by Marcy Jacks
“Hey!” Aaron shouted, bouncing a little when his back hit the softness of the mattress and sheets.
Dravick said nothing, and he wasn’t done, apparently. He grabbed onto Aaron’s ankles and thrust them onto his shoulders.
That’s what Aaron wanted, and he shifted, getting comfortable while Dravick stared down at him with those hungry purple eyes.
“Is this what you want?” Dravick asked, and Aaron could feel the warm, bulbous head of the man’s cock pressing against his crack, against his hole, but not pushing inside.
“Yes,” Aaron said, nodding.
That seemed to be enough for Dravick. He grabbed the little vial and pulled the cork out with his teeth, turning it over and slathering the oil onto his fingers.
Aaron watched with rapt attention. He didn’t want to take his eyes away from anything that Dravick might be doing because then he might miss something.
Without thinking, he reached down to his erection one more time, wanting to touch, to stroke and to squeeze just hard enough to tease himself.
Dravick pushed his hand away. “Not yet. No touching that yet. That belongs to me.”
“Yes,” Aaron said, moaning the word in agreement.
“Easy to please today,” Dravick said, smiling as if that was what he wanted.
Aaron sucked in a breath, hissing just slightly when those slick fingers pushed against his pucker and then slipped inside. Now that he and Dravick had done this so many times in little more than a week, his body more easily accepted the intrusion.
Aaron would probably never get used to the feel of having that large bulb inside of him, however, so he was always grateful when Dravick took the time to stretch and prepare him.
In Aaron’s experience, not everyone did that. That a king would show that sort of patience was a Godsend.
And Aaron was so not worthy of Dravick, as a king or as a man.
Without meaning for it to happen, his thoughts drifted, not for long, but long enough for him to feel such gratitude for his new position. His previous village had shunned him. Not because he’d been a criminal or deformed, but because he’d been poor and not born with the ability to hold enough muscle that he could get good jobs with the other men.
He could never be a woodcutter or a miner. No one wanted to hire him for that, and it had been difficult to find work with the women seamstresses. He hadn’t been talented in that area as well. His only option to pay his always overdue rent had been to sell himself, and even that hadn’t paid well.
It had been enough to give his landlord enough rent to pay for two weeks but not enough to keep the man from calling the town guard on Aaron, after he’d taken the two weeks’ rent, of course.
Aaron hadn’t been jailed for his nightly activities. Those were legal, if looked down upon. No, his crime had been far worse—owing more debt than he could pay back. The landlord had made his case against Aaron, telling a jury that he was so poor, and so overdue in his rent, that the only way he could have acquired so much gold in such a short amount of time was through theft. Several people stepped forward, claiming to have been victimized by Aaron, either because they’d wanted attention or truly believed it in the moment, but it had led to Aaron being dragged to a tall, wooden stake, tied to it with his hands above his head while the fires were lit, and made a public spectacle of as the dragons swooped down to take him away.
Aaron had thought he would die that day. He’d been ready for it, tired of barely living, of always being cold and starving.
Maybe he had died because this place certainly was heavenly.
Had the people in the village known that they were actually doing Aaron the greatest favor of his life by tying him to that stake, they might have just murdered him right there on the spot.
And now Aaron was here. In this wonderful place with Dravick on top of him, pressing soft kisses to his ankles while his fingers worked inside of Aaron’s body.
Aaron was never cold or hungry, he never had to debase himself in order to buy food, and all that was asked in return of him was that he do his part.
Thinking of those things did not lower his spirits. In fact, they heightened them. Sometimes Aaron needed a reminded of how terrible things had been before in order to remember how good they were now. It didn’t matter if he had to keep his time with Dravick a secret. Dravick still cared for him. He had the note in his pocket to prove it.
Even if Aaron could never openly declare his love for this man, he could still declare it with his time with him, here and now. This was heavenly in comparison to how life used to be.
Aaron clenched his hole around the fingers inside of him, eyes snapping wide, his mouth dropping open and a breath escaping him against his will.
There! Right there! Dravick touched his sweet spot, and now Aaron needed more.
“There it is,” Dravick said. “I worried that I was putting you to sleep.”
“Never,” Aaron said. One day he might tell Dravick about his past, but not now. All Dravick knew was that Aaron had been poor and his debt had been what caused him to go on the stake. He wouldn’t tell Dravick about the rest, lest it inspire disgust or pity in the man.
Aaron didn’t know which would have been worse.
“Good,” Dravick said, and he pulled his fingers back, those amazing fingers that Aaron could spend all day worshiping.
Then something else that he could spend all day worshiping pressed against his pucker and started to push inside.
“Push out,” Dravick said, reaching down and holding on to the head of his cock, attempting to leverage it inside.
Aaron did, and then he sighed as he was breached.
Dravick groaned, sinking inside and then stopping before Aaron opened for him the rest of the way and he was able to push himself in all the way to the root.
“Oh fuck!” Aaron’s body immediately spasmed, his prostate being pressed against, smashed into really, by that wonderfully bulbous head. The little fleshy spike must’ve come out as well because Aaron could feel it playing against his sweet spot.
