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Lucían climbs out of the tub somewhat reluctantly and dries off. The day was good, but also long, and he’s really looking forward to climbing into bed, curling up around Glory, and not moving for a good ten hours. Sure, it might be early in the evening but he knows within the month, possibly within the week, they’ll be heading out to recover the grimoire. That means at least a week’s hard ride through the mountains, which will leave much less time for cuddling, so might as well make up for it now, right? That’s his plan for the evening up until he opens the bathroom door to find Glory kneeling on a cloth spread over their bed, naked except for the collar with his necklace, her white-blond hair unbound and curling around her shoulders. The Knife has re-shaved the sides of her head, he notices immediately, and he freezes, unable to stop looking at her. “Hey,” he manages, which is mostly a word.
“Hey,” Glory says with a slow smile, tilting her head to send her hair falling over one shoulder, whispering against her bare skin. “Come here.” He practically trips over himself to obey, kneeling on the mattress between her spread legs in a great rush. She’s taller than him, even like this, and she cradles his face in her large, strong hands as she drops her mouth to his. The kiss is slow and sweet, like honey from a pot, and Glory takes her time with it, doesn’t lean away until Lucían’s fully relaxed and pliant under her, his hands settled on her waist.
“My sweet Lucían,” she murmurs against his lips, “would you like me to force you tonight?”
“Yes, She-Wolf,” he breathes, fingertips flexing against her skin, but instead of pulling his hair or shoving him to his back or anything else he’s half-expecting, she brushes her thumb over his cheekbone and says, “Can you look at me, love?” When he blinks his eyes open the face looking back down at him is still Glory’s, not the She-Wolf’s, and he frowns a little bit.
She catches it, of course, the corner of her mouth quirking up, her green eyes soft and dark. “I’m not going to be the She-Wolf tonight,” she tells him, one hand sliding into his hair to cradle his skull while she traces his face with the fingers of the other, her touch feather-light as she runs it over his eyebrows, down the bridge of his nose, over his lips. “Tonight I’m not going to hurt you, because I have other things in mind, and I want you to be present when I ask you if you’re enjoying yourself. I want you to be able to answer me honestly. I’m still going to be in control, but I’ll stop whenever you need me to stop.” Her thumb slides into his mouth, far enough that he can barely nip at it, and his reward is a smile where she bites her lower lip. “You can still call me the She-Wolf if that makes this easier for you, though. Does that sound good?”
“Yes, Glory,” Lucían says against her thumb. A shiver runs down his spine as he speaks, and that’s interesting to know, that it works just as well to have Glory do this as it does for the She-Wolf to do it. His body is already responding, his mind going fuzzy around the edges as he submits to her will. Glory leaves her hand in his hair and skates her other hand down the planes of his body, tracing the muscles he’s developed over the last several months so lightly it almost tickles. She kisses him again as she circles her fingers loosely around his cock and Lucían shudders and moans into her mouth, his fingers digging into the soft curve of her hips. Her grip is loose enough that there’s barely any friction, and he can’t stop himself from rutting against her uselessly. Glory tightens her hand in his hair to hold his head still and kisses her way across his jaw to his ear.
“You don’t get to come until I tell you,” she says, voice low, lips close enough to brush his skin when they move. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Glory,” he whispers, hips still working against her hand in little jerks. The rhythm stutters and fails when he feels her teeth on his neck, and Lucían tries to pull her closer and can’t, it’s like trying to move an oak.
“Shh,” she says when he whines and squirms against her hold on his hair. “It’s not time for that yet.” What it is time for she doesn’t say, but he figures it out when she spends the next eternity with her mouth on his neck, biting, licking, and kissing every square inch of the sensitive skin there until he’s moaning on every exhale and leaking over her hand. When he does brush against her fingers his cock slides easily, but it’s still a horrible tease, just enough contact to send jolts of pleasure up his spine but not enough to get him even close to coming. He whimpers when she finally takes her hand away, achingly hard, and she swallows the sound with another kiss. Glory twists them as they kiss, tucking her free hand behind his back and carefully pulling him down on top of her so he ends up between her spread legs. She rolls her pussy against his cock in a hot, wet slide, and Lucían has to break off their kiss because of the sound he makes.
