The Dragon Princess and her Unwilling Knight
PAIRING: knight!xaden x tauriprincess!oc
WARNINGS: an excerpt from my long fic that stands alone. xaden tells oc to ride his face to boost her confidence. xaden ejaculates pre maturely. oc turns confident and takes over!
A fingertip touches the hollow of my ankle through the sheet.
It stays there until I know this is no dream. Then it climbs slowly along the outside of my calf, pulling the linen higher.
Steam from the bathing room beads at my lip and leaves my shins damp and cool beneath the sheet. I smell lavender first, the same soap Xaden used before dinner, less sweet on him than in the porcelain dish.
I open my eyes. Damp has darkened the bedpost nearest the bathing room, and one drop runs down the carved wood.
"We fly for Basgiath in an hour."
I point my toes under the linen. The sheet pulls tight over my shin beneath his fingertip; he waits out the stretch, then goes slowly on toward my knee.
"What I am hearing is you have stolen half an hour of sleep from me," I say, and sit up.
His fingertip leaves my calf.
The sheet slips to my waist. Xaden watches it go. Morning light seeps through the high glass and the steam; by the time it reaches my breasts, there is no warmth in it. My nipples draw tight, and his eyes stop there.
He wears only a towel, knotted low at his hips. Water runs from his ribs down over the ridges of his stomach and gathers in the dark hair below his navel. The damp cloth pulls taut as he hardens under it.
He sets one knee on the mattress.
"Are you complaining about sleep?" he asks.
He shakes his wet hair like some ill-trained kennel hound; water spatters across my mouth and breasts, and one drop runs from my brow into my eye. It stings under my lid.
"You—" I wipe it with my wrist, and the scold comes out laughing.
Xaden's mouth crooks unfairly. I want to kiss the arrogance from that corner, then kiss it back into place.
I brace the flat of my foot against his stomach and shove. Xaden does not move. Linen slips under me instead, and I slide toward the pillows.
He catches my ankle and draws me back, the sheet wrinkling beneath me until my thigh touches the towel at his waist.
My wrist is still at my eye when my laughter stops.
"If you want your precious sleep that badly," he says, "I could stop."
Water falls from the ends of his hair while he waits for my answer. One drop lands on his thigh; another touches mine and runs cold down the inside of my thigh.
He lifts my foot to his mouth, and my toes curl against his shoulder as he kisses my instep.
"What I promised you last night," he says against my skin, turning my foot in his hand. His mouth follows the inside of my calf.
My wrist falls from my eye, and I take a fistful of the sheet.
His free hand skims my other knee and follows the slow work of his lips. The last kiss is still in my skin when he gives me the next, and I have no clever answer for a man so sure with his hands and mouth. At the bend of my knee, his eyes lift to mine.
"Do you want me to stop, Ayla?"
I am afraid of Basgiath. I have been since he woke me. I suspect Xaden knows. His eyes never leave mine as he kisses higher. The tip of his nose brushes the inside of my thigh, and I want him more than I can keep being afraid.
I part my thighs and shake my head.
He lowers his mouth until his breath warms my clit. My hips lift to meet him; he does not close the distance.
"Your mouth." My chest rises too quickly, and my next breath is smaller. "I need your mouth."
Xaden slides both hands under my thighs. As he lies back, he draws me higher over him until my knees press hollows into the featherbed on either side of his shoulders.
"If you need my mouth that badly," he says, "take it. Ride my face."
For a moment, I know enough to blush at his words, and not enough to move.
His hands spread over my thighs, holding me open above him.
"Basgiath can have their rider later. Right now, you ride my mouth. Show me."
His tongue parts me where I am wet and drags up to my clit in one slow stroke; my hips follow it, rolling down onto his mouth.
At first I am absurdly careful, trying not to smother a man who has survived dragons. I give him so little of myself that he lifts his head to keep his mouth on me.
He lays his tongue flat against my clit and holds it there while I skim over him once, twice. Pleasure gathers low in me; my thighs slacken, and I sink onto his mouth.
He groans against my pussy, and the sound hums through my clit. "Fuck, Ayla."