“You’re going to come already, aren’t you?” Dravick accused. He grumbled about it, but if he said anything else, well, Aaron didn’t exactly hear him because the man wasted no time in slamming his cock forward, as though he was trying to race Aaron to the finish line.
“Don’t you come yet. Don’t you dare come. That’s an order,” Dravick said, his voice growly and warm as he damn near bent Aaron in half and pressed his mouth down on Aaron’s chest, his throat, and then his mouth.
It was the slide of his tongue that did it. Aaron couldn’t resist licking back, and his body couldn’t resist the release that was right there, that it wanted to free.
Aaron hated disobeying his king, but this was one of those times when there really wasn’t much of a choice.
He yelled out loud as he came, blood-warm cum spilling onto his stomach and chest, and this time he hadn’t even touched himself. Dravick at least couldn’t blame him for that.
Dravick still let out a growl of annoyance. “Why you quick shot little—” Whatever he’d been about to say was cut off when he bit down on his lips, shut his eyes, and groaned before opening his mouth and shouting out his release.
Aaron felt it. His favorite part. The feel of Dravick’s warmth flooding him, filling him up, and his still-hard cock and balls released again. Again!
A second orgasm, just like that. He couldn’t stop himself, as the reaction it caused in his body was to clench every muscle he had, including the one that had Dravick trapped inside of him.
Dravick groaned from the pressure, still releasing pleasurable noises as he leaned in and covered Aaron’s mouth with his own.
They both rode out their aftershocks, heaving breaths the only noise in the room.
Which, actually, was something of a problem.
The fire that Aaron had started in the fire pit when he’d come in was going down. He needed to fix that, or Dravick would be cold tonight.
He waited a few more seconds,
unable to pull himself away from the magnificent warmth of the body heat.
When he could wait no more—his breathing had calmed down and now he could start to feel the chill in the room, even with Dravick on top of him—Aaron squirmed.
His legs were starting to cramp up anyway.
“Don’t go,” Dravick said when Aaron tried to shimmy out of bed.
The man’s arm looped around Aaron’s waist and held him onto the bed, keeping him from leaving it.
Aaron looked down at his king, who was staring up at him, half of his face pressed into the spot Aaron had just vacated.
Aaron smiled at him. The man really was cute. He would never tell it to him because he wouldn’t want to give offence to the royal pride, but he was utterly adorable sometimes.
“I need to put kindling on your fire.”
“You already kindled my fire.”
Aaron snorted. The predatory gleam in Dravick’s eyes as he’d said such a thing only made it sound even better.
“I need to get back, Dravick.”
Dravick frowned at him, a real frown, and not some pretend thing.
“You don’t need to go anywhere,” he said, getting up. “I’ll get the fire going again, and you will get your pretty ass back into my bed.”
“Dravick,” Aaron said on a sigh.
“That’s an order,” Dravick said, not looking at him.
Aaron tensed. An order. It sounded like a real order as well. Dravick was not having fun with him.
What could he do but obey?
Aaron pulled his legs back up onto the bed, uncomfortable as he watched Dravick do chores that were meant for him and only him, not a member of royalty.
Dravick did a good job. Aaron wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, for the spoiled king to put not enough kindling? Or too much, causing a spitting inferno?
None of that happened, and Aaron was able to breathe again when Dravick slapped his hands together and got back to his feet. “There, that should last for the night.”
“The night?” Aaron tensed.
“You’re spending the night here and with me,” Dravick said, moving back over to the bed. He climbed in on the other side, got under the warm and heavy covers, so much more fine than even the nice and warm blankets in the servant’s rooms.
He spooned up behind Aaron, his pelvis settling against Aaron’s ass, and he seemed to be making himself comfortable for the night.
Aaron had no idea what to do. He swallowed hard, but he couldn’t say anything.
“I’ve wanted to spend the night with you for a long time,” Dravick said.
Those words, those simple, soft-spoken words, were all Aaron needed to hear for his body to relax, for him to give himself permission to sigh and melt against Dravick’s chest.
He could spend one night in Dravick’s bed. Why not? What harm could it do?
Chapter Seven
The only reason why Jason was heading off to Kraigan’s hospital room at this hour was because he wanted to tease the man. He wanted to rub it in his face just a little bit more that Kraigan totally belonged to him now.
In a nonsexual way, of course, because that would be weird. It was Kraigan, after all.
Also, the man had called for him.
Jason didn’t know what he wanted that couldn’t wait until tomorrow. It wasn’t as though the man was completely bedridden. He was let out of his little torture chamber for meals, but the healers seemed to be insisting that he stay put, not move, and let them do their jobs from the clinic, instead of letting him go back to his rooms.
Maybe that was the real reason why he had such an easy time walking over there. If Kraigan had called Jason to his bedroom, that might’ve been a completely different thing altogether.
Also, Jason brought snacks. Kraigan was a meat lover apparently, and he wanted to get on the man’s good side with pepperonis, sausages, and chicken sandwiches.
But only because it was Jason’s duty to take care of his new slave, after all.
And he wanted to butter Kraigan up, in case this really was just the larger man’s way of luring Jason in to grab him and smother him.
