Page 18 of Tristan
All I can see are two glowing purple eyes.
The light of the candles is gone, scant moonlight squeezes through gaps in the clouds that have covered the night sky and into our bedroom’s skylight. Corrik’s happy laughter has vanished from existence: he’s in a trance—I’ve never experienced anything like it, and I must assume it has something to do with being an Elf. He reminds me of a person in the heat of battle. I’m afraid. I can’t move and I won’t speak—it’s not wise to interrupt someone in such a state—anything could provoke an attack.
He takes inventory of my body and decides I’ve been clothed long enough. He unsheathes the great sword from his back and slices my gown in the right places, tears it from my body, discards it, and throws it to the floor along with the silver chastity belt.
I’m naked for the first time in front of Corrik—I hope I appease him. I won’t be warlord, but I can still win victories for Markaytia and him admiring me would be such a victory.
“You are beautiful, Kathir, and all mine.” He sheds his clothes, and when he’s naked too, he tosses his sword with the rest of it—it’s just us now.
His body is magnificent; it’s what raw power looks like. Solid muscles contract and squeeze the flesh that fights to hold them in, reminding me of full water skins bursting at the seams.
“And I am all yours to look at,” he says and takes my hand, the one attached to his, bringing it down to rest on the velvet skin of his cock. “And this is yours to touch.”
His cock.
Mine is large, but his ismuchlarger. It’s long and thick with a head that mushrooms over his girth. His skin is white porcelain, but his cock is more of a cream, with full veins embossed on the shaft like twin lightning bolts.
It’s bloody magnificent.
When I remember it will be going inside me, I panic—thatthingis likely to split me in two.
I’m distracted when I feel something wet being slicked over my cock. It’s Corrik’s hand with something similar to the lotion I used earlier. My cock likes what’s being done to him. I moan.
“That’snice, Corrik.”
“Relax.”
Do I look nervous? Because I’m not—I’m not at all nervous about being impaled.
He leans over me, placing his lips by my ear. “I’ll go gentle for our first time, even though I want to fuck you senseless.”Does the Prince desire me that much?I press into his hand. I love his hand. I could spend days with my cock holed up inside of it. It’s a deep dark cave of wet wonders.In and out, in and out …I’m building up, building, climbing—
“Corrik, nooo,” I cry when he takes his hand away. I’m so close, but I guess that’s the point. He’s in charge. He’s in control. Igetit.
Unless.
I put my free hand on my dick, and in short order, my hand is removed and slammed over my head.
“Do not touchhimagain, not till I say.”
It’s a threat, a promise, and hey, did he just? Yep, he referred to my cock as a‘him.’
He doesn’t wait for a response, his lips crash to mine and we’re kissing—no, he’s trying to kiss me while I try to suck his face off.Do all Elves taste this good?His pelvis rocks into mine, our cocks touch and get to know one another; I tilt up so my cock can continue to find his. Something raw and powerful takes over, we aren’t strangers anymore, we’re lovers. He breathes in as he kisses me, taking my air with him as I exhale, and pull his breath back into me when I inhale. We dance like that, trading air back and forth with urgency, until he stops suddenly and reaches over to the table by the bed for something. I continue to attack him—an animal has taken over my body, Tristan is gone. All I know is I have to taste him: lick, suck, and nibble his skin. I breathe in hard so I can have his scent, my free hand claws down his back. He moves down out of my reach and kneels at my entrance. I lift my head to look at him as I pant like I’ve run the distance of two cities. By Gods, this is it, the part where he impales me with his monstrous appendage.Be brave, Tristan. You’ve faced far more terrifying situations; you can do this.
Nope, doesn’t help. I’m terrified.
“Accck.Corrik.”
Without warning, he coats everything with slick lubricant: my cock, my balls, and most specially my hole. The liquid isn’t cold, but it shocks me. He doesn’t apologize and uses the lubricant to glide his hand up and down my cock some more, before settling one finger at my entrance. With more care than I thought him capable of, he slides his finger in to his first knuckle a few times, before he twists it in deeper. He knows what he’s doing. Once he’s able to work the whole finger into me, my fear of his large, Elf-cock, begins to ease, relaxing my entrance, making sure it’s open enough to accept his cock. Besides, I like what he’s doing now.
“You may grab your cock now, Tristan. I want to grab it, but I can’t.”
It seems the handcuffs thwart even him. No matter, I’ll gladlygrab my own cock. It’s slick with lubricant as I slide my hand up and down in time with his finger. He adds another. By this time, I’m drunk with lust and press down on both his fingers.
“Add another,” I beg. “Please?”
He’s more than happy to oblige.
I’ve taken to sex quite fabulously; I want more, I crave something I can’t name. I moan, writhe and sigh on his fingers—I’ve lost count of how many are in there—I pump my cock and climb toward climax a second time. Once again, he pulls everything away.Evil bastard. His cold, purple eyes look down at me, filled with an emotion I can’t name. I’m going to pretend that it’s love. I don’t care if I’m called a sap for it; I want love present here, now, as he takes me.
