Page 35 of His Summer Prince

“They’re not going to.”

“If they do, I will come for you. I don’t care what it’s going to cost me. If the Winter King keeps you, I’ll come after you. That’s my feeble human promise to you.”

Elior huffed. “Your promises have never been feeble. I’ll do everything in my power to return to you as soon as I can. That’s my not-so-feeble, very binding promise.”

Wren’s heart swelled, and he pressed his lips to Elior’s. The fear of losing him spurred him on, made him deepen the kiss and thoroughly take possession of his mouth. He yearned to bring Elior into the safety of his own body, consume and hide him from the Winter King.

“I’m yours,” Elior said into the kiss. “Only yours. He might think he’s betrothed to me, but what does that matter if I’m married to you? He will never have me.”

“Elior…”

Elior reached into his pouch and produced a vial of faerie oil. He pressed it into Wren’s hand.

Silence unfolded between them, Wren trying and failing to wrap his head around Elior’s intentions. They were loud and clear in the bond, and yet he struggled to comprehend.

“In case everything goes wrong,” Elior said carefully. “I need you to be my first.” He choked on the last word. “I need you to take what can never be his.”

Wren swallowed roughly. The crushing weight of Elior’s words pressed onto his chest, threatening to suffocate him.

“Nothing bad will happen,” Elior said. “But just in case…”

“Don’t do this because—”

“I want this. I want it with you.”

Wren felt the truth of it. “You know I’ve never…”

“Of course I know. I might’ve killed the recipient of your affections if you had.”

“You promised you’d come back.” Wren was close to begging Elior not to go.

“And I will. Now, take what’s yours.”

Wren’s fingers closed around the vial. The meadow was dark and silent, and the bushes hid them from sight. As long as they were quiet, nobody would be the wiser.

He kissed Elior once more, sucking on his bottom lip before he let go and sat up. Under his fingers, Elior’s robe came undone. It slid open, revealing smooth, sun-kissed skin, the starlight bringing it to a soft glow.

Wren’s jaw slackened. Seeing that expanse of preternaturally beautiful skin always had his mind going blank. His eyes drifted south, to the gorgeous, thick length of Elior’s cock with its pulsing veins and deliciously flared head. To have this and more…

Inside his trousers, Wren rose.

“You’ll have to prepare me,” Elior said.

Wren nodded. He’d heard from the older boys in Castlehill how it was done. Heat grew in his loins and spilled out into the rest of him. He wanted to make this good for Elior. He might lack experience, but the bond would tell him where to touch, stroke and linger. With their connection bright between them, he was going to gift Elior with the most exquisite, mind-bending pleasure.

With a flick of his thumb, Wren popped the cork off the vial.

Chapter Twelve

Elior

As Wren slicked his fingers, Elior parted his legs ever so slightly. He placed a hand on Wren’s upper arm and gently pulled him in. A soft grunt escaped Wren as he came to rest on top of him. They kissed, brief and sweet, Wren’s need simmering in the bond.

“I’ll be careful,” Wren said, and Elior nodded. Wren propped himself up on his elbow and curled a hand around Elior, giving him a long stroke. Elior arched into it, and in the process, his buttocks lifted off the blanket. Wren seized the opportunity and brought an oiled fingertip to the hidden opening between his legs.

A low moan fell off Elior’s lips. Within moments, the faerie oil heated, and a wave of lust rippled across that small entrance, making it clench and unclench against Wren’s fingertip.

Elior shook as tingles prickled his opening. He suppressed a shout when they rushed into his hole. The oil’s magic rallied a sense of urgency he’d never felt and the need to be touched deep inside.

---