7. Seb

7

Seb

Mental note: wizarding robes are not the best outfits for hooking up.

But by now, we’ve established I really don’t have any game when it comes to seducing someone.

I mean, I’ve given Marcus lectures on the Lord of the Rings and the New Zealand science curriculum in the space of five minutes.

Yet somehow, we’ve ended up here, with Marcus responding to my kiss like I’m the only thing that matters in the entire solar system, potentially even the Milky Way.

I can’t believe I was daring enough to kiss him first. But it appears it’s impossible for me to be around Marcus without wanting him, without wanting to capture some of the beauty and charm that is Marcus for myself.

And my want for him makes me reckless.

Marcus’s bare skin is cold under my hands, and I can feel his goosebumps on his arms.

My hands trail across his broad shoulders, feeling the curve of his biceps. He tastes of bitter alcohol with sweetness beneath.

Marcus’s hands are in my robes, trying to reach my skin. The fabric bunches awkwardly around us.

I reluctantly pull my hands away from his body so I can undo my belt to allow him better access. Rather than a seductive striptease, it’s more of a clumsy dance routine.

But it doesn’t seem to matter when Marcus gets his hand under my robes and reaches my boxers. His fingers trace the outline of my cock through the fabric, and I moan softly against his lips.

Marcus chuckles, the sound vibrating through me as he continues to tease me, his fingers dancing along the waistband of my boxers. Then he hooks a finger underneath the elastic and slowly pulls them down.

My eyes flutter shut when his hand wraps around my cock.

“You’re so hard,” Marcus rasps. Hearing the desire in his voice makes my cock throb.

He starts to stroke me slowly, the coldness of his hands contrasting sharply with the heat building inside me. My body shudders, and I groan. Marcus captures my groan with his lips, swallowing it whole.

His hand moves more quickly now, matching the rhythm of my breathing. Pleasure rises inside me, but my balls tightening with my approaching orgasm jerks me back to the present.

Somehow, I’ve forgotten this is supposed to be about me getting my mouth on Marcus.

I put my hand around his, stopping his movements.

“I’m supposed to be blowing you, remember?”

I stand, reaching down to offer Marcus my hand. He takes it.

“Well, if you insist,” he says.

His eyes are hooded, his perfect lips slightly parted, and his breathing is heavy. His usually immaculate composure is coming undone, and knowing I’m the cause makes my head spin.

This is Marcus. The most beautiful and charming man in existence.

We stumble farther back into the shadows of the garden, then I drop to my knees.

It turns out Aladdin is a much better costume choice for hooking up. I simply have to tug at the elastic waistband and his trousers come down. Underneath, he’s not wearing boxers but satiny briefs that are so hot I can’t help but put my lips against his erection, mouthing it through the shiny fabric.

Marcus thrusts forward against my mouth. His eyes are closed, his lips slightly parted, and his breathing is heavy.

I fumble for the top of his briefs, liberating his cock.

And now I have the grand prize right in front of me.

For a second, I’m speechless with disbelief.

I can’t believe this is happening. That I’m about to have Marcus Johnson’s cock in my mouth.

Because this is every fantasy of mine come true.

I don’t have much experience with oral, and I want to blow his mind. I want to make him remember this. Of all the guys who’ve ever sucked his cock, I want him to remember me .

So after sending out a prayer that I’ve been naturally blessed with a superpower in this, I lean forward and brush my lips against the head of his cock. It’s smooth and perfect. I take a deep breath and slowly, gently take him into my mouth.

Marcus makes a quiet, soft moan, and I take that as encouragement. I slide my lips up and down his shaft gently, my tongue tracing the curve and the ridge of his head.

“Feels good,” he whispers, and I practically levitate in happiness.

I try to remember the technique he used on me, applying the logic that if he did it to me, it’s probably something he enjoys himself.

And it appears Marcus isn’t going to comment on me violating his copyright on his moves.

His breathing gets heavier, and his hips begin to move in time with my mouth. I reach up to his hips, gently guiding him to thrust as I continue to work him over.

“Holy fuck, you’re good at this,” he mutters, clutching my hair for support.

The effect of his praise, the feel of his fingers in my hair, and the head of his cock swelling in my mouth has my own cock throbbing like it’s attempting to break some kind of world record for pulsation. I’m so close.

I’m the one fumbling with my robes now, managing to get my hand on my own cock.

It only takes two strokes, and then I’m coming, pleasure shooting through me.

But I don’t want to focus on my own orgasm. I try instead to keep my attention on Marcus, taking him deeper into my throat.

He starts to thrust more recklessly now, his hips bucking, and he groans loudly, his cock twitching in my mouth as he comes. I swallow instinctively, choking slightly at the bitter taste.

But who cares? I got to taste Marcus Johnson!

If there’s a Richter scale for personal achievements, this will definitely register as a major seismic event.

I slowly pull away, sneaking one last kiss on the tip of his cock before I completely withdraw.

Then I glance up at him.

For a second, I feel almost hypnotized by his beauty. Marcus with his lips slightly parted, chest heaving as he gazes down at me.

I did this.

I gave this beautiful and charming man pleasure.

I left him breathless.

Marcus reaches down to run his finger along my jaw. His touch is gentle but intentional. Then his fingers curl up to palm my jaw.

I lean into his touch, and for a few heartbeats, we stay like that, Marcus cupping my face, gazing at each other.

“Marcus!” It’s Saskia’s voice.

Marcus snatches his hand away from my face. He fumbles with his trousers and underwear, pulling them back up.

“Marcus, where are you?” Saskia’s calling across the lawn.

Marcus finishes tying his pants and steps out of the shadows.

“I’m here,” he says.

“I need you. We’re about to cut the cake.”

I’m not surprised Marcus’s absence has been noticed while mine hasn’t.

“Well, I am known for my cake-cutting abilities,” he says.

“Jasmine needs Aladdin’s magic to help me make a wish.”

“As always, I’m at your command,” he says as he strolls toward her.

“Do I want to know what you were getting up to in the bushes?” I hear Saskia ask when he reaches her.

“Probably not,” he says lightly.

She laughs as she wraps her arms around him.

“You’re such a slut,” she says affectionally.

“I believe the correct term is stud,” he replies.

My sister and her best friend disappear back into the castle while I’m left kneeling on the damp grass.