Page 48 of His Summer Prince

“Fuck, Elior…”

Elior probed deeper and curled his finger, pressing into Wren’s prostate. A violent shudder rattled Wren. And then Elior stroked his most sensitive place, slow and lovingly, and it felt so good Wren wanted to cry.

A stream of needy little sounds poured out of him, each one praising Elior, begging him for more. Elior was a warm presence all around him, inside him, touching every part of his soul.

Back and forth his fingertip went, bestowing unspeakable delights on him. Wren’s cock stuck out erect and untouched between his legs. A flush pinked the tip, veins pulsing along hisshaft, his dick jerking in time with Elior’s caresses. Each stroke made him harder, and when Elior pressed down, a shiny pearl of lust emerged from his slit.

Wren’s balls firmed, drawing closer to his body. He could come like this, receiving no stimulation to his cock. Elior focusing on that small patch of spongy tissue inside him was enough to get them both over the edge.

Elior gave him a series of taps, first slow and spaced out, then speeding up until he was hammering Wren’s gland, practically vibrating against it. Wren cried out. Each knock to his prostate fueled his need to come. He pulsated, balls settling at his root. Fuck, he needed to unload.

“Don’t come yet,” Elior said.

Wren loved submitting to him. His cock flexed, and as a sluice of precum spilled from his crown, it dripped onto the sheets.

“I love how you leak for me,” Elior said, and heat shot into Wren’s cheeks as it always did when Elior commented on his bodily reactions. He loved the tender teasing and the responses Elior coaxed out of him. He laid Wren’s hidden desires bare, the bond confessing all of his secrets. Elior never judged him. He simply found out what Wren wanted and delivered.

Hard and fast Elior tapped away at him until Wren’s inner muscles tightened, holding him deep inside him. It was where Elior belonged.

A few more knocks to his prostate, and Wren was going delirious with arousal. The need in his loins mounted, and he twitched involuntarily, his muscles contracting, a sign of his approaching orgasm.

“Uh-uh,” Elior said. “I told you, no coming.” He dragged his fingertip over Wren, causing him to clench.

“You’re not making it easier.”

Elior petted Wren’s hip as his finger continued raining pleasure on him. “You love me, and that’s why you’ll be good.”

And wasn’t that the truth? As Elior continued his delightful torment, Wren strained his inner muscles, fighting his building climax. He wouldn’t come until Elior allowed it.

Elior teased him mercilessly, and hanging on became difficult. Wren’s sack was plump and full, the normally loose skin stretched tight. His balls ached with desperation. He needed to come so badly, Elior’s every prod and rub sending him higher, escalating the urgency churning inside.

Wren felt Elior’s smile through the bond as he let go of Wren’s hip and reached between his legs and cupped his swollen sack.

Wren cursed. His balls contracted in Elior’s hand.

“So heavy and depraved,” Elior mumbled as he stroked his thumb over the taut skin.

Elior’s touch should’ve been too much, should’ve been almost painful, but he knew how to handle Wren. Blind with lust, Wren rocked back onto him, forcing that delectable finger to glide over his prostate. A full-body twitch shot through him.

Another drop of precum formed on his crown. Each swipe across his prostate grew it, forcing more liquid from his bulging gland. When it spilled over, it dripped down in a long, clear thread. More beads ran down along it, soaking a damp spot into the white sheets. Wren groaned at the sight. Any liquid he spilled, the faerie oil’s magic would replenish in no time, keeping him running like a leaky faucet.

Elior’s constant strokes drove him into a frenzy, turning him into a panting, shaking mess. He grunted through his teeth as he locked his pelvic floor, unwilling to disappoint Elior. If Elior wanted him out of his mind with desperation, he’d get it.

But as pleasure mounted, it became harder and harder to hold on. The more his anal muscles clenched, the firmer they pressed Elior against his needy prostate. Sweat beaded on his torso. He gasped as Elior’s strokes practically ignited the faerie oil lubing his channel, and sparks shot through his insides.

His red, pulsing cock flexed as it readied for orgasm, and Wren strained to forestall the climax rushing onto him.

“So nice and tight,” Elior said dreamily. “I like how hard you’re working not to orgasm.” He gently kneaded Wren’s balls. “But now I want you to relax. I want you to go slack, simply taking what I give you. Just don’t come.”

Obediently, he let go, those straining muscles relaxing and unfurling around Elior. He whined when Elior returned to rubbing him.

Elior released his testicles and patted his thigh before shuffling closer. He pressed his rigid, precum-wet cock to one side of Wren’s buttocks and threaded a hand into Wren’s ginger strands. Wren almost blacked out with bliss. The bond brimmed with passion. Elior rutted against him as he fucked him with his finger, his wet cock smearing his arousal across Wren’s buttocks. Elior groaned, rocking into the sticky mess. His pleasure added to Wren’s, making it that much more difficult to contain his orgasm.

Desperately trying not to clench, Wren answered each nudge with a high-pitched keen. It was impossible not to narrow around that heavenly intrusion, and his insides tightened on their own accord, embracing Elior, whose tender caresses didn’t help. Wren deliberately forced his anal muscles to relax. A wave of heat washed through the bond. Fuck, he was so close. If Elior kept rubbing him, there was no way he wouldn’t come. His balls were full; his cock was hard and desperately jerking in the air.

Up and down, round and round, Elior traced his prostate, finding ever new angles from which to torment his swollen gland. Wren went cross-eyed under the sensual attack. Between harsh pants, he pressed out, “I’m… I’m going… to come… if… if you… don’t stop… ahhh…”

“But I’m not going to stop,” Elior said, out of breath himself. “And you’re not going to come. Not yet.”

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