Page 47 of A Gaze So Longing (The Fall of Livenza #1)
Favian woke long before he had to. The room was still shrouded in darkness, only the faintest hints of early sunlight peaking through at the edge of the window. They had moved in the night, Favian’s back now flush against Leonardo’s chest, the prince’s breath on the back of his neck.
He tried to go back to sleep—to no avail.
Tonight, Leonardo would court Princess Dinha of Abijata.
The thought sent shivers down Favian’s spine, and he shifted, carefully turning, trying to get a look at the prince in his sleep.
Leonardo’s messy curls were all over the place, some on his face, some spread around him, some stuck underneath his shoulder.
Eyebrows relaxed, thick lashes lining closed eyelids—Leonardo looked relaxed, calm.
Freckles on now-familiar bronze skin, stubble on his jaw that Favian now understood to cause the prince discomfort.
He wouldn’t draw attention to it. Favian carefully moved a strand of hair away from the prince’s face, fingers dancing on the side of his head.
He noticed the quirk in Leonardo’s mouth right before he spoke. “Like what you see?” The prince’s tone was light, too light for the conversation they had had the night before and even more so for the day ahead of them.
“Yes,” Favian responded. He heard it himself, the wistfulness in his voice that made Leonardo open his eyes.
One of the prince’s hands was positioned on Favian’s hip, the other lying loosely between them. Leonardo slowly brought it to Favian’s face, cupped his cheek. “Show me,” he whispered, pupils dancing over Favian’s lips.
The kiss was different. It was slow, timid, almost painfully so.
Leonardo pulled Favian close. He could tell the prince was careful not to slide his fingers underneath the fabric of his chemise, not to touch naked skin anywhere that wasn’t his face or his hands.
But Favian wanted more.
This was their last chance, their last moment of secret togetherness before Leonardo would get engaged.
Favian reached for the prince’s head, fingers raking through the messy, tangled curls as he deepened the kiss. He could feel Leonardo smiling against his lips, letting out a sigh when Favian carefully, experimentally pulled on a flick of his hair.
“Yes,” the prince whispered into the kiss, “ please .”
The word went right to Favian’s dick, twitching at the idea of Leonardo at his disposal.
With his fingers tugging on Leonardo’s curls, Favian let his mouth wander. He found the prince’s neck, his jaw, his ears. The whimper that escaped from Leonardo’s lips when Favian’s tongue slipped free told him he was on the right track.
“Can I touch you?” Favian asked. “And you’ll tell me when to stop?”
He received a vigorous nod and another “Yes, please.”
Favian slipped his hands underneath the prince’s ruffled shirt, his fingers roaming over the other’s chest. When he met Leonardo’s nipples, the prince let out a gasp, prompting him to try taking them between his fingertips, twisting, pulling, cautiously at first, then more purposefully, increasing the intensity of his movements with each sound from Leonardo.
When his lips replaced his fingers, the prince’s crotch bucked against him, his erection brushing Favian’s belly.
The shape against his body only intensified Favian’s desire, and he glided one of his hands down Leonardo’s form until he reached the prince’s waistband and slid two fingers underneath, carefully studying the other’s reaction as he did.
Leonardo’s eyes opened. “Please,” he said once more, stroking Favian’s cheek. Then: “Only if you want to.”
“I do,” he replied, then pulled down the prince’s pants and undergarments.
Favian had not seen many dicks in his life, yet the sight of Leonardo’s made him shiver—it was beautiful, the dark hair around it trimmed.
Leonardo was long but slender, even a few freckles adorning his erection.
Favian hadn’t known that was possible, but it delighted him.
The marks were so Leonardo , it felt right that they decorated even the most intimate parts of him.
Leonardo was regarding him just as Favian was regarding his dick—attentively, deliberately, eagerly.
“Do you want to touch me?” the prince asked.
“Gods, yes,” Favian breathed. Leonardo’s hand left his cheek and moved above his own head as it had the night in Leonardo’s bed.
“I’ll be still,” the prince said just like he had then. “Do whatever you desire.”
So Favian did. With a single finger, he carefully stroked up and down Leonardo’s length before wrapping his hand around it. He didn’t move much yet, experimentally running his thumb over the head, eliciting a moan.
Favian began moving his hand up and down the way he liked to on himself, then followed Leonardo’s reactions to different speeds and pressures until he found a rhythm that seemed to work exceptionally well, Leonardo’s sounds coming faster and louder, his eyes closed, mouth ajar.
“More,” the prince moaned.
