Ceridor (Danubian #4)

5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Johann

Ceridor came in, his eyes curious as he appraised me, clearly searching for my intentions. I stepped down the hallway and over to the kitchens to ask for a pot of nighttime tea. While the kettle came to a boil, I took some deep breaths to calm down and pull my wits about me. As a prince, I outranked a bard in the eyes of society, though maybe he still held his former title of regent prince. Either way, I didn't want him to feel pressured to give in to me if he didn't want it, too. I had to be clearheaded and ask direct questions.

Back in my room, Ceridor was seated at my writing desk and perusing the book of ancient Greek mythology that I'd read so many times it was nearly falling apart. It was one he had given me, fifteen years ago.

"I've lost track of how many times I've read it," I said.

"You loved the myths back then," he replied enthusiastically. "I'm glad you still do. I collect them on my travels—any songs, folktales, or myths with local variation—and send them to a monk friend of mine who works in the monastery library."

That warmed me.

I poured us tea and sat on the edge of my bed, wishing I had another chair in my room so as to not be suggestive.

Ceridor sipped the honeyed tea brewed with alpine herbs and his pleased hum was so throaty it shot straight to my balls. How in heaven's name was I supposed to keep calm when he sounded like that?

Breathe, Johann.

Ceridor took another slurp and made another sumptuous sound, sending shivers through me from head to toe. He pinched the fabric of his shirt at the first button, fluffing it to give himself some air.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

" Nein , go ahead," I answered automatically, though I wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about.

Ceridor's smile was coy, and I could have sworn he winked at me right before proceeding to unbutton his shirt. He stood and shunted it off his shoulders, revealing a toned back that was so long and lithe I stared in awe. His skin was tan, like maybe he'd lazed about a little bit in the summer sun before coming to sing for us tonight. My worries about the future of my kingdom fell away as Ceridor turned and revealed his chest and flat belly scattered over with light brown hair. I wanted to run my fingers through it, feel the texture of his chest as I relished the planes underneath and touched him everywhere.

"A bit cooler now," said Ceridor as he tossed his shirt over the arm of my writing chair and sat back down again.

I wanted to warm him right back up.

With a jump start I realized I'd missed my chance to disrobe while he did. Hurriedly I fumbled at the buttons of my own shirt.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Prince Johannes," Ceridor said softly. "You can leave your shirt on if you want."

"No, I..."

Hesitating, I pressed my palms into my thighs, wiping sweat into the fabric of my trousers.

If I was going to do this right, I needed to speak up. Breathing fully, my voice still came out shaky, but I managed to meet his eyes. "Do you want to sleep with me?"

Surprise flashed in Ceridor's rich blue eyes, then heat burned there, desire radiating off him and filling the room. He stood slowly and set his cup of tea down, his movements deliberate yet so elegant they entranced me. Then he stepped across the space and came to stand between my knees, so close I leaned back on my hands. I glanced up at his face, rather than doing what I truly wanted, which was to stare at the sexy hair on his tummy that trailed down and disappeared into his waistband.

Then Ceridor knelt and stole my breath away.

Placing his hands on my thighs, he looked up at me and asked, barely above a whisper, "What do you want me to do, my prince?"

I couldn't take it anymore. I reached out, my hands hovering in the air and trembling. "Can I touch you?"

His smile was kind. "You can. I am already touching you."

"I want you to," I answered.

Ceridor kept his hands on my thighs and held still, as if he were fearful that he would scare me off, though that didn't make any sense. My heart pounded, sure, but I wanted to be there more than anything in the world.

Gently, with both hands, I touched his hair and the side of his face. Ceridor's eyes fell shut, his dark eyelashes fanned out and dazzling. He leaned his head to the side a bit, cradling his cheek in my palm.

It was more intimate than anything I had ever experienced with another man. My nerves were set alight and in awe I reveled at the softness of his hair and how the lamplight glinted off the brown strands, giving them a golden sheen. Casting my fingertips oh so slowly through his hair, a smile tugged at my lips when he sighed. His soft waves contrasted with the coarseness of his short-cropped facial hair scraping against my other palm, and my brain was dazzled by so many sensations it filled me with delight.

Ceridor kept his eyes shut as he continued to relish in my admiration and gentle petting.

"I'd always thought girls were cute," I mused, "but I never understood why the other boys only talked about the girls."

"And not about the boys, too?" he clarified.

"Yes," I whispered, my secret stepping bravely into the room; before tonight at dinner, I'd only ever told my mother and sister.

Ceridor's eyes opened, but stayed half-lidded, like he was snuggled into bed and just coming awake after a good sleep. "That is more common than you think, and I feel the same way. Women are beautiful, and men can be amazing in their own way."

I brightened at that, and his smile grew wider and a bit mischievous.

I could pet him all evening, but what he said next froze me. "How about I drink you up, so you can sleep?"

Did that mean what I thought it did?

"Yes," I breathed.