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They dance to no music.
Dion finds they do not need it. Not when they have developed an easy rhythm betwixt each other; Dion has taught Terence all he knows about dancing, after all. Under the guise of practising leading the dance, it was far too easy to allow themselves the comfort to simply bask in one another's presence even when the rest of the dragoons happened to be around.
Because of this, Terence only knows the role of the dance a lady would play, but that is of no concern to either of them.
"I would wish to dance with no one but you," Terence murmurs in response to his teasing query. He then gives him a sweet, earnest smile, and Dion thinks he is the most beautiful person to ever walk the lands.
So, Dion continues their waltz. One hand placed at Terence's waist. The other intertwined with Terence's own hand. Terence's broad arm draped carefully around Dion's neck, a secure warmth that keeps Dion closer than any casual dancers would dare to be.
But that is fine. Tonight is theirs. Dion knows for a fact that none await their arrival, not until midday following the next dawn. Tonight, the quietude of Dion's private chambers are theirs, and none will bother whatever apparent plans the commander and his second will come up with, nor will they bother keeping track of their whereabouts.
A perfect night, to say the least. One where they can be who they wish to one another. They have been having far more of these as of late, and Dion intends to make each moment memorable.
War is a distant prospect they can set aside, for now. The fear of discovery, of their relationship, can be shed. This time together is theirs, and Dion can only be grateful for it.
And eager.
The hand on Terence's waist only falls lower with each step they take. Terence's eyes take on a darker sheen, one more calculative; one that Dion only ever sees at the strategy table and, amusingly enough, in bed.
To say that Dion is attracted to it is an understatement — the depth of Terence's intelligence is always so wholly underestimated, and it did not take long for Terence to earn the respect of those around him, even before rising to his position as Dion's second-in-command. That, along with such military prowess and skill, only has Terence's presence all but demanding respect the moment he spoke to them.
Dion is no exception. Indeed, simply being able to see all sides of his lover is both a boon and a curse. A boon simply because Terence is, to him, the love of his life, and the only one he will ever have eyes for.
And a curse, because Terence, with all that discipline and strength and intelligence, will always see through Dion, no matter how much Dion wishes to hide from him.
And see through him Terence does.
The smile that curves his love's lips is both earnest and genuine, yet there is always a definitive want lingering underneath. They have time. They have privacy. They have one another. Dion smiles back and meets Terence halfway as they press closer for a kiss.
It is simple at first. Their dance stops the moment Dion's hand slips to the swell of Terence's rear and squeezes ever so shamelessly. A low noise emits from Terence's lips, and Dion feels the dart of wetness against his lips. Terence's tongue. Dion only opens his mouth to allow him in. Tentative at first, Terence is, but then his love shifts his arm from Dion's shoulder, winds it around Dion's lower back, and pulls him close, all but crushing Dion to his frame.
Dion does not fight it. Indeed, it is a motion he is all but obsessed with. There is power in Terence's frame and, though Dion has not yet had the courage to ask of his love to use it to its full extent, there remains the fact that Terence can do so much more to him yet does not. That alone is a heady thought, one that has Terence swallowing the unbidden moan that vibrates up Dion's throat.
Dion keeps a tight hold of Terence's hand whilst his other palms up his back and curls into the fabric of his shirt just below his shoulder blade. Dion can feel the muscles flexing under his hand: hard and strong and ever at his service.
Terence hugs him closer, tighter, and the feel of that tongue in his mouth all but claiming him has Dion shamelessly jerk his hips against Terence's own in a sudden spike of arousal.
The heated slickness of Terence's mouth is dizzying. Mayhap almost literally with how long his love keeps him close, sucking leisurely at Dion's tongue, and Dion can only press more into it, eyes fluttering, greedily wanting all what Terence can give him, all what Terence will always give him. The noise that leaves him is naught short of an embarrassing whine when Terence finally parts.
The shy, sweet smile, the way Terence's lips press together in satisfaction, and the earnest gaze that meets Dion's own, makes Dion fall ever further for this man. This perfect, amazing man who is somehow all Dion's and no one else's.
"I love you," Dion whispers, licking his lips. It always feels like an understatement. For how long they have known one another, for all the trials and tribulations they have faced, Dion thinks of him as wholly his other half, the one that completes him.
"As I love you, Dion," Terence murmurs. His eyes trace over Dion's features, then ever so obviously at his lips. That gaze darkens further with what can only be lust when Dion licks his lips again, now knowing that his love's attention fixates on the possibility of tonight becoming more than simply a dance.
"What might the agenda be tonight, my prince?" Terence murmurs, his tone playfully oblivious and accompanied by a curve of his lips. "More dancing, mayhap?"
