Page 12 of American Squire (New Camelot Trilogy 3.60)
“And now?” Sidney inquires calmly.
“Green.”
Another stripe. Another green. After the fourth strike, he stops asking, although he pauses between a couple to give me a moment to speak if I need to. I don’t need to, even though I am crying by the tenth stroke, and my cock is so hard that it hurts too, and everything hurts and I’m dizzy and breathless.
He drapes the belt over a chair and comes to stand behind me.
“Still green?” he asks gently.
“Yes,” I mumble. “Green.”
A cool leather hand fists my organ, and I gasp, my knees nearly buckling. But Sidney is right behind me, strong and tall and sure, his fully erect cock nestled against my welted ass as he grips me and begins to stroke. I slump against him.
“I got you,” he says in my ear. His hand on me is tight and mean, and so, so, so good. He jerks me like I need, he jerks me fast and hard and without mercy, jerks me with those leather gloves I’ve been thinking so many filthy things about. The friction is vicious, and there’s a bite to the bliss he’s giving me, but I don’t even care. I’d rather have this from him than undiluted pleasure from anyone else.
“You can come for me,” he says. His cock burns hot and hard against my ass as he grinds himself closer. “You’ve earned it, haven’t you? Haven’t you earned it?”
Fuck, fuck, I have, I have earned it—it’s all I want, to make the people around me happy and better and to earn all the good things I want—
My back bows as raw, primal release scissors up from out of me. Something deep in my groin is flexing, pumping, even as my cock flexes and pumps on the outside, spurting seed all over Sidney’s fist and onto the table, more and more and more until I’m shaking and drained and everything is incandescent, electric sensation. Pleasure, pain, bliss and ache—everything, everything.
Sidney’s lips are on my neck as I gradually come down, and like the pleasure he gave me earlier, the sweet sensation of his mouth is threaded through with the sting of pain as he nips at my flesh. Then I feel him laughing against me, the vibrations of his laughter sending delicious tingles through his lips to my throat.
It’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, realizing I sound drunk. I also realize I don’t care. It feels too good to be like this, warm and beaten against such a stern, handsome man. Even if he’s not so stern right now.
“I came again,” he says, still laughing a little. “All over you. Like an adolescent.”
He’s right, and now that I’m coming down a little, I can feel it, slick and growing sticky where his pelvis is still slowly grinding against my ass.
“Don’t feel bad,” I say, smiling myself.
“Why would I feel bad? It was your fault for getting me so worked up.” And with a final bite to my throat, Sidney unties me and together we go about the business of getting cleaned up.
7
That night, we fuck by the light of the small fire in Sidney’s room. Because our rooms are so close to Auden’s, I’m gagged, and Sidney amuses himself by scratching his nails over the still-raised welts from earlier and listening to me whimper. I’m also blindfolded, although there’s no real reason for that—no reason other than that Sidney wants it and I want to give Sidney what he wants.
Sidney fucks like he does everything else—with cool, ruthless grace. He takes me on his bed, with me on my stomach and my head pillowed on my arms, and just before he comes into his condom, he flips me over and pulls down both the blindfold and the gag to my neck.
“Just wanted to see those pretty doll eyes,” he breathes. And then he orgasms with a gorgeous sigh, the firelight revealing the clenching, glistening muscles of his belly as he fills the latex with his seed.
It’s enough of a sight to send me right to the edge, and I am writhing against the air as he pulls out.
“Mr. Blount,” I beg. He’s gotten up to throw away the condom, and he comes back to the bed with a wicked look on his face.
“For the next fifteen minutes, I want you to call me Sidney,” he says, and without further preamble, he dips his head and sucks my needy cock right into his mouth.
“Mr—Sidney,” I gasp, trying to buck deeper into him. “Oh my God, Sidney, oh my God—”
I haven’t felt a mouth on my cock since college, haven’t felt the heat or the suction or the brush of someone’s jaw against my thighs as they adjust their position in years. My toes curl, my back arches, and then Sidney looks up at me through his eyelashes, and I can see why he likes it so much, why it’s such an erotic sight. There’s something about the faux-demureness of the angle, the vulnerability of it. Innocence and mischief peering up while you compel them to service the rudest parts of you.
And that it’s Sidney—sophisticated, arrogant Sidney—with his lips wrapped around me and his silver eyes glinting with amused power—it drives the pleasure of the act past what I can bear.
I ejaculate into his mouth with a soft, ragged noise, forcing myself to watch every single second of him swallowing me down. He lets me finish completely—he takes every pulse of me until I’m entirely spent, and then he arranges us on the bed so that we’re laying side by side, with my head pillowed on his shoulder.
We were mostly clothed today, and I had my blindfold on for most of tonight, so I revel in simply getting to look at my new lover by firelight, spread out in a delicious length of muscle and dark hair.
