Daemon & Sunny

Sunny was on fire. She arched off the rough satin undersheet, rolled onto her hip, but that brought the side of her sensitive breast into contact with the white satin. The wine cooling on her skin didn’t help, either, and she rolled back with a moan. Her buttocks could feel the weave of the sheet, stimulated into super sensitivity along with the rest of her skin—even the thicker skin on the soles of her bound feet could feel the warp and weft under them, the skin of her ankles and wrists begging to be freed from the fabric confining them. The bed dipped; she opened her eyes just as a trickling tickle of damp hair brushed over her skin. Damp black hair. Its owner bent over her, one hand on the far side of her hip, and licked the wine from her stomach.

She shivered and moaned deep in the back of her throat, shutting her eyes again. That made it worse; without the distraction of sight, all of her nerves focused in on the soft, damp scrape of his tongue over her flesh. But it also increased the sensations, and she felt the contradictory urge to keep her eyes closed and her body attuned solely to her sense of touch, when she knew she had to fight her fever and her captor, and escape. Moist lips suckled on the slight projection that was her ribline, making her moan again, then his wine-damp hair trailed over her skin and his lips re-met her flesh up by her collarbone.

They supped and sipped and licked, lips and tongue together, as they traced the path of her freckles, down around the outside curve of her right breast, then spiraled under, up the inside, and around the top. That tongue laved the whole of her aureola, then tickled the tip of her nipple with a flick, making her gasp and squirm up for more. He pulled back, agonizingly out of reach…then kissed the center of her sternum between her collarbone and breasts, and followed the other trail, down and around her other breast, in the same pattern as the first one. With the same ending lick and flick. Staying with her left breast, he licked his way around the non-freckled skin. Again ending at the peak of her breast for an unsatisfyingly brief taste, he shifted to the other one. But didn’t lick, didn’t flick.

Sunny couldn’t take the suspension as he hovered over her, breathing down on her damp skin. She didn’t want just a brush of his tongue, however. She needed him to take as much of her nipple into his mouth as possible. “…More…more!”

Daemon had stopped because the violet potion had begun to flood his body, faster acting in his body than the straight spice because it was designed that way, and because his last meal was hours ago, at the formal banquet given between the coronation ceremonies and the reception ball which was still going without him in the Great Hall. The potion heated his blood, quickened his breath, and finished curing what her knee had nearly culled…though the unfulfilled need of its heavy, thickening engorging was a pain of its own. With the rapid heightening of his senses, the musky scent of her need called to him, drew him for something far better than a taste of even her sweet, puckered nipple.

Leaving her breast unfulfilled, he slipped down the length of her body, lifted her quivering, restless legs by a hand on the back of her knees, and crawled between her thighs, leaving her bound ankles to drape over his back. Her first taste was heaven, slick, hot and musky. It also dragged a keening cry from her throat, and the arching of her hips up into him.

She didn’t know what was going on, not consciously. Not coherently. If she had, she would have recognized what he was doing—her people called it the Prayer for Sun, a sexual ritual linked to their religion for the blessings of clear skies and warm weather—but she wasn’t that cognizant. All Sunny knew was that something was flicking and licking and sucklingthere. Where the worst and greatest need was, and that she needed more. Moaning, frantic, she splayed her knees for more access, tightened her thighs to contain the slick pleasure, spread them wide again and tried to buck her hips up into its source, that incredible, devouring mouth. She started sobbing as he held her back from the edge of something overwhelming and wonderful, her hips tightly gripped in his hands, heightening and teasing her and keeping her back from the edge of something she didn’t know, yet craved. She needed it, and he wasn’t giving it to her, even though she didn’t know what it was she was dying for.

He pulled away after a few minutes more. Sunny couldn’t take it, couldn’t take the stimulation as warm, bare skin scraped against her thighs as her knees were lifted up high. “Oh, please…please don’t stop…please…”

Something hot, smooth and hard nudged against her abandoned, weeping body. She heard a sharply sucked breath as she squirmed, needing more stimulation than just that teasing touch. A hand gripped her hip, trying to still her, and the same pressure came back and parted her. Slid into her a little. Stretching her flesh with a little sting of expansion.

