A Midsummer's Saga Pt. 06

Her lip curled, half playful, half derisive. There it was, that smile of hers again. "It would never work, though."

"Why?"

"You can't listen to orders. What would be the point of reigning over you?"

He folded his hands over his chest and pouted. "I so can listen to orders! I'm the best order listener in the world!"

A strand of hair fell over his eye. He looked like such a dork, pouting like that! So unbearably adorable. She rubbed her fingers furiously on the stone. The tension in her abdomen rose, like a tidal wave, like the sea rises. She looked back to the garden. Empty as always. Distant, normal sounds from the courtyard. Aah. She turned to him, and gripped the window bars.

"Can you? I want to see that. First, I order you to strip naked." It was so cute that, caught off-guard, he still blushed at this.

"We've done this before, haven't we?"

"I want to take it further. You're listening to me or not?"

He cocked his head. Can't listen to orders? He'll show her. Defiance by obedience.

She could look at this forever, she thought, as he complied with her wish and stood nude against the grating. His cock was hard already.

"I see you're excited about this."

"I just sorta got invested in your political project."

"Good. I want you to imagine that you're fucking me."

"Ah?"

"Get your hand on that dick, boy, and think of my pussy."

He smiled sheepishly, brought his hips forward to give her a better view, and gave his cock a few uncertain strokes.

She tightened her grip on the bars and licked her lips. "Good. Keep going." He looked up, into her eyes, and then to the side. He exhaled unevenly. He felt his own firmness, stiffness, excitement. He wasn't too sure about being so exposed before her. Her gaze, reaching from above, was on his body. His mind raised a question: did he really want to be so vulnerable, before her, before that menace of a smile?

His cock gave a happy jolt, his diaphragm tingled, his heart hammered in his throat, his very spine lit up. Wordless, his entire self answered him, an answer overwhelming, an answer definite. This was beyond a wanting. This was a delightful, breathtaking imperative. He began stroking himself, with conviction, with determination.

She spoke again. "Use your other hand. Imagine I'm caressing you. I want to touch these abs." His left hand went to his stomach, sliding across his skin. "Yeah, you like that?"

He muttered in agreement, closed his eyes and raised his head. "You have a sexy neck. I want to touch it." His hand obeyed, and went to his throat. He felt pleasure mounting rapidly. His knees weakened. He breathed deeper.

She watched his chest swell and fall, his ribs moving under the skin. She pressed her forehead to the bars. She wanted to touch him, for real, so bad. She saw how much he got into it, and it astonished her, exhilarated her. She was wet. Her voice grew low and hoarse. "I want to play with your nipples." He spread out his fingers and rubbed both of them, with his thumb and his middle finger. His mind was swept away, lost in a powerful current, and delighted at its own embarrassment. He was so thrilled to do whatever she wanted. He was so eager to let her mess with him. Why did it feel this good to be in her power? His lips parted and he moaned. He was very close.

"Who's your evil queen?"

The answer came out at once, unchecked by his conscious mind. "Gabrielle."

"Cum for me, boy." He flinched, and muscles flexed all over him. "Look at me! I want you to look me in the eyes and surrender to me."

His gaze met hers. His mouth opened, twisted. She got in one final question. "Who are you cumming for?"

Within him, all was aligned. All bits of his body and mind were delighted, and compelled, and certain to answer. "Gabrielle. Gabrielle!" he moaned, gasped, and came. Thick loads of sperm fell heavily on the floor, their splashing noise echoing all over the dungeon. His legs refused to support this whole party anymore. He groaned, slid to his knees, and breathed in deep.

She held up a fist to her mouth and bit down on her knuckles. Now, this will do. This will fucking do.

The silence, for a long moment, was only disturbed with their breathing.

He suddenly felt very, very naked. The force which subjected him so thoroughly now subsided, leaving him dazed and uncertain. He opened his eyes and flicked some cum off his right hand. "You're the worst queen. Look at the mess you've made!"

She took one more cautious look behind her, finding nothing. "Come here," she said.

He glanced at her. She was gripping the bars hard, the bones on the backs of her hands visible through her skin. He blew out air through his mouth and approached the window. She drew back when he jumped up and gripped a bar himself, with his left hand. He showed her his right, fingers glistening.

"See? I'll never get this off before bath time!"

Her heart pounded, and her muscles felt like jelly. She looked him in the eyes, and then at his hand. Alright, fuck it. Do what you will.

She leaned right up to him and took his hand. Before he knew what was going on she started licking his fingers, sucking off the cum. There was not much of it, a thin film on his skin. It left faint, dull salty aftertaste on her tongue and her throat. When she was done, she looked at him and smiled.

"I told you. I'm going to lick the salt off your skin."

He gazed, awed. "Oh."

She drew herself closer still and placed her hands on his cheeks. She could feel his breath on her lips. His eyes were very, very blue.

She kissed him, cautiously, tenderly, the bars limiting them considerably. They closed their eyes and nibbled at each other's lips for what felt like ages. Through this blissful darkness, she suddenly felt his left hand on her neck, his fingers fondling her in a gentle, massaging caress; she inclined her whole body to that touch, and muttered his name into his mouth. She reached down to and pressed her hand to the warm bare skin between his shoulder blades, the closest to a hug they could manage; she could feel his heart beat.

Eventually, they broke away, but remained there both pressed to the bars, forehead to forehead, eye to eye. She sighed deeply and ruffled his hair.

"You're my favourite subject, boy."

"I sure as fuck hope so." He licked his lips. "You taste like cum, do you know that?"

She smiled, a languid smile. "Your cum tastes great, don't complain." She lay her cheek down on the stone and broke out with a bright little giggle. She dug her fingertips lightly into his back and rubbed his muscles. He sighed, deep in his throat.

"Does this feel nice?"

"Mhm." It felt, in fact, divine. Her hand traced around his shoulder blades, the nape of his neck, the shoulders themselves. He touched his lips to her hair, closed his eyes, and let himself melt under her fingers. For once, for a little while, they were at peace.