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The time allowed us to regain everything we’d recently lost. Warmth. Sleep. Feeling in our toes.
And my smile, it seemed, for I hadn’t realised how little I’d been doing so until my face began to hurt just from all the fuckingbeamingI was doing.
And every single mote of happiness was because of him.
Mat didn’t make regular declarations of affection as I did. His flirting was limited, awkward even, and usually in response to my own overtures rather than self-initiated. But it was shown in the gentle brush of his hand against my fingers, the way he pressed his shoulder to mine whenever we stood close as if he couldn’t suffer even air to separate us. The lingering looks that I caught from the corner of my eye, the myriad of excuses he made to touch me – to fix my hair or straighten my collar.
I didn’t point them out. I was worried that if his attention was brought to what he was doing, he might stop, and that would be a tragedy of insurmountable loss.
It turned out I’d been so busy worrying about him that I hadn’t realised my fear had infected us both. Because while ithadhappened, and there would always be a part of us that felt the impacts of that horrible day in the woods, I’d witnessed time and time again how resilient my wildcat really was. Talking about it hadn’t broken him. Touching him didn’t trigger him. My attempts to avoid such things had weighed on Mat more than if I’d trusted him to know what he needed.
And fuck me, had he actually said he missed me tormenting him? I was taking that as permission to never, ever,stop.
Mathias yelped as I moved up behind him, my hands slamming against the wall to cage him in.
“Blyat,” he panted, laughing and throwing his head back so he could rest it on my shoulder. “You startled me.”
I nosed behind his ear and he twisted around to kiss me, hot breath against my lips a moment before his mouth found mine.
I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy the press of heat and exhilaration that was uniquely him. Our tongues fought for dominance, Mat giving as good as he got for several seconds before he allowed me his sweet submission.
“Please,” he gasped, breaking our kiss to yank his shirt off over his head and toss it aside.
The plea was a reminder of what he’d demanded from me last night, my cock instantly thickening with the anticipation.
“Please?” I murmured, running my fingertips down his bare shoulders. He shivered under my touch, as oversensitive as ever. “Is this what you want?” I yanked down his trousers and slid a finger down the crease of his ass, laughing softly when he whimpered.
I didn’t wait for my lover’s confirmation. He’d resist giving it to me, as he always did, and if I’d read his mood wrongly then I trusted him to tell me so. Loudly and vehemently.
Instead I ordered him to get on all fours, my desire flaring as he lowered himself into position for me.
Desire…and love. That fucking emotion that overwhelmed all my senses, making me do stupid shit like declare him as mine to my country before I was even crowned, giving Navar both motive and opportunity to undermine my right to rule. I knew that many Quarehians hated the idea of a northerner at their king’s side – the disgruntled gossip had reached me even before we’d been forced to run – but there wasn’t a single chance I’d do it differently. If it made my eventual reign harder, then fuck it. I didn’t do easy, anyway.
Mathias, who was the furthest thing from easy, shifted restlessly on his knees. Slipping one hand into my own pocket to retrieve the oil I’d filched from the Martinezes’ estate, I knelt behind him and brushed the other up the inside of his warm thigh. I was careful not to touch anything but his bare leg, leaving the contact fleeting and taunting.
He made a needy, breathless noise.
“Greedy,” I accused.
“Tease,” Mat shot back – unwisely, as all it did was make mereallytease him, fluttering my fingers across his body with too-light pressure that made him squirm and growl out demands to touch him properly. Demands that naturally I ignored, enjoying watching his frustration grow.
And when I judged he’d least expect it, I slid an oiled-up finger into his hole without warning, relishing the surprised squawk and the way he immediately tried to rock back onto my hand. I smirked at the back of his head, moving with him instead of against him to deny him even that, deliberately avoiding his prostate and making my movements shallow and slow enough that they’d build his pleasure without letting it crest.
That drew out soft, unsatisfied whines from the man beneath me, sending my blood pumping southwards.
“Enjoying yourself?” I asked.
Muttering something vaguely insulting, Mat shook his head as if to clear it and tried to pull himself upright. I shoved him back down, not bothering to chide him for the attempt. Neither of us wanted nor expected him to be good this time: it was about how far I could push him before he broke, and…there it was.
Smothering my satisfied grin, I tugged at his hips to yank him back from where he was attempting to subtly rut against the soft friction of the furs beneath him. I was careful to avoid touching his cock, even as the sight of it dripping pre-cum brought me to instant hardness.
“You think I’m going to let you get off?” I said dryly. “With that attitude of yours?”
“Ren!”
It sounded like more of an order than a plea, and so I ignored it.
But harder to ignore was the way his cock twitched when I spoke to him, so I rewarded myself by reaching around to stroke it. Just once, not enough to deliver him anything close to the satisfaction he was craving, but its heavy warmth in my hand felt divine. I could only imagine how aching and desperate Mat must feel, and I was loving every second of his misery.
