Page 72
Perl leans forward with a groan. He opens his mouth for Kerik’s cock and lets it slide between his lips, this time sucking it tightly. Kerik yelps, the pleasure is strange. Perl’s mouth is cool, but not unpleasantly so, and the soft pressure that takes him, surrounds his roused cock, is like nothing he’s ever felt. Overwhelmingly good.
He reaches out and takes hold of Perl’s hair, curling his hand tight, around the place it emerges from Perl’s scalp. This makes Perl moan around Kerik’s cock in a way that sends sparks of pleasure up Kerik’s spine.
He likes this, Kerik thinks. Not a new thought but here, now, it hits him like a stone to the temple. And he feels his own answering want, a deep, dark uncoiling desire. A desperate need to Master Perl, to take him and use him and show him what a prince of the empire can do to a filthy faerie creature on its knees.
Keeping his hand in Perl’s hair, he moves the other to Perl’s face. He lays it on Perl’s cheek. Perl is flushed, skin a little warmer than usual, although still cool by mortal standards. Perl groans at the touch and Kerik says in a low, husky whisper. “Let me take you as I please. Open your mouth and let me use you.”
He feels Perl gasp around his cock as he obediently opens his throat and lets Kerik control everything. Kerik feels the faerie before him, becoming nothing but a wet hole, something for his Master’s use, his Master’s pleasure. He shoves his cock in, brutally fast, hard and deep. Perl makes a gasping, gurgling noise, choking at the invasion, but Kerik can feel the way Perl is moving beneath him, rolling his hips, so aroused he is lost to anything but pleasure.
Kerik pulls back again, letting Perl breathe. He rubs the head of his filthy cock over Perl’s lips, decorates that gasping, needy mouth with spittle and his own desire.
Perl’s eyes, which had been closed, flutter open, fixing on Kerik’s. The raw helpless need, almost makes Kerik spend at the sight of those wide eyes, ice blue and wanting. Perl looks like he is in a state of pure rapture, more content than Kerik has ever seen him, with Kerik’s cock thrusting hard into his throat.
He shoves himself back in — deep — gets the grunt of suffering he wants then pulls back again, only a little, enough to plunge back down Perl’s throat. Just using, using Perl’s throat as he pleases. He tugs Perl’s hair hard as he takes and takes. Takes pleasure as he wishes with no care for Perl’s comfort or desires.
He keeps going, punishingly rough, until Perl is drooling spittle down his chin, gasping as he is taken with no control over how deep Kerik forces himself down Perl’s throat or how viciously he is used.
Kerik spends like this — taking what he wants, greedy, selfish — with a roar of satisfaction, pleasure blinding him, rolling through and around him, everything pulsing delight.
Only a few brief moments of recovery later, Kerik is sliding from the bed, legs spreading over Perl so he comes to rest on Perl’s knees, straddling his body, their faces close so Kerik can kiss Perl, kiss the seed from his lips, licking and nipping. He dips his head and forces his tongue between the collar and the skin of Perl’s neck, licking over the roughness of Perl’s scar.
Perl is panting and wanting, barely present in his own dazed pleasure.
Kerik feels a little stickiness under his thighs. With a soft chuckle he presses his lips to Perl's ear. Nips the skin beneath and growls. “Did being used like that make you spend, faerie?”
Perl’s voice is soft and slurred, “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”
The sound of that, the confession and the way Perl says it, makes Kerik almost peak all over again.
He kisses Perl, keeps on and on kissing him, until they both come back to themselves, breathing soft, no longer ragged gasps. It’s quite impressive how quickly Perl manages to compose himself, although his lips are still pinkened and swollen and his voice is rough when he says, “I need to take these things off and clean them so you can put them on.”
“Yes, Master,” Kerik says with a wink.
When Kerik is dressed in the flimsy diaphanous gold hip cloth and the cuffs, he leans close and kisses Perl languidly on the mouth. Just because he wants to. He tastes his own spend on Perl’s lips and it feels so good and right to be able to kiss Perl whenever he pleases.
When the kiss breaks, Kerik says, “I can’t wait to finish these tests, get your father’s sword and get out of here.”
“Let’s hope you can behave well enough that you do pass them,” says Perl. He is a different creature from the one who had knelt and begged for Kerik’s cock in his mouth. His mask is back in place. He is all fae coldness.
Kerik laughs to see it. “Of course I’ll pass them. I have passed the first two and you said yourself that this one would be simple. Then we will only have one more. When I pass that one we go back to Attar, complete your mission and…” Kerik stops himself. He nearly spoke out of turn. He nearly said something about becoming the great wizard king of Fanost.
“You needn’t,” Perl says, fastening his complicated silver jewelry about his wrist, “you needn’t act as if slaying Ur-Durik is just another test you will face when you are done with Vylenor.”
“You think I can’t?” says Kerik, swinging his hips in the golden cloth. “When you claim I am the Magician. One of the five fae princes that you brought into this world.”
Perl sighs at Kerik, one of his usual sighs but Kerik can’t help thinking there is a little indulgent smile behind it. “It is not a claim. It is the truth, but…” he pauses. “Let’s take it one thing at a time.”
Kerik smirks. “You have so little faith in your Master.”
Perl raises an annoyed eyebrow. “Stop that. I wish to keep my mind on the matter in hand.”
21
PERL
Perl walks into the banquet hall. It is not a room that is used often as the fae do not need to eat and rarely bother with such a practice. In his time in the mortal realm, Perl had never ceased being surprised at how much mortals needed to stop what they were doing to eat and how much pleasure they took in the act alone with no additional entertainment or ritual.
Despite its infrequent use, the banquet hall is staggeringly opulent. The walls are gilded marble, the floor polished black wood. Long tables line the hall set with shining white dinner plates, crystal glasses and golden candlesticks. All of it glittering in the ice light. At the far end of the hall another table is raised on a platform, perpendicular to the ones that run the length of the hall.
