20. Chapter 20

Chapter twenty

I t’s morning and I’m in a delightful tangle of limbs with Mabon. The covers have fallen off some time in the night, but I’m perfectly warm.

As the last lingering traces of sleep drift away, a grin spreads across my face. I didn’t manage to make Mabon scream my name, but I did get him to cum. Just from my tongue. Twice.

The way he trembled and moaned was intoxicating. The feel of his thighs and ass pressed against my face was exhilarating. The taste of him was heady. Eating him is my new favourite thing.

Mabon stirs in my arms. He untangles himself and stretches like a cat. All long lines and elegant grace. He is completely naked and utterly free from shame.

He yawns. “Give me Mister Dinky.”

“W…what?” I stutter in surprise.

He flashes me a condescending look. “Put your cock inside me.”

Whatever I was attempting to say gets stuck in my throat and gurgles. A light-headed feeling washes over me as all my blood rushes down. I was already fairly hard, just from memories of last night as well as it being morning.

“Get on with it!” he snips.

I roll on top of him and he spreads his legs for me. I look down at him and he grins up at me with sparkling eyes.

“I’m loose enough from last night, slide Mister Dinky in.”

I grunt, and do as I’m told. His tight, soft heat engulfs me, and I groan in delight. He feels so fucking good.

His head tilts back and his eyes flutter closed.

“That’s it. Good boy,” he purrs. “You fill me so well.”

Oh fuck. Fireworks are going off in my mind. I felt his words viscerally. They have sunk into me and rewritten my DNA. I may never recover from this, and I don’t even care.

I ease all the way into him, but before I can savour the sensation, my hips take over and start to rock.

Mabon moans. “Keep going. Harder. Deeper.”

My body obeys him. The friction of my thrusts zings like electricity through my veins. I gasp.

Then I stop. His eyes snap open in outrage. I give him a slow gentle slide of my cock, nearly all of the way out, then a sensual glide in. The noise he makes is music to my ears.

“No,” I rumble breathlessly. “I’m going to give it to you nice and slow until you are a whimpering, pleading mess.”

His amethyst eyes glow. Sparkling delight. Dark satisfaction. Keen anticipation.

My heart ricochets against my ribcage in response. He likes my idea. It pleases him. He wants me to tease and torment him. To slowly fill him with pleasure until he cannot take it anymore. Maybe this is how I get him to scream my name. By making him so desperate that he begs me for it. Pleads. Whines my name in a cry for mercy.

My hips settle into their new rhythm. Pulling out, sliding in and feeling his body opening up for me all over again. In and out. In and out.

He is tight around me. Soft silken heat. Little ripples of his pleasure spasm around me. He is moaning beautifully now. His cock is hard and flushed. Leaking clear liquid onto his taut stomach.

My movements are too gentle to cause his chains to pull on his piercings. And that’s a tragedy that needs to be resolved.

I shift my weight onto one arm. With my now free hand, I take a hold of his silver chains, just above his belly button ring. I lift gently upwards, pulling the silver chains taut. Tugging on both his nipples and his cock at the same time.

His nipples immediately harden, and he cries out and writhes helplessly. Grinning, I do it again and again. Timing it in between my gentle thrusts.

“More,” he whimpers desperately.

A deep groan rumbles through me. My vision darkens and balls draw up. His soft begging nearly made me cum.

“More,” he repeats.

I give his chains a firm tug, and he keens, high and long.

“Do you want something, Your Highness?” I tease.

He mutters something my translator doesn’t catch, but I’m pretty sure it is an inventive swear word.

“Make me come,” he whines.

“I’m not stopping you,” I say. “But I could watch you writhing on the edge like this all day.”

He yowls and lifts his hips up. It forces a grunt from me. He clenches tightly and I’m seeing stars. He wraps his long legs around my waist and holds me tight. He continues to buck up against me. Fast and hard. I should stop him. I should let go of the chains and take a hold of his hips and hold him down. But pleasure is coursing through me. Pure. More intense than anything I have ever felt.

Our hips slam together. Messy and uncoordinated. My cock pulses and suddenly I’m cumming. My muscles are spasming. I’m yelling. Jerking. He keeps on bucking and tightening around me. Milking me. Drawing out my bliss in great shuddering waves that are going on and on. Far longer and deeper than anything I ever thought was possible.

I’m floating now. Spinning amongst the stars. My consciousness driven out of my body by the sheer ecstasy.

He wails his way through his own orgasm, and I love the sound of it. A song of rapture and euphoria. Pure burning joy. All things I have given him and that he deserves.

The volume slowly reduces. Now the only sound is our panting breaths. I open my eyes. He is looking up at me. My softening cock is still nestled inside his heat. I never want to leave. I could stay like this always.

His amethyst eyes are full of fondness. Tenderness. And a little bit of awe. His beautiful face is flushed and sweaty. He looks well fucked. Sated. Drunk on endorphins.

Pride swirls through me. Warm and golden. Look at what I have done to him. Me. I’m the one that has made him look like this.

And suddenly everything is so clear now. As clear as the morning light streaming around the curtains. I know what I’m going to do.

I’m choosing the Resistance.

Not because I hate Mabon. Because I feel the very opposite. And staying here means one of two things. Either watching Mabon play awful games with his enemies, or watching his enemies win.

