Page 29 of Rumpelstilzchen

Rumple teased a finger up and down the crevice between his cheeks.

Boy’s efforts to be still and compliant heated Rumple. Such a good boy. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over Boy’s puckered hole. The contact was dry and Boy breathed out a quiet moan.

“I want to claim you.” It was as close to the truth as Rumple dared approach. “Tell me that you want me to claim you.”

In his peripheral vision, he saw Boy tilt his head when he nodded, and it was all the invitation Rumple needed. He divested himself of his shirt and dropped it to the floor like it wasn’t made from the finest silk. His cock strained painfully against the tight damask of his breeches, but when Boy closed his eyes, Rumple delayed its release in favour of delivering a swift smack to Boy’s left buttock.

Those rich brown eyes flew open, and Rumple rewarded him with a possessive growl. He didn’t soothe the sting he knew he had caused. Instead, he cupped Boy’s sac and rolled the balls gently in his palm. With his other hand, he finally loosened his breeches and stroked himself in sync.

Boy’s back arched off the table and he pushed into Rumple’s hold, but never once did his gaze leave the point where they were connected. Not even when Rumple bent lower and sucked one of the tightened orbs into his mouth. The faint taste of calendula oil swirled over his tongue, triggering the memory of when he had added it to the water to bathe Boy last night, and the heightened intimacy made Rumple’s cock twitch.

Had a sexual encounter ever felt so all-consuming? Rumple knew that it hadn’t.

With a wet pop, Rumple released Boy’s sac in favour of gripping both cheeks to expose his hole. He couldn’t claim his Heart—but he could claim his Boy.

When Rumple’s lips dragged over Boy’s most delicate skin, when his tongue skated over his untried hole, Boy cried out and Rumple’s grip on his flesh tightened. Rumple gauged his reaction closely, but with each flick of his tongue Boy only leaked more and more precum, until it smeared across the taut and pale skin of his belly. Spurred on, Rumple lapped and laved at the tight ring of muscle until it softened.

Boy keened with need. Rumple held him open. He was more than ready—they both were.

He straightened and leaned over Boy. His breaths were shallow, but the flush of his cheeks and soft glassy look in his eyes spoke volumes. Boy trusted him. Rumple averted his gaze as he searched out what he needed; the dark secret he was keeping weighed heavily.

He stretched to bring a nearby jar of goose fat closer, the shared heat of their intimacy having turned it almost translucent. His breaths ghosted over the skin of Boy’s neck, and he placed a short kiss on the tip of Boy’s nose before he straightened. Boy’s hazy gaze turned quizzical as Rumple unscrewed the lid.

Balancing the jar on Boy’s chest, he dipped a finger in the oily contents, and without a word, Rumple gently pressed his generously coated finger against Boy’s entrance. The tight ring of muscle protested the intrusion, but at Boy’s nod and exhale—and under Rumple’s insistence—it yielded. He worked his finger deeper, and Boy let out a series of soft moans that sparked a heat low in Rumple’s gut.

Boy’s hands released their deathlike grip on the edge of the table in favour of seeking Rumple to hold on to, and before he realised his actions, Rumple had threaded the fingers of his available hand through one of Boy’s. One hand slowly worked Boy’s hole open as his other brought their joined hand to his lips. He kissed Boy’s knuckles, and almost instantly his human relaxed.

Impatient, he added a second finger, and Boy arched into his touch once again. His moans took on a whimpering and needy edge that made Rumple’s cock ache with anticipation. Such sumptuous noises deserved a delicious reward. Rumple selected a Royal Garden strawberry from the generously piled platter, and Boy’s eyes sparkled in delight.

“Open,” Rumple whispered as he pushed the strawberry between Boy’s lips.

The distraction was all Rumple needed to add another finger. Speared on three of Rumple’s fingers, Boy naturally fought the intrusion and tried to close his legs, but Rumple’s shadows kept them pinned in place while he tugged on his rim. He needed the stretching if Rumple was to stand a chance of claiming him without it hurting.

He conjured a small looking glass and handed it to Boy. “Watch,” he commanded.

Despite the crimson heat in his cheeks, Boy obeyed. He reclaimed his hand from Rumple’s larger one, took the jar of goose fat from his torso and set it on the table beside him, then raised up on his elbows and watched as Rumple’s three fingers rhythmically worked him open.

“What do you see?”

“Three fingers i-inside me.”

“Whose fingers?” Rumple demanded on a growl.

“Yours.” Boy flopped back on the table, panting and coated in a sheen of sweat. “Y-your fingers are inside me.”

Leaving one hand inside, his eyes unable to drift from the emerging gape, Rumple once more dipped the fingers of his other hand in the jar of goose fat and massaged the slick substance onto his erect cock. “Do you want me to claim you?”

“Yes.”

“Then watch.”

With shaking fingers, Boy repositioned the looking glass, and Rumple removed his fingers and lined himself up. When the widest part of his crown slipped inside, his human tensed. Rumple’s shadows swept the sweat-soaked hair from Boy’s forehead and cooled his heated skin.

The moment Boy relaxed into their touch, Rumple slowly embedded himself until his pelvis tightly cradled Boy’s own. They both released a loud groan that echoed from the walls of their shadowed cocoon.

With a tempo that strained his already agonised desires, Rumple withdrew and then pushed back into the tight heat of Boy’s body. This was like nothing that had ever come before. He wanted to savour every moment and deliberately took his time.

Each slow thrust drove him deeper, and Boy rocked back against him, keening in a frequency that made his shadows sing. Until, on a sudden, sharp cry, Boy’s body bowed and tensed, and then he came, ropes of milky liquid coating his chest and nipples.