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Kerik shakes his head and kisses Perl again.
It’s another sweet kiss, at least, at first. But as Kerik’s lips meet his, Perl can’t help groaning. He wants Kerik so much. He aches. It has been so long. Kerik licks at the closed seam of Perl’s lips and Perl can only take a moment of that feeling, of Kerik’s insistent tongue, licking there, demanding entry to Perl’s mouth, before he parts his lips, another groan, as Kerik’s tongue slips into Perl’s mouth and claims him.
Perl lets Kerik push him back on the bed as they kiss. Perl on his back, still covered completely in his black leather outfit, while Kerik presses his naked body on top of him.
Kerik grinds his roused cock against Perl’s. Perl is equally roused, although held tight in his breeches. The feeling is delicious.
It shouldn’t be so. Perl dressed and Kerik naked. But Kerik’s nudity only makes him seem more powerful, free and wild, while Perl’s body is constrained in his tight clothing. He is helpless under Kerik, wanting nothing more than the sweet solace of his body. An escape from all he’s done and all he is.
As they kiss, Kerik grows a little savage, making Perl gasp by nipping his tongue and then sucking Perl’s lower lip into his mouth and biting it hard. Perl moans as the pain sparkles through him, glittering sweet.
Perl is panting hard, so undone, when Kerik pulls back, moving to kiss Perl’s cheek, the sharp stubble on his skin dragging deliciously over Perl’s flesh as Kerik makes his way to Perl’s ear. Perl is panting for it, hips jolting up to rub himself against Kerik, feeling Kerik’s teeth again, nipping and biting.
But then, suddenly, it’s too much. Perl is blinking tears from his eyes.
He shakes his head, pulling away, moaning, “No. I cannot. I am chaste. I will remain chaste until we defeat the demon. You must understand, my desires have brought me nothing but ruin. I cannot succumb to them again. Not now and certainly not here.”
Kerik looks down at Perl, a panting mess beneath him. “You don’t want this?”
Perl can barely speak. He wants to say that he doesn’t. Tell Kerik again that he can’t. That he is chaste. But he cannot. He cannot lie. “I..” he begins, swallowing before saying. “I do not deserve this. I made a vow.”
“And what does your vow of chastity involve, my sweet faerie? Surely it does not break a vow to simply get on your knees?”
Perl swallows. He wants to, more than anything. The sweet peace of submission. To quieten that voice in his head that has been screaming at him for a hundred years. “Please, I cannot.”
Kerik raises an eyebrow. “You would deny your Master?”
“Kerik you are not—”
Kerik grabs Perl by the throat. Perl gasps. The feel of a hand about his throat rouses him like nothing else, stops him thinking like nothing else. “But consider,” Kerik says, “surely I deserve to get my revenge on the cruel fae who has captured me and forced me to complete such vicious tests before the fae court?”
Perl shudders, says nothing.
“Get on your fucking knees, faerie,” Kerik says, moving off Perl.
Perl cannot think. Doesn’t want to. He slides off the bed, trying to be elegant as a thrall when he is nothing but a mess of need. He gets onto the chamber floor, on his knees before Kerik.
Kerik sits over him on the bed, still so gloriously, shamelessly naked, legs spread wide and roused cock jutting up between them. Wet at the tip and making Perl’s head spin with want.
Perl thinks he would do anything for this mortal. Anything he commanded now.
But Perl is surprised when Kerik says, voice raspy, “Touch yourself. Give yourself pleasure.”
“Kerik…” Perl begs again, voice a whine. But his cock is burning hard in his breeches.
“Take out your cock and touch it. I will not touch you, in respect of your vow, but I will see you spend on your knees, faerie.”
Perl shakes his head. He can feel tears prickling his eyes. “You already have me kneeling before you.” Kneeling for a mortal thrall, Perl thinks. There is no transgression greater. But the thought of what he is doing makes his cock leak in his breeches. He wants to spend so desperately. He wants to spend before Kerik. Before his Master.
Kerik leans down and, taking Perl’s face in a strong possessive grip, kisses him. A deep claiming kiss, but short enough to leave Perl a gasping mess.
“Then tell me you don’t want this.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t tell me? You cannot tell me a lie?”
“Please.” Perl shakes his head.
