Lord of Misrule (5 page)

“What does my lord want?”

“Hmmm….” Taj pretended to think. “I had your delightful mouth not so very long ago. And your tongue has teased me well, for many hours….”

“Ass or cock, then?”

Taj’s hands slid down to grab Dan’s hips, squeezing them briefly, before bringing both hands around to squeeze and stroked the other appendage on offer. “Such a difficult decision. Truly the weight of the crown is a heavy one….”

Dan groaned, his eyes sliding shut with pleasure for a moment as Taj’s practiced hands milked him. “I will always gladly be the steed who bears you on his back,” he offered, opening his eyes again and grinning.

Taj laughed. “I think I would like to ride, yes. But I want to see you, watch your eyes lose focus and your witty tongue fall into silence as I take you.”

Dan passed him the bottle of lubricant, arranging their legs so he could lift one to his chest. “I welcome the opportunity to increase my flexibility for you, my liege.”

Taj snorted. “Put your leg down, big man, before you strain something. I’m in charge of this ride, and I’ll take what I wish.”

“By all means,” Dan said, raising his hands in surrender.

Taj took the bottle and squirted a generous amount in his palm. He reached behind and prepared himself quickly, just as eager to be joined together as Dan was, then used the excess to slick Dan’s cock and eased down.

“Look at me,” he said, and Dan struggled to raise his heavy eyelids, groaning at the tight hot squeeze of Taj’s body. Taj leaned forward, moaning as well, as one hand went to Dan’s shoulder, the other to his own erection, and began to move, his strong thighs keeping up an equine pace.

Dan was more than willing to surrender control, to let Taj take what he wanted, yielding and losing his mind as a stream of pleasure-filled sounds spilled from his mouth. Taj’s fingers dug into the muscles of Dan’s shoulder, a little painful, but well worth the distraction as he opened and took in the sight of his lover on top of him.

Their lovemaking was too intense for either of them to last very long tonight—they could have drawn it out, stopped for a breather, but it was more fun to race for the finish, headlong and reckless. Taj shifted back, grinding so that the fat head of Dan’s cock rubbed him in the right exact spot, each of them bringing a hand to Taj’s cock and working it together.

Dan made a broken noise, his other hand fisting in the bedsheets, trying to hold back until Taj was there too. The pressure started to boil over, and he thrust up, unable to hold still, whimpering in desperation. “Now, please, Taj, come on,
please
….”

With a short cry, Taj came, his head falling to one side, his eyes closing as the bliss of orgasm washed over him. The rippling squeeze around Dan’s cock was more than he could resist, and he came as well, buried deep inside his lover, joined in ecstasy.

Unthinking, Dan brought his hands up to cup Taj’s face, pulling him back down for a kiss. “You’re beautiful like this,” he whispered against Taj’s lips. “Glorious with lust and confidence and pride. I want to give you everything in the world, everything you could ask for.”

Taj had to swallow before he could reply, his voice hoarse. “You do. I get what I want almost all the time: you.”

They drowned the unusual excess of emotion in a slow kiss, bodies relaxing with their spent passion. They broke away as Taj twisted around to reach something from the bedside table.

“One more present,” he said, handing a small box to Dan.

Dan shifted until he was partly sitting up in Taj’s embrace, and turned on the bedside lamp. “Jewelry?” he asked, thinking of the ornate clasps he had been eyeing for his cloak. Taj just nodded at the box, so he tore off the paper and opened it. Two heavy gold bands lay nestled in velvet, Celtic-style swirls their only decoration.

“When we made our wishes for New Year’s, this was all I could think of,” Taj admitted.

Dan couldn’t help but grin, starting to chuckle until he noticed the confusion on Taj’s face. “You’re asking me to marry you?” Taj nodded, and Dan couldn’t hold back his snort of laughter. “I’m sorry. It’s just funny because I went to the same jewelry shop a few weeks ago and ordered a nearly identical set of rings. It seemed someone had bought the ones I had my eye on before I got there.”

Taj’s smile started deep in his eyes. “Sounds like it was meant to be. I guess that’s what happens when you’re Lord of Misrule—everything goes all topsy-turvy.”

“Sometimes that’s the best way,” Dan agreed. He closed the box, carefully set it aside, and lay back down. “Yes, I want to marry you. I can’t believe you beat me to asking, though. That’s a story you’ll be telling until we’re old and senile.”

“It will be part of the many legends told of Edric Bearsbane and the Mischievous Lord Keegan,” Taj murmured, kissing his way down Dan’s throat and settling into his warm embrace.

“It will be the very best one,” Dan agreed, wrapping his arms around his beloved and letting sleep claim them.

Outside, it began to snow.

Come home for holiday romance.
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A
LIX
B
EKINS
lives and writes atop a treacherous hillside in the Santa Cruz mountains. Her days start with a cup of  proper British tea and end with crocheting ridiculous socks while watching TV. Alix is a sex-positive, kinky, belly-dancing bisexual pagan. (The only reason “goth” isn’t on that list is because she prefers purple or pink hair to black and thinks absinthe is a terrible joke.) Her muses often wear the faces of her favorite celebrities and porn stars but are nowhere nearly as cooperative.

Alix is pretty sure she’s the only person in the world who wears a plastic Viking helmet as a thinking cap when she battles writer’s block. She always wins.

Visit her at http://alix-bekins.livejournal.com/, http://www. facebook.com/AlixBekins, or contact her at alixbekins @gmail.com.

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Lord of Misrule ©Copyright Alix Bekins, 2012

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art by Paul Richmond   http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com

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Released in the United States of America
December 2012

eBook Edition

eBook ISBN: 978-1-62380-201-1