He squeezed his eyes shut, fingers tightening in my hair. “I have no argument against this.”
“Good.” I licked a line up his fat cock, tracing the vein underneath. I reached up and tugged on his balls, his pubic hair wiry to the touch. I sucked his cockhead back into my mouth, tongue pressing into his piss slit. His grip on my hair was harder now, almost to the point of pain, but I reveled in it, because it was sharp and bright and crystal clear. It wasn’t like one of the hazy dreams I’d had in the forest, my body trembling with magic, lightning crawling along my skin as dragons whispered in my ear. It was real, and almost shockingly so.
He said my name from somewhere above me, and I reached my free hand up his stomach and into his chest hair until I found a nipple. I twisted it gently as I bobbed my head on his dick, pushing myself farther and faster.
His hips started to move then, either by his own volition or an involuntary action. It took a few thrusts, but then my nose was pressed against his pubes, my eyes watering. He smelled of clean sweat and something so distinctly Ryan that an onslaught of memories washed over me, from the very first time we’d been together in Castle Lockes to the last time in Meridian City before everything went to hell. I was a little delirious at the thoughts of him, having spent so long pushing him from my mind.
He was muttering under his breath, saying, “That’s good, Sam, oh, that’s so good, look at you, look how well you’re taking it, you’re doing so good,” and I groaned at the praise, what felt like lightning arcing down my spine. Used to be we didn’t play this way. It was always Ryan doing the good job, Ryan doing so well, because that’s how we were. I didn’t need it, not before, and he did.
But now, hearing him whisper filthy things above me as he pulled his dick out of my mouth and smacked it wetly against my lips, telling me he was going to eat me out before he fucked me, because he needed to taste me on his tongue, I couldn’t help but feel grateful that he was taking charge. It was like he knew I was tired of keeping my shoulders squared and my head high. I was tired of being strong and doing what was right. I didn’t want that now. I wanted to be told what to do by someone who loved me, who only cared about making me feel good.
The sound I made when he said, “Open back up for me, okay?” was one I would probably be embarrassed about later, but I couldn’t find reason to care right then. I opened my mouth, and his cock was hot and heavy on my tongue. My face was a mess of saliva, and there was the bitter tang of precome on my lips, but I took as much as he gave me.
He stood above me, almost fully nude, strong and scarred and alive, and I was clothed before him, taking what he gave me. There was nowhere else I wanted to be. Everything else could wait. Verania could wait. I’d earned this.
My throat and jaw were sore when he grunted and pulled out, panting above me. His eyes were glassy as he looked down at me, tracing his thumb over my bottom lip. “Gods,” he whispered. “Look at you. Just look at you.”
I sucked his thumb into my mouth, and he hissed before he pulled it away and reached down to the bottom of my tunic. “Raise your arms.”
I did.
He pulled it off, and the air was slightly chilly against my heated skin. I’d long gotten over being self-conscious about the lightning-struck scars from when Myrin had tried to consume my magic. They were a part of me and marked me as a survivor.
Ryan stepped out of his trousers and kicked them away. He leaned down and kissed me, my lips swollen and sore. His rough hands traced down the scars on my chest, gentle and sweet. He reached the ties on my own trousers and tugged at them, my dick aching against the fabric. I reached up and cupped his face while he worked, sighing into his mouth, his beard scratching my cheeks and chin.
“Lift up,” he muttered, and I did. He pulled my trousers down, my dick slapping against my stomach. Once he got them past my hips, he pressed a hand against my chest, forcing me back against the bed. He stood upright again and pulled the trousers off my legs before he dropped them out of sight. He let my left leg fall off the edge of the bed but kept the right in his hand, pulling it up against his chest, turning his head and kissing the bone of my ankle.
“I gotta admit,” I said, sounding rather giddy, “the beard is doing it for me. Like, you have no idea.”
He grinned against my calf, sweat dripping from his brow. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah. Don’t get me wrong. Clean-cut Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart is hot as shit, but Dirty Camp HaveHeart Ryan Foxheart is really my jam right now.”
“Dirty Camp HaveHeart Ryan Foxheart,” he repeated. “You capitalized that, didn’t you.”
I grinned up at him. “It’s gotta be true now. So, idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Let’s see how it feels on all my other parts. Because as much as I love you macking on my leg, I got some ideas about where else you can put your face.”
He snorted against my leg, and while it was disgusting, I was so godsdamn horny, I thought it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. People didn’t understand the need to laugh during sex. It couldn’t always be hot and heavy. It needed to be sweet and awkward too. “Ideas, huh?”
I nodded quickly. “So many ideas. Like, you don’t even know how many ideas.”
“That right? Let’s see if I can figure a few of them out. How about here, for example.” He bent forward slightly, hooking my leg over his shoulder, his lips and beard scraping against my knee.
I swallowed. “Good. That’s… that’s a good start.”
“Is it. And here?” He bent over the end of the bed, one hand at my side on the mattress, his face on my inner thigh. I fisted the comforter as I squirmed against the way he mouthed at my skin.
“Yeah,” I gasped. “That’s a good place too. We should have done this whole beard thing a hell of a long time ago. You are never allowed to shave. Ever. Unless you start looking homeless. Which, I guess technically we sort of are right now, so. I mean—oh my gods,” because he was at the crease of my legs and pelvis, and my dick was so hard it hurt. I felt him chuckle as I jerked out of his grasp and raised both legs toward my chest, exposing myself to him.
Hard to believe I’d once been weirdly prudish about sex when I was essentially asking Ryan to lick my asshole without saying a word.
He made a noise like he’d been punched, and I lifted my head in time to see him fall to his knees at the edge of the bed. There was a moment of almost excruciating anticipation where nothing fucking happened, and I couldn’t help but wiggle my hips a little.
Then I felt hands on the back of my thighs, pushing my legs farther against my torso, almost bending me in half. I watched him, and his eyes were hooded, the green of his irises so dark that it reminded me of my magic. His nose bumped against my balls, his breath against my perineum, and I was ready to fucking crawl out of my skin when I felt the flat of his tongue against my asshole, licking up to my balls.
I cried out, trying to push toward him and pull away at the same time, my skin oversensitive. Say what you will about Ryan Foxheart, but the man surely knew how to eat ass. His grip on my legs was tight as he pressed his face against me, sliding his tongue along my hole. I turned my head to the side, trying to catch my breath, my hand going between my legs and wrapping around my aching cock, giving it a good stroke or two.
“Stop,” he growled.
“Fucker,” I groaned. “Come on. Just let me—”
“You don’t touch yourself. Not today.”
“But—”
“Sam. I mean it. You keep your hands away from your dick. I’m going to be the only one who touches you.”
“Bastard,” I snapped at him as he licked my ass again.
“Do you understand?”
“Fuck you.”