Page 14 of Fairy's Forbidden Touch
“That’s perfect,” I encouraged, my voice strained. “Just like that.”
He hummed in acknowledgment, the vibration sending new sensations through me. One hand maintained a steady rhythm at the base while his mouth worked the head, occasionally pulling back to trace his tongue along the underside.
He’s a quick study, I’ll give him that.
I threaded my fingers through his hair, not guiding but just maintaining contact. The sight of him like this—the untouchable prince on his knees, pleasuring me with such focused attention—was almost too much to process.
“Thalen,” I gasped as he took me deeper. “If you keep that up, I’m going to—”
He pulled back just enough to say, “I want to experience it fully,” then returned to his task with renewed determination.
The combination of his words, the visual, and the physical sensation pushed me toward the edge quickly. I tightened my grip in his hair in warning, but instead of pulling away, he intensified his efforts.
When I came, the patterns beneath his skin flared so brightly they illuminated the dim room. He stayed with me through it, swallowing with obvious curiosity about the taste and sensation. Only when I was completely spent did he pull away, looking up at me with an expression of satisfaction and wonder.
“Was that… acceptable?” he asked, a hint of uncertainty beneath the question.
I laughed breathlessly. “More than acceptable. That was amazing for a first attempt.”
He moved back up to lie beside me on the narrow couch, a pleased smile playing at his lips. “I enjoyed it more than I anticipated. The intimacy of it. The control.”
I turned to face him, tracing a finger along the still-glowing patterns on his chest. “I think you might have a dominant streak, Your Highness.”
His eyes darkened at the formal address, confirming my suspicion. “Perhaps. In this context, at least.”
I slid my hand down to the obvious bulge in his trousers. “Would you like me to return the favor?”
He nodded, then glanced at the TV where the movie was now showing the credits. “What about your cultural education plan?”
“Oh, we’re definitely getting to the good parts of human culture now,” I assured him, working at the fastenings of his trousers.
Unlike his usual elaborate clothing, these had simple closures—almost like human designs but with that fae flair for elegant functionality. I pulled them down along with his undergarments, revealing his arousal. The patterns beneath his skin were particularly pronounced here, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
I took him into my mouth without preamble, drawing a sharp gasp from him. His hands immediately went to my hair, grip tightening as I established a rhythm. After two weeks of exploration, I knew exactly what he liked—the right pressure, the right speed, when to use my tongue and when to take him deeper.
“Jesse,” he breathed, the musical quality of his voice more pronounced in his pleasure. “The sensations are… overwhelming.”
I hummed in acknowledgment, using one hand to stroke what couldn’t fit in my mouth while the other explored lower, tracing patterns against sensitive skin. When I looked up, thesight was breathtaking—his head thrown back, silver hair spread across the couch cushions, the patterns beneath his skin pulsing with increasing brightness.
It didn’t take long before I felt the telltale tension in his thighs, the quickening of his breath. When he came, that now-familiar honeyed sweetness filled my mouth, and the room was momentarily bathed in the light from his skin’s patterns.
I moved up to lie beside him again, both of us barely fitting on the narrow couch. He immediately pulled me close, another habit he’d developed—the need for contact after intimacy, as if making up for a lifetime of touch starvation.
“We missed most of the movie,” he observed after a comfortable silence.
I laughed. “We can restart it. Or try something else. We’ve got all weekend.”
His expression turned thoughtful. “I would like that. To spend extended time with you. In your world.”
The simple statement contained volumes. Until now, our time together had been limited to hours—after my shifts or on my days off. The idea of a whole weekend together felt significant somehow.
“We can do whatever you want,” I told him. “Movies, food, just talking… anything.”
He traced a finger along my jaw, a gesture that had become familiar. “I want to learn everything about your life. The human parts of you I don’t yet understand.”
Something warm unfurled in my chest at his words. This was dangerous territory—developing real feelings for someone so fundamentally different, someone whose world operated by different rules. But as I looked into those unusual violet eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to care about the potential complications.
“Let’s start with finishing the movie,” I suggested. “Then maybe I’ll teach you how to make pancakes in the morning.”
