“This is what you were doing,” I said. My voice had gone rough in a way I could not control. “In front of the mirror.”
“Not naked, but yeah.”
“I see.”
Pip’s body moved in the firelight, the shadows playing across his skin, the flex and release of muscle, the impossible control of his spine, the way his weight shifted from foot to foot with a dancer’s grace that made every movement simultaneously effortless and deliberate. The dance slowed, and the rapid pulse became a deep, rolling wave, and his body moved as if the air itselfwere touching him, as if he were being caressed by something invisible. He turned and the firelight caught the line of his spine, the dimples at the base of his back, the curve of muscle below.
He looked at me over his shoulder again. The smile had softened, shifting from performance into something private. He walked to the bed and knelt, the dance shifting into a silent offering. Then he bent forward, palms flat on the mattress, arching his back in a way that presented himself to me with an openness that erased every rational thought from my mind.
I didn’t move. I had taken life, commanded armies, stood before a Queen and promised her my undying loyalty. But I had never before wanted someone with this consuming, unreasoning need.
He must have read the hesitation and the uncertainty. Because his expression shifted, softening and gentling.
“Hey,” he said. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not—”
“I want to fuck you.” The words came out raw and direct. Stripped of strategy. “I don’t entirely understand it, but I want to seat myself inside you. To fill you until your body learns the shape of me.”
“Okay,” he said. Then his eyes dropped to the part of me that was making its position on the matter extremely clear, and his expression cracked into something brighter. “Oh. Okay. Youreallywant to.”
“I believe the physical evidence speaks for itself.”
“Mm. I want your physical evidence deep inside me, commander. You can do a very thorough investigation.” He sat back on his heels, and the casualness of the pose was almost worse than the dance, because I could see how hard he was. And he was looking at my cock in a way that made the iron hinges on the door begin to hum. “Do you have something we can use? Oil? A salve? Something slick. My hole has never taken anything as big as you, and it’ll feel better for me if we add lubrication.”
I thought for a moment. “There is—” I rose from the bed, crossed to where my discarded trousers lay, and retrieved the small flask from my field kit. It contained a blended oil I used on my skin after training: a mix of almond and something herbal prepared by the palace physician. It was clean and unscented and seemed perfect for the purpose. I held it out.
Pip took it, uncorked it, and sniffed it. “Fancy.”
“It’s for my skin.”
He chuckled. “Do all Fae warriors moisturize?”
“Seven hundred and fifty years of combat exposure is not kind to the skin.” I hesitated. “This is… unfamiliar territory for me. Show me what is needed to ease my passage into you.”
His eyes sparkled as he poured the oil into his palm and warmed it between his hands. With a directness that I was beginning to understand was fundamental to his nature, he knelt on all fours, reached back, and circled his finger slowly over his winking hole, giving me a filthy view of everything he was doing.
He dropped his head to the mattress, spread his legs wide, and gripped his ass with one hand, while the other made sure his small pink pucker was slick and ready. When his finger dipped inside himself I nearly lunged across the bed. His back arched as he let out a low moan, quickly adding a second finger, then scissoring them to relax the tight ring of muscle.
His body shifted, rocking into his fingers as they slipped in and out of his hole, taunting me with what I couldn’t yet have.
“Fuck,” he said, laying his cheek on the bed and looking back at me as he fucked himself with his hand, slowly adding more oil. “You’re going to feel so good.”
“Little tease,” I said, stroking my cock in time to the movement of his fingers. His eyes landed on my hand, and he let out another low moan.
He laughed. “I do love being… stuffed with cock.” He was using three fingers now, gasping between words.
“Pippin.” I squeezed the head of my cock, spreading the pre-cum down. Then I reached for the vial of oil, watching his eyes widen as I spread it down over myself, biting back a groan as the slick texture made everything more intense.
“Tell me… how much you need to be inside me.” He rocked into his hand, his movements a catalog of the delicious ways he might move for my cock.
“Come here and let me show you.”
He shuddered, slipped his fingers out of himself, drying them on a rag before crawling over to me. “Is there something you need, sir?”
I shot him a look that would have made most men turn and run. Pippin Crane laughed, opening the vial of oil again and drizzling it down my shaft, giving it a long, slow stroke to spread the slick.
“Put your needy little hole on my fucking cock right now, Pip.”
“Okay, okay, you don’t have to be bossy, I’m a slut for that fae cock and you know it.”
