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Salas wiped his eyes, which were now dripping freely. “Which is why I have to tell you…” Salas’ cheeks, in a preposterously untimely manner for what he was about to admit, grew warm. “When the Emperor asked for me, he wanted…a step up from a normal bird. He wanted…to feel great pleasure.”
When Jareth’s expression only twisted in confusion, Salas decided he couldn’t bear the conversation any longer and quickly rushed through the explanation of how when he is entered, the man who mounts him feels intense pleasure, magically induced.
“I thought you should know,” he finished lamely.
The King nodded, eyes revealing nothing. “Thank you for telling me.”
Salas swallowed again. “Does that mean you do not want to…?”
This time, Jareth’s face broke into a wicked smile, revealing how tightly he’d held the expression back. “Oh, I want to continue.”
Like an all-consuming shadow, Jareth appeared over him, eclipsing the rest of the room and much of the rest of the world, for that matter.
A body so much bigger than his own, not to mention stronger, it should have felt daunting, to feel so consumed, yet Salas only felt excited. The primordial instinct was there, yes, though it was far subdued by his own eagerness to have Jareth do what he will. And he did.
Jareth’s elbows rested on either side of his shoulders, forcing Salas to stretch out upon the bed. When the King lowered his head, it was to suckle at the soft, taut skin of his neck. When teeth came, the nibble sparking pain within the area, Salas grunted and tried to move away.
Jareth merely chuckled and held him in place, a new hand on his shoulder while the other moved to smooth down his hip, as though petting a kitten to calm it.
Jareth continued to move lower still until his head hovered above Salas’ chest. His lips, surrounded by harsh stubble that threatened to chafe, found Salas’ pink nipple, and he sucked.
Sensation exploded throughout his entire body, originating from the single point Jareth took care of. Every nerve at work, the sensation was both brutally painful, the suction too intense, and immensely pleasurable.
“Ow,ow,” Salas protested eventually, grabbing the King’s shoulders to pry him loose. Though his physical efforts to free himself held no effect, the King raised his head. Just as he was about to move on lower, however, Salas pulled the King’s head to his other nipple so that it could receive the same treatment.
Judging by the King’s grin, the King was deeply amused by Salas’ antics, though Salas was far too selfish with what he wanted to have embarrassment burden him.
While Jareth worked the bud into a tight pebble with his teeth, Salas heard the clacking noise of a glass before a hand moved between his legs to push his thighs apart. When he felt the curious exploration of an oiled finger at his entrance, his toes clenched, muscles tightening. He scooted back a bit on instinct, to move away from the intrusion. With the toy phallus forgotten in the folds on the sheets, it seemed as though the King would prefer to use his hand.
Jareth suddenly bit harder on his flesh, enough to bruise, surely, and Salas squeaked, swatting at the King’s head. The movement caused him to forget his lower half momentarily, and Jareth took the chance to use his finger to pierce through Salas’ hole and twist his way inside.
Salas gasped while Jareth emitted a low, satisfied growl from somewhere deep in his throat. He made a move to sit up and Salas let him go. He nestled himself between Salas’ legs, watching with interest as his sole finger slipped in and out of Salas, as though the connection between them fascinated him. It was a nearly juvenile, boyish interest and Salas felt his pride prickle at becoming the source of Jareth’s study.
When he attempted to divert the King’s focus, however, by throwing a pillow at him, the King batted it away and used his free hand to grab Salas’ hips to control his squirming.
When a second finger breached the pucker of his entrance, Salas’ head threw back in ecstasy. His cock, which had softened at some point by his own indignation, plumped to full mast. The fingers inside him wriggled, then crooked, meeting a place inside of him that caused an explosion of pleasurable sensation that left him wonton.
Salas whimpered, reaching between the King’s leg to take hold of the man’s dauntingly mammoth cock, attempting to guide it between his legs. “This now,” he demanded breathlessly, making his best efforts to guide the great thing to his hole.
The King easily pulled Salas’ hands away from himself, as though brushing away flies, his attention still on his slippery ministrations, moving his fingers in and out of him in a motion that was becoming, to Salas, a teasing mockery of sex.
“Not yet,” Jareth murmured, nearly to himself, “need to…make you ready.”
It sounded to Salas like an excuse, but then a third finger was added, and he was far too focused on the feeling to protest.
Salas was left panting, rutting against the fingers desperately, well aware of how whorish he must have appeared in that moment, though he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“You’re perfect,” murmured the King, as though mesmerized, running his hand down Salas’ tight, pale abdomen, thumbing the dip of his naval. “So perfect.”
Then there came the poke of a new intrusion, Jareth’s fourth, small finger, trying to make its way in to join the others.
Salas tried to kick him. “It won’tfit,’’ he snapped.
“It will,” the King immediately protested, his eyes once again lowering to find his task, free hand spreading Salas’ legs apart as far as they would go. “You won’t be able to actually take me if I don’t prepare you.”
Salas groaned his with a grumbled, “You just want to play with me.”
Jareth shot him a wolfish grin before penetrating him on the final finger. All four were inside of him now, working as a unit, rolling, stretching him out slowly.