"No," Dion says plainly because he knows Terence's penchant to tease him. Indeed, he already feels the impatience rise in him to simply have more of Terence, to see those garments discarded at their feet and for his mouth to be somewhere other than his lips. "The bed, my love. I would see no delays."
Terence chuckles. Before Dion can begin to guide them to his desired location, Terence shifts, then dips. A strong limb winds just under the swell of his rear, another laces around his hips, and Terence stands with Dion in his arms.
A stifled gasp leaves Dion's lips and he automatically grasps Terence's hair. Not too tightly, for fear of hurting his love, yet also because it is Terence currently lifting him, and Dion has no doubt that Terence will not allow him to come to any harm while Dion is in his arms.
And, oh, the strength Terence displays. The feel of his muscles flexing as he seems to effortlessly carry Dion to the bed.
Dion groans aloud. Arousal darts through his body once again, then adamantly spikes when Terence carefully lays him onto the bed. Not even in a way that would shift all of Dion's weight from him immediately. No, instead his love eases Dion's form onto it: first his head, then his back, then his waist.
Before Dion’s feet can meet the covers, Terence smiles at him then crawls betwixt his legs before draping himself heavily along Dion's body.
The way Terence's form blankets him has Dion groaning quietly. It is not discomforting in any way. Dion much prefers feeling his love's weight. It is reassuring and solid, though Dion takes delighted note of how very... solid Terence feels against his abdomen right now.
"What if I wish for there to be a delay?" Terence whispers, and his voice is pitched attractively low as he shifts against Dion's body to press a kiss against his jaw. "Will you continue to entreat me to act with haste?"
"I—," Dion begins, but the rest of his breath ends in a sharp inhale as Terence's lips drizzle along his jawline. And to be frustrating, Dion is certain, Terence rolls his hips slowly against his own. There is not enough friction for it to truly be pleasurable, but Dion has felt those hips pressed solidly against his own time and again to not already have scenarios run through his mind on how tonight will go.
"Terence," Dion groans aloud, attempting to buck his hips up to tempt his love to hasten, but Terence's solid weight gives him barely any room to move, and so he's left squirming pathetically as Terence nuzzles at the crook of his neck.
"We have time, my prince," Terence murmurs against his skin. Dion opens his mouth to retort, but Terence shifts to brace his forearms on either side of Dion's head. "Will you not allow me to cherish every second of it?"
Terence looks at him now, near-pleading with his handsomely sweet features, lips wet and swollen from the kisses before.
How can Dion say no when his love asks so earnestly?
Dion knows he will regret this. Greagor above, he is certain he will be a mess by the end of this with the way Terence ever-so-slightly allows a smirk to besmirch the innocence dancing in his gaze, but Dion cannot find it in himself to hurry the man. At least, not right now, not when this is the part where they establish their needs and boundaries for the night ahead.
"I am yours, my love," Dion whispers in lieu of a proper answer, and Terence's gaze sharpens with sheer lust.
Terence leans down and captures his lips. Dion groans into the kiss and winds his arms around his love's bac.
"You will tell me if it is too much," Terence murmurs into the kiss. "I cannot bear the thought of bringing you upset, my prince."
"You will know," Dion promises. Already, his heart thrums under his skin, eager for his love's attentions. His groin throbs, and he groans again in helpless arousal. It already feels too much, but in the way that he only wishes for Terence to finally begin.
Terence kisses him again. Then, again and again. His body is a comforting yet stifling weight against the arousal straining in his trousers, and when those lips trail along Dion's jawline instead, his hips jerk up involuntarily.
"Terence," Dion gasps out. He feels Terence's legs shift betwixt his own, and he shamelessly spreads his legs just so to allow him closer, tilting his head back for Terence to nuzzle at the crook of his neck. A pleasant buzz hums in the back of his mind, and he tries rocking his hips up again to get even the smallest bit of friction, but Terence keeps him pinned down with his weight. "Please," Dion groans aloud instead; one palm presses against Terence's lower back, the other curls amongst dark tresses.
"My prince..." Terence murmurs, kissing his pec. He clearly is in no hurry to obey no matter how much Dion squirms beneath him. He takes a moment to suck a mark into the skin just above Dion's nipple, making Dion’s back arch with another groan, and presses his thigh against the obvious hardness now straining at Dion's crotch.
"My tease," Dion retorts breathlessly, but he cannot quite muster aught further. Not when Terence's mouth closes over a nipple and draws a whimper from him, low and needy. A noise that none but Terence is allowed to hear.
Terence chuckles. The noise only fuels the arousal building in Dion's core. He shifts to sit up, straddling one of Dion's thighs, both hands braced just under his arms.
