Lord of the Night

Chapter 59: What You Want

His gaze darted to my face, and his mouth fell ajar. He looked utterly guileless at that moment, so young and naive that I could hardly believe he was five years older than me. But when I folded my other leg to kneel before him and reached for his waistband, his eyes sparked brighter, confusion drowning in a storm of animalistic desire.

"Why?" he croaked, hoarse and throaty.

"Because this is what I want," I said, but then I paused, searching for a better explanation. "I'm not saying I don't want—seeing you on your knees was—I just felt—" I stopped; drew a breath; restarted. "Isalio, I want this to be as different as possible from what you've experienced before. I would love to watch the Lord of the Night come undone...but with ecstasy, not pain."

A moment passed in hot, air-siphoning silence. Then he whispered, "Ok."

I touched the drawstring of his pants, then paused again, still not quite satisfied. Funny how even with me on my knees and him standing over me, his answer felt like another submission. "This is different, right?"

"Yes..."

"And you want it?"

"Do I—Rem—" His voice choked off in a deranged laugh. "Are you seriously asking that? Or are you just taunting me? Because if you want me to beg—"

That answer was enough for me. I made quick work of untying the drawstring and tugged his pants down, revealing fitted boxer briefs. I took a second to admire how the stretchy black fabric hugged his slim hips, but only a second. Then I slipped down that layer of fabric too.

I breathed a soft exhale over his exposed skin and then leaned forward to kiss it. Did I imagine the electric spark on my lips?

I wanted to rip off all his clothes—and all of mine, too—but the rapidly shrinking voice of reason in the back of my brain reminded me that the boulder behind us could be rolled away at any moment. We would keep the rest of our clothes on, I told myself firmly...but I didn't need to stop what I had already started.

I couldn't stop. Not when he was looking at me that way, gaze dark, quick pants escaping his parted lips.

Leaning in slowly, I engulfed the tip with my mouth—then pulled back. With my next breath, I went a little further. Then further. Each time, his breath grew faster, rougher, ragged...desperate. Sharp inhales, and shaky exhales spilling from barely-parted lips. Sweat glimmered at his hairline, and his eyes were beautifully bright and deliciously dark. His fingers dug into my hair, tugging gently.

A part of me wanted to stop and drink in this version of Isalio: the Lord of the Night so consumed by my touch that the night ceased to exist. But my satisfaction drowned under crashing waves of desire. My heartbeat accelerated along with his breaths, and heat pooled in my groin. I had never been this turned on in my life. He had barely even touched me, and I felt ready to explode. And when he whimpered and clenched his muscles, my own cock grew achingly hard.

"Rem, fuck, I—I'm going to—"

"I know," I mumbled into his skin, and then I sucked harder.

My head was floating, lost in the rush of desire and pleasure, but my body knew what to do—knew what his body needed. Acting purely on instinct, I gripped the base of his cock with one hand while the other cupped his ass.

He climaxed in shuddering waves. He tugged my hair sharply, and then his hands slipped down to dig into my shoulders. His world was swept away—but so was mine. I saw only gorgeous pale skin, glassy amber eyes, and raven-black hair; I heard only his gasps and groans; I felt only soft skin under my fingertips and heat pulsing in my mouth.