His mouth closes over me and sucks until my thighs jerk against his cheeks; then he flattens his tongue beneath me again, broad enough for me to ride.
I ride his mouth in shallow rolls, lifting off whenever my thighs start to shake. His hands slide up my ribs, and his fingers close on my nipples and pinch. I drop back onto his tongue.
His name comes out of me once, then again, and after that I do not lift away. I grind down over his open mouth, slick with his spit and me, until my head tips back and my hands reach behind me for his stomach.
The muscle draws tight under my palms, and I drive myself down until my thighs close hard against his head and my vision whites at the edges.
Ayla tastes so fucking good my cock jerks under the towel, precome already tacky in the cloth.
I'm going to come from this. From eating her out like some fucking first-year who's never had a woman on his face.
Ayla gasps my name, high at the start and wrecked by the end. It hits my cock harder than my ears.
I suck her clit meaner, then flatten my tongue again. I fucking love the way she takes control when I give her something to use.
She runs down my chin, and I follow her with my tongue until I have all of her back in my mouth.
Come for me, princess. Come on my tongue before I come in this fucking towel.
I get both hands on her ass and hold her where I want her. Her swollen clit beats under my tongue, and every pulse wrings another from me.
It's already happening. My balls draw tight, and the first hot spill soaks into the towel.
"Ayla." I groan it into her cunt, hips jerking, and come untouched. Best fucking orgasm of my life, and I spend it with her clit still on my tongue.
When her legs start to shake, I stop alternating. I seal my lips around her and suck until she comes over my mouth and down my chin, until the sheet beneath my head is wet with her.
My hands fly to the carved rail of the headboard. I hold on while my cunt clenches on nothing, again and again, each weaker than the last, until the last of it works out of me against his mouth.
At last I lose the rail and roll off him onto my side. It takes several breaths before one reaches the bottom of my lungs.
Xaden turns his face into the pillow, one ear rubbed red where my thigh had held him, and looks at me without the arrogance I expect. For once, he looks as ruined as I feel.
Xaden pushes up onto his forearms and looks down at the towel at his hips, then back at me.
"You made me come in a towel, and you're worried about my ear?"
"Just my pride, princess."
He hooks two fingers into the knot at his hip and pulls it loose. The towel slackens across his lap, the inner fold damp and smeared.
I look too long at the towel before I make myself look at his face.
"You came? But Xaden—I did not—“
His thumb strokes once up the inside of my thigh.
"Does that happen often?"
His eyes lift back to mine. "That one's all you."
I had been clumsy, afraid of doing it wrong, and Xaden Riorson had still wanted me badly enough to spend himself into a towel without my hand ever touching him.
I lift my chin, bare as I am, and give him a proud grin. His eyes narrow at it.
"Then perhaps you should worry about what happens when I do touch you."
"Gods help me," he says. "I came in a fucking towel, Ayla. You get smug about it." His eyes drop to my mouth. "And now I want that smart mouth around my cock."
I answer him by taking his cock into my mouth. I lick at the come and salt on him, but he swells beneath my tongue before the taste is gone.
"Yes, fuck. That's it. Use that mouth.”
His hand fists in the hair at my nape and pulls it tight at the roots.
Then, his hips buck into my mouth. My tongue works beneath the head of his cock, and the curse in his throat breaks into my name.
I take him deeper until spit gathers at the corner of my mouth. His free hand drops to the bed; the coverlet crumples under his knuckles, and the muscles low in his stomach jump.
He is the first man I have ever had on my tongue, but even I know his cock should not be pulsing against it this soon. Not a second time. I keep him in my mouth through every jerk and swallow the hot spill as it comes. I lift my head only when the last shudder has gone out of him. The smile I give him is worse than the last.
Xaden barely tips his head and laughs once with too little breath for it. I want the sound again before he takes his next breath, and the greed in that startles me.
"You're going to be the death of me," he says.
I remember Basgiath after his laugh: bitter mountain air, the leathers folded over the chair, and corridors I will have to walk for years, if I live long enough to walk them.
I kiss him before he can make death into a joke. His mouth is warm; the bed is under my knees, and the room comes back in pieces.