“Make me come, Lucían,” she orders, and he shoves himself up on one forearm, sliding his other hand down her body so he can dip his fingers into the slickness at her cunt and circle her clit with them. It’s awkward with his own body in the way, so he climbs over her leg to the side, which has the added bonus of allowing his mouth better access to her neck. The collar with his necklace gets in his way a little, and he shoves his tongue under the leather so he can lick at her pulse point, drinks in her shudder like water in the desert before he mouths his way down to her breasts. He pulls one nipple into his mouth while his fingers work her over, worships her with lips and tongue as she twines her fingers into her hair and ruts up against his hand. “Yes, fuck, that’s good,” Glory hisses, jerking her hips up hard as he works his fingers around her swollen clit. “Just like that, I’m close, your hands are so good—” Her words cut off into an inarticulate groan when he scrapes his teeth against her nipple, and he can feel her thighs trembling, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Lucían speeds up his hand, presses a little harder, and when she stops breathing he lifts his head from her breasts so he can watch the moment when her orgasm breaks across her face. It’s the most beautiful agony, her brow creased and her eyes squeezed shut. She doesn’t bother to muffle her cries as she shudders and loses herself under his hand, her back arched up off the bed and her hands tightening in his hair involuntarily. When she drops back to the mattress, boneless and panting, he slows his hand and presses openmouthed, lazy kisses to her collarbone and the valley between her breasts, tongue flicking out to taste the salt-rosemary of her skin.
“Good boy,” she purrs, carding the fingers of one hand through his hair while she trails the other up and down his spine. Lucían shivers, hiding his head against her skin, his blush a reflexive response to her praise that he can’t fucking train himself out of and isn’t entirely sure that he wants to. “You’re so good at making me come, Lucían, and I know you love it, don’t you?” Glory tugs on his hair until he has to look up and meet her eyes, the green half-hidden behind the low sweep of her lashes.
“Yes, Glory,” he answers and grinds against her hip, not entirely on purpose.
“Since you’re so good at it,” she says, drawing her hand slowly up his back, along his neck, watching him shiver and squirm under her touch, “and you like it so much, I think I’m going to give you a little gift.” Her finger traces over his lips, leaving them tingling, the gentle touch somehow working straight to his cock so he can’t help but grind against her again. “You get to make me come again, Lucían, using this lovely, talented mouth of yours. Would you like that?”
“Yes, Glory,” he says against her fingertips, and she grins and presses her first two fingers into his mouth up to her knuckles. Fuck, he doesn’t know why that shoots lighting up and down his spine, why it makes him tremble and ache and his cock leak against her skin, but it does and he’s not questioning it now. Lucían sucks on her fingers, explores them with his tongue while his hips keep moving against her, and it’s all so good and he’s so wound up and sensitive that he has to yank himself away with a gasp before he comes too early and ruins Glory’s plans.
“Too excited at the thought of pleasing me, my sweet boy?” Glory asks him, smirking as she traces her wet fingers down his chin. He nods, breathing deeply, and then almost loses his control again when she circles his nipple, fingertips dragging wet and hot against it. The sound he makes is incoherent and needy and it makes Glory chuckle, dark and rich. “I’d best let you get to it, then,” she says, taking her hands away and propping herself up on her elbows. She looks absolutely spectacular, cheeks flushed pink, eyes lazy and wanting, all of it framed by her white-gold hair hanging loose and rumpled around her muscular shoulders. Lucían can’t believe his luck. Every day that he wakes up next to this woman is a gift.
“Can we—” he starts, worrying his lower lip with his teeth briefly because he’s not sure how much say he gets in these proceedings “—can you sit on the edge of the bed?” She nods and Lucían crawls backwards away from her until he can slide off the edge of the mattress and kneel on the floor.
“Do you want a pillow for your knees?” Glory asks as she settles herself, thighs on either side of his shoulders, and Lucían shakes his head. Long evenings spent in prayer have conditioned his legs for kneeling, and he wants the burn of it. He likes it to hurt a bit when he’s in front of Glory, even if he can’t quite admit that part out loud. He wraps one arm around her thigh, tucking his shoulder under it, and licks a slow swipe up her pussy, pushing his tongue as deep into her as he can before he brings it up to circle her clit. Her hissed exhale of breath sounds like music, and Lucían smiles against her, makes love to her clit with lips and tongue for a long moment, before he pulls away and presses a kiss to her inner thigh.
