In Shining Armor: Chapter Four

Of course the kiss turned into necking, turned into Bleddyn grinding down against me, half-hard and pinning my wrists to the mattress.

“This is wrong,” he murmured against my collarbone before kissing it so tenderly, I shivered and tried to wrap my arms around him. But he was stronger than me, and my wrists stayed pressed into the mattress. So I settled for wrapping my legs around his and arching up to meet his thrusts against my abdomen. “We should not. . . .”

“We most definitely should,” I breathed, angling my head to give him more access to my neck. Access which he immediately took advantage of, nipping my throat with gentle teeth then laving the spots he’d nipped with his tongue. “Oh, Bleddyn. . . .”

“I have wanted you thus from almost the moment I first laid eyes upon you, Karthik,” Bleddyn whispered feverishly, his lips roaming up to my mouth again. He kissed me sweetly, and freed my wrists. Then he was sighing as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down firmly on top of me. He would not meet my eyes. “And having had you, I thought such illicit desires would be slaked. That I would commit such a delightful sin, repent, and crave you no more, yet. . . .”

“Yet?”

Now, Bleddyn met my eyes, his dark ones as somber as a Sunday morning. Which it might very well have been in 1626, for all I knew. “Yet having you has only made my yearning for you keener, sharper. My desires have grown teeth.” He shook his head. “My desire for William I had excused as nothing more than childish exploration, for I had not yet a man’s appetites. But this . . . you. . . .

“You overwhelm me, so, Karthik of Nayar.” And with that, Bleddyn kissed me again, hard, hungrily, briefly. “I know this is sin, pure and inexcusable, and yet I would gladly buy my passage to Hell with even just one morning spent between your thighs.”

I shivered again. Even medieval dirty-talk was enough to turn my crank. Bleddyn turned my crank . . . everything he did, everything he said . . . everything he was.

I caressed Bleddyn’s face before cupping it in my hand. “I wish I could convince you that this, what we’re doing, isn’t wrong, Bleddyn. But I guess I can’t compete with a lifetime spent living in this time, with everyone, including your father, telling you that desiring someone—especially if that someone is another man—is wrong. Hell, even in my time, there are still people who insist that what we’re doing is wrong. That somewhere, up in the sky, there’s a God sitting on a cloud, judging who we love, despite having given us the will to love freely. But I don’t believe that. If there is a God out there, somewhere, it loves us, and wants us to love each other and be happy. It doesn’t want to see us suffer and be miserable, and make everyone else that way because of narrow-mindedness and fear.” I wrapped my arm back around Bleddyn’s neck again and leaned our foreheads together. “I don’t want to hurt you, or scare you, or make you regret what we’ve done-what we’re doing—”

“But that is where my sin is compounded, Karthik. For I regret nothing.” Then Bleddyn was kissing me once more, and pulling me up with him as he sat up, so that I was straddling his thighs and half-sitting in his lap. I could feel his cock nudging past my balls and he grasped my ass with both hands, squeezing and kneading before he was teasing his fingers between my cheeks again.

“Don’t stop,” I moaned, clutching at him tighter as the tip of his finger pressed against me, then into me with a fierce and addictive burn I hadn’t felt in over a year. Only . . . it’d never felt this good, or this right. “Oh, God, don’t stop!”

“I could not. Even if I wished,” Bleddyn said, nuzzling my throat as I kissed his curly hair. His finger made its way inside me and was quickly followed by another. Then he began scissoring them gently, till I was writhing on him like an agitated cobra. “Karthik . . . the heat of you sears me, like the heart of a sacred flame. I can maintain only one thought—one desire: to feel you around me . . . to lose myself in your fire until I am ash.”

“Fuck, Bleddyn . . . please tell me you have something? Like, lube or lotion—”

He looked up at me, puzzled. “I know not—”

“Something slippery? I can take you. All day, if it were up to me, baby. But I can’t take you dry.” I clenched around his fingers and sudden understanding dawned in his eyes. Understanding and regret.

“I have not oil to ease my way,” he said, frowning. “I did not expect—”

“Neither did I,” I said, cupping his face in my hands again and doing my best to hide my frustration, and seriously considering taking him with nothing but spit. It’d be like the night I lost my virginity all over again.

Yeah, lets not revisit that pleasant little interlude just now. Or ever again, if possible. I sighed and kissed Bleddyn. “It’s okay. I suppose we could just—”

“Salve!” Bleddyn burst out, and I blinked at him.

“What—?” But Bleddyn was laying me back down then practically springing out of bed. He padded over to the guarderobe and yanked it open, scanning the contents of the mostly empty piece of furniture. Then he bent low and picked up something I couldn’t make out—mostly because I was staring at his ass again.

“Gwynedd mentioned last night that she had left a soothing salve for your ankle in yon guarderobe, and that I was to relay that information to you before you took your rest,” Bleddyn said in a rush, standing up with a small pot of what I assumed was the aforementioned salve. He grinned, and it made him look barely old enough for his mustache and beard. Then his grin turned rather sheepish. “Of course, I forgot her admonishment entirely . . . but t’will now serve us in a similar capacity.”

“Uh . . . do you know what’s in the salve?” I asked as he approached the bed and climbed on. “I mean, it’s nothing . . . gross, is it? Or burn-y?”

Bleddyn’s grin gentled into a reassuring smile. “This salve is gentle and mild enough to be used on teething babes. It relieves pain and eases aches.”