"You are so beautiful," Terence whispers, eyes reverent and adoring, and Dion grimaces at the words, unable to help the heat that rises up his neck. The intensity of Terence's gaze is overwhelming for a moment, enough to make Dion squirm again as he averts his gaze.
Terence shifts again. He unlaces Dion's shirt and pulls it halfway off his chest. The sleeves keep his arms occupied, and Terence tugs it up further enough so that Dion's arms raise just above his head. There is enough room to shrug it off himself, but the look Terence gives him tells him he wishes Dion to stay in such an exposed, vulnerable position.
And so, Dion silently acquiesces. His wrists cross one another, his blouse haphazardly tugged up, his cheeks flushed pink as a mark darkens on his torso from Terence's previous attentions.
Terence looks satisfied at the initial mess he has made, at least. Dion tries to distract himself with his love's features, how handsome he is, and the way those lips part in silent awe.
"You seem rather entertained," Dion notes. Breathlessly again, he knows, but he cannot quite compose himself. Not in this position, at least. "Does my appearance amuse you so?"
"More than joyful, my prince," Terence whispers, watching him. His eyes brighten further with a new level of intensity that makes a shiver run down Dion's spine. "I did not think it possible for my desire to ravage you to rise."
"Ah," Dion says, in lieu of a proper answer, for if the intensity of Terence's gaze wasn't enough, then such an admittance is enough for his cock to twitch. "A banquet on the agenda tonight, then?"
Terence chuckles. "Quite so, my prince. I will be sure to leave a mess."
"Ah," Dion says again, swallowing hard. One of those nights, then, for when Terence truly wishes to take his time. Both a fortunate and unfortunate decision for Dion, considering how much noise he fears he may make.
"Stop thinking, Dion," Terence murmurs. His hand trails over Dion's ribs. The coarseness of his skin makes Dion shiver, then arch his back as the same hand palms over a nipple, sending a small spark of pleasure to his groin. "You need not worry here. It is simply us and the privacy of your chambers."
It is not so simple a request, but Dion understands where he is coming from. Even now, his mind wanders to the current situation and the ever-present worry of discovery.
A sudden pinch at his nipple draws a gasp from his lips. Terence looks at him, pleasantly amused. "You disobey me already, my love."
Dion groans quietly when Terence gently rolls his nipple betwixt his index and thumb. "It was not an order, Terence."
"Then you will hear and consider aught that comes from my lips as a command," Terence murmurs. His hand travels to Dion's other nipple and teases there, drawing another soft noise from him. "Is that understood, my prince?"
Dion’s body heats up at the implications. Terence always understands his needs and is always willing to provide it. Dion's head tips back as another heady rush of arousal runs through him.
Terence tuts. His palm strokes down Dion's side. "Dion." His tone is naught more than a gentle warning.
"Yes," Dion whispers, eyes finding Terence's. His breaths come shallow. "Yes, Terence."
"Then do not think. I wish for you to breathe, my prince," Terence murmurs, and his tone is both loving and lulling in its deliverance. "Close your eyes and breathe. Deeply."
Dion closes his eyes and concentrates on only that. Inhales slowly. Exhales slowly. Tries to cast all else from his mind except the burning touch from Terence as he grips Dion's waist.
"Good. Carry on, my prince, until I tell you to stop."
Dion's breath stutters. For a moment, he thinks Terence will reprimand him, but naught comes as Dion corrects himself. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale...
Exhale...
Dion is not sure how much time passes, only that Terence's hand is gone from his waist. He opens his eyes blearily. "My love...?" he mumbles, eyes adjusting to the candlelight, and sees Terence approaching the bed once more with a thread of silk and a flask of oil. His heart thrums in anticipation.
"I did not tell you to stop, Dion," Terence says, shifting onto the bed again.
Dion feels pleasantly calm. His arousal is still there, wishing to be tended to, but it is not as demanding as before. Mayhap not much time has passed, then.
"I missed you," Dion whispers, and Terence's features soften.
Instead of answering, Terence sets the items aside on the bed and crawls over him. He braces himself over Dion again and leans down.
Dion shifts to meet his lips, moaning quietly into his mouth. A tongue presses in and Dion parts his lips to suck on the end of it lazily. His wrists tug at the shirt still draped around them, and he finds them to be a pleasant restraint, allowing enough room to move, but not enough to separate with a small amount of force.
Despite this, Terence pulls away from him. Dion grumbles under his breath, to which Terence hushes him gently before reaching up to tug Dion's shirt away and replacing those restraints with what feels like that silken thread instead.
The arousal flares again at the thought of it, of being helpless at Terence's mercy, and Dion groans when Terence ties it satisfyingly tight. Not enough to be painful, but certainly enough to ensure he has no space to wriggle free. He hears Terence chuckle again, and the sound only serves to make him squirm in rekindled need.