“Could you, um, I know you said you weren’t going to hurt me,” he starts, looking up at her through his eyelashes, acutely aware of his blush, “but could you pull my hair?” Glory grins, biting her lower lip, and cards the fingers of one hand into his hair. She tightens it into a fist and tugs, just on the edge of pain, and Lucían shivers as the sensation rolls over his body, half-closes his eyes, and exhales a little whine. “Perfect,” he thinks, possibly says out loud, and presses his mouth back against Glory, rolls his tongue around her clit while he brings up his free hand to tease his fingers at her entrance. He slides a finger in, barely up to the first knuckle, and moves it in slow circles in time with his mouth. He keeps going like that while Glory shudders above him until she finally yanks on his hair and grinds her cunt against his face, the snap of her hips working his finger into her perhaps another inch.
“Fuck me,” she hisses, hips working against his mouth in sharp little jerks, “don’t just tease me.” Lucían pushes two fingers into her, as far as they’ll go, and curls them up the way he knows she likes. He doesn’t bother actually moving them, because now she’s fucking herself on them, holding his head in place and using him as a prop while she seeks her second orgasm with hot hard grinds against his tongue and fingers. He loves this, loves to be used like this, loves getting to hear and see and smell and feel Glory as she comes on and around him. Lucían works a third finger into her, sucking on her clit until the movements of her hips start to stutter erratically. He takes over then, fucking her hard and fast with his fingers until she finally shatters again, cunt clenching around him as she comes against his mouth. He keeps going, drawing out her pleasure through the aftershocks until Glory finally pulls him off. Her wetness coats his face, drips from his fingers where they’re still inside her heat, and he leans the side of his head against her thigh, trying to catch his breath along with her. His knees hurt and his cock aches and he’ll stay like this, submit to her forever if that’s what she asks of him.
“You’re such a good boy, Lucían,” Glory says, tugging him up off his heels so she can curl down over him and attack his mouth, heedless of the mess she’s left on his lips. His tongue moves clumsily against hers and his jaw complains at the continued strain but it’s good, it’s so good he can feel it jolting through his cock. Lucían feels himself leaking again and he shudders when she pulls away. She sits back up, using her free hand to take him by the wrist and pull his soaked fingers out of her pussy. Her green eyes narrow speculatively at the slick she’s left on his hand, and she makes eye contact with him again when she releases his wrist. “Touch yourself,” she orders. “I want to watch.” Lucían hisses a little when she takes her hand out of his hair and has to remove his arm from around her thigh as she shifts to lounge on her side. She props her head up on one fist, green eyes heavy on him, completely unselfconscious about her debauched nudity. He wraps his wet hand around his cock and can’t stop himself from making a broken little sound as his eyes slide shut. “No, Lucían,” she corrects, reaching out to tuck a finger under his chin. “Eyes open and look at me while you do it.” Her hand stays there while he forces his eyes back open, and when he finally meets her gaze she takes it away and settles on the bed.
It is indescribably difficult to look at Glory while he strokes himself, because it’s strange (humiliating? exciting? painfully arousing?) enough to be doing this in her presence. Watching her watch him touch himself takes the whole thing to another level, and Lucían’s not entirely sure how he feels about it from the ears-up but his cock signals its intense approval by shooting pleasure up his spine. The sensations are overwhelming, and his cock is burning hot against his palm, leaking over his hand to mix with Glory’s wetness. It takes barely a handful of strokes before his thighs tremble, his groin tightening up in readiness.
“Does that feel good, Lucían?” Glory asks him, her gaze hot and hungry, flicking between his face and where his hand is moving on his dick.
“Yes, Glory,” he manages, hips jerking into his shaking hand. Her lips curve up in a slow smile.
“Are you imagining that you’re fucking me right now?”
