“Oh, yes? Or is that an oh, no?” he teases, kissing a trail down my chest before sucking on each nipple.
“Yes. Yes, please. Ray. I’ve never felt like this before.”
He stills, his hand on my stomach, its agonizing descent down only halfway to my hard cock.No! Don’t stop.I whimper.
“Sy, look at me,” he says, sounding serious. I pry my eyes open to a concerned look on Raylen’s face. “Is this your first time?” He swallows hard. “Are you a virgin?”
“No. Fuck. But it feels like I am.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
He sits up, still looking concerned. “Please explain, Sylar. I don’t want to hurt you or do anything that might push you away.”
Despite my angry cock, I swear, I fall just a little more for this beautiful, thoughtful elf. Or damn, maybe I’ve been slowly falling for him for years. “I’m not a virgin. It took me a really long time to figure out I needed to have some type of emotional connection with someone in order for my body to feel arousal toward that person. But even then, my feelings… my body… no one has ever—” I stop the confession from fully spilling out, but it’s already too late.
Raylen’s eyes widen with shock as the realization dawns on his face. His eyes darken as he slowly pulls the sheet downward. My angry red cock is thick and leaking precum. It somehow escaped through the slit in my sleep trousers. Raylen’s hand continues its slow path downward, dragging the pretty pendant on his bracelet against my skin.
He wraps his strong, yet slim fingers around my erection, stroking slowly. I moan, the feel of him better than anyone I’ve ever been with before. They were nothing compared to him. Silly dalliances that didn’t last. Never meaningful. Never…this.
His strokes pick up the pace, and I feel like I’m high on lust. Floaty and about to come, all while never wanting it to end. “Did you mean what you said? When I asked if this was all for me?”
“Yes,” I repeat desperately. “Only for you.”
Those words cause him to snap. His lips slam against mine, frantically trying to devour me. To unravel me with his lips, tongue, and mouth. He’s climbing over me again, thrusting his hard cock against my thigh while stroking me in a punishing, dizzying rhythm. I want to beg him to never stop, but his lips are still on mine, working magic on my body.
Then, my whole body locks up as my back arches. Raylen never stops. He just keeps thrusting, kissing, and stroking. Faster and faster until I scream against his lips as he milks an intense orgasm out of me.
I feel like I’m floating and spinning as Raylen shoves his own pants down around his thighs. I’m vaguely aware of the way he gathers my cum and uses it to stroke his own cock, all the while chanting my name over and over again. Like I’m something worth cherishing.
An hour later, we’re navigating the outer edges of the market square for breakfast, opting for the ease of the street stalls over cooking. The air is crisp, carrying the rich scents of roasting hazelnuts and sweet fried dough. We walk side-by-side, ducking under the colorful awnings as we munch on hot, honey-drizzled flatbreads.
“I still cannot fathom the sheer absurdity of the high estates,” I mutter between bites, watching a wealthy elven lord across the way criticize a merchant’s silk selection. “The way they treat courtship like a mere transaction. It makes me entirely cynical about the concept of marriage.”
Raylen swallows his food, tracking my gaze before turning his bright lilac eyes to me. “What do you have against marriage, Sy?”
“It isn’t the institution of marriage itself,” I clarify, an innocent, offhand comment slipping past my defenses before I can calculate the weight of it. “It’s that I actually want to experience romance. I don’t want to just tie my property and family titles together with someone in a legal contract. I want the real thing. I want hand-holding. I want kisses under the stars. I want secret, quiet touches, and…” I hesitate, my voice dropping to a vulnerable murmur. “And a year of proper courting.”
“A year!” Raylen barks out a sudden laugh, his smile splitting wide, bright, and utterly teasing in the morning sun. “Is that all, my dear elf?”
Embarrassment hits me like a physical, powerful wave, and my face instantly flames hot.Fuck.I knew my romantic, structured heart would sound ridiculous to a rogue archer. All my emotions from the last two days slam into me all at once. All the panic, all the revelations, the feelings—both positive and negative. Everything washes over me, making me feel suddenly exposed and raw.
“Damn it. I knew you’d be like this,” I snap, pivoting on my heel to storm off before he can truly see just how mortified I am.
“Whoa, there! Hold on. Hold on!” Raylen moves quickly, his large hand clamping firmly around my wrist, halting my retreat. He steps into my path, his teasing smile completely vanishing, replaced by a fierce, entirely serious expression. “Like what, Sy?”
I can’t meet his eyes. I stare fixedly at the pendant on his bracelet instead. “Making fun of me. Laughing at what I want.”
“Laughing at what you want? Never,” Raylen whispers, his voice dropping into that low, resonant register that sends a shiver straight down my spine. “It’s sweet.”
My brow furrows. “What is?”
“That you’re a secret romantic,” he murmurs, his lips twitching with the ghost of a soft, genuine smile.
I blush even harder, the tips of my ears burning so intensely I’m certain they’re glowing beneath my hood.
Before I can formulate a sharp, defensive retort, a nearby news-crier commands our attention. Raylen steps forward and tosses a copper coin to the young elf, snatching a copy of today’s broadsheet.
We both look down, and the air leaves my lungs.
The headline of the prominent gossip rag screams in bold, ink-black text:A ROYAL MASQUERADE PROPOSAL?The article below details wild rumors of an unnamed noble playboy hunting for a specific redheaded female, planning to publicly ambush her with a courtship proposal at the grand masquerade dance in just a few days.