He wasn’t going to survive. Gritting his teeth, breathing hard against her slick, heady body surrounding the head of his manhood, trying to remember she was a virgin and to be considerate, Daemon inched into her a little and eased out slightly. Pushed into her a little more with a groan as more of her tight opening and velvet interior sheathed him. Easing out, he thrust in deeper, losing control when she clamped around him in a reflexive, pained wince.

The moment she tightened against the pain of his invasion, he hitched back and thrust in, hard and full, making Sunny cry out in pain at the breaching of her body’s untried gate. Cry out in pleasure, because it was exactly what her body craved. He rocked back and thrust into her, bringing his body down against hers as he eased off his elbows and his knees to thrust into her deeply, completely. Putting pressure on the arms bound behind her back. With her ankles bound over his hips, she was helplessly vulnerable to his ravishing. And that was as stimulating in its own way as the pain had been. As he moved over her, against her, inside her, she felt that same shining light building within her, and shifted her hips instinctively to meet his, knowing that action would somehow bring her much, much closer.

Her responsiveness did something equally exciting to him, for he increased the pace, increased the friction, the pleasure with a groan that made him bring his mouth down over hers as he thrust into her, drove into her—drove her over the cliff into the light as she clamped down on him, pushed to its very edge. His body slammed into hers, spurting hot and wet deep inside as the pleasure blinded and shuddered through both of them.

Now she knew what that urgent thrumming was: desire. And it still raced through her heart, though for the moment, her head was fairly clear. Her hips ached where her thighs were torqued by her bound ankles and the warm body lying between. Her shoulders ached where her arms were pulled behind her by the bindings holding her wrists near the base of her spine. Her throat was damp where the man still lying heavily over her was nipping and suckling on it around the edge of her slave collar.

His body still filled hers, was still fitted sword to her sheath fully. With the realization of the stretching, slightly stinging pressure of their joined bodies came a resurgence of her desire. Sunny wanted to resist, but as he arched his back, kissing his way down over her collarbone, his hips conversely pressed deeper into hers. Making her moan softly. Wantonly. He murmured in Astorran against her skin, his words heating her flesh.

“Bright Astor, but you blind me with your body…your soft skin…your sweet breasts, your…ohhh god…your heat…” His hips trust slowly into hers as she clenched around him instinctively, aroused by his words. He ground into her again, sucked hard on her nipple as she had wanted him to earlier, and just like that, the banked fire within her surged and flared again. Echoing her earlier actions, she wriggled her hips up to meet him.

Daemon wanted to feel her arms around him while he suckled at her breasts. It took him a few moments to remember that her hands were bound behind her. Dragging her hips with his, keeping her sheathed around him with his hands on her hips, he eased onto his knees as she moaned, then back onto his heels as she whimpered. As soon as her thighs were settled high over his own, he shifted his grip from her hips to her back, hauling her upright. Pressing her down deeper around him. He brushed his mouth against hers, undulating slowly up into her body and kissing her deeper. Sliding his palms down the edges of her arms, he found the knots with his fingers and untied them.

Freed, her arms came around him, clutching him to her so she could kiss him. Daemon rewarded her with a roll of his hips, a harder, deeper thrust that made them both moan and feast mouth to mouth with deep, eating kisses. Leaning back on his heels, he encouraged her to lean forward against his chest, enjoying the feel of her breasts rubbing against his muscles as he reached behind his back and worked on the cloth binding her ankles. Her feet slipped free as the torn satin gave, dropping to the bed. Gripping her hips, Daemon lifted her, urging her upward, then tugged her down to him again.

Sunny, caught once again in sensual fire, shifted her feet under her and leaned into him, pushing him over as she got her knees braced so she could control her gliding descent. He fell back onto the bed, legs folded under him, and she braced herself over him and rolled her hips on her own. Those hands that had gripped her hips now slid up the soft skin of her belly to her breasts, cupping the full globes and teasing their taut nipples in equally slow movements. Their languid pace intensified slowly at first, then more urgently, until he gave up caressing her breasts to massage and grip her buttocks, and guided her movements into something more powerful, directed and controlled. When he climaxed on a groan, filling her with liquid heat, it tipped her over, too.