Lucían nods desperately, braces his free hand against the floor as he fucks into the ring of his fist. He knows he should answer with actual words, but that ability has deserted him and every time he opens his mouth he makes sounds he doesn’t fully recognize. He’s going to come, he’s so close, maybe he’s been good enough—
“Stop.” Glory’s order bypasses his conscious mind and cuts straight to the part of him that obeys, and he drops his cock and exhales a long, broken moan. Lucían’s heart pounds like he was sprinting, he’s so close to coming he feels like if he thinks too hard about it it’ll tip him over the edge. Glory looks pleased with him, though, and that’s what he wants, it’s what he always wants. He can live with this deprivation if she asks it of him. He’s a monk, he’s used to deprivation.
“You did very well, Lucían. Do you want to fuck me?” Glory asks, interrupting that train of thought, and Lucían blurts, “Please,” urgently, like she might change her mind if he doesn’t answer quickly enough. It makes her grin, and she shifts further back onto the bed and beckons him to follow. This is when he discovers that he’s been kneeling perhaps a bit too long, and Lucían hisses as blood flows back into his lower legs. He crawls awkwardly onto the bed, chasing her to the center, and she pulls him into a long, hot kiss.
“This is how it’s going to go, Lucían,” Glory tells him, reaching down between them to lazily stroke his cock and drink in his shudders. “You’re going to fuck me from behind and make me come again. At no point are you going to come yourself. After you make me come this third time, we’ll see about giving you your reward. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Glory,” he whines, panting against her mouth, nipping at her lower lip. He feels her mouth curl up in a smile and she gives his cock a squeeze before she drops it.
“You’re such a good boy,” she tells him as she turns over onto all fours and drops to her elbows. “Now give me your cock.”
This, Lucían realizes, is the first time Glory’s had him fuck her in this position. The view is, not to put too fine a point on it, spectacular. He settles himself behind her, sets one hand one her hip and runs the other along her spine, up to where the tattoo sits under her shoulder blades, mesmerized by the curve of her ass and the muscles working under her pale skin. Fuck, she’s beautiful, and like she can hear his thoughts she turns her head to glance over her shoulder at him, white-blond hair tumbling around her face. “Like what you see?” she teases, wiggling her hips at him, and Lucían blushes at being caught staring.
“Always,” he admits, dragging his fingernails back down her back so he can use that hand to guide his cock inside her. She’s always so tight it feels like he won’t fit at first, and then he slips into her wet heat and he doesn’t stop until he’s hilted in her, hips flush against her ass. Glory sighs happily, almost a moan, and rocks back against him a little. It’s deeper like this, fuck, and Lucían takes a deep breath and tries to find his self control. She’s given him an order, and he’s going to obey it because that’s what he’s here for, to serve her. Lucían leans forward, working one hand around her hip and between her legs, and finds her clit with his fingers by feel alone. She makes a little “ah!” sound and clenches around him, so he keeps his hand where it is and rolls his hips against her slowly. His cock slides in and out of her easily, she’s so wet, and Lucían shudders hard and bites his lower lip as he starts to fuck her, moving his fingers in time with his thrusts. It’s torture, it’s the best thing he’s ever felt, and he thinks he’s going to die.
Lucían blasphemously thanks the Lord that Glory’s orgasms tend to happen faster the more of them she has, because as it is he has to desperately hold on with his fingernails to avoid spilling into her before he gets permission. She moans into the mattress under him, her arms limply crossed under her head. “Fuck,” she whines, and then hisses something in Norka, and then arches her back to change the angle with a, “keep going, more, yes Lucían.” He can feel the shaking of her thighs and the clenching of her cunt around him that means she’s close, so he speeds up, keeps his cock moving fast and hard in shallow thrusts that keep him almost entirely inside her heat. It’s what she likes, he knows it, but it’s also incredibly good for him and he clenches his teeth, whole body shaking with the effort of holding himself back from coming. Glory stops breathing, and it takes a handful of hard strokes, his hips snapping against her ass audibly, for her to fall over the edge, spasming around his cock as she cries out into the bed. It’s very nearly too much, and Lucían has to yank his dick out of her and replace it with three of his fingers to keep his orgasm at bay. His own breathing is ragged and audible, his thighs trembling as she fucks herself back on his hand until her legs stop working and she sprawls, panting, on the sheets. Lucían’s fingers are soaked again, and when he looks around for something to clean them with he finds a tray with a few cloths and a little pitcher of oil on the table next to the bed. The oil is intriguing, and he struggles not to think too hard about it as he wipes off his hands and face. Glory’s still face-down on the bed, content and languid, so he curls up half on top of her, carding his fingers through her hair and pressing soft kisses to the tattoo on her back, up her spine to the nape of her neck. She shivers and hmms a pleased sound, turning her head to the side so he can skate his fingers over the shaved parts of her scalp.
