He didn’t need to wonder. He could simply find out.
Corin filled his lungs, took a firmer grip, opened his mouth, and slid down. Aster’s cock didn’t have nearly the same proportions as his own; it wasn’t actually small, but it looked that way by comparison.
So it took him off guard how much of his mouth it filled and how thick the head felt when it bumped the back of his throat. He almost choked, closing his eyes against the way they’d started watering almost instantly, shifting his tongue, closing his lips firmly around Aster’s shaft to create as much suction as he could.
Aster thrust up, pushing his cock deeper. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry—Corin, are you all ri—ohh!” he wailed, thrusting again despite his apologies as Corin swallowed around the head of his cock.
And again, and again, because Aster writhed and cried out and pulled his hair and kicked, and that was fucking glorious. Corin didn’t need to breathe as much as a human. He used it to his advantage, ignoring any discomfort in favor of making Aster believe he knew exactly what he was doing.
Aster’s cock stiffened even more, the head feeling like it…twitched…and bloody hell, but that was so fucking strange buried in his throat. Could Aster feel Corin’s cock doing that when he came inside him? A moment later Aster spent, hot and salty, and Corin choked, coughed, and pulled off, the last spurt hitting him in the chin.
“Oh, God,” came a soft, broken whisper from above. “Fuck.” And then silence.
Fuck indeed. He let go of Aster’s flushed, shiny, slowly softening cock to rub his wrist across his chin and neck, cleaning off the come and panting for breath—even a dragon had his limits. Aster had subsided, completely still except for faint tremors of his too-fast heartbeat that Corin could feel in his legs to either side of his own and in his round handful of Aster’s ass.
When he looked up, Aster had his eyes closed. Corin sat back and allowed himself a moment to quietly preen. He’d never sucked a cock, and yet here he was, kneeling over Aster’s prone body, triumphant. Aster being easy to please could very well have been at least as responsible as Corin’s abilities, but still. He deserved some of the credit.
If nothing else, he’d earned the right to enjoy the fruit of his labor: gazing his fill without interruption. Aster didn’t have much hair on his body except for the golden thatches around his cock and balls and under his arms, and the curves and angles of his body flowed like a sculptor’s marble masterpiece from his lovely prick to his parted lips. A strange hot sensation tightened Corin’s belly and chest. He wished he could attribute it to pure arousal, but he knew bloody well howthatfelt—he’d been hard again within three minutes after he finished in Aster’s mouth and stayed that way ever since.
This felt more proprietary than simple lust. More possessive. A seething desire to touch every inch of Aster’s skin—and he’d made a damn good start already—and mark him as his own, so that no fucking presumptuous upstarts like that asshole Fredmund would ever think to try to claim him again.
Of course, merely touching him wouldn’t leave a mark a human could detect. Only another dragon, with a keener sense of smell, might be able to sense Corin’s ownership.
To keep Aster safe from the humans who’d be seeking to take him away, he’d need to depend on more visible and tangible techniques, like beating the living shit out of them if they were stupid enough not to run.
He could also always keep Aster naked and on his knees, possibly chained to Corin’s bed.
Probably impractical.
And of course, also impossible. Right now Aster didn’t look like someone who’d need to be restrained to keep him right where he was. He still hadn’t moved, his chest finally rising and falling at a more normal speed and a slight smile tilting the corners of his lips. Keeping him in Corin’s bed wouldn’t have been much of a challenge under other circumstances. He could’ve simply killed all comers before they even crossed the bridge to the gate and told Aster to stay precisely where he was.
All of Corin’s triumph and pleasure melted away as reality, pushed aside for the moment, intruded once again.
Sir Gustave had told Corin more than enough for him to know that Aster would have no choice but to leave. He loved his family even though half of them or more were total assholes, and Marellus had managed to use the marriage contract and his favor with the king to maneuver Aster’s parents into a position where they’d be financially ruined if Aster didn’t come back and do as he was told.
Corin would be left here alone to contemplate his empty bed, his empty life, and the certain knowledge that Aster would be utterly miserable, quite possibly for the rest of his own life.
Of course, he’d thought of an impossible but haunting alternative. He’d thought of little else during the long, miserable night.
…any unmarried man of noble arms and in the crown’s good grace…
Those words echoed through his mind yet again. Someone who’d told King Theobert to more or less go fuck himself after being asked to apologize to the lord he’d mutilated, and then left court under a cloud of scandal, couldn’t be considered to be in the crown’s good grace.
No. It didn’t matter, because Corin would never publicly associate himself with another Cezanne even if he hadn’t resigned from the king’s service on less-than-ideal terms. Not an option.
Aster still hadn’t moved except for the even rise and fall of his chest. A faint smile curled the corners of his lips. Midday had come, with the sun angled straight down outside the window, and the bedroom lay in glowing shadow, floating far above the troubles of the world. This bed, the two of them. An intimate bubble of peace and satisfaction, their mingled breaths and the slide of Corin’s dragon-hot skin against Aster’s soft warmth.
Fuck. Corin couldn’t tell him now.
He could put it off a little longer, couldn’t he? Only a tiny bit. A few minutes, or an hour. What difference would it make?
Corin wanted more of those moans, the frantic ones he’d drawn out when he had Aster’s cock in his mouth…and while he might not be an expert cocksucker, he knew he excelled in another closely related skill. By the way Aster had reacted when Corin mentioned it, he’d never been the recipient of it.
No other man had ever given Aster that pleasure. What a pack of fucking idiots, to pass up the chance to taste that nearly-virgin sweetness. Corin’s cock gave a throb. No, he couldn’t let Aster leave quite yet.
Careful not to jostle Aster’s legs too much or to bounce the mattress, he lowered himself down, sliding toward the foot of the bed at the same time. He adjusted his grip, regretfully letting go of Aster’s ass and then slipping that hand back under his thigh, using the other to gently lift his balls and expose the pretty pink hole hiding underneath.
Corin had to tense all his muscles to keep still, the urge to rut into the bed—or to climb up and rut into Aster—nearly overwhelming him. Even after a night and morning of rest the signs of Corin’s possession of him remained obvious. He wouldn’t say Aster lookedused, precisely, because that would be ungallant, even though Corin wouldn’t mean it that way. But he hadn’t quite gone back to his unfucked state, either. A little bit puffy, pinker than he’d been before, and slightly stretched.
