The Ride of the Horse-Lord

He hovered there on the khan's hole, sliding up and down—pressing, probing, grinding. As he pressed forward for good and all, he looked up to the khan's face to see if he would make any expression, any hint that he was aware—even subconsciously—of his shame. The prince made an 'o' with his mouth as he pushed past the khan's tight ring, andwas met by the heat inside him. But Dragho merely breathed in and out, his expansive, muscled breast rising and falling. He pushed in an inch or two more, gasping slightly in his throat, and still nothing. Once more, down to the hilt, tightness and heat squeezing him and warming him—and yet nothing on the khan's features. The prince let out a shuddering gasp and looked down to watch his ministrations. Someone has to, he thought

But there, his eyes grew wide. So fixed was he on Dragho's face that he never would have expected—of course! The khan was aware of him, was feeling him. Even as he laid eyes on it, Dragho's manhood was swelling, rising. He moved inside him, and a tremor of glee tingled up his spine when he saw Dragho's cock twitch in time. He thrust again, and again the khan's member jumped.

Thalaeryan straightened himself, looked up to Dragho's quiet, cum-smattered face, drew back, and slammed home with a slap. When he looked back down the khan's cock was standing as best such a huge thing could, curving back past his bellybutton to rest on his stomach. Thalaeryan gave his braid a tossed with his head, lifted Dragho's legs further, and began driving home—not slowly, either. He hissed and ground his hips on alternate slams, growing bolder and more noisome. He began pumping quite fast, alternating his gaze from Dragho's standing cock to his sleeping face. Precum and the leavings of Dragho's mouth were lube enough, although the going was dry, and he slammed his hips against the big man's copper ass—Smack! Smack! Smack!

Feeling the fire come on him again, he backed off, slowing his pace and making his thrusts shallower. He had promised himself he would take the khan as the khan took his slaves, but now that seemed less important.

Dropping the big man's legs, he leaned forward and took both of Dragho's hands in his and placed them behind the khan's head. He enjoyed the lewdness of it all, the simulation of wantonness the pose gave the dour warlord. He ran his hands down the huge shoulders, along the blue-painted tiger stripes, along the ripples of the heaving stomach to light over the khan's humongous member. He took one leg into his left arm and took up the massive cock in his right and began to thrust, pumping away at the long shaft around which he could barely get his fingers.

This time, when felt the fire kindle in his loins, he did not stop. He rammed into the larger man, hammering as fast and as hard as he could, all the while pumping the khan's cock just as hard. His head began to swim, and Prince Thalaeryan gave himself over to the inevitable. The prince's thighs slammed Dragho's ass, milk white on earthy red—Thop! Thop! Thop!—and faster still—ThopThopThopThopThop—until he felt a contraction in his fist and saw, with eye now clear and wide as scrying glasses, the khan's hips buck, and a white spear of cum shoot up and come slapping down across Thalaeryan's fist and Dragho's stomach. Between the first rope and the second, Thalaeryan's orgasm struck like a thunderbolt. He threw he head back and moaned a stuttering, catching, gasping moan as the man beneath him came twice, three times, ten times, ropes of silvery musk cross-crossing his stomach and the scarlet silks of the bed. The prince bucked into his prize, releasing his own substantial load in hot pulses that quickly enveloped him and began to dribble around his shaft. He bucked once, twice more, then fell forward in a haze of ecstasy onto the khan's enormous chest.

The prince's back arched, his muscles twitched, but he had nothing to do with them. His breath was hollow and ragged, his eyes swimming in the afterglow that felt more like an aftershock.

I did it, he thought. When he opened his eyes next, his face was square in the khan musky armpit. He smiled amidst the dark, spiced hair he found there, and gyrating his hips inside Dragho once more for good measure. He took a deep whiff of the manhood of the khan before letting his refracting member slide out wetly, followed by gush of cum.

When he lifted himself on his elbow, his blood ran cold.

He found himself face-to-face with burning dark eyes, a viciously crumpled brow, a twisted and cum-streaked mouth. The khan was awake.

Well fuck, Thalaeryan thought.