Page 38 of Salt Magic, Skin Magic
John stood and pushed Thornby down on the bed. Then he lay down himself with his mouth on Thornby’s cock, his own cock pushing at Thornby’s lips. Thornby opened his mouth and took him inside. His mouth was hot and eager. But the twin sensations of sucking and being sucked made it almost impossible to concentrate on either one. Thornby was moaning, his mouth losing suction.
Thornby pulled away and pushed John onto his back. John considered retaliating, but Thornby gave him a wicked sideways grin, pushed John’s legs apart, knelt between them, and closed his lips over John’s stand. He was tonguing the slit, cupping John’s balls in one hand, then taking the whole thing in his mouth, finding a rhythm—
John looked down, and the heir to Raskelf glanced up, lips swollen red and stretched. The beautiful, untouchable Lord Thornby, with his mouth full of cock. It was too much. John gave warning with a fervent groan, thrust with his hips, and spent, pleasure thrumming along his nerves like magic down the threads of a brocade hanging. Only when the last shiver had run through him did Thornby take his mouth away. He gave John that same wicked smile and licked his lips. Thornby’s hair had fallen around his face, patches of colour had spread across his cheeks, and his cock was red against his pale belly. He looked at once a peer of the realm and a tuppenny whore.
“Say something,” John said.
Thornby raised an eyebrow, half smiling, a little puzzled too. “Well, how about, ‘From now on, I shall never see the obelisk in the park without thinking of you’?”
John smiled. Next time, if there was a next time, perhaps he’d get Thornby talking while he fucked him. He’d like to hear that well-educated voice growing ragged and turning into an animal howl.
He sat up and pushed Thornby down on his back. To suck him off would be fair, and a pleasure, but he hadn’t forgotten what he’d said in that thicket.
John lay next to him, licked his own hand until it was slick, and wrapped it around Thornby’s cock. He didn’t move it much at first. Just held it there and started kissing him. Thornby was rock hard—he wouldn’t last much longer. Already he was moaning into John’s mouth. John sped his strokes for a while, then slowed down again. Thornby made a noise of protest.
“Didn’t I say I’d make you beg?” John said into his ear.
“Fuck.” Thornby said, between gritted teeth.
“Manners, my lord! Try ‘please’.” He gave Thornby’s balls a squeeze, making him gasp, then kissed him again.
Thornby muttered something.
“I beg your pardon?” John was moving his hand again. Slowly, then a little faster.
Thornby was writhing, he couldn’t kiss any more—he’d lost control of himself.
“Shall I stop?” John murmured into his ear. “Or will you say ‘please’?”
“No, no. Please,please!”
With that, John slid down the bed and took Thornby’s swollen, leaking cock into his mouth. Thornby convulsed under him, hips bucking, breath sobbing. John waited until Thornby had gone limp beneath him, then gave his cock one last kiss and lay down beside him. Thornby had his eyes shut and his mouth open; his breath was steaming in the air.
“All right?” John said.
“My God. Quite dictatorial, aren’t you?”
“I don’t think you minded.”
“Minded? I think you turned my balls inside out.”
John pulled the covers over them. The fire was burning low. He should get dressed and go and make it up, but Thornby had flung an arm across his chest and was holding onto him. John wouldn’t have dislodged that gentle grip for anything.
Thornby took a few more deep breaths, then said, “So, making me wait in the spare room, and those big iron nails of yours this time, it’s to do with magic?”
“Yes. If I haven’t used much magic, I need to get rid of some before I have sex. Otherwise, when I spend, I lose control, and magic comes out. It’s involuntary. So, I have to work it out beforehand. And if there’s too much magic, I get rid of some, into those pins. I’m sorry for yesterday. All I could think of was doing the calculation as quickly as possible and grabbing you.”
“But what happens if the magic does come out?”
“Oh, melted windows, nails popping out of walls, that kind of thing. Very messy. Inconvenient too.”
“You melted a window? By spending?”
“Twenty windows, actually, all down the north side of the Institute. I was sixteen.” John smiled ruefully. “I got such a beating, and lines for weeks. Wasn’t all bad, though. No glass, you see, so at least he got away nice and easy.”
He looked for traces of alarm or fear in Thornby’s face, but on the contrary, Thornby was gazing at him with such an expression of fascination that John felt his cheeks grow warm.
“Who was he? Another magician?” Thornby asked.