“You didn’t let me come on your cock,” she says, words very slightly slurred, like she’s sex drunk. She doesn’t sound angry, or even particularly disappointed, but Lucían freezes anyway, dread dripping ice down his spine. He’d tried to be good, he had, was he still going to get his reward?
“I’m sorry,” his apology starts, he’s ready to beg, ready to do anything, but she cuts him off with, “Were you going to come? Were you being a good boy and obeying me?”
“Yes, Glory.” He presses his forehead to her shoulder in supplication, blushing furiously. “It was too good, I couldn’t otherwise, I had to, please, I’m sorry—” Glory cuts him off this time by rolling over, pulling him in for a kiss, and swallowing his words with her mouth. His cock is still hard and wet with her fluids and it slides along the crease between her hip and stomach, startling a moan out of him. Lucían tries to hold himself still but Glory drops a hand to his ass and pins him there as she rolls her hips. He ruts on her desperately, not sure if this is his reward but not able to stop.
“Do you want to come, Lucían?” she asks, tucking his face into the crook of her neck as his hips work.
“Please,” he moans against her skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every inch of her he can reach. Maybe this is his reward, and she’s going to let him come against her like this, because he’s so close now, his whole body shuddering as little bursts of pleasure go off up and down his spine—
“Stop.” This time Lucían exhales a sob when he stills his movements, it fucking hurts to hold off like this, his cock is throbbing in time with his heartbeat and he wants to come so bad he can practically taste it. Why does he fucking do this when it would be so easy to keep going?
“Good boy,” Glory says, running her fingernails along the nape of his neck, and it’s like a warm blanket on a freezing night, wrapping his brain in a soft happiness that he still doesn’t fully understand. This is why, because he lives for Glory, wants only to please her so he can drink in her praise and let it sustain him. “You obey me so well, don’t you, my sweet Lucían? You’re such a good boy.” Her hand squeezes his ass, makes his breathing hitch, and she pats him once before releasing him. “On your back.”
Lucían scrambles to flip over as Glory rolls out of the way, heart pounding with anticipation. She leans over to take the tray off the table, settles it on the bed near his hips, and grins down at him with a look that’s almost feral. “Spread your legs,” she orders, and kneels between them when he complies, his knees up and his feet flat on the mattress. Her hands encircle his wrists gently, and she lifts them up over his head to press them into the pillow.
“You will keep your hands here. If you absolutely must, you may hold on to the headboard,” she tells him, green eyes sparkling, her fingers tracing slowly down the lines of his arms. “Under no circumstances are you to move your hands, or touch me, or touch yourself. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Glory,” he says, breathless and already trembling. His cock twitches when he speaks, and from the way her eyebrow moves he knows she noticed. Her hands keep going, skating slowly down along his body, brushing his nipples and sliding over the muscles of his abdomen. She avoids his dick, flushed dark and hard and so ready, settling her hands on either side of his hips and squeezing there instead. Lucían whimpers and squirms a little, his hands clenching into fists as he keeps them over his head like she told him to.
“You’ve been so good,” she tells him, lightly tracing the length of his cock with one finger and using the strength of her other hand to hold him down as he moans brokenly and tries to buck up into her touch. “If you can keep being good for me then I think it’s time for your reward. Are you going to keep being good?”
“Yes, Glory,” he says, voice barely still working, and he’s so aroused he can barely focus on her face when she smiles and says, “Good boy.” Lucían gives up and stares vaguely at the ceiling, breathing hard and barely aware that she’s doing something with the oil. It’s somehow still a surprise when she wraps one large, hot hand around his cock, startling a moan out of him and an involuntary jerk of his hips as he tries to fuck up into her oiled fist. Her touch is loose enough that there’s not enough friction for any real pleasure, and Lucían hisses in frustration, wanting desperately for more. He gets his wish, though not in the way he was expecting, when Glory says, “Tell me if you don’t like this,” and presses an oiled finger against his asshole.