Favian stopped. Did Leonardo want him to. . .
“I can’t—” he said abruptly. “I can’t take you in my mouth.”
The prince’s eyes opened, seeking his. A moment of irritation, then understanding passed over Leonardo’s face.
“That’s,” the prince panted, “not what I meant.” He gave Favian the faintest smile. “I just wanted more of this . You don’t ever have to use your mouth if you don’t want to.”
One again, Leonardo’s expression left no doubt about his sincerity. It should have calmed him, but instead, Favian was unsettled. He let go of the prince’s cock, placing the hand on his thigh instead.
“I’m sorry. I feel bad for always interrupting these moments,” he mumbled.
“Don’t.” On his knees now, Leonardo offered his hands. Favian took them, avoiding the prince’s eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for. Neither for the things you don’t want me to do, nor for the ones you yourself don’t want to do. And especially not for communicating, alright?”
“Alright,” he quietly replied.
Leonardo pressed a kiss to his temple, then gripped the hem of his own shirt. “Do you want to continue?” After receiving a nod, he pulled the garment over his head, then dropped it onto the pile on the floor. “What do you want to do?”
The prince was naked before him. Curls spilling over his shoulders, brown eyes patient.
Favian noticed the scars, paying particular attention to the large one on Leonardo’s arm and the round one beneath his collarbone, giving the otherwise soft prince an edge.
Curls on his lower belly, leading into his pubic hair.
Favian couldn’t wrap his head around the reality—the prince was naked and in his bed.
Radiant, glowing in the early rays of sunlight flooding the room.
Waiting for Favian to tell him what he wanted.
“I just want to touch you,” Favian said.
Leonardo smirked. “Please do. Where do you want me?”
“Can you. . .turn around?”
“Sure,” the prince affirmed. “Feel free to be rougher if you want to. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” He lingered, waiting to see what Favian would do.
“Alright,” Favian said again. Then, in a harsher tone, “Turn around.”
Any doubts he might have had about the sharpness of his words dissipated when he saw what they did to Leonardo. His pupils widened, his lips quivered—as did his dick.
The prince shuffled on the bed, facing the top end.
“Put your hands on the wall,” Favian added, and his prince did.
Favian bundled Leonardo’s hair together like a ponytail, one hand steadily holding it together. He closed the distance, his other hand wrapping around Leonardo’s hip, exploring his body once more, his chest, his thighs, all while tugging at his curls, pulling the prince’s head back.
Suddenly realizing he was still fully dressed, Favian let go of the body in front of him and quickly pulled the chemise over his head.
Leonardo stayed exactly as he was, waiting for Favian to return.
His head was tilted to the side, neck bared.
When he resumed his position, Favian’s lips found the skin tender and pulsing.
He moved Leonardo’s head from side to side, giving him access to each and every inch of the prince’s throat he desired.
And he desired all of it.
His left hand was fisted in Leonardo’s hair, and his right found its way back between the prince’s legs. Leonardo gasped when Favian returned to the rhythm he had identified as highly effective. His back pressed against Favian’s naked front, the prince moaned.
Favian let go of the ponytail, moving his hand around and over Leonardo’s mouth.
“Shh,” he surprised himself, lips close to the prince’s ear, hot breath leaving his mouth. “We don’t want to wake anyone, do we?”
The response he got was best described as a whimper.
He felt Leonardo’s lips part underneath his hand, inviting him in. He allowed two fingers to push forward into the prince’s mouth, and Leonardo received them eagerly, twirling his tongue around the digits before he began sucking.
Gods.
If he ever did that somewhere else. . .
The image spurred Favian on even more, rubbing his own erection against the prince’s back as he kept pushing, kept touching.
Favian fingered Leonardo’s mouth, bit his neck, jerked him off.
The prince came apart in his hands.
Leonardo reached his climax like a downpour soaking into dry soil on a hot summer day: intensely, fervently, and full of thirst. Dick twitching in Favian’s hand, the prince spilled over the pillow neither of them had thought to move aside, white pearls landing on the bed, on the wall, on Favian’s fingers.
Leonardo was hot in his arms, the sounds he made visceral and lewd and so damn lovely.
“You’re gorgeous,” Favian whispered into his prince’s ear as he rode out the last shudders of his orgasms.
For a second, Leonardo rested the back of his head on Favian’s shoulder, breathing hard as he collected himself. When Favian let go of the prince in his arms and reached for a towel to clean his fingers, Leonardo stopped him.
“Let me,” he breathed, looking at Favian over his shoulder.