Vincent’s throat worked as he swallowed, his fingers twitching against Jasper’s hips before he finally nodded.
Emboldened and not about to miss the opportunity to prove to Vincent his scars weren’t something to be ashamed of, Jasper slowly traced across the entire spread of scar tissue. “You nearly died because of me.”
“So long as you lived, it would have been worth it.”
“Don’t say that,” Jasper hissed. Even if this wasn’t real, the thought of Vincent dying made it hard to breathe. Even worse if Vincent died because of him. “You’re not allowed to die.”
Vincent’s lips twitched, but his voice was grave when he answered. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“And don’t call me highness,” he grumbled, dropping his hands to Vincent’s sleep pants and tugging. “Not here.”
“What should I call you, then?” Vincent planted his hands against the mattress and lifted his hips to let Jasper finish undressing him.
“You could use my name.”
“Prince Jasper.”
“No, just my name.”
“I could never be so presumptuous.”
Jasper shot him an exasperated look from beneath his lashes and tossed Vincent’s pants aside, his socks following. “Don’t be difficult.”
“Apologies, my liege.”
He snorted as he settled between Vincent’s legs, refusing to be intimidated. At least until Vincent picked up the bottle of lube and handed it over. Jasper’s face was so hot it was a wonder his hair didn’t catch fire. He popped the lube’s top and squirted too much onto his fingers; then he froze as reality caught up to them and he realized he was actually about to top Vincent. His Dom. His advisor. As a sub and a prince.
The warmth of Vincent’s fingers around his wrist drew him back to the moment. “Yooou should lie down,” he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.
“As you wish, my liege.” Vincent nudged Jasper back with a knee, then stretched out on the bed, and that was somehow even more intimidating. Especially when Vincent propped a knee up to give Jasper better access. “One finger,” he murmured.
A strangled groan escaped Jasper as he stared at Vincent’s groin, pushing through the excitement and worry churning in his gut. He gripped Vincent’s knee for balance and to keep himself from fleeing down the stairs before pressing the finger of his other hand against Vincent’s entrance, circling his finger a dozen or more times as he gathered the courage and audacity he needed to finally push the tip in.
Vincent blew out a slow breath and curled his fingers around Jasper’s wrist again.
When Jasper risked glancing up, Vincent’s head was tipped back and his eyes were closed. Was that how he looked when Vincent was tormenting him? Relaxed and wanton. Trusting. The fact Vincent trusted him this much was like a punch to the throat. He couldn’t fuck this up. “Good?”
“Good,” Vincent rasped. “Been a while.”
“How long?” Jasper demanded, not liking the thought of someone else seeing this side of Vincent. Which was ridiculous. Vincent was older than him, far more experienced, and owned a kink club. Even as an advisor, he’d have a life outside of being a pain in a prince’s ass.
Vincent cracked his eyes open and focused on Jasper with a knowing expression. “Long before I met you, my liege.”
Jasper wrinkled his nose. “Liege makes me sound like an old man.”
Vincent made a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “We can’t have that, now can we, my prince.”
“Oh,” he squeaked, the sudden shiver of tingles taking him by surprise. That was almost as good as Vincent calling him a slut in that rough, deep voice he liked to use. “I like that,” he whispered and carefully pressed a second finger in. He nearly combusted on the spot when Vincent tipped his head back and arched with a soft gasp. “Fuck, you’re hot,” he breathed, leaning down to drag his tongue along the scars. He was rewarded byVincent shuddering beneath him and clenching tight around his fingers. He closed his eyes with a low moan and tried not to imagine that sensation around his aching cock, or he’d lose it then and there.
How did Vincent manage to mercilessly torment him so easily? All Jasper wanted was to bury himself inside Vincent and take his pleasure until they were both exhausted. Somehow he found the strength to hold himself back. He couldn’t rush this. Didn’t want to rush this, despite his dick urging him on.
He kissed his way up Vincent’s scars to his neck, releasing a shuddering breath against warm skin. “Can I mark you?” he asked softly.
Vincent buried his fingers in Jasper’s hair, and his voice was rough when he answered, “Yeah.”
Jasper adjusted his hand to press his fingers in deeper as he sought out Vincent’s prostate, then focused on scraping his teeth against Vincent’s neck and carefully biting hard enough to leave a mark. Then he did it again and again, flexing his wrist and fingers until he finally found the spot he was looking for. Vincent let out a throaty groan, and that—thatexplained everything.
Jasper told his dick to shut the fuck up and wiggled his fingertips to massage Vincent’s prostate. He pressed wet kisses down Vincent’s neck and throat as he cataloged his moans. What made it higher or lower, or what caused the deep groan that rumbled in his chest. His favorite was the high breathy one that sparked desire in his own gut.