“Fuck!” he blurts, hands scrabbling for the upright slats of the headboard and clamping around them hard enough that his knuckles crack. She rolls her finger in a slow circle around the tight ring of flesh, awakening sensations he hadn’t known were possible, and he pants out a dizzy, “Oh, fuck,” grinding himself down against her hand involuntarily. The hand on his cock moves slowly, reminding him of how fucking turned on he is, but all his focus is on the pressure against his hole, the easy move of her fingers there and how shockingly good it feels. This was something Lucían had never considered, it hadn’t even occurred to him, and maybe he should feel more shame about liking it but instead he’s writhing wantonly under her, broken little sounds working their way out of his throat.
“Do you like this?” she asks, pressing a little harder, and Lucían grits out, “Yes, Glory,” in a voice that doesn’t even sound like his, all thready and breathy and wrecked. It’s wrong, some deeply buried part of him insists, it must be wrong to like this, but that part of him sounds like the Abbot and the Abbot has absolutely no place here, so Lucían viciously pushes that thought aside and gasps under Glory’s touch instead. She moves her hand on his cock in one steady, firm stroke, leaving him utterly unable to think of anything else, and he presses his head back into the pillows, sobbing out a moan between his teeth, his arms shaking with his unbreakable grip on the headboard. “Do you want more?” she asks, and he squeezes his eyes shut, tries to take a real breath and focus on her question and not on what her fingers are doing to him.
“What—what does more look like?” he manages to ask in coherent words, even as he can’t stop his hips from trying to work down harder against her hand.
Glory stops her movements and waits until he opens his eyes and looks up at her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her pupils dilated hugely, and it jolts through him how much she’s enjoying this, too, makes his cock ache and his hips try to press against her touch. She takes a slow breath and asks, “Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers, Lucían?”
Lucían’s brain stops working entirely for a short eternity as he freezes and stares up at her like a rabbit in front of a wolf. It’s like he’s having to completely re-evaluate his place in the world and how a concept like getting properly fucked fits into his existence, and that’s not a small thing to have to figure out (other things that aren’t small: Glory’s fingers, his current erection). What would it mean to do that? Would it change him, somehow? Would people know? Does he care if they do, if it means giving more of himself to Glory? At some point he realizes he’s stopped breathing, and his lungs shudder their way through a deep, desperate inhale. Glory patiently waits, her hands unmoving, a hot grip on his cock and a firm pressure against his asshole reminding him that he still needs to answer her question. For a moment the shame and fear win out, and he thinks he’ll say no and she’ll get him off like this, which is already more than he was expecting. His second deep inhale is big enough to shift him down against her fingers again, though, and that little nudge against the bundle of sensation lights a fire in him, sears him through in a hot flash, and he knows his answer down to his marrow.
“Yes,” he begs, rolling his hips down against her hand. “Please fuck me, Glory. I want—” his voice breaks, and he has to swallow and try again “—I want you to take me.” Her smile lights him up almost as much as her fingers, and she shifts on her knees, pressing his legs slightly further apart.
“Take deep breaths,” she tells him, running her hand along his cock lazily, like that’s going to distract him from what she’s about to do. “Relax as much as possible and if you push down it’ll be easier.” Lucían tries to do what she says, he really does, but when she presses her oiled finger more firmly against him and just barely breaches the tight ring of muscle there, he hisses and bucks his hips, not sure if he’s trying to flinch away or toward her. “Lucían,” she says more firmly, stilling her hand where it’s still just barely inside him, the tease of penetration lighting up his brain at the same time that it shuts down his logical thought processes. “Breathe.” He manages a deep inhale, exhaling through his nose, and that settles him somewhat. “Relax,” she orders, and with a great effort Lucían lets go of some of the tension in his muscles. It shifts him lower, drops him down against her hand, and she presses further in as soon as she feels the change. He’s better prepared for it this time, able to breathe through it, but it’s intensely fucking strange. It feels like an invasion, like something he should fight, except for how much he wants it. Her finger gets past the ring of muscle and resistance, all at once, and slides the rest of the way into him easily, knocking the breath from his lungs because oh Lord, he’d asked for it but he didn’t know it would feel like this.