"I love you," Terence whispers, coming down to kiss him again. Dion moans softly into his lips. His mind feels pleasantly slow, simply experiencing the moment. Then Terence moves away again and his neck strains briefly as he attempts to chase the feel of Terence's lips.
"As I love you," Dion gasps out, eyes fixated on Terence as his love shifts betwixt his legs. It feels as if Dion moves ingots of steel with how heavy his legs feel, but he manages to part them further for Terence.
A hand palms atop his clothed crotch. Dion gasps and rolls his hips up, attempting to chase the warmth of Terence's touch, but just as soon as it arrives, it leaves, taking with it the jolt of arousal it had brought.
A low noise leaves Dion's lips. Desperate, he knows, just short of a whine and he tries to stifle himself by turning his head away.
"Be as loud as you wish, my prince." Terence's hand grips Dion's thigh. Massages there gently. Dion's cock twitches in response. "I would hear all that you have to give."
"Yes," Dion whispers, trying to focus on Terence again. "Of c—nngh!" The same hand gropes over Dion's cock once more, squeezing at the obvious bulge, and Dion's hips shudder up, trying to gain that sweet friction.
Ordinarily, it would not feel like much. Dion would barely make a sound. However, the knowledge of Terence's gaze, his commands, the tease of his actions... it all but heightens Dion's reaction for any minute attention from Terence.
Terence retracts his hand again. Dion groans, spreading his legs wider. He wants Terence. Needs him. He wants to feel his body against his. Strong and reassuring. Loving and warm.
Yet… it must be so much work. There are several things Dion desires from Terence that he does not wish to voice. He has already asked too much of Terence and continues to ask more with each passing day. Even now, Terence wishes to spoil him so whilst Dion lays there, simply—
"I said you mustn't think, Dion."
Dion exhales shakily. Guilt rises in him. He is far too much effort by now, is he not? He swallows and averts his gaze.
"Look at me, my prince. Please."
Such earnest words. Dion looks at him and feels the emotion rush up in him at how much tenderness he sees in Terence's expression.
"Is this too much?" Terence asks softly. His hands are still on Dion's waist.
"N-no," Dion says, because it is not, yet how can he say what is on his mind when all he does is ask Terence for more? "This is good. I am simply... I merely..."
"If it is good, then I implore you to not think further," Terence whispers. His hands gently tug at Dion's trousers, pulling at it and the undergarments. Dion lifts his hips, feeling strangely shy despite how often they have lain together, but that intensity is still there in Terence's gaze. "You have much on your mind, and I would have you enjoy yourself instead."
"And it is not..." Dion struggles to find the words, especially when Terence tosses his clothes and palms across his pelvis. So tantalisingly close to where Dion wishes, yet is that not another demand? "A burden?" he finally whispers, uncertain if he has gotten across all of which he wishes to say.
Terence sighs. For a moment, something inside Dion curls up, reprimands him that he is far too selfish for this, to continue seeking reassurance, but Terence simply massages along his skin, closer to his cock. "You will find I enjoy this, my prince. Taking care of you is a pleasure I thought myself never to have in my lifetime."
Dion swallows. How lucky he is. How utterly blessed he is for Terence in his life. "My love..." he whispers.
"In these moments where you can be mine and mine alone..." Terence murmurs, shifting to kneel betwixt his legs. Arms steady Dion's legs on either side of his waist, and he automatically winds them around his knight. "My prince, allow me to be selfish and ask of you to languish in this. I want naught more than to ensure that you are loved."
Dion inhales. His eyes burn with sudden tears. His hands shift to try to reach out for him, but the silk holds him in place. Before he can even speak his mind, however, Terence dips down and swallows him down to the base of his cock.
"A-ah!" Dion barely manages to swallow his cry of surprised pleasure before remembering that Terence wishes to hear it, causing it to come out halting and wrecked instead. Heat suffuses his body. His hips tremble as Terence's palms push them down and keep them there. The warm, wet heat around his cock, the feel of Terence's mouth swallowing around him, and simply knowing it is Terence that brings him this pleasure draws a high moan from his lips.
He struggles against Terence's hold, trying to shift within that delicious heat, but Terence keeps him there. If Dion truly wished to, he could throw Terence off, and Terence would allow him, but that's not at all part of their agreement right now. No, Dion's body is Terence's to pleasure, and all Dion can do is take it.
The fact does not stop him from squirming and gasping underneath his love, however, especially when Terence slowly draws off his cock. A low whimper leaves Dion's lips, his hips involuntarily jerking as he spies the smile Terence gives him, lips wet with saliva, before Terence slowly swallows him back down to the base.
It is almost torture. Terence continues the same, slow pace, driving Dion mad with the pleasure and intensity of it. He tries not to move, to be patient, but his hips twitch and a groan leaves him every time Terence pulls off him, louder than the last, and leaving him wanting for more.