He wasn’t finished, though, and the heat in her veins wasn’t through. When she sank onto his chest, her heart pounding against his own, he cradled her against him and rolled both of them onto their sides. One leg between hers, her thigh urged up over his own, he thrust slowly into her, fanning the cooling flames between them with the new position and with biting kisses to her jaw, her throat, her breasts, urging her into returning them. She came again under the sensual assault, but he didn’t. Pulling out, ignoring her weak, temporarily sated protest, he spread her out on her stomach and fitted his body over hers as well as into hers. Her arms bent out to either side, he laced his fingers with hers, murmured erotic praises into her shoulder between kisses, and re-entered her slowly, exquisitely slowly from behind, his weight on his elbows and knees and most of her backside. He withdrew that way, too, so slowly she could feel every iota of him, every micro of his flesh dragging at hers first one way, then the other as he pressed back in and pulled out again. Then stunned her with a trio of fast strokes before, trembling, going back to excruciatingly slow. And that was not the only way he took her before either of them were through.

The fire didn’t go out between them until the sun pierced the teeth of the mountains beyond the forcefielded window. Lying curled halfway onto his side, Daemon cradled his incredible concubine to him with one arm, the other stretched up over their heads, fingers laced with hers. He had exhausted her…and she had sated him. Even that hollow place that had been growing within every time he’d had sex.

A discreet, soft tap rapped on his bedroom door, waking him just as he was beginning to drift off. Carefully, Daemon untangled himself from the limply sleeping Deena and slipped out of his bed. Rather than bother to search for where he’d last left his robe, he grabbed up one of the fallen blankets and wrapped it around his waist with a yawn, then opened his door a crack. His Grand Chamberlain, Lord Estoll, waited on the other side behind his valet’s apologetic shrug.

“It is time for your day to begin, Your Majesty,” Estoll reminded him firmly. “You have an appointment with the Council in one hour, scheduled for three hours; then you have a meeting requested with the Ruyikan Ambassador—”

“Cancel it,” Daemon returned flatly. He wasn’t going to be capable of thinking without some serious sleep first.

“Your Majesty, you can’t just—”

“—That’s just it, Estoll,” Daemon returned with a tight smile, fighting off the urge of another yawn. “’Your Majesty’. I am the king, and I say, cancel my whole day. Now, go away.”

“Your Maje—” The door closed on the chamberlain’s protest. As an extra precaution, Daemon pressed his thumb to the center of the doorknob, locking the double doors with the scanner lock concealed in its knob.

Padding back to his bed, he studied the exhausted, sleeping woman, staring at the highly unusual lines of freckles he had followed with mouth and hands not that long ago. He would have to ask the Ruyikan Ambassador where Lord Crellan had gotten his hands on this woman, though there probably wouldn’t be much of an information trail, given that she was a slave.

I can always ask her when she wakes up, he decided, removing the blanket from his hips and flipping it out over her. She frowned and squirmed under the cool breeze as the soft material settled over her, then sighed and snuggled close when he slid under the blanket with her. The hand of the arm she was sleeping on slid up his own as he stretched it over her head. Instinctively, in her sleep, she twined her fingers with his.

Daemon carefully resumed the position his valet and head chamberlain had interrupted. Making sure to slide her knee over between his and cradle her close, her head pillowed on his shoulder, before drifting back down into sleep.

* * * *

The feel of hands parting her thighs and a body settling between them drew her out of the depths of slumber, but not fully. No, it was the tender feel of the flesh at the apex of those thighs being invaded by something hot and hard and smooth that brought Sunny awake. She snapped her eyes open as the invasive hardness pulled out slightly and pushed back in deeper, then much deeper.

“No!” Heart pounding, Sunny struggled, bringing up her hands and shoving at the king hovering over her on his elbows and knees, squirming to try to get away from that unwelcome invasion before the too-powerful heat of last night resurged in her blood.

One that had started after her spice-laden meal, she realized suddenly. Sunny thumped him with her fists, angry.

“You drugged me!”