“Good?” she asks, sliding her fist along his cock again, and Lucían whimpers and tries to fuck up into her hand and press down on her finger at the same time. It’s enough to move her inside him, just a little, and fire licks through his belly, heats his groin even more as he repeats the movement, hips trying to work on her hand where she’s stretching him apart, and he distantly manages a breathy, “Oh, fuck.”
“If you insist,” Glory says cheerfully, pulling her finger out and pushing it back in, the slide of the oil letting it move smoothly. Lucían’s hands clench on the headboard and he groans, low and guttural, like the thrust of her hand is forcing the sound out of him. She’s not moving the hand on his cock while she slowly fucks him with the other, and it’s so good and it’s such torture and he keeps making small, desperate sounds, hitching his hips against her, trying to get more something. Glory curls her finger up inside him on the next thrust, and it sparks against a place inside him that makes him see stars, makes his cock twitch and leak liquid onto his stomach, and Lucían chokes back a wail when she hits it again.
“Do you want another finger?”
He’s so far gone it takes him a long moment to realize Glory’s asked him a question, and then a further moment for him to parse it. “Fuck, yes, please,” he gasps, hips still grinding down against her hand, wanting that pressure and stretch inside him more than he wants air. “Oh Lord, fuck me Glory, please, I’m yours, I wannnngh—” Whatever Lucían was about to babble cuts off into another ragged sound as Glory pulls her finger out and then presses slowly back in with two, and fuck, it seems like it should be easier since she was just fucking him but it’s not. He has to breathe through it and whimper and hitch his hips down against her in sharp little jerks for what feels like forever. Finally, finally, she’s past that ring of muscle, two hot thick fingers stretching him out, and she grins at him wickedly before she scoots further down the bed and, to his intense surprise, wraps her mouth around his cock.
Lucían swears violently in at least three languages, his back arching up off the back involuntarily at the heat of her, the swirl of her tongue against the sensitive place on the underside of his dick and the stretch of her fingers inside him. She’s never done this before, never used her mouth on him, and he’d wondered about it occasionally but never expected it to happen. She slides her mouth up and down on whatever part of him doesn’t fit in her fist, and then pulls off to drop a kiss on the tip of his cock. “Good?” she asks again, and Lucían’s pretty sure she’s just messing with him this time because his face is flushed and his cock was just leaking in her mouth and he’s trying to shove himself down on her hand because she’s not fucking him with it and he needs her to move, needs her to take him.
“Glory,” he whines, thighs trembling, “please, please fuck me, make me come, I’ve been good, I want it, please.”
Glory smiles, tilts her head to the side like she’s considering his request, and says, “You have been good, Lucían. You’ve been so good tonight, my love.” She pulls her fingers out and pushes them back in, not fast, but not tortuously slow, either, and Lucían’s breath comes out in a sob of relief. “When you’ve been very good for me, you get rewarded,” she continues, fucking him with her fingers now in earnest, and he can’t stop a little “ah!” every time she hilts her hand in him, can’t stop himself pushing down to meet her thrusts. She drops her head again and takes his cock back into her mouth, and when she sucks on him he chokes on air.
“Do you like your reward, Lucían?” she asks, pulling off after a few more bobs of her head, curling her fingers up so they brush that spot that lights him on fire every time she drives them in, and he presses his head back against the pillows and keens wordlessly. “That’s not an answer,” Glory says, squeezing his cock in a light punishment, and Lucían wails, “I love it, I love having you fuck me, please, Glory—” Her hand speeds up, the thrusts harder, and he loses the ability to make words or think coherently, especially when she puts her mouth on him, lips and tongue and that powerful, hot suction driving him wild. Lucían stops breathing, his hips jerking down onto her hand and up into her mouth, and his whole body shakes, his hands gripping to the headboard so hard he thinks he might break it, but he can’t yet, he can’t—
She pulls him out of her mouth with an utterly obscene pop and says, “You can come now, Lucían.” That’s all it takes for him to throw his head back, arch his back fully up off the bed, and scream while he fucks himself down on her hand, his orgasm ripping through him with the inexorable power of some kind of force of nature. Hot waves of pleasure chase through him, making his muscles clench and release and wiping his mind clean of anything but the feeling of coming on Glory’s fingers, having her inside him, making him feel like this. It goes on for what feels like forever, her fingers and her hand moving and her tongue sweeping against the sensitive spot on the underside of his cock, all of it drawing out his pleasure mercilessly, and when he finally collapses, twitching, back to the mattress, Lucían isn’t sure if he still has bones. He drifts on the haze of his orgasm, vaguely aware that he’s come all over his stomach and can even feel bits of his release cooling on his chest, but he definitely doesn’t have the energy to care. Honestly he barely even has the energy to whimper when Glory carefully removes her fingers from his ass, leaving him a little sore and feeling strangely empty. She’s gone from the bed, and then some time later she’s back, wiping him clean with a warm cloth, and then she’s gone again, and then she’s tugging the towel out from under him and pulling the blankets up around them both.
