Page 20 of Ruined by His Alpha King (Reluctant Fae Princes #3)

Stamel

“I simply cannot impress upon you how terrible of an idea it was to eat that climbing cherry at this particular time,” Seidrik said, his voice a whine.

“Or, was it my greatest idea yet?” Stamel shoved gently at Seidrik’s back as he stumbled off with the box in hand. “If you slow down, I might become indecent.”

Seidrik’s cheeks blazed red while he tripped over roots and tiptoed gently around forest flora, watching his step with such attention to every footfall.

He truly respected the queen and her domain.

Far wiser than he had been in his youth.

A boyish infatuation, a crush on the first omega he’d stolen a kiss from, and he’d frittered away his crown by giving Honeythistle his trust, returning his name, all the honey he could grab, and a pair of sun elk antlers that would adorn his true mate.

He couldn’t have imagined he’d have lost trust so blatantly that he would have attempted his brother’s life, but in his quest for forgiveness, he’d have his chance at being king once more and the love of his goddess-given mate.

“I mean, your advances are becoming far more tolerated by myself, but I feel like this is risking things unnecessa—” Seidrik gasped and huffed when Stamel pushed him against a tree and stole a kiss.

“Okay, we must be quick about it and do realize they will watch, no matter what Queen Aster says. They are nymphs, after all.”

“I intend to put quite a show on for them. I had intended on cornering you in the armory later… But this is far preferable.” Stamel pulled away and swatted Seidrik’s bottom, urging him to continue their journey.

A slender rod with a ring sat in his pocket, the dulled rounded bulb end poking his thigh with every step.

He mi ght have put Seidrik to shame so much faster in their earlier demonstration if the damned thing hadn’t been reminding him of its purpose.

He pulled the polished silver of it free and spun it on his finger as they walked, catching Seidrik’s confused gaze.

“What is that?” He stumbled ahead, arms clutched to the box. His wings flicked nervously, the rustling of them like fine parchment and rattling coins. The metallic flicker of them made song when they fluttered. “A key?”

“Of sorts. It is meant to be inserted and twisted to unlock a plethora of delights.” Stamel chuckled.

“Oh. It’s one of those kinds of devices. Does it have something to do with my piercings? Because I can’t imagine it giving me any sort of delight when inserted there .” Seidrik glared at the thing, and Stamel chuckled darkly, bumping into his mate with his chest to keep him moving.

“It’s just up ahead, you brute!” Seidrik stumbled into a glade of moss, shaded at the edges and overshadowing a waist-deep creek. Crystalline water rippled over a bottom of smooth stone with fish a dozen colors of starlight flicking about.

The legendary effects of the climbing cherry perked his cock to life, or perhaps it was in his head. Thinking about Seidrik whimpering in embarrassment often had him half mast, so to speak, anyway.

Seidrik sat the box on a rock, making short work of his tunic one button at a time. When he laid it neatly over the wooden surface, Stamel made a show of shirking his tunic, dropping his breeches, and running his hand through his messy locks. “Poor, na?ve omega.”

“I may be na?ve, but I won’t be pitied for it—” Seidrik stumbled back as Stamel wrapped his arms around him from behind, nipping at his neck .

“I could very well play with your nipples with this.” Stamel pressed Seidrik’s wings to his back tight, the papery gleam of them crushing between them with that delightfully papery feel. When they twitched, they brushed over the front of his undergarments, the light caress of them overstimulating.

Seidrik pressed his bottom back against Stamel, spreading his wings a little as if wanting to feel his hardness. “You’re too complacent. I like it when you fight for it.”

“What is there to fight for? You always make me feel so go—” Seidrik gasped as Stamel traced the metallic tip of the tool over his nipple, spreading the cold silver of it around in slow circles before tapping at the ring, still tender and reddened around the new intrusion.

“I’ll make you feel good, but only after you’ve embarrassed yourself and begged for it.” Stamel slotted the rod through the ring of his piercing and twisted it, as one might a church key on a tin, earning a cry of pain that silenced into a shuddering breath.

Stamel’s other hand traced blunt fingertips over the pert bud, teasing the bead at the bottom of the ring, flicking it up and down rather like a door knocker. The gesture was almost as if he asked Seidrik to open for him. He always would.

With a quick gesture, Stamel drew the silver rod away and traced it down Seidrik’s chest. Every inch drew a shuddering breath, breeches tenting welcomely as the tip drew toward his navel to circle.

