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His heart thundered in his ears, adrenaline running high to gear up for another round…of whatever this was.
He was ready for it.
All this combustible energy within him that had been churning and burning for far too long with no outlet. No relief. Finally, with Lancelot, he found a way to let go. He didn’t question it. Didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth too closely.
He simply wanted to revel in this small slice of freedom and wildness for as long as he could.
Lancelot cocked his head slightly, his gaze narrowed in lazy assessment, the way a hungry lion considered a particularly stubborn buffalo.
Nine times out of ten, the lion won. But every once in a while, the buffalo got his horns in and caught the lion off guard. That’s what Lancelot looked like—assessing if he should take the risk or let his would-be feast live for another day.
Keeping his eyes on Arthur’s, he slowly stooped down and settled on both knees. He picked up the soap and worked up a thick lather between his hands. Then, he spread the bubbles over Arthur’s calves and ankles, to his knees and thighs, all the while squeezing and rubbing as if testing the tenderness of the meat he’s about to devour.
Arthur’s breath froze in his lungs as he stared down at his knight unblinkingly. His pulse raced with both anticipation and the most intoxicating dread. He was looking forward to a tussle,but his arse was too sore for a repeat performance just now, despite the tears having healed.
If Lancelot managed to force him, though, he’d take it without complaint. He wanted the warrior that much.
The soap was long forgotten in a corner of the stall. But Lancelot’s hands were still slippery with suds as they grasped onto Arthur’s thick upper thighs and pulled.
“Open,” he commanded.
Involuntarily, Arthur widened his stance, stomach tensed to steel as he awaited Lancelot’s next move.
He didn’t wait long. The warrior clutched one of Arthur’s buttocks in each hand and roughly pulled him forward so that he could bury his face in Arthur’s groin, rubbing those spiky yet soft bristles against his cock and stones just as he described.
Arthur staggered back a step at the heady sensations Lancelot evoked, banging his head against the shower wall as he leaned his weight upon it, no longer able to stand on his own.
“Suck me,” he gritted out.
“Devour me. Make me come ’til I see stars.”
Lancelot growled ominously, as if the words had unleashed the beast within. Without preamble, he took Arthur’s aching staff into his mouth and swallowed him half way down his long, corded throat.
Arthur hissed at the suddenness of it. Then, at the breathtaking ecstasy of it.
He thrust his hips as Lancelot bobbed, a push and pull that seemed to summarize the whole of their strange relationship.
But as the tension built, Arthur wanted more. Faster. He fisted one hand in Lancelot’s hair, the other gripping the knight’s shoulder to hold him in place. He thrust in earnest now, hard and deep. Using Lancelot’s throat to get off. Chasing his release.
For his part, Lancelot seemed to relish Arthur’s aggression, even as his eyes welled with involuntary tears. Even as his lipsthreatened to split at the corners from the thickness of Arthur’s cock, and his throat clenched convulsively around his meaty stalk as he choked Arthur down.
And down and down.
Arthur bared his teeth in a savage snarl, so close to reaching his zenith.
That was when Lancelot shoved two long fingers into the most vulnerable part of him. Even slick with soap, it fucking burned.
But the stinging pain receded almost immediately when Lancelot crooked those same fingers and found his knot. Ruthlessly, he massaged it as he swallowed repeatedly around Arthur’s cock.
And Arthur unleashed on a mighty roar, emptying his bollocks down the other man’s throat in a seemingly endless flood.
When he subsided to quivers and began to soften, Lancelot pulled back until only the tip of Arthur remained in his mouth. He kept the fingers of one hand inside Arthur’s ass, while he used the other to grasp the base of Arthur’s cock.
Methodically, he lavished attention on Arthur’s sensitive head, tonguing the tiny mouth that still leaked droplets of seed. He sucked and lapped at the swollen glans until Arthur weakly pushed at his shoulders, the pleasure too sharp to endure, yet too good to make Lancelot stop.
Finally, Lancelot released him, but not before giving Arthur’s bollocks one last possessive squeeze, making him yelp.
“Next time, I want you to come on my tongue,” Lancelot said with as much inflection as one would observe that the sky looked like rain today.
