The Consumption of Magic (Tales From Verania 3)

But we found our rhythm, the beat that we could move to.

Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart was important. He was in charge of many things. People looked up to him. He was dashing and immaculate. He was the commander of the Castle Guard, one of the highest honors that could be bestowed upon a knight. He made executive decisions that led to the safety of the castle. People listened to him.

Here, though.

He didn’t have to be in charge.

He didn’t have to worry about making a decision, because he knew I would make them for him.

We didn’t do this all the time. Sometimes I was on my back with my legs over his shoulders as he fucked up into me, my eyes rolling back into my head.

But more often than not, he’d come to our room, prowling restlessly, shoulders tense and eyes narrowed, and I would know what he needed from me.

And now with the inevitable in front of us—at least five weeks apart—he needed me to take care of him.

And I wanted nothing more.

I also wanted to eat his ass out, but first things first.

He sighed as I trailed my fingers down his back, the barest amount of pressure against his skin. He hung his head between his arms, eyes closed, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth like he was supposed to. I traced the lines of the muscles in his back, feeling the strength of him. He was bigger than I would ever be, and he was proud of the body he’d created through hard work. He was dashing and immaculate, sure, and he knew it, and maybe sometimes he played up to it. He knew exactly what happened to people’s underwear if he

picked up a puppy and held it close or if he drew his sword and posed as he was wont to do. When he’d done that spread in All Knight Long! a few months ago, the painter had found it necessary to have him in an empty bathtub wearing nothing but a towel spread haphazardly over his waist. That issue had sold out rather quickly, especially with the salacious cover headline of KNIGHT COMMANDER RYAN FOXHEART REVEALS ALL! Ryan had been quite proud of it. I’d told him he probably had many teenagers masturbating over it. He hadn’t been as proud after that. And since I felt terrible, I told him I would masturbate over it, and it led to him choking on my dick in a musty hall closet in the castle.

That had been a good day.

I reached the top of his sleep pants, fingers pressing hard into the skin, slipping just inside over the top of his ass. His knuckles were white as he gripped the bar, and his nipples were hard. I thought about dragging it out even further, but I wanted more from him.

I pushed my hand inside the waistband, palm flat against his ass, squeezing one cheek roughly. The smallest of groans dropped from his mouth, and I grinned to myself. A vocal Ryan was certainly one of my favorite kinds of Ryan.

“This is nice.” I squeezed him again. “Don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he said, voice rough.

“Use the bar. Pull yourself up higher so I can pull your pants down.”

He moved quickly, rising to his knees, biceps flexing until his back was ramrod straight. He didn’t let go, which was good. I was still standing next to the bed, and I could see the swell of his ass and that he was hard, probably almost painfully so.

I thought about gripping his dick through the sleep pants but decided against it. I wanted to leave his cock alone, just to see how long it would take for him to beg me to touch it.

Instead I reached over and tugged at the waistband of the sleep pants, pulling it up and over his dick, which slapped up against his stomach before it bobbed out in front of him. He gasped at the cool air against his heated skin, but I ignored it. I pushed the pants down until they were at his knees. He tried to lift his legs to kick them off, but I pushed back against his calves, holding them down against the bed.

“Leave them,” I said. “For now.”

He nodded, taking in another deep breath.

“Lean forward again. Don’t let go of the bars.”

He went lax, head bowed, shoulders sagging. He spread his legs a little wider. His back curved slightly, pushing his ass out farther, which was exactly what I was going for.

Without looking away from him, knowing he could feel my gaze along his skin, I toed off my boots and socks and kicked them to the side. I pressed my hands against the globes of his ass, squeezing again, pressing them together before I pulled them apart. He hissed under his breath, trying to stay as quiet as he could. It was a game to him, seeing how long he could stay silent. He never lasted very long.

I dropped to my knees behind him, settling down until his ass was level with my face. I stayed close, my breath on his skin. “You okay?” I asked, not hiding the smirk in my voice.

“Fine,” he said through what sounded like gritted teeth.

“That’s good,” I said. “Just checking in.”

“You don’t need to—”