Stamel walked back, finding a comfortable place to sit, perching on a softly mossed stone. “I’m going to have you straddle my legs and ride my cock.”

Seidrik sidled back with him and hummed while shirking his confining undergarments and trousers. They fell in a pile, left forgotten .

Stamel teased the little silver rod over his belly as Seidrik stood before him, crease glistening with slick. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” Seidrik said, his voice a whimper of pleasure.

Stamel hummed, nuzzling into Seidrik’s lower back, other hand wandering to slot between his cheeks where familiar warmth hugged over one finger then two, pliant and willing only as an omega could be.

Two fingers opened him to a third with a whimper.

Wasting no time, Stamel drew Seidrik back onto his lap, hoisted him above his thighs, and slotted him easily with a firm grip to his thighs.

Sheathing into Seidrik was better than any other male he’d ever had.

Tight velvet hugged him from tip to base, bringing forth a groan of pleasure. The groan turned into a frustrated pant as he fought to brace himself, one hand on Stamel’s horns, the other reaching for his cock to stroke.

“Don’t touch. That’s for me to do.” Stamel balanced Seidrik against him with one arm and drew his hand with the silver sounding rod to his lips.

Unideal as saliva was, it would serve its purpose.

Stamel licked the tool along its cold length and balanced Seidrik with an arm around his waist. “Keep both hands on my horns.”

Seidrik, obedient as ever, flung his other hand back and braced himself easily.

There, Stamel slotted his thumb through the ring at the end of the tool, the length of it held across his palm, the small, bulbous tip of it ready for its purpose.

“Move yourself, beta. Make yourself ready to come for me.”

Seidrik cried out, a soft whimper of pleasure that sharpened into alarm as Stamel drew the tip of it to his leaking cock. He stopped, ass lifted, body tensing. “Wh-what are you doing? Stamel? ”

“Quiet. If you make a wrong move, it will hurt.” Stamel lined his thumb up through the ring more securely and slotted the blunted end into Seidrik’s tip. “And this is the kind of hurt I don’t want you to feel.”

Seidrik struggled at first, bleating out in shock and alarm, but his struggle only speared him down onto Stamel’s cock. “Stop. Not in there.”

Stamel listened for once and paused his struggle. “Why?”

“It’s wrong?” Seidrik panted heavily, cock twitching with forbidden thrill.

“Tell me how it’s wrong when it will feel so good.” Stamel traced the tip around Seidrik’s unyielding stiffness.

Seidrik whined and strained, his insides squeezing beyond his control.

Stamel teased him back, flexing his cock deep in Seidrik’s velvet depths.

He did not answer, so Stamel proceeded, pushing the blunt tip in with gentle ease.

Seidrik grunted and jerked, breath sawing out of him as the first centimeter sank in, then a second.

“If you tell me to stop, I’ll do so, pull out, and we can get dressed and go back to the castle.” Stamel’s suggestion came out in a purr that he intended to be more of a threat.

No response. Seidrik’s body trembled, but if he lay soaking in his mate’s insides for too long without stimulation, he could grow soft and that would present its own problem.

With a few gentle pumps, Stamel forged the rod down the length of Seidrik’s cock, earning snarls of pleasure or pain. Either way, his cock stayed hard, so Stamel rocked the toy in and out, stroking Seidrik’s shaft, letting the rod move with his fist.

Seidrik’s body bowed and Stamel held his hand still. “The only way my cock moves is if you help. Fuck yourself on me, Seidrik. ”

Seidrik’s body convulsed, and his hips pumped.

Stamel flexed his hips, bouncing with Seidrik’s motions, the gestures jerky and awkward.

Still, his cock stayed hard, the rod jostling against every motion.

Seidrik’s cock jerked as an unholy noise tore free of his throat.

The very start of it made Stamel’s cock swell.

The writhing of Seidrik’s body, the pumping of his hips, the sheer weight on his horns.

Stamel snarled and gripped Seidrik’s cock tight. “F-fuck! Did you come, beta?”

Seidrik howled, insides clamping down in a spasm that wouldn’t stop. Cock pulsing, Seidrik babbled nonsense.

“You did,” Stamel said, panting as he rocked his hips up, trying to stave his knot off.

That sacred spot within him spasmed, triggering Stamel into a surge that made his cock kick.

All hope lost, his knot swelled, and Seidrik’s crazed motions rocked the knot ever deeper, sending Stamel over the edge.

