Page 118 of Goldilocks

“My kind are…territorial. Possessive.” Roan chose his words carefully, as this was somewhere their species differed. “I believed that meant I would control my future mate, but I realise now that I was made to protect and care for you, not limit.”

Sam’s breath wobbled on the exhale. Roan studied his face, seeing strong emotions there. He almost looked upset, but Roan did not think that was how he felt. “You force me to draw you all the time.” Sam’s voice was rough.

Roan huffed. “I force nothing. You enjoy painting me.” Roan mightinsistsometimes. He enjoyed his mate’s undivided attention.

Sam reached up a hand, fingers brushing against his bottom lip. Roan caught the scent of graphite and remnants of floral bath soap lingering on his skin. Roan captured Sam’s hand and kissed his artist’s fingers.

“You weremadeto protect and care…for me?” Sam asked softly.

Roan hummed his agreement.

They studied each other in comfortable understanding before a slow smile turned up Sam’s lips. “I think you were made to inspire me too. You’re both muse and masterpiece, Roan.”

Roan could not help himself. He pressed a kiss to his sweet mate’s brow. And again to his lovely hair. His lips, his chin. Sam pushed him away with a chuckle. “Let me finish this first.”

His perfect mate did not disappoint when it came to status either, though Roan had not realised that when he’d first approached him. His mate was within the young monarch’s court, heavily favoured by his kin, and had even been entertained and considered as a suitor. Though the young monarch had poor taste if he chose Adonisover Sam. That feral beast had gotten on Roan’s nerves so many times he’d have chased him clear of the region years ago if he wasn’t so powerful. And now he’d gone and mated the monarch, so Roanhadto tolerate him.

Sam hummed to himself, happy as he returned to his drawing. Roan studied his face. All traces of bruises had vanished, healed thanks to…Adonis. Perhaps Roan could find it within himself to tolerate the merman after all.

His parents might have disapproved, Roan considered. The older generation would have turned their noses up at Roan accepting Sam as a mate with the lack of courting on his behalf. But what of them? If Roan had stuck to tradition, then he’d have been waiting the rest of his life for Sam to overcome his shyness and try to entreat Roan by sinking to his knees before him. And besides, had Sam not shown him so much more devotion through his paintings? Through his attentions and his study?

Roan observed Sam’s hand move across the page, watching as his mate created his image on the sheet with nothing more than a pencil. Sam captured his eyes, his hair, his throat, his nose, his cheeks. Captured how he must look from Sam’s eye with the canopy above his head, light filtering through the branches and leaves. Apparently, there was a bird perched on one of the branches, head twisted so that its eye was fixed upon them.

“I love you,” Roan murmured as he admired. Sam’s pencil jerked. His mouth screwed up, twisting, twitching up at the corners. His pale skin blossomed red. Roan touched his fingers to the coloured cheeks, feeling the warming skin with his fingertips. “I love you dearly,” Roan added, seeing that the verbal confirmation was a good thing to offer. And he knew even in this, it would be so incredibly foolish to follow the old ways – to deny the affection lest you lose your status as dominant. How silly.

“I feel the same,” Sam said.

Roan purred. “I know. I can see.” His gaze flicked to the drawing. His depiction of Roan as he saw him: always perfect, shining. If a stranger were to pick up Sam’s sketchbook, they would think Roan the centre of the universe. “Though it feels nice to hear you say it as well.”

“Should we get going?” Sam asked, shyly flipping the cover of the sketchbook closed. He reddened further, the blush spreading over his shoulders and down his arms. His bare chest coloured, and Roan followed the spread with his eyes and his hand. He fondled Sam’s pink nipple, stroking, then pinching lightly as his mate’s cheek indented, no doubt as he fussed the inner cheek between his teeth. A habit of Sam’s when he was trying to mask his emotions.

Roan teased, eyeing his mate’s filling shorts. He enjoyed the sound of Sam’s heavy exhale as his eyelashes fluttered.

“Roan,” Sam murmured. He tilted his head, lips finding the shaft of Roan’s cock where it had emerged from his tail.

Roan hummed, pleased, though he wished for more than just his mate’s mouth today. He had restrained himself from mounting Sam for weeks, even when his mate sweetly invited him each night in bed, and eventually slid his way down Roan’s tail to take him into his mouth or pushed his thighs together and guided Roan’s cock between them and brought him to completion that way.

“Does your head ache still?” Roan checked as he travelled his palm down Sam’s chest, fingers sliding beneath his shorts, where he took hold of his perky cock.

“Mhm.” Sam’s eyes were already shut, his full attention on where his mouth was sucking against the base of Roan’s cock. Heat prickled through him as he enjoyed the warmth of Sam’s mouth against his shaft, the wetness of his tongue against his balls. Precum beaded from his slit and slid down his shaft, where it made contact with Sam’s cheek. There wasn’t a single time where they’d been intimate that his body didn’t overproduce, always ready to mount Sam.

Sam’s mouth slid its way to the top of his shaft, and in his teasing manner, he swallowed Roan down. Roan’s spine tightened, his gills flaring out as he breathed in hard. His mate going down on him gave him the best view of those curls he loved so much, and he couldn’t resist sinking his fingers in. Perhaps the last generation had been on to something after all; Roan was content to watch Sam as he bobbed his head, growing bolder and braver as he swallowed him with enthusiasm.

Roan’s tail fin disturbed the water as he splashed it, filled with sudden impatience. He gripped Sam’s hair harder for a second and released. Sam pulled off Roan’s cock and opened his eyes, casting him a half-lidded, questioning look.

“Yes?”

“I will mount you,” Roan said.

Sam’s eyes brightened. “Really?” he asked eagerly. He lifted onto his knees, already looking at their surroundings. His eyes settled on the blankets Roan had stashed here for his comfort. Before Sam rose to fetch them, Roan cupped his shoulder and drew him toward the water. It was a deep pool and crystal clear, fed by a waterfall on one end and falling in another on the opposite side.

Roan slid into the water and Sam followed, removing his underwear before joining him. He drew Sam into his arms, feeling free now that his tail was weightless in the water, and kissed his mate deeply. Sam groaned as he clutched the back of Roan’s neck, fingers digging into his nape. They itched, Roan knew, to sink into his hair. Sam adored his hair in the same way Roan loved his. Perhaps that was why Sam enjoyed it so much when Roan pleasured him with his mouth.

Roan sunk below the water, tracing a path down his mate’s body. For his comfort, though Roan knew he was in no danger, he swished his tail so that Sam could grip the edge of the pool with a hand. His sounds were slightly muted, but Roan had sensitive hearing, and what he might have missed was translated through Sam’s body. As he swallowed Sam into his mouth, his hips bucked into him, and Roan cupped the globes of his ass to encourage the movement and let him know it was okay to seek his own pleasure.

“That feels amazing,” Sam groaned.

Eager for more, Roan slid a finger inside himself for lube and then massaged between the globes of Sam’s ass with his slicked fingers. He started with one finger, and Sam reached down, trying to push him along to two immediately. Roan didn’t allow it. But Sam persisted until Roan released his cock and lifted above the waterline. Sam wouldn’t hear him if he spoke from below.