AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It was pain. He needed pain to climax.
My thoughts spun as he panted behind me.
The scars on his chest… were they from Razak, was every cut a memory of his brother bringing him to climax?
He lowered his hand, allowing me to breathe again, and placed his bleeding fingers on my hip. His dick was still seated inside, it’s widening pressure curiously satisfying.
“A bath, my Prince of Flowers?” He nuzzled my neck, the both of us slick with sweat, oil, and fluids. A bath was definitely called for. And perhaps, by the time we were clean and dried, Draven would be asleep.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Lark chuckled and eased himself free. Warm wetness trickled from my hole, down my balls. Perhaps I should have found it uncomfortable, but he’d finally been honest with me, holding nothing back.
Lark had been my first, and I was glad for it.
He sauntered to the tub, dipped his fingers in the water, then ran the hot faucet and perched on the tub’s edge. His cock had lost some of its rigidity and lay against his thigh. I straightened from the wall, wincing a little around a small sizzle of heat in my rear, crossed the floor in two strides, and kissed him messily on the mouth. He laughed against my lips, kissing me back. He and I, it felt right, it felt as though we belonged, despite neither of us having a place to call home.
“I trust you,” I whispered, “because I love you.”
Lark’s expression softened, saddened even, and when he looked down into the bath’s steaming water his eyes glistened with unshed tears. Had he ever known love? The unconditional kind? He would now, with me. He didn’t even have to love me back. That was his choice. But I would fight for him, protect him, and love him with all my heart. If anyone dared hurt him without his permission, they’d have my wrath come down upon them, because there was no greater force in the shatterlands than love.
CHAPTER10
Lark
Love.
Strange how, now I had it, I knew I’d never felt it before.
Arin loved me. He trusted me. I’d wanted that, but it was terrifying too. Love and trust meant pain, when it eventually came to an end. Which it would, because despite all the poems and songs, love always ended.
We bathed together, Arin’s soft skin against mine, his mouth and hands exploring. I kissed his smile, and other parts, relishing in having him close as we sloshed too much water from the tub and dropped all pretense of not caring for each other, for Draven’s benefit.
It was only when we stumbled from the bath, towel-dried and love-drunk, that Arin remembered Draven and his guilt soured the mood.
I tied off the robe left in the cabin for its guests and ventured from the steamed-up bathroom in search of the warlord. He’d left, probably when he’d realized Arin had not been alone behind the bathroom door.
I returned to my prince in bed and found him gloriously naked and spread on the sheets like a feast I’d have no trouble devouring. “Draven’s not here.”
“Oh, well, that’s good, I suppose.” He saddened but brightened again as I shucked off my robe and joined him. I’d learned how he liked it when I nuzzled his neck and stroked his hip.
He writhed, ticklish and jubilant, and laughed, clutching my arm as though to lever me off. Our tussling turned heated, gaining an edge I’d gladly exploit to hear him moan and whimper. I’d never known a man to come so alive beneath my touch. Or perhaps I’d never cared to notice before. I cared now, cared so much it made my heart and thoughts race.
He’d told me he loved me, trusted me, and now I knew it, I had no idea what to do with that, so I did what I knew best. I worshipped his body with my mouth and tongue and cock, making him cry out and gasp, clutch the sheets in his fists, bite his lip, and spill his cum. I’d never get enough, and would have happily pleasured him all night, but the moment he spooned himself against my back, tucking close, and mumbled words of love so casually, I stroked his hair back from his face and watched his lashes flutter closed, listening to his breathing slow.
How could someone so perfect love me? He would realize his mistake, eventually. Until then, I’d take all the love he was willing to give and cherish it like the most precious gem in all the world, more precious than Razak’s four crowns. I doubted my brother had ever known such love as this.
I fell asleep alongside Arin and woke to the calling from market stalls and clatter of carts outside the window.
Arin sat at a desk, scribbling a note. His shirt gaped, and he’d swept his hair back in a messy tail. Whatever he studied, it had him transfixed. I watched him, admiring the view while the sun poured through the window and made his golden hair shine.
“Ah, you’re awake. Here, I’ve made a list.” He picked up his paper and read aloud, “Clothes, for us, outfits for our performance. I spotted a tailor last night. They’ll have silk. We must look like princesbeforewe arrive in the Court of Pain. Then, a haircut. You need one. A professional one. Yours is—” His smile twitched. “—interesting. Does Razak have any distinguishing marks? Tattoos, scars?”
I flopped my head back, already overwhelmed. “Is breakfast on that list?”
Two raps sounded on the door moments before it creaked open and Draven filled its frame, answering my concern as to where he’d gotten to. His gaze absorbed me, clearly naked beneath the bedsheet, and Arin, haphazardly dressed at the desk. It didn’t take much to piece our night together.
He didn’t appear furious; his eyes were tired, and his lips tilted downward. Experience with cuckolded lovers had taught me the quiet ones were the ones to watch for a knife in the back.
