Page 89 of The Hidden Fae Prince
“Why would you?” Nevander asks, cupping water over Seren’s thigh, washing oil and dirt away.
Seren always felt different. He dreamed of escape. But plenty of people do that, even among their own kind.
“What did you think of me?” Seren asks, greedy for Nevander’s past attention. He remembers only when Nevander hesitates that the truth might not be so comforting.
“I thought you weren’t ready,” Nevander says eventually. “I thought you needed me.”
“Like this?” Seren asks.
Nevander kisses a smile inside Seren’s knee. “My desires hadn’t yet flown so high. Turn around, so I can get your back.”
Seren obeys before the order has a chance to take hold. Nevander guides him into position, knees on the marble step, hands braced against the edge. Waves caress his waist. Strong hands work his shoulders. Seren hangs his head, damp hair clinging to his cheeks. No more words or memories. There’s only the present, Nevander’s breath weaving between Seren’s floating thoughts.
Nevander’s bare thigh presses close. His cock slides hot against Seren’s ass. Seren’s desperation drifts away with the steam. He needs so much, but he’ll be fine if this is all he gets. Nevander knows what Seren needs better than he does. Firm hands and gentle words and the gift of control.
A kiss consecrates the nape of Seren’s neck. Slick fingers delve beneath the water, between Seren’s cheeks. Seren moans involuntarily and presses into the touch.
“What do you want?” Nevander asks, ragged.
Too many things. Immense and foolish promises. Seren will settle for physical pleasure. “That depends on how well you’ve recovered.”
“I require clarity while you’re this obedient,” Nevander says, with all the control Seren craves. “Tell me truly if you want me to fuck you.”
The order pierces Seren’s soul. “I want you to fuck me.”
Nevander exhales into Seren’s damp hair. “Thank you,” he says, like Seren is a gift.
He stretches away enough to press a rune Seren’s never tried before, and a new oil fills his hand. Sheer and shimmering, smelling of rose and clover and green things Seren doesn’t have the wit to name, because that oil eases Nevander’s finger into Seren’s hole.
Slick, insistent pleasure takes him. It’s already so much. Seren’s new grasp of his magic frays. He senses the mindless contentment of the flowered vines above. But Nevander is steady, safe, a stone wall to lean upon.
Seren’s throat clenches on profanity. “Nevander.”
Nevander presses against him, like they’re already fucking. His free hand explores Seren’s stomach, touch clinging more than the oil, as a second finger slips in.
Easy. Natural. New but not frightening. Silence wraps like a song around them. Any words would be too dangerously true.
Nevander’s oil-slick thumb brushes Seren’s nipple. Seren whimpers, the sound echoing. Nevander’s fingers are too slick to get purchase, and the sliding touch might drive Seren insane.
“Seren,” Nevander says, fingers withdrawing. Trembling. “I can’t wait.”
“Then don’t,” Seren begs.
With a groan, Nevander notches against his hole. Then slides in.
It’s overwhelming and right. Too much and too perfect, and Seren isn’t afraid of being awkward or doing this wrong. He’s too busy arching into the gorgeous sensation. Nevander carves into him, and Seren’s glad his every other dalliance ended prematurely. None could have compared. Seren wants Nevander and only Nevander, and he’s about to say so when Nevander’s wet hand covers his mouth.
“You should be careful,” Nevander says, voice tight. “Promises are too easy when you feel this good.”
Not an order. A warning.
That’s Nevander’s right hand over his mouth. Clover and rose and unmistakable musk fills Seren’s lungs. He clenches down on Nevander’s cock, winning an exquisite moan.
“I could feel better,” Seren manages, a challenge instead of a promise.
Nevander’s hands drop to cover Seren’s, pressing down against the marble. “Yes, my prince,” he growls, and fucks in deeper.
Seren is safe to clutch the marble edge andfeel. Water, steam, lilacs, honey, wet skin gliding against his. ElladarPalace may as well be a separate place. Like they’re tucked away in a haven, where nothing can hurt them.