"Nn... ahh..." Dion closes his eyes, head dropping back with another moan and a halted gasp. His wrists twist in their binds. His toes clench and unclench. "Terence..." he whimpers, unable to help how utterly desperate he feels.
"My prince," Terence responds. Not quite a query for what Dion wishes for, but Terence seems to understand without an answer. Coarse fingers press into Dion's pelvis, massaging along his skin towards his groin, and Dion whimpers lowly, back arching into the touch. It is not enough, of course not, but Terence's touch feels like a blessed fire all the same.
Terence takes him into his mouth again, but this time, he lingers at the head. Dion feels his tongue lave over the head of his cock once, twice, both making Dion jerk helplessly with a gasp. Terence’s hand curls around the base of his cock and strokes. His tongue presses into the slit, and Dion comes abruptly with a choked noise, writhing under Terence's strong hold.
Terence sucks at the tip relentlessly, swirls his tongue around it, squeezes and pumps the rest of his cock, making Dion feel it for longer and drawing garbled cries from Dion's lips. Dion thinks he tugs at Terence's hair harshly, unable to control himself as he sobs out his pleasure.
"Terence... Terence...!" He chokes out, unable to decide whether to tell Terence to keep going or to stop, but Terence makes the decision for him.
His knight pulls off, returning casually to massaging his hip bones and keeping a heated gaze over Dion, raking over him with keen interest.
Dion watches the way Terence leans back. His love has a satisfied, wet smile. Dion barely manages to catch the way his own spend drips from the corner of Terence's mouth before Terence's tongue laps it up.
The sight makes Dion groan with helpless arousal. Terence is almost too much. Almost, because Dion cannot get enough of him.
"Are you well, my prince?" Terence's voice is low and ever so attractive.
Dion swallows, feeling his cock twitch already. "Yes. Yes, my love."
Terence smiles, and Dion feels his face flush. Greagor above. His heart swells for this man. This beautiful, perfect man who always is far too good for Dion.
Mayhap Dion frowns during such a train of thought because Terence shifts forward and lays himself bodily atop Dion again. A hand snakes up Dion's wrist, tugging lightly at the silken restraint, whilst another rests atop Dion's chest.
"You should not be thinking, Dion." Terence's voice is soft. Gentle. He knows Dion far too well.
Terence's lips trail along the side of Dion's neck. Slow, deep kisses are pressed against Dion's skin. Dion shudders, tilting his head back. "Forgive me, my love."
"There is naught to forgive," Terence murmurs against his neck. "You've much on your mind, after all." Those lips move to Dion's jawline, and the next words draw a halted moan from Dion's lips. "Mayhap I must exhaust you further instead."
"A-and how exactly," Dion starts, his voice once again breathless, "do you intend to do so?"
Terence simply smiles at him. Dion's heart skips a beat. Despite planning Dion's downfall, Terence is only beautiful to him. Always so beautiful.
"Turn over, my prince."
Ah. Dion's heart thrums under his skin. Mayhap he will feel those coarse fingers far more intimately inside him. He shivers and obeys. It is difficult with his hands restrained as they are, but the next moment sees him on his stomach.
"Here, Dion." Hands curl just under his waist and lifts. Dion gasps as his rear is all but displayed to his love. He feels heat suffuse his face and braces himself on his forearms to steady himself, now on all fours at Terence's mercy.
"Beautiful," Terence murmurs. Those hands leave his waist. One palms at the swell of his right cheek, squeezing it for a moment, and Dion's cock twitches at the attention. He groans and tries to push back onto the touch. Terence chuckles.
"Patience, my love," he murmurs, and Dion cannot help the grumble that leaves his lips at such a command. His cock feels so hard and heavy, hanging betwixt his legs and leaking from the tip. Dion wants more, wants Terence inside him, wants that hand to stroke him to completion, and wring him dry until he's gasping and weeping.
But for a moment, there is naught. Mayhap Terence is simply staring as he idly strokes Dion's flank. Either way, another noise of impatience leaves his mouth.
"Terence..." he says, the name carrying an underlying tone of command, but Terence hushes him. Ordinarily, that response would require disciplinary action but, right now, Terence is the one in charge. Right now, Dion is at his mercy.
And, frankly, Dion would not have it any other way.
Terence's palms massage his rear, one on each side, in a deep circle in tandem. A small noise escapes Dion again, a helpless one, because Terence's touch is a concept he will never tire of. Terence's fingers dig into his flesh, trace along the muscle, and cause Dion to twitch and push back needily against him.
