Chapter 5: Cambord, Part 5

Raffé wanted to ask if Cambord could see him; he seemed to move so easily in the dark. But then he would only say something stupid about wanting to see Cambord, and being denied that would only ruin the mood. So he drowned the words in Cambord's mouth, buried his fingers in Cambord's soft hair.

"I am increasingly horrified as to how stupid the rest of the world must be," Cambord said, fisting Raffé's cock, mouth sliding wetly along his neck until teeth nipped gently at the edge of Raffé's ear. "I cannot decide if I want to fuck you next, or feel your cock in my throat."

The words made Raffé groan, his cock twitching in Cambord's hold. His eyes stung, breaths lodging in his chest, so much emotion and need and disbelief proving overwhelming. Raffé drove it all back and found his voice, hating that it was not entirely steady when he said, "Fuck me. I want to feel that."

Cambord gave another one of those delicious growls, fingers biting into Raffé's skin where they were still curved around his hip. "As you command." He then pulled away, laughing when Raffé whined in disapproval. "I have to make my little prince more comfortable." Raffé listened to a rustle of fabric, the scrape of boots on stone. A hand curled around his arm and helped him to his feet. His cloak was stolen away with a soft kiss, and a few moments later Raffé was pushed down upon what he realized were their cloaks piled on the ground to make a crude bed.

A breeze cut through the night, carrying a winter chill. The first snows had arrived the previous week, and the royal temple would soon be celebrating the first day of winter. Raffé could only feel the unbelievable heat of Cambord's body, shyly running hands over the skin that met his fingers, surprised that his chest was smooth and hairless—it was not an affectation favored by most men.

"You have every indication of being quite wicked once you know your way, little prince," Cambord murmured, licking at his mouth and giving another drugging kiss before pulling away to lavish attention on Raffé's throat. Teeth nipped hard, sting soothed by that distracting tongue, and Raffé thought he might have a mark there come dawn.

He hoped so.

Cambord's hands trailed further down his body, chased by his mouth, tongue dragging across one patch of skin while his hands teased another until Raffé was a gasping, moaning, writhing mess upon the improvised bed and Cambord's soft, satisfied chuckles washed over him. He moved briefly away but returned after only a moment. Raffé could hear the sound of clinking glass and then the smell of honey roses filled the air briefly. He shivered, nerves returning, as Cambord's heavy hands settled on his thighs, spread them further apart.

Raffé startled as Cambord sucked up a mark on the soft skin of his inner thigh that echoed the one on his throat. He was so distracted by that, he almost missed the fingers that teased at his hole—almost. But it was impossible to completely miss the new, strange sensation of a warm, slick finger gently pushing inside him. His hands fluttered about for a place to rest and finally settled for tangling in the cloak upon which he rested, so soft against his skin it felt like a wicked indulgence all on its own.

Warm lips trailed back up his body as that finger pushed and twisted inside him. Cambord nibbled and licked at Raffé's sore lips, took a deep kiss as he added a second finger to the first. Raffé moaned into his mouth, clung tightly to him, and by the time Cambord slipped a third finger in, he felt as though he were going to shake apart.

Cambord sucked another mark up on his throat until Raffé was trembling, aching, in desperate need of more. "Cam—"

"You beg prettier than the most expensive whore, all the sweeter for the sincerity, little prince," Cambord murmured against his mouth.

Raffé could feel his cheeks burn, the pleasure coursing through him at the warm, even fond tone of the words giving him courage. "If I b-beg so prettily, give me what I want."

Cambord laughed, body shaking against Raffé's, and he nipped sharply at the edge of Raffé's jaw before pulling back and removing his fingers. A moment later Raffé felt the heavy weight of Cambord's cock pushing into him, the stretch making him groan. Cambord hitched his legs up, guided them, and Raffé obediently hooked them around him, clinging to Cambord's shoulders as he kept pushing inside.

They were both panting by the time Cambord was finally all the way inside. It was like nothing Raffé had ever felt—hot and full and consumed. Cambord's skin was slick with sweat beneath his fingers, muscles tight. "Good?" Cambord asked softly.

"Yes," Raffé said, moving his hips slightly, liking the noise Cambord made. He did it again with more certainty, got a wet, clumsy kiss for his efforts—and then Cambord was moving, pulling out and thrusting back in, muscles bunching and rippling beneath Raffé's fingers. Raffé tried to meet his movements, awkward and off-rhythm at first, but eventually he managed it and that just got him more of those delightful noises, Cambord moving faster, harder, pressing deeper, every movement burning pleasure into Raffé's skin from the inside out.

He cried out when Cambord wrapped a hand around his cock, his voice rough and raw in Raffé's ear. "Spill for me, little prince."

Raffé obeyed, too consumed and overwhelmed to do otherwise, shouting Cambord's name as he came apart a second time.

"Beautiful," Cambord said and resumed his determined thrusts until he tensed and shuddered above Raffé, face buried in Raffé's throat.

A few moments later he sat up, and Raffé groaned as his cock slipped free, leaving behind a foreign but pleasant ache. Cambord stretched out alongside him and bundled him close, hands petting lazily, lips moving across Raffé's face. "I think you will do quite well here, little prince."

"Will I—" Raffé stopped as the bells began to toll. So close to the bell tower, it was impossible to be heard. They rang twenty-five times, marking the Hour of the Dragon—two hours to go before a new day officially began, and too few left before dawn.

Cambord sighed. "Damn that clock. Is it so late already? I fear I must go, sweet prince." He kissed Raffé long and slow, and by the time he pulled away, Raffé could not remember what he'd wanted to say—no longer wanted to say anything, desperate to make the moment last, afraid speaking would break it.

Gentle hands pulled his clothes back on, lingered on his skin, Cambord pressing soft kisses to random bits before covering them up. "Gods favor you, little prince. Welcome to the King's Legion." He cupped Raffé's face and kissed him again, lips moving over Raffé's as though he had every bit of Raffé memorized and was savoring his favorite treat. There was something more to it, something Raffé could not quite name, but it caused a sharp, hot and twisting ache in his gut, caused tears to cloud his eyes. Cambord kissed them away, kissed his mouth one last time …

And then was gone. Raffé drew several ragged breaths, half-convinced he'd dreamed the entire encounter. But his lips felt swollen and used, and he could feel the bruises already forming on his neck from Cambord's eager attentions. No dream could have left the aches in his body or the wetness between his thighs.

"Thank you," he whispered, then stiffly left the alcove and made his way back through the maze to return to his room.