Page 27 of His King Enslaved

Sindar did not fully understand the hesitation, but he whispered, “I am your instrument.” His hand was drawn down, down, until he met warmth, and a slickness so uniquely alluring he groaned in his throat. He gently touched the opening, so warm and wet.

All at once he was babbling, barely cognizant of the words coming out of his mouth. “Will this make you feel good? You feel so beautiful. Please tell me how. I want to make you feel good, sweet angels...”

“Here,” Ardor said, his voice tight, and he pressed Sindar’s finger into a warm, pulsing inlet. Sindar’s cock jumped as he penetrated his lover’s body.

He was inside Ardor.

Sindar came. He came hard, moaning as his hips jerked and he ejaculated again. It caught him off guard, and he wasn’t the only one. Ardor sucked in a surprised breath.

Sindar reached up to rip off the blindfold, and Ardor caught his wrist, his grip like iron.

“No,” he managed, his voice achingly rough. “No, stay as you are. I like… I like this.” He drew Sindar’s finger slightly deeper, and Sindar all but whimpered, a shiver running through him, as Ardor’s body eagerly responded to the intrusion, the slick warm walls gently clenching, and an achingly sweet fragrance bloomed.

He was knuckle-deep in a flower. His Flower. It felt incredible. Every pulse and squeeze was exquisite torture. To one day feel this around his cock…

Another trickle of semen ran down Sindar’s thigh as his forgotten cock twitched, entranced by the velvety smoothness of that wet, warm opening.

“Goddess, let me kiss you,” Sindar breathed, nearly out of his mind. “I love you. Please. You’re my sun and stars, guide me.”

“Keep your hand here,” Ardor said, a bit breathlessly, and his cum-sticky finger slipped beside Sindar’s. His knuckles brushed Sindar’s hand as their fingers gently spread that sweet, warm opening and sank deeper still.

“Oh,” Ardor said, a noise equally aroused and surprised, and his breath quickened.

Ardor had never been touched like this before. He’d never even touched a man’s cock until now. Not until Sindar. Only Sindar. He’d only ever been with Sindar.

Sindar came again, and barely cared, because that was the least important thing happening in that bed at that moment. He bit back a moan, focusing all his attention on the scant centimeter of his finger resting inside Ardor’s exquisite, warm, wet, beautiful, perfect bloom.

“Tell me how to please you,” he said, desperation and arousal wound tight. “Do you want more? I’ll do anything. Let me serve you.” Please, sweet angels, want more of me…

“I’m going to touch you,” Ardor said, his voice rough, and he slid his hand down Sindar’s shaft, gathering up the newest offering. Sindar only barely kept himself from thrusting into Ardor’s hand. Once again, Ardor’s knuckles brushed against Sindar’s hand as he pushed semen inside himself, and Sindar’s toes curled.

Time stretched out, thin and taut. Sindar’s body radiated, his senses ablaze, as Ardor steadily repeated the process, filling himself with his consort’s seed. The blindfold was the only thing that kept him from melting into a quivering, overstimulated mass, and that was surely why Ardor had asked him to wear it, so he didn’t dare take it off.

But he wanted to. He wanted to see his finger buried deep in that exquisite, wet, warm place, alongside Ardor’s. He wanted to see the gorgeous flush he knew was on Ardor’s face, and soak up every sound and sigh his Flower made.

Sindar didn’t bother imagining it for himself. He was content to explore the myriad of sensations and remain present. When Ardor gently withdrew Sindar’s finger and moved his hand aside, the sheets rustled as he rearranged them. His hands brushed against Sindar’s face as he reached around to untie the blindfold. The silk fell away, and they were nearly nose to nose.

The flush that normally alighted on Ardor’s cheeks had moved down his chest, which was sheen with sweat. Sindar ached to taste that sweat on his tongue, but he longed to taste his Flower’s mouth even more. His nose brushed Ardor’s.

He wanted to beg to kiss that mouth, but the look on Ardor’s face was foreign to him. Not upset. More like distracted, unsure. Sindar threw aside his longing and whispered, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Ardor said automatically.

“Don’t lie,” Sindar said. The words came out breathless and reedy, but Ardor’s eyes abruptly met his. Good goddess, he was gorgeous. Perfect. Beautiful. His sweet Ardor…

“I’m… a little overwhelmed. I’ve never been touched before. I’m sorry.”

Only Ardor would apologize for giving him something so special. “You’ve given me a gift. Never apologize for that. I’m honored. Did… did you like it? Did I please you? If not, I will do better next time.”

A pink flush settled on Ardor’s cheekbones, but Sindar sensed a current of unease along with it. “You…” He swallowed, his throat bobbing deliciously. He stroked Sindar’s cheek, and Sindar nearly died from the euphoric rush of that simple touch. “You were perfect. You please me a great deal. I will see you tomorrow morning, Your Majesty.”

Sindar’s hands were clenched in the sheets. He didn’t remember doing that, and he willfully loosened his grip, bowing his head as he backed down off the bed. He longed to rest his cheek against the arch of Ardor’s exposed foot. To kiss the delicate gold bangles, and the ankles above them. He wanted to beg, Let me worship you.

Ah, but he had his orders, and obedience was truly the purest form of devotion. He climbed down, accepting the robe that was placed on his shoulders. He left the garden on a cloud, a calm descending over him even as his heart buzzed with excitement.

He’d helped and pleased his Flower. He’d done something right, for once.

Sindar marched into his chambers, collapsed onto the bed, seized the first pillow, and screamed into it, “I love him!” He did it a few more times for good measure, and then he lay there, imagining Ardor’s firm body beneath his. The press of his finger. His hand on Sindar’s cock.