People were less likely to smother other people if they liked them. Or if they were brought presents in the form of delicious food.
Jason made it to Kraigan’s door. Why the hell was his stupid heart hammering like this? He could hear the damned thing thumping in his ears.
Whatever. He knocked.
Kraigan’s gruff voice called for him to enter, so he opened the door.
The red-haired warrior was still in bed, naturally. His leg was being elevated, and the wheelchair he was forced to sit in whenever he wanted to have a meal with everyone else like a normal person was beside his bed.
The man looked so damned grumpy up until he saw Jason. It must’ve been the plate of meats he was carrying, and Jason immediately started to play.
“Poor you, stuck in bed and can’t get up,” he said, grinning as he kicked the door shut.
“Enough,” Kraigan said, his eyes flicking down to the plate before running back up to Jason’s face. “What’s with that?”
“This is all for me, but you can definitely have some if you’re willing to be nice.”
Kraigan’s mouth pulled up in that smirk, that pretty, sexy, roguelike smirk. “And why would you want to share anything with me?”
Jason sucked in a breath, puffing out his chest with pride. “Because, as my servant, it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”
“Servant?” Kraigan sputtered, the smirk leaving his face for an expression of incredulity.
Jason laughed out loud. “I told you. You owe me. That means you’re my servant.”
“I saved you first,” Kraigan pointed out.
“Not going to work. Adam and Athy already tried telling me that, and I told them the same thing I’m about to say to you.”
“Which is?”
“That it’s your job as a warrior to save me. My job as a citizen is to run screaming for my life whenever shit’s about to go down. I didn’t do that, which means I went above and beyond the call of duty for any citizen. You owe me.”
It was so simple. Why was he the only one who seemed to be understanding this?
Kraigan shook his head, still grumbling to himself, words that Jason couldn’t exactly make out but were probably insults to his intelligence.
“Whatever, come over here. Sit down.”
“In your wheelchair?”
“It’s a chair, isn’t it?”
Jason supposed it was. “You’re not going to try and grab me, are you?” he asked. “I have good food on this plate, and it’ll all drop to the floor if you try and hit me. That would be a giant waste, and you don’t want to do that.”
Kraigan sighed and rolled his eyes. Why did this man have to be so...so...cute when he was angry? And why did he have to be angry and irritated all the damned time? “I’m not going to grab you. Just come over here. There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you.”
“A thank you? You’re most definitely welcome.”
“Fine, that too, but just get over here,” he said, pointing firmly at the wheelchair.
Just because Jason didn’t want to look completely whipped, or maybe because he was afraid, he didn’t move for a couple of seconds. He grabbed one of the pepperoni sticks on his plate, bit into it, chewed, swallowed, and then he nodded. “All right. Fine.”
Did Kraigan just sigh? Relief? Probably because Jason was going to stop being so difficult.
Jason moved over to the chair. It felt strange sitting in it, considering he didn’t need it, but the brake was on, so it didn’t move around at least.
“All right, what did you want to say to me?” Jason asked, holding out the plate, offering to share what was on it because that was still good manners.
Kraigan waved his hand, not wanting any apparently. Whatever. Jason set the plate aside on the end table.
“I want to speak with you about Tatsu.”<
br />
“Tatsu?” Jason asked, tensing up. He wished he hadn’t put the plate down now because his hands could really use something to do.
“I...uh...look, don’t worry about that. I won’t tell anyone, or make fun of you about it if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Why would I be worried about you making fun of me?”
Good question. Why would he?
“I don’t know,” Jason said, shrugging. “I guess because you’re kind of proud, seem a little on the private side, and you wouldn’t want me hurting Tatsu’s feelings.”
“You assuming that you could hurt Tatsu’s feelings would be more insulting than anything else you could ever do. It would probably make Tatsu incredibly angry if he were to ever hear you say something like that, not hurt his feelings.”
Jason supposed that made sense. “So then, why do you want to talk with me about it?”
That was a legitimate question. He was here, and he had no idea why, other than the secret suspicion that Kraigan wanted to mess with him.
“I wanted to tell you that there’s nothing going on between him and me. He kissed me because apparently he has feelings for me. I don’t return them.”
“You don’t?” Jason asked, and he had to immediately clear his throat because fuck! His stupid voice had come out in a nasty sounding squeak just then. “I mean, you looked pretty into that kiss.”
Was that even true? Jason tried to remember if he’d even been looking at Kraigan’s face, and he hadn’t. Not a lot, anyway. Kraigan had seemed shocked, and then Tatsu had stood in the way, blocking Jason from seeing anything before he quickly ducked out of the room.
“I wasn’t into it. But Tatsu is a good friend of mine. We’ve been friends for a long time. I love him deeply as a friend, but nothing more.”
Right. Now he was getting it, and it was making him definitely uncomfortable. He shifted around in his chair as if there was a small, sharp rock under his ass. “Look, I don’t exactly know what you think of me, but I’m not an asshole. Not on purpose,” Jason said quickly when Kraigan looked at him. One heavy brow lifted. “I wouldn’t make fun of Tatsu if you broke his heart or anything. That’s way too damned mean.”