Those fingers are getting very near where he wishes them to be. Indeed, Terence's thumbs trace around the rim of his entrance, pressing teasingly close, almost inside, but then they withdraw and Dion whimpers, bowing his head as he sways back to no avail.
Dion realises Terence has not coated his fingers in oil, however. Does he intend to go in dry? Dion perishes the thought, because Terence is not so crude to do aught so painful, even if Dion wished for him to. Yet those thumbs are once again massaging closer to his hole, fingers pressing into the flesh of his rear, and—
Something wet, warm, and firm licks across his entrance.
Dion stiffens in surprised pleasure. A low gasp leaves him. He shudders, head dropping lower as he tries to gain his bearings.
"Terence," he gasps out, not quite able to gather a sensible string of thought, because Terence is truly going to...
"Is this fine, my prince?" Terence whispers, and Dion cannot help the moan that spills from his lips just feeling the warmth of his breath ghost along his wettened flesh.
"G-Greagor above," Dion chokes out. His cock is so achingly hard. He feels as if he's already on the edge of reaching completion. He does not wish to yet, but the idea of Terence licking into him, tongue writhing inside him... oh, such imagery is more than he expected to have. He is clean, of course. He has always been vigilant about it—both of them have—simply because the nature of their physical intimacy requires caution. So, this... to have Terence do this...
"Yes," Dion all but whimpers out, "yes, please, Terence."
Terence chuckles. When Dion whines feeling the warmth of his laughter, the whine abruptly turns into a choked noise as Terence's tongue traces around his rim, causing Dion to clench automatically.
"Terence," Dion groans, not quite caring now how utterly wrecked he sounds. His cock twitches. He feels as if he's going to spend from simply the sensation of his lover breaching him so intimately. "Terence," he whispers, because his need heightens, because now that Terence has proposed such an idea, he wants it. He wants all that Terence has to offer. Always. Always.
That tongue presses into him. Dion whimpers again. When he tries to push his hips back, Terence holds him still, and punishes him by withdrawing his tongue and giving a few, slow, teasing laves of his tongue over Dion's entrance.
It is enough to drive Dion insane. Indeed, he's fairly certain more noise than he realises spills from his lips the longer Terence draws this out. He needs his love. He needs him so badly.
"Please, nngh—!" Incoherency approaches fast as Terence's tongue pushes into him again. It's not long enough to reach deep within him, but Dion feels so sensitive to Terence that each swipe and movement of his tongue makes him squirm. "Please, please, Terence...!" Another press of his tongue. Deeper now, exploring. He can feel it gently stretching him, gently wetting him.
Then Terence's lips meet his rim, and Dion knows Terence's has gone as far as he can for now.
"Ah, please, Terence...!" Dion is not quite sure what he wishes for anymore, only that he needs Terence to continue. He wants him so badly that a sob leaves his lips from the desperation of it all. His entrance clenches around the warmth of his tongue and he shudders out another gasp, another moan. "Nngh, ah...!" Terence's tongue presses deeper and swirls around. Those thumbs massage into the flesh of his rear and Dion chokes out another sob. He squeezes his eyes shut, forehead now pressing against the bed.
Then one thumb withdraws. A coarse hand curls around his cock. Strokes once, twice, then Dion spills with a loud cry. "T-Teren—Terence!" Dion whimpers out, trembling as his hips jerk and twitch. He curls up slightly and sees his cock spending, his fluids landing atop the blankets in a mess.
And, oh, Terence does not stop. He dives back in again. His tongue presses in deep, licking and squirming and swirling. Then shifts up and a finger enters Dion, pressing even deeper, curling at just the right angle.
"Ah! Please—p-please!" The words are a mere blabber, incoherent and just as ruined as he feels. His cock spurts out, his orgasm prolonged, and he sobs and writhes as that finger finds that sweet bundle of nerves in him and massages there.
"Terence, Terence...!" Dion cries out, his chest all but pressed to the bed now as he curls into himself and writhes as if to get away, but Terence loops a strong arm around his thigh and hauls him back and keeps prodding his finger against that spot that makes Dion convulse and gasp and shout his overwhelming pleasure, unable to get away, unable to do aught but take it.
He thinks he shudders through another orgasm. Mayhap a dry one, because he's collapsed on his side and arching his back. His mouth gapes open as another choked moan leaves him. "Please... Terence…!" he thinks he cries out, scrabbling at the sheets as much as he can, and is only reminded of the silken strand that ties his wrists together, making his halted movements further limited.
Terence presses another finger in with the first. Is there oil coating his hand now? When did he get it? Such a question blurs with the pleasure, the overwhelming stimulation, as those fingers press insistently against his sweet spot, over and over and over again until his eyes roll back in his head and he's writhing near-violently, shaking and spasming enough with each movement that his strength would throw off most men.
