underside of Ivah's cock, leaving wet trails as he nips and licks from tip to base. He sucks at the tender flesh and makes obscene sounds between each slow lap of his tongue. The light stroking continues throughout, and beneath the robe that hangs about his shoulders Ivah can see Bellamy's other hand working furiously between his own legs.
"Does it arouse you," Ivah asks, "to know that I speared you on that cock and claimed you as mine, and yet you can barely fit your hand around it?"
Bellamy whines high in his throat and sits up on his knees, getting closer and tightening his grip. The hand beneath his robe moves and stills in turns, and it's clear he's fighting to keep from coming in his own hand.
The sight of the young prince struggling to maintain control breaks something in Ivah. He pulls Bellamy to his feet and moves him toward the bed, and Bellamy goes without a fight, falling face first on the mattress with the tail of his blue robe bunched at his waist. He lies on his stomach with his backside bare, his eyes gone dark and glassy as he looks back over his shoulder. Ivah kneels behind him, bending the bed beneath his weight as he takes Bellamy's hips with one hand and grabs a bottle of oil from the table.
Ivah presses it into Bellamy’s hand and leans down to whisper hotly in his ear. “Open yourself for me.”
Easing himself back on the mattress, Bellamy spreads his legs, and Ivah greedily takes in the sight of the prince lying open and wanting before him, his smooth chest rising and falling rapidly as he fails to hide his anticipation. The bottle comes unstoppered and Bellamy tilts some of the contents into his hand. Then he bends himself at the waistto take Ivah's length and rub the surprisingly warm oil onto his skin, spreading it over every inch until it drips down the base of his shaft and onto the sheets, no doubt ruining them. Bellamy groans and bites his lip, and then he upends the bottle once more before letting himself fall back onto the bed again. Slowly, almost nervously, he reaches down between his own legs. It's a sight that seizes Ivah's breath in his chest.
Bellamy stares hard at the ceiling as he teases himself first, spreading the oil and leaving a mess of slick smeared across his skin. He makes a choked sound and slips first one finger inside, and then another. Ivah is utterly transfixed. He watches Bellamy fit three fingers into himself and listens to each quiet huff as he fights to keep control through his self-inflicted torment.
Bellamy gasps, "Ivah, please. Gods, please fuck me–"
It stirs something dark and demanding within Ivah, and he finds that he likes it; without warning he takes the vial and dumps more of the oil over Bellamy's fingers.
He growls and takes Bellamy's backside, lifting him until his cock slots against the well-slicked hole. Bellamy's arms fall to the bed and he braces himself, fingers twisted into the sheets.
Ivah pushes into him slowly, burying himself in the searing heat until he can go no further. He moves to grip the slender hips that lift to meet his thrusts. Bellamy arches and his fingers claw at Ivah's arms, his short nails leaving fiery red lines that burn deliciously. Rather than pleading for mercy he hisses, "Yes," between his teeth, breathing it out on each exhale like a benediction. Ivah drives deep and pulls back slowly, taking everything he's freely given and reveling in it. After a few moments he lets go of Bellamy's hips and takes his ankles in eachhand, holding his slender body open while he thrusts into him. With Ivah's arms out of reach, Bellamy instead clutches the bedsheets above his head with one hand, and covers his own mouth with the other. He cries out into his palm, the sound muffled but barely contained, filling the room with his ecstasy.
Each thrust forces a grunt from Ivah's chest as he fights to drive his cock deeper, desperate to feel every inch of Bellamy's body around him. He has always been a patient man; his will is iron, absolute. But he's rapidly nearing the limit of what pleasure he can endure before his control shatters and he simply plunders his lover without a care. Some sense tells him they both want that, but Ivah also wants something more; he wants to bask in this, to spend hours buried in this beautiful man. His own excitement threatens to cut that disappointingly short.
Bellamy seems to have no such concerns, however. The privilege of youth, Ivah supposes. He reaches down and begins stroking himself, his eyes squeezed shut, heedless of anything but his own need. He gasps and pants and tosses his head back as his fist moves in time with Ivah's thrusts. Each time his cock jerks and his body shudders, causing him to clamp tight and driving Ivah that much closer to the edge. It's agony in its pleasure.
With a roar of both frustration and arousal, Ivah surges forward, folding Bellamy at the waist until his knees are nearly touching the bed. It prompts a surprised yelp, and then his cock pushes inside again, and Bellamy's objections melt into a groan as he yields to Ivah's control.
"I will take you like this every night," Ivah growls in his ear. "Fill you again and again, so that you never forget who you belong to."
Bellamy shakes his head wildly, tossing his golden hair about his face. "I won't," he promises. He breathes hard and fast into the space between them. "Please," he begs. "Please, I need—"
"You will have it, little prince," Ivah assures him. He slams his hips down and Bellamy's look of shock is almost as rewarding as his sudden cry when he comes; he bends off the bed, shuddering through each pulse and gasping helplessly while his come spatters across his own stomach. At last he has nothing left to give and he collapses atop the mattress, limp and breathless. It's as thrilling to behold as it is to feel.
"Ivah, please," Bellamy whispers weakly. His eyes are closed, delicate brow furrowed tight.
Ivah makes no effort to hide his surprise at the strange and almost tender reverence with which Bellamy has said his name. He holds him close and buries his face in the side of his pale neck, breathing in the smell of his sweat. Climax takes him hard when he feels answering arms close around his shoulders and pull him in tight. For a moment the very blood in his body is deafening in his veins, roaring through his skull as he lets the prince take everything he has to give.
When it's over, and the pounding of his temples has slowed, he remains there until he can count the time between heartbeats again. Sated, Ivah rumbles a satisfied growl into Bellamy's neck and nips the soft skin there. He can barely bring himself to move, let alone pull out again, but it will do neither of them any favors to stay as they are.
Eventually he sits up to find Bellamy watching him with glassy eyes that seem to dance in the candlelight. The young prince is flushed, filthy, and fairly glowing with satisfaction.
Afterwards, they lie tangled together among the soft linens, Bellamy's head finding its natural place on Ivah's shoulder while his breathing gradually slows to match the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The room is quiet except for the distant sounds of the castle settling into its nightly routines, and for the first time in weeks, Ivah feels something approaching true peace.
"Should you return to your own chambers?" Ivah asks eventually, though everything in him rebels against the idea of parting again so soon after being reunited. "I don't want to cause difficulties for you with your mother's household."
