Fey Regency (Fey Lords #3)

35. Chapter 35

Chapter thirty-five

A s we finally walk into the sanctuary and privacy of our rooms, my sigh of relief is interrupted by a confusing sight. I leave Tristan’s side to drift over to the table.

“Is this a giant wheel of cheese?” I ask in bewilderment. “With a sparkly red bow on it?”

Tristan strides over to join me.

“Yes,” he says proudly. “It is your favourite cheese.”

My eyebrows rise. Is it? I don’t even know what my favourite cheese is. Has he really been paying more attention to what I stuff in my face, than I do?

“Thank you?” I babble.

I’ve never been given cheese before. I’ve hardly ever been given fuck all, so it is lovely. And I do love cheese. The whole thing is making me feel rather teary. But I don’t understand why Tristan is giving me things.

“All of your concern was for me. You never worried about Llywelyn owning you or putting you down,” Tristan says.

Oh wow. I didn’t realise it, but he is right. I don’t think a single thought about my own safety ever crossed my mind. I was consumed by concern for Tristan. Holy smokes. Look at me being all altruistic and shit. Who’d have thought it?

Tristan gestures at the cheese, “So, a thank you gift.”

I stare up at him while my stomach twists itself into knots. It is a lovely gesture. One I really don’t deserve.

“Don’t thank me.” I draw in a shuddering breath. “You had to do that to your brother, and it is all my fault.”

My eyes close, but they can’t shut out images from playing in my mind. Llywelyn’s long golden hair falling to the floor while he fucking stood there shaking and crying. His fists clenched helplessly by his side. A lump forms in my throat.

Suddenly, I’m encased in muscular arms and pressed against a very manly chest.

“None of this is your fault, Ollie!” exclaims Tristan, and he sounds very distressed by the idea. “Trying to kill me wasn’t even your idea. Being made a pet wasn’t your choice. Neither was being born a nisny in a world that doesn’t understand you. And you did not force Llywelyn to challenge me.”

I don’t know what to say to any of that, so I say nothing. I simply hug him back. Holy shit. Look at me, hugging. And do you know what? It is wonderful. I don’t care that it is sissy. I want to hug Tristan every day. Forever.

“I won,” he says softly.

“You did,” I agree.

“You made me a promise, Little Nisny.”

I lift my head to look up at him. The dirty minded motherfucker. Here we are having a sweet moment, and his mind is going to blow jobs. Not that I can blame him. He is a man, after all, and we do tend to have one-track minds. And the way we are all pressed up against each other has given my cock ideas too. So it’s fine. I’m not insulted.

My gaze drops down towards his groin, even though I know I can’t see a thing with us all smooshed up close like this. I can feel it though. Swelling up nicely.

I swallow tightly. Crap. Now I have to make good my promise, and that’s a little daunting.

“I…um…I’m not very good at blow jobs,” I stutter. I mean, I might be bloody brilliant at them. A born natural. Possibly even gifted. But I have never given one, so I don’t know. And starting with the largest cock in the universe is a bit of a tall order.

Tristan raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not trying to get out of it!” I blurt frantically. I don’t want him to think that. “I…just want to manage your expectations.”

Tristan laughs. A full belly laugh that rumbles through me and curls my toes.

“Consider my expectations managed,” he teases.

I can’t even be mad at him. He is just too damn sexy. And he is about to let me attempt to suck on his cock.

He pulls a chair away from the table, turns it to face out towards the middle of the room, and sits on it. Then he takes a cushion from another chair and places it on the floor. Between his spread legs.

I gulp. Well, that’s awfully considerate. And strangely hot.

Slowly, I drop to my knees and thankfully I manage to land on the cushion. He looks down at me and our gazes lock. His hands dance around his waist, working the laces of his robes. His cock springs free, half-hard and fully magnificent .

I lick my lips. I’m pretty much drooling, which is very handy. But I can’t just slobber all over him. Can I? I want to make this good for him. A good place to start would be to copy whatever the hell he does to me when he blows me. But my mind is blank. Completely empty. There is not a single memory left in my brain.

This moment is the only thing that has ever existed. Kneeling here in front of him. Breathing in the manly scent of him. Feasting on the sight of his cock, mere inches from my nose. I’ve fallen into my very own universe, where this is the only thing. There is nothing else. No past, no future. Only the present.