But not Terence. No, Dion thinks he glimpses the ravenous look upon his love's face at one point through the tears. The intensity of his gaze, the relentless hold on his body—near vice—, makes Dion seize and dig his nails into the blankets, unable to find purchase as he cries out his pleasure.
"T-too much, my love—!" Dion whimpers out, uncertain if he is even coherent, but Terence's fingers withdraw. The emptiness makes Dion shiver and curl into himself slightly. The moment he feels Terence's hand stroke his thigh reassuringly, however, Dion turns over. He reaches out, eyes squinting blearily, and tries to tug his love down next to him.
His wrists are still tied together. Dion sobs again, tears tracking down his cheeks, and Terence immediately undoes the knot. He gently pries the cloth away, but by then Dion’s all but collapsed on his side. Thankfully, Terence understands him as he always does, and shifts to lay down next to him.
Dion focuses his gaze. Terence gives him a sweet, earnest smile, wholly contradictory to the relentless way he pleasured Dion. "Forgive me, my prince," Terence murmurs, looking guilty.
"Whatever for?" Dion whispers. He curls an arm around Terence's neck and pulls him close. Their lips press together, and Dion takes a moment to kiss him leisurely, fingers threading up the back of Terence's head. Terence groans into his mouth. His body settles atop Dion's own, the arousal pressed clearly against Dion's hip.
"Terence..." Dion moans against his lips. The feel of his love, engorged as he is now, makes Dion's hips buck, attempting to seek more of what Terence has to offer him. Greedy, his mind is, yet Dion feels the raw emptiness in his entrance, begging for but a moment to calm down further.
Dion does not wish to give it.
"Please," he tries to say, but Terence kisses him deeply, then again and again until Dion is dizzy with his taste and drunk on his attention. He does not realise Terence has pulled back to look at him until he manages to focus, mouth agape as he pants heavily.
Warmth trickles down the corners of his mouth. Saliva, mayhap? Before Dion can begin to feel embarrassed, Terence cups his cheek and the look in his eyes is ever so tender, enough to bring a flush of heat up Dion's neck.
"You are so beautiful, my prince," Terence whispers. Dion opens his mouth to return the compliment, one he feels Terence wholly deserves far more, but Terence hushes him. Without thinking much of it, he stays silent, and Terence smiles softly at him, pleasure in his gaze. "Such a good prince, as well."
The words bring a jolt of arousal to Dion's core. He feels dizzy again, but more so out of sheer joy that Terence refers to him with such pride.
"Yes," he whispers, and Terence kisses him again.
Vaguely, Dion feels him moving to the side of his waist. He cannot quite string a thought together towards what that may mean, because Terence dominates his mouth so casually with just as much tender strength as he does when he manoeuvres Dion's legs and tilts Dion's hips away.
Dion feels the heat of Terence's cock press against his lower back, twisted as he is now to desperately keep the heat of Terence tongue in his mouth. The idea that the same wet muscle had pressed into his entrance... the thought should put him off, but he can only lean into it, groaning appreciatively when a coarse hand grips the flesh of his rear and squeezes.
"Please," he tries to say again. Terence kisses him a moment longer then withdraws. Dion whines, unable to help it, but Terence hushes him gently again.
"Close your eyes, my prince," Terence murmurs. "Relax. Allow me to take care of you."
Dion wants to take care of him too, but that thought is pushed to the back of his mind as soon as that familiar cock finally breaches his entrance.
"Ahh..." Dion's eyes flutter and his upper torso sinks down. Terence shifts behind him, pressing in so deep and so wonderfully that Dion tries to rock back against him, but Terence’s hand keeps him in place.
His mouth falls open. Terence feels so hot inside, so big. His hole clenches around him. Even though Dion feels as if he has been fucked open by his love's fingers and tongue, Terence’s cock all but stretches him deliciously further.
Dions head drops to the blanket with a whimper, wishing to kiss his love again. Before he can voice such a demand, the same hand on his hip shifts to grip the underside of his thigh and lift.
"Nngh—a-ah...!" Greagor above. Dion chokes out a moan, a sob, as the movement allows Terence to press even deeper inside him. That sweet spot inside him is being nudged. Not as hard as before, but simply the thought of Terence inside him, claiming him so thoroughly, so deeply, has another whine escaping him. He tries pushing his hips back and is blessed with feeling Terence’s own hips flush against his rear.
"Oh... m-my love," Dion gasps out. He hears Terence suck in a sharp breath. Dion tries to string together another sentence to begin praising him, but those hips buck against him, rough and sudden, and the motion all but punches out a cry from Dion. "Gh—! T-Terence!" comes the garbled moan. So undone he is that he can only clutch at the sheets as Terence does it again and again and again, pushing out a loud 'ah' from Dions lips each time.