I thought it over for a few moments, then shrugged, tossing over my misgivings. If it was good enough for babies’ gums, I supposed it was good enough for my asshole. “Alright, bring on the salve. And I don’t mean sparingly,” I added, looking at his cock—my first good look at it, what with all the frantic rubbing off on each other—and remembering just how hard and fast he’d seemed to like thrusting.

“Be gentle,” I told him as he removed the lid of the small pot and tossed it over his shoulder. “It’s been a while.”

Bleddyn nodded, that hint of jealousy flaring in his eyes again, but only for a moment. Then he was running a hand up my thigh to grasp my cock and stroke it.

“My desire for you almost incapacitates me with its fierceness. I wish to have all of you at once,” he murmured, running a finger over the tip of my cock before leaning down to kiss it. I made a garbled sound low in my throat like a squabbling crow.

“Bleddyn—” for God’s sake, fuck me! I was about to say, but Bleddyn slid his hand between my hip and the bed, urging me to roll over onto my stomach.

He didn’t have to tell me twice. Though there’s a lot to be said for missionary, there’s just such a dirty thrill to be had from getting it doggy-style.

I grabbed the bed’s lone pillow and crammed it under my hips, wriggling around a little to get into a comfortable position. For a few seconds, Bleddyn did nothing, merely stared down at me. I could feel his gaze, as hot and weighty as sunlight. I gave a low, breathy, porn-star moan and spread my legs—never let it be said that Karthik Nayar can’t put on a decent show—looking over my shoulder at Bleddyn. He was staring at me, mouth agape, with a dollop of translucent salve on his fingers. It looked like petroleum jelly.

“I’m waiting, Bleddyn . . . take me.”

Bleddyn let out a breath and began stroking himself with the salve, never once taking his eyes off me. I hiked my right leg up higher to give him a better view.

After another few seconds of gazing, Bleddyn moved closer, till I could feel the heat of him all along my back, ass, and legs. Two slippery, salve-y fingers trailed down from the small of my back, to my asshole, before pushing back into me with that same burn, though lessened. I didn’t know if it was the salve, if I was just getting used to being fingered after so long without, or if it was a combination of both.

Whatever it was, it definitely felt more good than bad. Bleddyn began scissoring his fingers again and while doing so, brushed my prostate. I lit up like a JACKPOT sign in Vegas, moaning his name.

Bleddyn leaned down to kiss my ear and whisper: “Are you ready for me, Karthik?”

“Yes.”

Bleddyn kissed my ear again and sat up, removing his fingers. I instantly missed the feeling of fullness and pressure, but not for long. Something a lot larger than Bleddyn’s fingers brushed me, then pressed against me, then pushed into me without hesitation or delay.

“Blehhhhhddyyyyyyn!” I yowled as he filled me, slowly, surely, and implacably. For his part, Bleddyn was whispering my name like a prayer, his big hands pushing my thighs wider before settling on my ass again.

I was torn between pleasure and pain—between that really amazing feeling of being filled and that feeling that one is about to be split like a cord of wood.

But even as I was wondering: How big is his cock, anyway? the closet size-queen who lived in my head was cheering and gleefully taking it. Would have taken it all till the end of the world, if necessary.

Bleddyn was leaning over me, drops of sweat dripping onto my back. When he at last could go no further—when I could swear I felt cock nudging my epiglottis—he stilled, panting and groaning.

“Oh, Karthik.” His breath was hot and moist on my shoulder. “Never have I. . . .”

He trailed off and fell silent for so long, I began to worry. “Never have you what, Bleddyn?”

“I—have never—never taken a man thus,” Bleddyn gritted out, and I glanced over my shoulder, surprised.

“Not even . . . William?”

“I let William take me. Once. And there were—a few others. After him.” Bleddyn nuzzled my cheek. “But never have I taken another.”

“Wow,” I exhaled softly, then grinned. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Never have I felt its like. Nor yours.” He placed a damp, gentle kiss on my temple.

“I promise it only gets better,” I purred. “But first, you have to pull out, then—ah! God!”

It may have been his first time pitching, but Bleddyn had great instincts, because before I could even finish the sentence, he’d pulled out and driven his way back in, hard and fast, leaving me speechless and breathless, and scrambling in the sheets for purchase.

“Have I . . . harmed you, Karthik?” Bleddyn was as still as a statue, on me and in me. My insides, however, were all aflutter with trying to accommodate him. With trying to decide whether or not to accept the intruder or force him out—not that it could have done the latter. And I guess my body realized that, because it soon began to clench and release around him like a fist. I arched up against him, bearing myself up on shaky arms.

“Harm me some more, baby,” I gasped out, then clarified just in case Bleddyn took it the wrong way. “Take me, Bleddyn. Until neither of us can walk right.”

Bleddyn leaned down and kissed my shoulder. Then he was pulling out fast and thrusting back in the same way. I yowled again, loud enough that if the castle wasn’t already awake, they surely were after that.

Bleddyn grasped my hips and began pulling them back for every thrust and pushing them away every time he pulled out, grunting and swearing—I assume—in fluid Welsh, interspersed with my name. I risked bearing up on one arm and began stroking myself off—even I wouldn’t expect a reach-around from a virgin—not that I had to stroke hard or long. By luck or innate skill, Bleddyn struck prostate more often than he didn’t and soon, I was coming hard, Bleddyn’s name ripped raggedly from my throat.

Through the haze of completion I floated in for an eternity afterwards, eventually I felt Bleddyn’s body still on and in mine before he pumped out his release with a loud groan that sounded like it was trying to be my name.

Then for a little while, I knew nothing but gentle darkness, and Bleddyn’s body anchoring me to earth . . . his heartbeat thudding in time with my own.