Images flow through my mind. The duel I witnessed is replaying in vivid detail, except my imagination has helpfully replaced Osian with Mabon. The picture of Mabon being pushed down onto the floor in front of a ravenous crowd, sears into me. I wince and shake my head to clear it.

I wouldn’t be able to cope with that. Not in the slightest. I can’t even begin to fathom how that would be possible.

So the Resistance is my only option.

It’s not a choice. It’s a necessity.

M y palms are sweating. Now that I have finally made my decision, everything has moved so fast. But there really is no point in lingering or dithering. Time is always of the essence.

I’m going to be sick, but I don’t think Mabon has noticed that anything is amiss. He is reading his tablet again. While eating a fruit I’ve never seen before. I sell fruit and veg for a living, so being faced with a fruit that has no right being on Earth should be unsettling. But I’m more distracted by the way the juices are running down Mabon’s chin.

“I want to see the gardens!” I blurt.

Mabon’s gaze flicks up from his tablet to look at me. His brows furrow delicately. The exotic fruit pauses halfway to his mouth.

“Why?”

My heart pounds. It is so loud, he has to be hearing it.

“I’ve always wanted to see the gardens at Buckingham Palace!” I say brightly.

Mabon frowns and turns his attention back to his tablet. “Boring.” He takes another bite of the peach-like thing.

Oh lord. What if everything comes to naught, because I cannot convince Mabon of this one simple thing? That would be such a disaster. I need to do this. I can do this. I’m not useless. Or all muscles and no brain, as Mabon calls me.

Right. Think, think. How do I get Mabon into the gardens?

I watch him intently. As if the sight of him can inspire me. He bites into the fruit again and then wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Somehow, the innocent gesture looks utterly sordid.

Suddenly, my spine goes ramrod straight. That’s it! I know how to do this.

“I…er…” I say in a less than illustrious start. “I’ve always wanted to do naughty stuff outside.”

Mabon’s full attention is on me now. I swallow. He smirks.

“Naughty stuff?” he teases.

“Yeah.” I nod.

His eyes sparkle. “Why didn’t you say?”

He flows to his feet and is yanking on my leash before my mind has caught up. I stagger after him as he strides out of the door. My hands grab the frame and I brace myself.

My leash goes taut and Mabon looks over his shoulder in annoyance. “What?”

“Can I have some clothes, please?”

He rolls his eyes but drops my leash. “Go put your trousers on, then. But be quick about it.”

I dart into the bedroom, locate my discarded leather trousers, and hastily hop into them. It’s a silly thing to worry about, walking naked through court, when so much is at stake. But I can’t help it.

I hurry back to Mabon and hand him my chain. He sniffs haughtily at me and marches quickly away.

We make it to the gardens without incident. I brace myself for the cold of winter’s chill, but nothing happens. I guess Mabon’s spell is still working.

Mabon continues to march along. The sky is grey and overcast. The gardens look sorry for themselves. Winter and neglect. It appears the fey have fired all the gardeners. At least, I hope that is all they have done to them.

“Here,” says Mabon.

I look around the semi-open space in full view of a multitude of windows. I force a swallow down my tight throat.

“How about over there?” I point to the overgrown bushes by a tall red brick wall at the very edge of the garden.

Mabon raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t being seen the fun part?”

“No! No. It’s…um the threat of being caught,” I stammer.

Mabon huffs and shakes his head. But he heads towards the bushes.

My stomach is heaving. I’m shaking so much I can barely walk. Somehow, we make it to the bushes.

“Here?” asks Mabon.

I lick my lips and nod. And then everything happens so fast I can barely process it all.

Black-clad people jump out of the bushes. More swarm over the wall. They surround Mabon. I hear the click of metal. Mabon’s slender wrists are encased in heavy iron cuffs.

A bush is pulled to the side, revealing a rusty open gate in the garden wall. We are bundled through it and into the back of a tatty looking van. Doors slam. The engine roars. We pull off at great speed.

I’m so dizzy. My heart is trying to beat out of its chest. Mabon is staring at his cuffs. He has been frozen like that since the moment they were snapped onto his wrists. I don’t think he has been aware of a single other thing since that moment. He doesn’t know he is in the back of a van. He has no idea he has been taken prisoner by the Resistance.

I watch as his mouth drops open. A screeching, anguished wail pours out of him. The sound of a tortured, dying animal.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise. I move towards him, but I’m held back.

The cuffs are hurting him. They are only supposed to bind his magic. But it sounds like they are burning. Are they going to kill him? Is he going to melt like a slug sprinkled with salt and disintegrate before my eyes?

I try to fight off the many people holding me in my seat. I need to get to him. Nothing else matters. He needs me.

He screams again. A long, drawn-out wail of utter misery.

“They are so ugly!”

The words bounce around my ears before they make sense. Realisation hits me along with intense, immeasurable relief, and all the fight leaves my body. I sag into my seat.

Bright amethyst eyes lift to look up at me. Clear and free from agony. He is fine. Mabon is fine. He is just a drama queen.

He looks around the van, and the several balaclava-covered occupants with interest. A dazzling smile stretches across his face.

“Have I been abducted?”

I stare at him. There is not one single word left in my brain.

“How exciting!” declares Mabon.

That’s one word for it. I bite back my groan. I should have seen this. I should have known. It’s blindingly obvious now that I’m thinking about it.

Mabon the captive is going to be just as much hard work as Mabon the captor.

Fuck my life.