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Salas’ eyes went glassy with the pain for a moment, but then the now-familiar sensation of want, whenever the King petted that tender spot inside of him, caused the pain to dissipate.
The fullness felt soright.
Finally, the fingers began to retract until they left him.
A moment passed before something smoother, something undoubtedlylarger, aligned with his entrance. At first, it merely poked at him, and Salas looked down to see that the King had his own cock in hand, rubbing the head at Salas’ hole, before he made the invasive move to have it gain entrance.
With one mighty, insistent push, Salas was breached. The sheer girth of the head of the King’s cock pushed him to a fullness that not even the full use of fingers could have prepared him for.
Salas was about to voice his protest, to declare it too much, but when the King made one full thrust in, fully seating himself without warning, Salas’ vision went white, speech forgotten.
Above him, Jareth groaned in pleasure, lost to the sensation. His eyes rolled back as he simply basked in the tightness of Salas’ hole. His fingers traced Salas’ stomach, where his cock was nestled somewhere in Salas’ gut, fending off Salas’ other organs to find its home inside of him.
He patted the stomach, as though to say ‘good job,’ and grabbed Salas’ legs to swing them both over one shoulder to better position himself.
Salas let it happen, eyes now clenching in an attempt to block out the pain from the reality. He wanted to enjoy this, desperately so, but it felt like too much. This new fullness could not be right. Surely it was too much.
But then the King began to move, and Salas released a guttural sound from deep within him that he himself wasn’t sure was encouragement or discouragement for the King’s actions.
The King was slow at first before, again without warning, he began to pound into him in earnest. With these new thrusts, the pain that came from the tightness melted away, allowing a new desire to realize itself deep within him. Everytime Jareth pulled back, Salas wanted the fullness to return.
And it did. Insistently. It was as though the spot inside of was being fondled, grinded upon, and all he could do was allow the pleasure to overcome him, and for to let the King use him as he willed.
There was no true warning, and before Salas even knew what was happening, he was coming. A milky eruption splashed onto his stomach and he groaned, lightheaded. He’d come without even touching himself.
The King, at some point, had slowed in his thrusting, and was tracing his finger over the pale spillage on Salas’ abdomen. He took the coated finger, almost in ritual, and pushed it to Salas’ lips.
Salas shook his head, face reddening.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Jareth murmured. “Open up for me.”
A thrill of pleasure at Jareth’s tone shook Salas, and he opened his mouth, allowing Jareth to slip the finger inside.
“That’s right,” the King said roughly, his hips snapping forward again, now brutally, balls pressed against Salas’ ass. “Take it,” he growled, his thrusts brutalizing. “Take it.”
“Your Majesty,” Salas gasped in protest around the finger.
With one final thrust, Jareth’s muscles tightened as he emptied himself into Salas, filling him up with a new, odd warmth.
There was a moment of silence while they both panted, and then the King carefully slipped out of him, a trail of come following out after him.
Salas sat up. “I should…”
Jareth grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him up to meet him, his mouth covering Salas’ lips as he took him. While they Kissed, Jareth reached an arm around him and massaged Salas’ ass, slipping a finger between his cheeks and rubbing at the now-tender spot, as though in search of physical proof of his work on Salas.
Salas pounded on his chest. “You’re an animal,” he growled at the man.
Jareth grinned down at him. “I never denied it.” With that, he scooped Salas up and carried him to the washroom.
They both took the time to wash up, though it appeared the King was the one who wanted to claim the occupation of the actualwashing. Salas denied him until he got to his tender bottom, which he, admittedly, found difficult to reach and allowed the King to take care of it, secretly pleased by Jareth’s odd fascination with him.
Afterwards, they both climbed back into bed, Jareth pulled Salas close, curling around him with an arm draped over his shoulder. “You were right,” Jareth murmured, close to his ear. “You were like no other. I couldn’t possibly have anyone else, ever again.” He paused, his voice hardening. “And no one else can have you. That Malthenian Jovack can try. I’ll cut his head off when we meet at Suscon.”
“When?” Salas said softly, staring into darkness, where shadows flickered against the candlelight.
“My men and I leave at dawn,” Jareth confirmed with a yawn. “You’ll be safe here,” he murmured. “No one will ever hurt you again.”
Salas took a moment to simply feel the King, warm and content at his back. Eventually, the King’s breathing slowed and softened as sleep took him. Salas waited even longer after that, to make sure he was fully unconscious.