The air punched free of Stamel’s lungs, his balls throbbing as hot seed boiled through him, filling his mate.

“Need to. Gonna… Stamel! Pull it out! Pull it out!” Seidrik’s frantic screech and clawing thrash made Stamel pull his hand free, and with it, the sounding rod.

Restrained cum, several orgasms worth, erupted and streaked over his hand, onto the moss before them and rained over their thighs. Seidrik screamed through it all, hips jerking, each echo of pleasure sending another jet of cum until it dribbled out with that sugary-sweet scent of an omega’s bliss.

Some alphas wondered why they should even bother with an omega’s pleasure.

Those same alphas had never tasted the spend of an omega three eruptions in, leaking the last of their urgency. Stamel drew his hand back, licking Seidrik’s release off his fingers as his mate nearly sobbed with the letdown of ultimate release.

“I don’t know why these things aren’t more popular…” Stamel kissed up Seidrik’s back, nuzzling between his wings.

Seidrik made nonsensical noises, broken syllables, and whimpers as his body sank, hands trembling.

Stamel shifted his hips, dislodging his knot. Seidrik, boneless and defeated, slid to the ground, chest heaving. Still, nonsense flowed in breathy, broken syllables.

“I—I think I wish to curl up and die for about thirty minutes.” Seidrik attempted to stand and tumbled onto his side with a whimper.

“Only thirty minutes? I should hold out longer, next time.” Stamel laughed and spun the rod on his finger. “How about a cold bath?”

Seidrik groaned as Stamel stood and helped him stand, limping a little as they made it to the creek. Cool water flowed over them as they splashed over their vital areas as to not return to the castle smelling like a brothel.

Once cleaned, they gathered their clothing, dressing once more as they hid their wings and horns.

Stamel almost lamented it, losing the view of his shaken mate.

Perhaps once they were wed, he’d make Seidrik hang about nude in their quarters.

The thought enamored him, his mate lying about bare for him at his beck and call.

“I’m curious about the box.” Seidrik broke Stamel’s train of thought, marching over to it to flick the latch. “She said to open it after.”

Stamel glanced over and frowned when he opened it.

A slew of tiny white blossoms tightly packed on a stem, cradled amid a deeply green leaf lay within. Stamel’s brow furrowed. “Is it a rare flower, an ingredient or what?”

Seidrik paled. “It’s affapuria flowers.”

Seidrik closed the box and sat it on the rock before taking a step away as if it burned him. He took a deep breath and glanced at Stamel, eyes wide, before glancing back at the box. Cautiously, he lifted the lid and closed it again. “No. No, no, no!”

“What? Is it poison? An omen? A bad message?” Stamel stood and grabbed Seidrik’s shoulders.

“Nymphs give flowers as gifts. They have a very strict code of presentation for different ones. It’s called the language of flowers .” Seidrik chewed on his thumbnail anxiously.

“And what do these mean?” Stamel was familiar with the concept of a language of flowers. Their forests were mostly devoid of nymphs, so he’d had little reason to study it.

“One gives it to a person when they are…” Seidrik swallowed and muttered the rest, his skin going pale.

“When they’re what?” Stamel lifted the lid of the box and stared at the pretty flowers.

“Expecting a child!”

Stamel took a deep breath. “It’s not a joke, is it? No chance of that?”

“Not a chance in the heavens or stars above.” Seidrik sat on the ground, paling in disbelief as he rested a hand on his belly. “But I took my preventatives…”

“Did you take the salusis?” Stamel’s throat went dry as he asked.

Seidrik shook his head almost violently. “No. The moon stopped me. She took my tears for the font as an offering, told me not to drink… I listened.”

Stamel swallowed hard. “Well. It’s not the first time I’ve impregnated someone… ”

Stamel knelt before him and pulled his mate to his chest. He sobbed and Stamel drew a shaking breath. “What do you wish to do?”

“I don’t know.” Seidrik sobbed. “Let us run away. I could run away, maybe. Leave you. I could raise it on my own. I could—”

Stamel placed a finger over his lips. “You desire to keep the child.”

Seidrik’s face twisted into a knot of anguish. “Do you want me to rid myself of—”

“The day I fall pregnant by you is the day I get to make a choice like that, my beta prince. I have no say over your belly.” Stamel stroked his back.

“We speak to the goddess first thing in the morn. We beg for forgiveness and run.” Seidrik said the last words as if they were a death sentence.

But they weren’t. They were a life sentence.

One that Stamel would fix post haste.