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As if the thought triggered something inside of him, he tore away from Arthur’s mouth to suck a path down the warrior’s long neck. Sucking and biting like a cat in heat. The taste of Arthur’s skin was addictive. He could eat this man alive.
When he bit down hard upon the vulnerable place where Arthur’s neck met his shoulder, almost, but not quite breaking the skin, and his fingers splayed upon Arthur’s arse, the longest two catching their tips in the other man’s hole, his King muffled a shout into Lancelot’s hair as he shuddered and quaked all over, as if his body was breaking apart.
Lancelot felt a flood of wet heat spread between them. Felt Arthur’s cock kick against his own, still trapped in their clothes. Heard Arthur’s helpless guttural groan echo in his ear. And inhaled with deep draws the intoxicating aroma of male sweat and musk, of Arthur’s pleasure.
Lancelot knew, then and there, that he would do anything to taste and feel and hear and smell this alchemy of glorious sensations again and again.
Desperate to prolong it, to hold it and memorize it, he wedged one hand down the front of Arthur’s loosened trousers to wrap around the man’s wet, shuddering cock. Arthur’s entire body bowed at the contact, as if struck by lightning.
His groan trailed off into a slightly pained hiss, but he didn’t try to free himself from Lancelot’s relentless grip.
Lancelot marveled at the long, thick rod in his hand. So hot and still so hard. Yet plump and soft at the tip. He knew what his own cock stand felt like in the unruly mornings or the middle of the night. Or after bloody battles that heated his blood.
But somehow, Arthur’s was different. Infinitely more interesting and…arousing.
He wanted to make Arthur release again. He wanted to feel the gush of his seed until it coated and slicked his entire palm. Then, he would make him come again with his own cream. He wanted to hear the wet sound the rubbing made. He—
“Easy, Lance,” Arthur husked against him, lips grazing his jaw.
“Too sensitive.”
Yet, despite his words, Arthur made no move to stop him. As if, should Lancelot decide to keep going, abrading his sensitive flesh in the process, he would allow it. He would let Lancelot do anything he wanted.
The realization infused Lancelot with a thunderbolt of undiluted power. He could barely believe how much freedom Arthur granted him with his body. A person could become addicted to such power.
Addicted to the man.
For a moment, Lancelot was stunned into stillness. And while he was reeling from his revelation, Arthur took advantage by kissing him again. Slowly, this time. Softly.
Arthur shifted without breaking the seal of their lips so that he could use one hand to tug at Lancelot’s trousers too. With some persistence, he managed to bare both their groins. Lancelot’s hand was still wrapped covetously around his cock, refusing to let go.
“Hold both of us together,” Arthur murmured into his mouth, nibbling upon his lips.
“I want to make you come too.”
Lancelot did as instructed with alacrity, his fingers unable to close around them all the way. But his grip was tight enough to make them both groan at the silken heat of their cockstogether, of the mind-numbingly smooth glide against one another while he milked them both.
They undulated slowly, the mating of their bodies mirroring the mating of their mouths. Thrusting together within Lancelot’s fist, his other hand clutching Arthur’s arse with a savage possessiveness he never knew he had. He found Arthur’s hole again and dug the tip of his finger inside, making the warrior’s breath catch against his mouth, as his crisis took him over again.
And it took over Lancelot too, by extension. It was not so much the pleasure Arthur stoked in him with his deep kisses and thrusting cock, but the pleasure of feeling, smelling and hearing Arthur come apart in his arms.
Of seeing it too, for Lancelot watched the almost painful ecstasy wash over Arthur’s face, even as his own body released, triggered by Arthur’s.
When their shivers finally subsided, and their breathing slowed with contented drowsiness, Lancelot brought the hand that held them both to his lips and licked their mingled cream from his palm and fingers.
Arthur watched him with sleepy eyes, though they flared with renewed passion at the sight of him eating their seed.
“Tastes good,” he said matter-of-factly.
Arthur groaned and took his mouth in a languorous kiss, tasting both of them on his tongue.
“The things I want to do to you…” his King murmured, nuzzling his jaw.
“But I am too sleepy and sore to go again.”
“I’m not,” Lancelot declared.
Arthur chuckled a little helplessly and shifted until they faced each other on their sides, Lancelot’s hand still loosely wrapped around their half-hard cocks, the other still gripping Arthur’s buttock as if it was permanently attached.
