Page 62 of His Noble Savior

Moans streamed out of Richard, and so did the precum. He was making a mess of Lilian’s abdomen. Maintaining control was impossible when the smallest move of his hips dragged Lilian’s cock through his oil-slick insides, each thrust culminating in a thump to his gland.

“Marrying you will be the greatest honor of my life,” Richard said.

Lilian’s gorgeous eyes gazed up at him with such helpless devotion, Richard’s hole gave an involuntary convulsion. One of these days, looking at Lilian would be enough to take him over the edge. Having such a beautiful young fae inside him was a privilege.

Richard kissed him with everything he had, unraveling with the multitude of sensations. His tongue dove into Lilian’s mouth, the contact sending sparks of desire into his balls. Lilian’s hands ran over his back, his sides, and up and down his abdomen and chest. Fingers pinched his nipples, and Richard’s cock spat a rush of precum. Lilian could undo him with a brush of his hand.

Another bump to his core, and Richard’s sack hiked toward his body. Full and heavy, his balls couldn’t wait to unleash onto Lilian. Fuck, he’d look so good covered in cum.

His hole clamped down. It brimmed with lust, threatening to overflow.

“Getting close,” Richard said against Lilian’s lips, whose cockjerked inside him, smacking his prostate. “Oh fuck, yes.”

Richard sped up, drawing sweet little sounds from him. Thump for thump, he drove his love spot against Lilian’s cockhead. His hole constricted further, strangling Lilian, making him cry out. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. What greater gift could Richard give him than triggering Lilian’s orgasm with his own?

“You want to come with me?” Richard whispered.

“Yes.”

He pistoned his hips, shoving Lilian into him over and over again. “I’m going to milk you with my climax.”

Lilian whimpered, and his eyelids fluttered. Richard’s punishing rhythm propelled them toward the brink, each well-aimed hit bringing them closer to release. Sweat pearled on Richard’s chest, and his balls nestled to his root. His heart thundered; his hole gripped Lilian like a vice. No holding back. Lilian gave a high-pitched, needy shout, and that did it.

Richard roared as his prostate seized. His hole dissolved in a crescendo of convulsions, clenching and unclenching on Lilian’s cock. Every muscle in his core pumped, and hot liquid shot from his balls into his cock. His dick twitched violently, hurling his release onto Lilian. It splattered onto his chest, hitting those hard, pink nipples. Lilian dropped a guttural moan, he arched, and spouts of wet heat hit Richard’s insides.

“Yes!” Richard gasped, his channel contracting in rapture. Splash after splash, Lilian emptied into him, painting Richard’s hole with his seed.

It was so filthy hot, an ecstatic cramp of murderous force knifed into Richard’s core. His inner walls squeezed and released Lilian with savage might, making them both grunt, their cocks spurting powerful volleys of cum.

Panting and groaning, Richard thrust a few more times, dragging the last of their seed from them. He collapsed on top ofLilian. They locked lips, and before Richard had a chance to go and get a wet cloth to clean them, they passed out from happy exhaustion.

The sun was at its zenith when Richard woke, a sleepy Lilian nuzzling his chest. They took their time getting ready, exchanging languid kisses as they dressed.

Only once they’d returned to Somerdale Castle did Richard inform his brothers of his betrothal to Lilian. They took the news with great excitement, promising to help with the wedding. A date at the end of summer was set, giving them enough time for preparations.

Lilian grew more radiant by the day. He and Richard had never been happier. They spent the balmy summer nights snuggling under Lilian’s blanket and enjoyed long days in the sun. During the afternoons, Richard moved his desk onto the shady terrace so he could draft letters while watching Lilian in the garden.

Sometimes, they went into Somerdale’s artisan quarter, and Lilian would enthuse over the clothes the dressmaker created or the weaver’s newest carpets. On their third visit, it became painfully clear Lilian was missing a creative outlet. Sure, he was content with gardening and decorating the castle, but Lilian had been a potter. It was time Richard accommodated him.

He hired workers to transform the unused room on the ground floor into a pottery. For weeks, Richard played coy when Lilian asked about the “renovations” downstairs. It paid off—Lilian virtually exploded with joy when Richard led him into the finished pottery complete with a potter’s wheel, shelves, paint and brushes, and a kiln.

Lilian went to work with zeal, producing whole collections of dishes, flower pots and vases. When the castle was overflowing—Lilian seemed intent on repaying Richard for the workshop in pottery—they donated his creations to Miss Bennett for herto sell at her shop and keep the proceeds. She was elated, and before long, everyone in Somerdale owned a creation of Lilian’s. They were gorgeous. Richard had seen fine pottery, but not the likes of what Lilian crafted.

Every day before lunch, Richard visited Lilian in his workshop, and they chatted before going upstairs to eat with the rest of the family. When Richard entered the pottery one late morning, sunlight was streaming through the windows. It fell onto Lilian’s blond mane, bringing it to a shine.

The only thing brighter was Lilian’s smile when he looked up. He beamed at Richard, pink eyes radiating joy. Richard strolled into the workshop, passing the long rows of shelves that held Lilian’s best work: plates with delicately painted scenery, vases from whose bodies colorful blossoms of glazed and painted clay protruded, figurines depicting fae, humans and various fair folk in subtle pastel shades.

Reaching Lilian, Richard leaned in and pecked his cheek. Even over the smell of wet earth and paint, Lilian’s floral scent couldn’t be missed. Richard lingered a second, breathing him in.

“Is it time for lunch already?” Lilian asked, putting aside the brush he’d used to paint his latest creation: a tureen too pretty to be used for serving soup. He’d decorated the bottom half with golden clams and a pod of dolphins frolicking in the waves. Atop the lid sat a creature half man, half fish with long, strawberry blond hair and a tail that glistened in all shades of blue. Lilian had crafted his petite features with great care.

“Almost, yes.” Richard nodded at the tureen. “He’s pretty.”

“He’s a merman.”

Richard sat on the wooden stool Lilian kept for visitors. “A merman?”

“Yes. King Malorn told me about them at James and Raziel’s wedding. They live in the ocean and lust after men, whom they lure in with their ethereal song. King Malorn said he’d visitedtheir king a couple of times, though they live in another world.”

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