Page 53 of His King Enslaved

“More,” Ardor breathed, biting back a moan when Sindar’s fingers withdrew. His eager consort hastily stroked his hard cock, shuddering and moaning softly when he came again, a trickle of pearly white lacing his palm. He coated his fingers with it, slipping his hand beneath the sheet. Ardor’s flower, warm and pliant, now had a taste of its mate’s seed, and it wanted more. This time, Sindar could slip two fingers into the opening, and Ardor’s back arched as his consort’s cum-soaked fingers sank deep, as deep as they could go, his flower eagerly drinking up every drop of offered semen.

“Sweet goddess, you are truly the most beautiful man on earth,” Sindar breathed, and Ardor yearned for his consort to peel back the sheets and mount him. He wanted this man’s cock inside him, filling him, cumming in him, and with a smothered groan he came, his aching cock emptying against his thigh. Pleasure rolled through him, warm and unstoppable, and his lips parted at the wave of foreign sensation. Divine nectar ran down his leg into the sheets, and the delicate fragrance of a Flower’s pleasure filled the room.

That was…

An orgasm.

He’d just orgasmed. He’d never done that before. Ardor’s face was heated, his breathing heavy, as he processed the lingering pleasure and heat.

“Oh, Beloved,” Sindar whispered in Pavarian, his cock twitching against the sheet covering Ardor’s thigh as he pressed his mouth to Ardor’s curved neck. “Do that again…” He kissed Ardor’s neck, his cum-slick fingers still moving within him, teasing out the last vestiges of pleasure.

The kiss broke the spell. It was one thing to climax during a breeding ceremony with his consort, and quite another to share forbidden intimacies in front of the entire Kysanian court. Ardor’s eyes popped open. Dozens of nobles were watching them, their expressions ranging from curious to aroused. Clearly, they were quite eager for the show to continue, and the warmth swelling in Ardor fanned out over his body, and he briefly considered it.

But only briefly.

“Darling, we should stop now,” he whispered in Pavarian, elbowing his consort.

“Stop?” Sindar asked, immediately drawing back. He blinked, seemed to register the gathered crowd for the first time, and said, “Oh. Right. We’re—yes. We’re done now. With the, uh, the kingdom’s business. Thank you all for attending. Carry on, everyone.”

Again, a ripple of laughter wafted through the crowd, accompanied by enthusiastic applause. Sindar’s nose brushed Ardor’s cheek as he contemplated a kiss and wisely decided against it.

“Visit me tonight,” Ardor murmured in his ear, and Sindar’s hand briefly tightened in the sheets. With obvious reluctance, Sindar retreated. A ceremonial robe was wrapped around him, and even now, there was a tent in the fabric. He bowed to his Flower and departed.

Ardor was scarcely aware of being draped in silk and escorted to Jain’s office. Warmth twisted within him, eager and ready, his heart swelling…

He had not, in one million years, expected to share intimacy like that with a consort. Even as his heart raced, a peace enveloped him. He was excited, yet calm. Eager, yet sated. And confident…

Never had he been so confident about the future. Sindar knew him more intimately than anyone. He was the only one to touch his most sacred place, and he venerated it.

“Eminence, that went perfectly! I’m so—” Jain trailed off as he sat. “Oh! Beloved!”

He was crying. Or something like it. Tears slipped quietly down his cheeks. In Pavar, crying was discouraged. He never shed a tear after reaching adulthood, even when they unbound his flower. He wasn’t sure if what he was doing now was actual crying, or some Pavarian facsimile.

His champion gripped his arms, her eyes darting back and forth between his, seeking some answer. “Eminence, what’s wrong? Tell me.”

“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing. I… I love him?” The words came out as a question. He’d had a fondness, a softness, in his chest these past few years, bolstered by Sindar’s letters and stolen glimpses of his consort with Mindeh. Now, he could finally admit that the affection he felt for his consort differed from the love he had for Jain and Leya. It was sharper, digging deep into his chest, and it manifested into yearning when they were apart.

Jain’s entire body relaxed. “Oh, Beloved, you must be the last person to realize it.”

All at once, his face burned. “I’ve been perfectly professional,” he said. “I’ve done nothing at all to suggest our relationship is anything but proper!”

Jain laughed quietly, brushing his hair away from his damp cheek with a gloved hand. “Beloved, the way you look when you open his letters or hear his voice… You positively glow when the king is about. I think you’ve been in love with him for years now.”

Ardor cleared his throat. Having named the feeling, he could hardly deny it. “Is this a breach of decorum?”

“The Kysanians have different ideas about the consort relationship. The people are pleased their Flower likes their king. If appearances are holding you back, don’t let them. Be yourself. Enjoy this, Beloved. You deserve happiness. It is so rare to see a breeding match where hearts meet.”

“Well,” he said briskly, wiping his cheeks. “Good, I’m glad I haven’t disrupted anything. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so stringent in decorum. You’re right. The Kysanian national character differs from Pavar’s, after all.”

She gave his arm a squeeze. “I’m happy to hear that.” Her smile spread into a grin. “His Majesty will be even happier.”

TOGETHER

SINDAR WAS TRYING very, very hard not to lose his mind.

He mustn’t overdo it. He kept saying that to himself, even as he sent away outfit after outfit, and fussed incessantly over his hair and his makeup and whatever else he could think of.

I made Ardor come.