I lean towards him. I don’t mean to, it just happens. My body knows what it wants. Maybe I should just allow it to take over? Let instincts guide me. That’s assuming I have instincts for cock-sucking. Are blow jobs necessary for evolution and survival? I feel like they should be. And if anyone was going to have cock-sucking instincts, it would be me. After all, I am gay as fuck.

Okay, deep breath. Let my gay instincts do their thing.

My tongue pokes out. I lean closer. I’m so close I can feel the heat radiating from his dick. Here goes nothing.

My tongue touches the silken skin of his cock. The taste of him floods my mouth. Salty, musky, divine. Oh my god. A moan of delight escapes me and suddenly I’m running my tongue all over him. Up and down, around and around. I’m desperate to taste every inch of him. I need to lap it all up. The texture of his cock is wonderful too. Silk and satin, hot and firm. Ridged by a scattering of veins that create valleys to explore.

I’m having the time of my life. I could do this forever. This is my new happy place .

Tristan’s hand rests lightly on my head. His fingers brush through my hair, running over my scalp. My eyes roll back. Oh fuck. That feels amazing.

I reach the very tip of him. A burst of salty goodness dances over my tongue. Oh hells, that must be his pre-cum. I greedily trace the trail of it to its source. Tristan groans as my eager tongue pokes into his slit.

More delicious goodness seeps into my mouth as I start to lap directly from the source. Oh fuck me, this is so good. My own cock is so hard it hurts, but I haven’t got any time to pay it any attention. All my focus is on worshipping Tristan’s cock.

I have no idea why my mouth is feeling so unbearably empty when it has never been stuffed full of cock before, but there you go. Apparently, I’m going to die if I don’t get Tristan’s dick past my tonsils this very instant.

Sucking in a breath is probably a very good idea, because I’m pretty sure it is going to be my last chance to get some oxygen for a while. So I inhale sharply. Now my lungs are full, I position my lips over the very tip of him.

Tristan mutters something in Fey that I don’t quite catch. He is definitely happy, so it is all good.

Tentatively, I move my head down, taking more of him. He slides over my tongue. Hot, heavy and firm. I ease a little further down. Holy smokes, my lips are already stretched. Why does that feel so good?

I look up at him, and moan. His face is flushed. His eyes are dark and wide. I can nearly see my reflection in them. Not that I need to, I can picture how I look. On my knees, one third of his hard cock stuffed into my mouth, jaw already stretching obscenely .

He makes a deep rumbling noise and his fingers tighten in my hair. Oh fuck. He is taking control. I’m going to cum. In my pants. Without being touched.

He pulls me a little more onto him and his cock brushes the back of my throat. I gag a little and my eyes water.

“Breathe out through your nose,” he instructs. “All of your air. Don’t take another breath.”

I do as I am told. I release all the oxygen my lungs were holding. As soon as I’m done, my lungs want to inhale. It is a struggle to fight the compulsion.

“Swallow,” he urges.

I go to obey, and at the very same moment, he yanks my head down. All the way down. His cock goes way past my tonsils. It goes all the way down my throat. It is filling it. Utterly. I know if I tried to breathe, even through my nose, I would not be able to. My airways are blocked with cock. I can’t even make choking noises. I’m too full.

My eyes are watering. I think I’m leaking snot too. It is not at all glamorous, but it is incredible.

He pulls a little way out, not enough so I can breathe, just enough so we can both feel it when he slides in deep again.

I try to moan, but the sound sticks in my lungs. It reverberates through me. Tristan grunts. He slides gently again. Very shallow thrusts. I’m getting dizzy, but I couldn’t care less. My lungs are complaining. My extremities are tingling. Oh fuck, this feels awesome.

Another shallow thrust and suddenly I’m cumming. Jerking and spasming and convulsing. Fuck. I’m seeing stars. I think I’m screaming silently around his cock. His cock that is throbbing rhythmically. Oh my god, he is cuming too, pumping his cum directly into my stomach. This is the hottest thing ever.

The waves of ecstasy slowly recede. I’m trembling with aftershocks and I can’t move a muscle. My mind is floating on a euphoric high.

His hand gently cups my jaw, and he carefully pulls out of me. My lungs seize their opportunity and suck in a breath. My jaw twinges and I wince as it falls back to a more normal configuration.

Tristan bends down, scoops me up and arranges me sideways on his lap. I rest my head against his pec, my favourite pillow.

“Are you okay?” asks Tristan.

I nod enthusiastically. I’m too breathless to speak. I’m covered in tears, snot and drool. My throat and jaw ache and my silk robes are drenched in my own cum.

All in all, I’ve never been better.