“I have nothing to be jealous of. I’m obviously sexier than any pirate.”
“Maybe I’ll find a book about a sexy farmer, since I don’t have a sexy farmer anymore.”
Rakos gasps in mock outrage. “What happened to you being so kind, generous, and understanding?”
“Did I say that?” Bellamy can barely concentrate on unraveling Rakos’s clothes. Finally, he just falls back, points at Rakos, and orders, “Strip.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Rakos says with a lascivious grin, and jumps to the floor.
Bellamy scoots back to lean against the pillows, scrambling out of his own clothes as he watches his lover. Rakos’s clothes fall away to reveal lines of hard, compact muscle. Dusky nipples. The silky black hair trailing down his stomach.
Every muscular line belongs to Bellamy. He feels possessive sometimes, but he never doubts Rakos’s affection for him. His own cock swells in response, and Bellamy idly strokes himself as Rakos preens. Cupping his balls, Bellamy rolls them under his palm, letting pleasure and anticipation build in tandem.
Until Rakos detours towards the bedside cabinet, and Bellamy has to pause to grab a bottle from under the pillow. “I already grabbed the salve.”
“I love you,” Rakos says, and crawls on top of him.
But Bellamy pushes his shoulder. “Let me ride you.”
Rakos moves obligingly, breath quickening when Bellamy swings onto his lap. As Bellamy slathers salve over his hand and reaches behind him, Rakos grabs him by the hips. His fingers press insistently into Bellamy’s flesh. “Are you doing all the work today?”
“You look tired,” Bellamy says, though it’s not true at all. Rakos looks ravenous. Eager. But if Bellamy lets Rakos prep him, they’ll never get to Bellamy’s goal. Rakos has been enjoying the luxury of royal beds far too much, and right now, Bellamy doesn’t want to spend an hour on foreplay.
He wants to fuck. Then nap for two hours.Thenspend an hour on foreplay before fucking again.
Bellamy focuses on lubrication rather than stretching, already plenty relaxed. He devotes more time stroking the salve over Rakos’s cock, loving the weight in his hand. Pulling the foreskin back, sliding his thumb over the glans. Tracing the vein along the bottom that always makes Rakos jerk in place—just like that.
Rakos’s muscular thighs tense beneath Bellamy’s ass, and Bellamy swallows down his own saliva. He can’t wait anymore.
After one last stroke to Rakos’s darkening cockhead, Bellamy shuffles forward on his knees. He braces himself on Rakos’s chest as Rakos kneads his ass and spreads him open.
Bellamy sinks slowly onto Rakos’s cock. He’s slick and ready, and it doesn’t hurt, but the initial penetration always overwhelms him. Between the size of Rakos pushing into him and the sheer awe in Rakos’s eyes. Rakos’s brow furrows in endearing concentration, and Bellamy doesn’t think Rakos is aware he does that, much less how much Bellamy loves it.
Rakos inhales sharply, throwing his head back as Bellamy bears down on more of him. A flush spreads across his broad chest, and tendons tense in his neck.
“How does it feel?” Bellamy asks, breath hitching as he takes the last of Rakos.
“Fucking incredible.” Rakos twitches inside Bellamy, and his fingers flex on Bellamy’s hips. “Take as much time as you need, I’m not going anywhere.”
Bellamy tilts his head. “So, I could just stop? Like this?”
“As much. Time. As you need,” Rakos grits out.
Laughing, Bellamy takes mercy on his lover and begins moving. Slowly at first, rocking up and down along Rakos’s length. Filthy wet sounds rise in counterpoint to their panting breaths. Bellamy clutches Rakos’s shoulders for balance as his own cock bobs hard and hot between them.
Rakos’s hands climb all over Bellamy, marking him with heat and memory. The tenderness in Rakos’s eyes is for Bellamy alone.
Bellamy’s learning the signs that Rakos is near the edge. Far easier when they aren’t in dark cargo wagons. Rakos’s eyes crinkle when he’s close. He tends to look up and to the left, as if he’s seeking something.
Then directly at Bellamy because he’s found it. Rakos’s nails dig in as he arches up, driving his orgasm deep inside Bellamy.
Bellamy never thought mere eye contact could overpower him so easily. His own pleasure crests with every moment. Sweat slides between them, and Bellamy’s thighs burn. He takes hold of his own cock, palm still slick with sweat and salve, and pulls himself the rest of the way to orgasm.
Panting for air, Bellamy collapses on Rakos’s chest. Everything feels hazy and light, from the trembling in his legs to the kisses Rakos peppers over his head.
After they disentangle, they slump together on the bed. Bellamy pillows his head on Rakos’s bicep. “Let me know if your arm falls asleep,” he mumbles.
“No promises,” Rakos says. “I don’t need that arm.”