“You can let go of the headboard now, my love,” she says as she presses a kiss to his temple, which is when Lucían realizes he’d forgotten that his hands were there, and also that he has hands in the first place. It takes him longer than he’d later admit to figure out how to actually operate them again, and then they’ve spent so long clenched in one position that it’s difficult to get them to unclench. He finally releases the headboard with a hiss and lowers his arms stiffly, pressing his face into Glory’s shoulder. He’s trembling, he realizes, and as his faculties return to him they bring a wave of strange shame and joy and confusion and satisfaction. It’s too many things for him to process in his current condition, and he clutches at her and tugs until she curls up half on top of him, sheltering him under her bulk.
“Are you all right, Lucían?” she asks, kissing the top of his head and stroking his back while he shudders. Is he? He wipes his face, finding tears there, and tries to squirm closer to her while he figures out what he’s feeling other than raw and vulnerable.
“I really liked that,” he says, quietly, “and I feel really weird about liking it, and I’m not sure why.” He feels her nod, and she scritches into his hair at the back of his neck.
“We don’t have to do it again if you don’t want,” Glory tells him. Lord, he loves her, the way she reassures him whenever he needs, the way she cracks him apart and puts him back together. Lucían squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, mentally probing the twisted knot of emotions in his gut. Okay, there’s shame, but that feels... not his, it feels like shame he thinks he should be feeling, leftover from the monastery, probably. The confusion is likely a factor of the surprise, because it was a very new and somewhat strange experience. If he picks those apart he’s left with a satisfied sort of exhaustion and the memory of an orgasm so intense he can still feel the aftereffects rippling through his body.
“I want to do it again,” he says, coming to the only conclusion that was ever an option. Lucían rolls out from under her so he can make eye contact. “I want you to do it to me again. I love how you make me feel.” It’s a confession, one he couldn’t keep behind his teeth even if he wanted to. “You’re so... the way you treat me, Glory, I never thought it was something I could have before I met you.” He cups her cheek in his hand, suddenly desperate to make sure she understands the depth of his feelings. “You’re the only one for me, you know that, right? You’re all I want, all I’ve ever wanted since I first saw you.”
“You have me, Lucían,” she says, pressing a careful kiss to his lips. “I stole you and I’m not giving you back, not now, not ever.” Glory raises a hand to his face and wipes away tears he hadn’t realized he was crying, and Lucían buries his face back in her neck.
“You really are so good, aren’t you, my sweet boy?” she asks, nudging him away from her so she can hand him a glass of water. It’s cold and sweet, and Lucían realizes how thirsty he is with the first sip. He drains the whole glass and hands it back to Glory, curling against her as she settles down onto the mattress.
“You’re so beautiful when you put yourself in my hands,” she says after a warm, quiet moment. “The trust you place in me is a gift, Lucían, and it’s a gift I’m never giving up.” She leans down and claims his mouth with sweet, gentle pressure. “I promise,” she whispers against his lips, “I’ll never give you more than you can bear.”
“You make things easier for me to bear,” he tells her immediately, his mind twisting inexorably back to the undead and the task ahead of them. He shivers and curls himself around her, skin to skin, her muscles long and lean under his hands, pushing those thoughts from his mind. They have no place here. There will be time enough for them tomorrow.