Daemon caught Deena’s arms, pinned her wrists to his bed with his greater strength, and surged into her fully. It silenced her effectively, since she gasped, eyes wide. It was now midafternoon, and the aphrodesiacs were well out of both of their systems…but he still wanted her. He had all the erotic memories of his long night with her, the lingering smell of sex between them, and the warm, wet heat of her body willing to clasp his own to arouse him. His gift concubine was well and truly bedded, and thus no longer returnable; she was his to keep; his to possess. His to free.

His to keep. That thought held…possibilities…

Sunny struggled as he slid into and out of her relentlessly, but it was useless. And not only was he pinning her to the bed, taking her as he willed…he was also arousing her again. She had no idea how long the drug that had been used to arouse her lasted, but it had obviously lingered this long at least. She bit her lower lip, eyes closed, trying not to moan, trying not to move or respond. A shadow framed by a soft curtain of long hair covered her head, and soft, warm, knowing lips coaxed her bottom lip out from between her teeth, nibbling and sucking in languid rhythm along with his lower body burrowing over and over into hers. Shuddering under his expertise, Sunny gave up to the tide of desire threatening to drown her. Gave in, flexing her hips up to meet his on a moan, returning his kiss.

He shivered himself when she undulated against him, and increased his pace, kissing her hungrily now as he thrust into her harder. One of his hands slipped free of her wrist and slid down to her hips, urging her to meet him in rhythm. The other released her other wrist and dug into her still upswept hair, leaving her free to wrap her arms around him, one around the shifting muscles of his back, the other into his own hair. The hand at her hip encouraged her thigh on that side up high, and she brought her other one up as well, until he was thrusting deeply into her, his head lifted an inch from hers as they both panted for breath.

Sunny arched her head back against the pillow under her, and he pulled it free and threw it away impatiently, giving her room to bare her neck under his now driving pace. His mouth came down against her throat, just above the metallic ribbon of her slave collar, but it wasn’t until his teeth caught her skin gently, moving slightly with each hard, impatient thrust, that she felt truly mastered by this most male of dominations, truly, femininely possessed. Desire arced from his teeth to her core, and her gasping breath became a wail as she came undone under him.

Daemon held on; he silently recited the symbology of each of the fifty characters of the Astorran alphabet to hold back as he thrust into her. He slowed as she went limp, breathing hard. Lowering one of her legs, he slipped his own over it, and pulled her other leg up high over his ribs, turning her hips at a slight angle to his burrowing, increasing thrusts. The new angle was deeper, inventive. The recipient of his fuller thrusts moaned and twisted her head on the satin-covered mattress, roused and aroused by the new frictions being created. Wanting to push her over the edge, needing to bring her to culmination a second time, with him this time, Daemon braced most of his weight on one arm as she reached up and pulled him down for a kiss, and slipped his other hand between them. His fingers found her, slid over her nerve pearl even as his tongue slid into her mouth and his manhood into her core. All three worked back and forth, sometimes in concert, sometimes in counterpoint, and all devastatingly.

When she gasped and cried out against his lips, he tore his mouth from hers and caught the nearest nipple with it, sucking hard. She clenched tight around him as she cried out in the throes of her orgasm, tipping him over with a tripled, fast thrust and a rough groan of his own. Braced over her, sweating, breathing hard, Daemon felt alive. Relaxed, released, and blissfully, incredibly alive—he’d forgotten how much sex in the morning energized him, since until now, it had been growing more and more meaningless to him, a mere exercise of his body. Pressing a kiss to the unresponsive lips of his concubine, he pulled out of her and rolled off the bed. He was hungry; after last night’s exertions, she would be, too. Striding for the bathroom, he decided to order something to eat for both of them as soon as he used the facilities.

Sunny lay panting on the bed. She listened as the bathroom door opened, then closed behind him.Ravished. The word is ravished…and I’m the definition… An aftershock swept through her, making her whimper and arch, drugged by whatever was still running through her veins. When it passed, she lay still for a little while more, breathing heavily as her heartrate calmed down. Another twist of latent, post-passion fire skittered along her nerves, not enough to drag her heartbeat back higher, but enough to give her back some of the energy that had been drained out of her. Rolling over, towards the edge of the bed, Sunny discovered she was sore. Very sore. So much that she bit back a groan as she pushed herself upright beside the bed.