“Sorry?”
He rolled his eyes. “The safeword is Gary.”
I grinned wickedly. “You’re damn fucking right it is.”
“You know, I wasn’t even there when you had to hear him screaming your name while getting fucked by Kevin. I don’t know why you have to take it out on me.”
“It’s revenge.”
“It’s not revenge if he doesn’t know about it.”
“But I know about it. That’s enough.”
“You’re so weird.”
I stopped at the end of the bed, bending over to place my hands flat on the mattress, keeping my eyes locked on Ryan’s. “Funny how you’re still just sitting there. I thought I told you to turn over and grab the bars, Knight Commander. Don’t make me do it for you.”
“Yeah?” he asked, eyes bright, considering. “Maybe I should make you. Maybe you’d have to use your magic to make me do it.”
I chuckled and raised a hand, palm toward the ceiling. He groaned long and loud when a little twirl of gold and green sparks swirled around my hand. It was nothing but a light show—a parlor trick, something that Morgan would certainly frown upon—but it still was enough to make his cock twitch in his sleep pants. He had a kink for magic and a kink for being controlled, and I had no problem with indulging him in both. There was a line I would draw in that I would never use large levels of magic against him. I couldn’t take the chance. I wouldn’t hurt him that way. Not even if he begged me to do more. I thought he knew that too, which is why he never pushed.
So instead of waiting for me to threaten him a bit more, he twisted on the mattress until he was flat on his stomach. The muscles in his back rippled as he pushed himself up on his hands and knees. His breaths were quick and sharp as he reached up to hold on to the wooden bars above the headboard. The angle caused his back to arch, his ass straining against the material of his sleep pants. The bottoms of his feet were pale and lovely, toes digging into the mattress. He cut the perfect figure, the candlelight caressing his skin, casting shadows in the ridges of his muscles. He pulled on the bars until the wooden slats they were attached to swung out on hinges like a door. He shuffled slowly backward and to the side of the bed until the bars were horizontal with the length of the bed, his feet hanging off the side where I stood. The wooden slat locked into place, firm and rigid.
“That’s good,” I said, throat dry. “That’s real good.”
He pulled himself up using the bars as leverage, flexing all the muscles he could as he put himself on display, knowing exactly what it took to break me. I was moving even before I had the conscious thought to, and he sagged in relief when I placed my hand in the middle of his back, pressing against his skin, holding him in place.
“I told you that you shouldn’t move once you got yourself in position,” I said near his ear, watching as gooseflesh prickled along his bare shoulders. “I’ll give you that one. Don’t make me ask you again.”
He nodded, head hanging down between his arms, eyes squeezed shut. I let him rest for a moment until I could see him centering himself, breath slowing. A thin trickle of sweat left his hairline near his right ear and dripped down his cheek to his jaw. I reached up and cupped his face, running my finger along the sweat, brushing it away. I could tell he wanted to lean into the touch, but he didn’t.
“Good,” I said again. “You’re doing so good for me. I’m very happy with you right now.”
Ryan didn’t like to be called names when we were in the bedroom. His name or Knight Commander was enough, but even that last was used sparingly. He didn’t like me being mean, and he didn’t like heavy—or even moderate—amounts of pain. He didn’t need to be coddled, but he was sensitive like this, vulnerable. It’d taken us a while to get here, and many stilted conversations had taken place, both of us red and embarrassed as we tried to vocalize what we wanted. I trusted him, and I knew he trusted me, but this was sex. I’d never had it before him. The sex he’d had hadn’t necessarily been ideal.
It didn’t matter to him, or so he said.
It mattered to me.
Which is why I always made sure to tell him how good he was, how proud of him I was. We’d stumbled upon his praise kink accidentally, and it’d taken a bit of fumbling before we’d gotten in sync with each other. I tended to go overboard, he wanted to make me happy, and it sometimes ended awkwardly.
But we found our rhythm, the beat that we could move to.
Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart was important. He was in charge of many things. People looked up to him. He was dashing and immaculate. He was the commander of the Castle Guard, one of the highest honors that could be bestowed upon a knight. He made executive decisions that led to the safety of the castle. People listened to him.
Here, though.
He didn’t have to be in charge.
He didn’t have to worry about making a decision, because he knew I would make them for him.
We didn’t do this all the time. Sometimes I was on my back with my legs over his shoulders as he fucked up into me, my eyes rolling back into my head.
But more often than not, he’d come to our room, prowling restlessly, shoulders tense and eyes narrowed, and I would know what he needed from me.
And now with the inevitable in front of us—at least five weeks apart—he needed me to take care of him.
And I wanted nothing more.
I also wanted to eat his ass out, but first things first.
He sighed as I trailed my fingers down his back, the barest amount of pressure against his skin. He hung his head between his arms, eyes closed, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth like he was supposed to. I traced the lines of the muscles in his back, feeling the strength of him. He was bigger than I would ever be, and he was proud of the body he’d created through hard work. He was dashing and immaculate, sure, and he knew it, and maybe sometimes he played up to it. He knew exactly what happened to people’s underwear if he picked up a puppy and held it close or if he drew his sword and posed as he was wont to do. When he’d done that spread in All Knight Long! a few months ago, the painter had found it necessary to have him in an empty bathtub wearing nothing but a towel spread haphazardly over his waist. That issue had sold out rather quickly, especially with the salacious cover headline of KNIGHT COMMANDER RYAN FOXHEART REVEALS ALL! Ryan had been quite proud of it. I’d told him he probably had many teenagers masturbating over it. He hadn’t been as proud after that. And since I felt terrible, I told him I would masturbate over it, and it led to him choking on my dick in a musty hall closet in the castle.
That had been a good day.