Page 13 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

Lord Vasil

The prince was acclimating to daily life in my fortress.

He arrived at breakfast most days in good spirits, then spent the mornings training with Anika and the rest of the elvish guard before washing up and joining me for lunch.

During the afternoons we’d discuss history, trade, or politics in my study.

His curiosity was boundless and his insights made me think he’d been severely underutilized by the queen and her advisors, but her loss was surely my gain.

Most nights after dinner we’d retire with tea to the lounge where we’d play cards or I’d read to him from one of my many books of elvish customs and lore.

He had a lot of questions about our culture and that of the vampyre.

Sometimes we’d read independently, and I’d catch him dozing with a book in hand, blonde eyelashes fanned across his cheeks with boyish innocence.

I’d rouse him awake and escort him to bed.

Occasionally, he’d linger in his doorway, glancing back at me hopefully as though the words were stuck in his throat, but he had not invited me into his bedchambers and I’d not pursued it.

My conclusion was that the prince was shy, a revelation of sorts, and I wondered just how many sexual partners he’d had in the past. Perhaps the commoner was his first?

It might explain why he was so attached to the relationship.

I wanted to ask, to probe, but I refrained, because despite my own growing appetite, I’d resolved to let him come to me. And so, I would.

Roughly a half-moon into our betrothal, I was reviewing contracts in my study when the prince came barreling in, and I knew just from his scent that something was amiss.

“Cedrych?” I asked, glancing up from my very dull paperwork.

“What’s your game, Vasil?” he asked hotly.

“My game?” I said as I stood to match his height.

“Your game,” he growled. “Did you bring me here just to toy with me?”

Toy with him, no. Let the sexual tension between us simmer until it reached a boiling point? Perhaps.

“I’ve done no such thing, young man, and you know it. Now, explain yourself,” I demanded

He took a step closer and pointed at me. “You’re doing this to humiliate me, aren’t you?”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort, but here is some advice, brat. Rather than throw a tantrum and accuse me of untrue things, how about you take a deep breath and tell me exactly what is on your mind?”

His chest heaved and he blew out his breath in a mulish manner.

“You haven’t touched me, not once,” he said, trying to mask his longing with anger.

His arms were spread, highlighting the bulge of his biceps and the thickness of his thighs in his deerskin breeches.

I touched him every time I shaved him, but that wasn’t what he meant.

“Do you want me to touch you?” I asked, secretly delighted that he’d made an overture at long last. But did I show it? Absolutely not.

“It’s been days,” he said by way of answer. “We had that moment on the ship and then that first morning you….” He swallowed and glanced up at me, embarrassed. “But nothing since.”

“I was giving you time to adjust.”

“I thought you wanted me, Vasil.”

“I do want you.”

“Then what? Haven’t I followed your every instruction? Behaved in a suitable manner?”

“Prior to this sudden outburst, your behavior has been exceptional,” I agreed, giving him his due.

His face twisted with disappointment, and I rounded my desk before he could tie himself up any tighter. The prince needed a pressure valve to release his frustrations, sexual or otherwise. Placing a firm hand against the back of his neck, I drew his forehead to mine.

“I didn’t want to push you,” I said softly as I breathed him in, dust from the training fields and clean sweat from his efforts.

“Push me,” he nearly begged. Nearly.

“Cedrych,” I said as my final warning.

“My lord,” he whispered hoarsely.

He knew exactly what that name did for me.

Releasing him, I stepped backward to remove my jacket and hang it on my chair.

I unclasped my shirt sleeves and rolled up the fabric methodically, taking my time.

He watched, wary of my movements as I approached him slowly, giving him the opportunity to bow out, but he remained steadfast, his posture proud and his slate blue eyes locked on mine.

Elvish blue, I realized. No wonder I’d found such solace in them.

With command and purpose, I unknotted the lacing of his tunic down the middle and pulled apart the cotton to expose his chest. The scent of him grew stronger and I drank it in deeply, a powerful elixir.

“I am particular about the way I do things,” I said.

“Yes, I know.” His eyes were closed and he swayed gently on his feet, a sapling in the breeze.

I ran my hands over his delicious mounds of muscle, pausing at both nipples to rub them with my thumbs.

His areolas were large and puffy, a dusky rose that turned darker when aroused.

His chest was peppered with golden-brown hairs that gathered en masse between his pectorals.

His body hair continued at his navel in a line that disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.

How I hungered to follow that trail to its terminus.

Cedrych’s head tilted backward, exposing his strong throat and the bite I’d given him, almost completely faded now. These urges were entirely his own.

“Finally,” he murmured, forever insolent.

“Watch your tone, young man.”

“Yes, sir,” he said with a slow, cocky smile.

“Take out your cock,” I commanded and he fumbled to follow my order, unlacing the leather cord on his breeches with trembling hands and pushing away the folds to expose himself to me.

The trail of hair that framed his prick was neatly trimmed.

