Page 37 of The Second Marriage

Taral turned onto his side and slung his arm across Sejun’s waist and his leg across Sejun’s shins. He kissed Sejun’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about your head,” he murmured.

“It’s improved, as I said.” Sejun slid his hand along Taral’s arm. Despite the misery that had gripped him by the nape of his neck, he felt himself responding to Taral’s scent and nearness, the warmth of his body, the soft weight of his head resting on Sejun’s shoulder. The bond would give him no respite. He wanted Taral all the time.

Taral shifted against him. Sejun could smell his scent warming and feel his interest rising. “Sejun,” he breathed. He pushed himself up to kiss Sejun’s jaw, a soft press of lips that Sejun only anticipated in the split second before it happened, from the puff of Taral’s breath against his skin before he made contact.

Sejun turned his head to kiss Taral’s mouth, his hand moving to cup Taral’s head and grip a fistful of his hair, holding him in place. He was furious, suddenly, and wanted to punish Taral in some way, to make him suffer as Sejun had suffered all evening. As he had suffered every day of their marriage.

No, that wasn’t really what he wanted. He never wanted to do anything that would hurt Taral, or upset him. But he wanted—he wanted—

He kissed Taral hard, and Taral let him, melting onto Sejun’s chest with a sigh. He would let Sejun do anything he wanted. All Sejun had to do was kiss him a few times and grope him a little and Taral would grow wet and welcoming. He would fold himself in half and invite Sejun in. And in the morning nothing would be different; he would still look at Prince Jaysha and feel everything, when Sejun made him feel nothing at all.

Sejun rolled them over. “Oh,” Taral said, as his back hit the mattress, but instead of protesting he drew Sejun down for another kiss. Sejun lay the full weight of his body on top of Taral, crushing him down into the bed, and kissed him deep and a little mean, setting his teeth in Taral’s bottom lip until Taral let out a high, shocked whine. Taral’s legs parted around Sejun’s hips. They were both hard, and Sejun’s blood came to a boil as he rocked against Taral’s willing body, feeling Taral’s arousal reflected back at him.

A strange, raw desperation clotted Sejun’s chest. He buried his face in Taral’s neck and sucked and bit at Taral’s throat, marking him without shame. He was bonded, and Sejun wanted Jaysha to look at him tomorrow and know that Taral belonged to another man. Jaysha had lost him. He was Sejun’s now.

Taral’s hands slid across Sejun’s back. He arched beneath Sejun, lifting his hips to grind his cock against Sejun’s belly. Sejun reached down to work a hand between their bodies, his fingers sliding behind Taral’s balls to find the yielding divot of his hole. He was slippery with slick, soaked with it. Sejun pressed two fingers inside and Taral cried out, then bit off the noise. Sejun kissed him and found that Taral had bitten down on his own lip to silence himself.

“Let me hear you,” Sejun said, low. “Every noise.”

Taral clenched around his fingers. “Then stop wasting time.”

“Is that what I’m doing? I thought I was enjoying myself.” Sejun drew his hand away and sat up. He reached behind himself to stroke at his own hole, his fingers well coated with Taral’s slick. He hadn’t done this in a while—not since his marriage—but the sensation was familiar and welcome, and he had no trouble working in one finger and then two. Taral’s slick was greasy as oil but thinner and made for an easy, melting glide.

“What are you doing?” Taral asked. He found Sejun’s elbow in the dark and followed Sejun’s arm down to his wrist. “You’re—are you—?”

“Oh, I am, and I plan to enjoy it. Lie there and let yourself be loud.” Sejun slid his fingers out and took Taral’s cock in his hand, stroking it and spreading the lingering traces of slick. He was wet enough; it would do. Sejun shuffled forward on his knees and angled Taral into position, the head tucked against his hole. He bore down against the pressure and lowered himself, one delicious inch at a time, until he was seated on Taral’s hips and Taral was fully buried inside him.

Taral’s hands slid up his thighs. “I wish I could see you better.”

“You can’t imagine? Touch me.” Sejun drew one of Taral’s hands to his cock. “Do you feel how hard I am?”

“Yes.” Taral gave him a gentle squeeze. “I didn’t know alphas did this.”

Sejun laughed, somewhat breathlessly. “When in my life did I ever think for one moment about being an alpha until the day I received your marriage offer? I do what feels good, that’s all.” He flexed his thighs to raise himself up, then dropped again. “And this feels good.”

He set his hands on Taral’s shoulders and used that leverage to ride Taral’s cock at an unforgiving pace. The fullness and the friction had his own cock throbbing in Taral’s hand. Taral held him with a loose grip, not stroking but simply holding him and letting Sejun’s movements do the work. Sejun’s pulse throbbed in his throat and his belly and between his legs. Taral was quiet beneath him and Sejun wanted to make him loud, but he had lost control of the situation and was past the point of being able to tease. He was too close to the edge, closer than he had realized.

He slowed down, trying to make this last, but that only made it worse, because it prolonged the way the head of Taral’s cock dragged against his most sensitive places. He arched his back to get an even better angle, and that was—oh, have mercy; right there, that was it, he wasn’t going to last at all.

“Listen to you,” Taral said, but Sejun didn’t know what noises he was making or care. He knocked Taral’s hand out of the way to press his cock against his belly and rub his palm over the underside of the head, bringing himself to his peak, and he let himself cry out as loudly as he wanted as he spilled over.

“Ah, Sejun,” Taral said quietly. He took Sejun’s messy hand and brought it to his mouth. Sejun could only barely see him, but he felt every soft lick of Taral’s tongue as he cleaned the spend from Sejun’s fingers.

Sejun sat there, Taral’s cock still hard inside him, and let Taral linger over the ball of his thumb and the webbing between his fingers. When his hand was as clean as it would ever be, he pushed his thumb between Taral’s lips, stroking Taral’s tongue and letting him suck like he might suck on Sejun’s cock, with soft tugs of his mouth.

Taral’s hips flexed upward, trying to drive deeper into Sejun’s body. But Sejun was too sensitive for that now and pulled off, grinning into the darkness at Taral’s sound of protest. He lay down beside Taral and Taral immediately turned toward him, lifting his thigh to rest on top of Sejun’s hip.

“Will you touch me?” Taral asked, already taking Sejun’s spit-wet hand and bringing it to his cock.

“Gladly.” Sejun curled his hand around Taral and began to stroke him, but languidly; he was in the mood for teasing now. Into the close warm space between them, Sejun murmured, “I’d give you my fingers, too, if I could reach. Three of them stuffed into your needy hole. Or four—do you think you could take that? I think you could.”

Taral squirmed in his arms and made no reply, which meant he agreed but was too embarrassed to say. Sejun nuzzled into the crook of Taral’s neck and sucked another mark there, drawing hard with his mouth until he felt the skin heating beneath his tongue, flushed with blood.

“You’re mine,” Sejun whispered against Taral’s skin, as if he could stamp the words there, too, for everyone to see.

If Taral heard him, he gave no indication. He thrust his hips into Sejun’s hand, greedily seeking his pleasure, and Sejun took pity and gave him what he wanted, the fast hard strokes that would bring him over the edge.

Taral was loud for him, as he had wanted. He moaned openly as he spilled over Sejun’s hand, and Sejun thought about rolling him over and having another go. He could manage it without much effort. But Taral subsided with a sigh, his thigh draped over Sejun’s hip and limp as a wet cloth, and Sejun decided he would rather hold Taral close and stroke his hair. Not even despair could make him turn away from the comfort of Taral in his arms.