He thinks he hears short, gasped groans from Terence each time, but his attention is yanked from his lover the moment fingers wrap around his cock and roughly jerk him off in time with the short and sharp thrusts.
Dion's mouth gapes open, eyes wide as his climax comes frighteningly fast. " Aahh—haah–!" His back arches; he writhes and squirms in Terence's unrelenting hold, trapped betwixt his hand and his cock.
Dion cums with a shout, entire body tensing up as he shakes and trembles and moans through his release. His hand claws at Terence's waist, trying to grip him, trying to feel him, but then that cock is pushing into Dion again, pulling out all the way, then fucking into him all the way.
The obscene sound of Terence's balls smacking against his skin has Dion convulsing again at the thought, vision too blurred with pleasure and overstimulation to do naught but cry and whine and whimper with each powerful thrust Terence gives him.
His hips jerk forward, but only from the force of Terence’s hips as they slam against his rear, again and again until Dion feels himself seizing, unable to control himself as he screams out another climax, vision whiting out as he shakes under Terence.
His love doesn't stop. He keeps going. Dion thinks he does, before he does not quite remember passing out. No, the next thing he's aware of is that hardness pumping into him leisurely and Terence's body is pressed against his own, chest to Dion's back, and all but spooning him as he rocks his cock into Dion's hole.
It's painful, but it's so good at the same time. Dion almost doesn't catch how his moans continue to involuntarily leave his lips even now. 'Ahh's and 'nngh's spilling shamelessly for his love, exhausted in nature, but ever so needy, always so desperate and wanting for Terence to give him his all.
"Terence," he thinks he mumbles, but his vision blurs again, unable to focus as Terence presses into him, making his hips jerk and his legs shake.
"Rest, my prince," Terence whispers, voice husky and low and perfect. Arousal from simply that makes his groin throb, but he does as his love commands. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift as Terence leisurely thrusts into him.
His mind wanders. Those coarse hands trace up his side and down again. A squeeze at his rear. The slickness of Terence’s cock fucking into him slowly.
"So beautiful, my prince," Terence murmurs. Lips press at the skin just behind Dion's ear. He thinks he moans in response. He's not certain anymore. He only knows that his body throbs pleasantly with his love inside him.
That touch caresses along his torso now. Fingers pinch at his nipples, thumbing over them, then they slide down to his cock and gently massage his balls. "And ever so perfect..."
If Dion had any presence of mind, he would be flushing. As it is, he can only take the compliments as much as he's taking Terence's cock.
Terence, he thinks, has always been so kind to him, so loyal. So loving and sweet and...
His mind slips. The haze over his consciousness descends and lifts. He's on his back now, Terence nestled betwixt his legs, his own thighs over Terence's shoulders, and garbled moans are being drawn from his lips as he wakes.
Pleasure courses through him, gentle and overwhelming and hot all at once. The drowsiness suppresses his embarrassment, his need for composure, and he's whining louder, noises utterly wrecked as he reaches his completion in Terence's mouth. His hips jerk weakly up into that heat, and he scrambles at the sheets, attempting to find some sense of stability as Terence once more brings him to the edge.
"Ahh... haah, Tere..." The noises that spill from his lips are faint to his own ears, and weak and drowsy in nature. He's certain he's talking, but his mind is all but lost with this round of bliss as he writhes under Terence's ministrations. Or tries to. Terence's hands are hot and firm atop either side of his pelvis, holding him down.
He is a mere puddle when Terence finally pulls off him. A mumble escapes him, a request for Terence to lay with him, but Dion's mind drifts once more.
More time passes. He remembers limply being gathered into Terence's arms, pliant and malleable for him to rearrange.
"M'love..." Dion tries to say. When Terence's face comes back into his vision, he smiles adoringly. How gorgeous his love is. How utterly generous, too, to take care of Dion so thoroughly and so sweetly. He is not certain how to repay Terence. Indeed, he's certain he cannot. Not in this lifetime, that is.
Before the thought can drag him to a different abyss, Terence leans in to kiss him. Dion tries to reciprocate, but as exhausted as he is, Terence kisses lax lips.
Terence chuckles, and his tone is fond as he says, "rest, my prince. I will take care of you."
Dion's heart flutters. Truly, he wishes to be more than he is now for Terence...
A warmth sweeps across his tender rear. A careful touch with a soft cloth. Terence must be cleaning him now.
A throb of guilt rises in him, but the exhaustion quickly overtakes such emotion. He fixates on Terence's movements. He can see his love shifting on the edge of his vision, carefully lifting Dion's leg as he meticulously cleans him.
He is safe with Terence. He always has been.
Eyes flutter shut despite his wish to pay more attention to his love, and slumber swiftly takes him.