His balls hung heavy, swollen with the need for release, and his cock was long and thick.

Slightly paler than the rest of him, it listed to one side from the glut of blood.

The head was wet and only just peeking out of his hooded skin, as if shy like the man himself.

A delicious-looking vein branched along his length, tempting me to taste him.

It was a beautiful instrument, and I wanted to make him come as much as I wanted to deny him.

Spill his seed, then cage his cock. Keep him well under my command.

“On your knees, Cedrych.”

Swallowing tightly, he slipped rather gracefully to the floor, knees spread as wide as his pants would allow so that his heavy balls brushed against the carpet.

His hands were on his thighs, another good instinct, and his lusting gaze was aimed at me, as docile as if I’d trained him.

Despite his arrogance and bluster, he was a natural at following orders.

My hand gripped his chin where I’d shaved him just that morning. His lips parted, two dewy petals, and I wanted nothing more than to plunge my aching prick inside.

“Show me how you pleasure yourself,” I commanded. I went to my desk drawer and pulled out a vial of oil, then spilled some onto the callused palm of his dominant hand. Cedrych grabbed hold of himself, somewhat carelessly, and began stroking.

“Slower,” I said and his tempo decreased. “Grab your balls and squeeze until it hurts.”

He winced while doing so, his mouth a moue of tension as he stroked himself slowly and palpated his testicles, the delicate skin pebbled and shiny between his thick fingers. I dug one hand into his golden locks and brought his face to my groin, mashing his royal nose against my erection.

“Can I–” he said haltingly. “May I suck you, my lord?”

“No, Cedrych. Concentrate on one task at a time.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, so beautifully acquiescent. I watched his thick cock start to blur in his hand, shining with oil as he pumped it. His other hand was no longer squeezing his balls but caressing them.

“Release your balls,” I said, then edged my foot between his legs so that I might exert pressure on them myself.

“My lord,” he said with a painful grunt.

“Keep stroking,” I commanded, stepping lightly on his swollen testicles with the sole of my shoe to grind them into the carpet.

Cedrych whimpered but did not stop me. His massive shoulders shivered like horseflesh, mounded pecs twitching from the effort of his hand.

His neck was stained crimson and his tendons were pulled taut with effort as I humped his face.

Tongue out, he lapped at the fabric covering my erection like a dog. What a wonderfully eager boy.

“Would you like to come, Cedrych?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What do you say?”

“Please, my lord, may I come?”

“Very well,” I said haughtily and added a little more weight to his flattened testicles.

“My lord,” he bleated.

“Go on, Cedrych, finish.”

Mere strokes later, he gave a shuddering cry and released into his caged fist. Some of it splashed onto my shoe, thick and white against the dark leather.

Still holding onto his hair, I drew back his head.

Droplets of sweat clung to his temples and dotted the center of his chest as his soft panting filled the quiet room.

“Well done. Now, clean up your mess.”

His eyes widened as he stared at his fist. I nodded in confirmation and he blinked twice, then cautiously licked his knuckles, clearly never having tasted his own ejaculate before.

I waited until he’d gotten most of it then pointed at my shoe.

A look of alarm crossed his face–I was certain he’d never been asked to do that particular task before–but he bent over beautifully and flicked his pink tongue against the leather.

I’d intended for it to be a test of obedience, but he was so thorough in his execution that I think he rather enjoyed it.

What a treasure. Once finished, he stared up at me, awaiting his next instruction.

I offered my hand and helped him up, then wrapped the tunic around him tightly, not bothering with the laces. I hugged him close while he recovered his wits.

“That was very good,” I murmured while kissing his hair and breathing him in. I’d grown accustomed to his scent trailing down my corridors and filling my once-empty rooms, had begun to crave it.

“What about you?” he asked as he pulled away, eyes darting furtively downward.

“Later. First, I’d like to discuss with you what just happened.”

“You want to talk about it?” he said, looking panicked.

“Yes.”

“But… why?” he spluttered.

“Because we should talk about it.”

“No,” he said, trying to edge away. I gave him a sharp look and he corrected himself. “No, sir.”

“Cedrych, I insist.”

“Well, I refuse.”

I held his rebellious glare, allowing him the space to change his mind, but his jaw was set and the line of his mouth was as stubborn as ever.

“Cedrych,” I entreated, softer this time.

“Halt.”

I sighed and stepped away while his gaze landed on my shoe, still shining with his spit. I could see the tumult of emotion warring within him, but I could not address it, for he’d effectively shut me out. He turned toward the door, intent on leaving.

“I’d like you to stay.” I motioned to a chaise and made my final appeal, “We don’t have to talk about it just yet.”

“I need to go wash up. I’m filthy.”

His words were revealing, whether he knew it or not.

“Then I’ll see you at dinner,” I said.

He didn’t answer but left me standing there in silence. He shut the door behind him, a clear message not to follow.

Gods be damned.