Bisclavret by Lillian Turner

Author:Lillian Turner [Turner, Lillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-20T05:00:00+00:00

Four

Raheem’s smooth, smooth words of seduction appeared to be lost on Ewan, who followed him to bed with a hungry mouth and tugging hands that reached for the lacings of his clothes.

In the latter he was frustrated: Raheem had developed finer tastes and a more complicated wardrobe since their youthful tumbles.

Ewan growled, a bit too animal-like for comfort, and yanked at the front of Raheem’s shirt.

“Oi, now,” Raheem gasped, attempting to gather Ewan’s hands in his own. “There’ll be no tearing of bodices—augh!”

He cut off as Ewan picked him up at the waist and cast him backwards onto the bed before climbing up after him.

Raheem sat up but his protest died on his lips as he watched Ewan slink—there was really no other word for it—up his body on all fours, his cock swinging heavy between his legs like a spar.

Crickets, Raheem had fond memories of that cock.

“Off,” Ewan commanded, waving a hand at Raheem’s clothes.

“Well, if you insist,” Raheem said, already reaching for the eyehooks of his surcoat. “Though I’ll have you know that your impertinence is noted. I am the Right Hand of the King these days—mm.”

He paused as Ewan leaned in to suck at his earlobe, dragging it between his teeth. “You won’t—find it so easy to—hngh. Have your way with me.”

Ewan paid him absolutely no mind, choosing instead to latch onto the side of Raheem’s neck with both lips and teeth, suckling.

Swallowing down a gurgle, Raheem flailed out of his surcoat and undid the lacings of his undershirt. Ewan came at it from the other direction, pulling Raheem’s breeches off at the ankles and sliding his hands underneath his undershirt, running them up over Raheem’s belly and chest.

There was a tap at the door.

Instantly, Ewan was up on all fours, his muscles bunched for a fight. It would be alarming if it wasn’t so bloody attractive.

“Your Grace?” Reve’s voice called.

Thank the gods, he had the good sense not to simply enter the room. They’d had a rocky start, he and Raheem: being entirely without sexual desires himself, Reve had at first been hopeless at identifying when someone else might be joining Raheem in his chambers.

Eventually he’d settled on ‘all the time’ and learned to knock.

Swallowing, Raheem called back, “What is it, R-Reve?”

“Do you wish me to empty the bath?”

Raheem drew breath to reply in the negative but made the mistake of glancing down at Ewan as he did so. His words died on his lips: a strange, bright glint shone in Ewan’s eyes. He looked at Raheem and grinned.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he bent to take Raheem’s cockhead in his mouth.

“Ngh,” Raheem groaned. For a moment, he was literally incapable of anything else as the slick wet heat of Ewan’s tongue overwhelmed him; his toes and fingers curled tight.

“Y’Grace?” Reve asked. The door creaked open an inch, though Reve wisely refrained from poking his head inside.

“No,” Raheem choked. “The bath—the bath may remain as it is until morning.” To Ewan he hissed: “You son of a pickled elephant prick.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.