Page 78 of Consort's Glory
Careful with his one clawed hand, Theodore held her hair away from her face as Margot explored him with teasing kisses and tentative licks, her touches growing bolder with every one. “That’s it, darling,” he encouraged, watching with wide eyes as she slowly took him into her mouth.
There was something deeply erotic about watching her adjust to his size — large, obviously, compared to her — and seeing the differences between them. Her lips were rosy pink, human, but his skin was flushed blue, with a slight iridescent finish. The color stood out starkly against her lips, her cheeks, the curve of her jaw as she slowly sucked him into the hot well of her mouth.
Theodore hissed out an expletive when she dragged her lips up and down in a building rhythm, her confidence growing after each stroke. The press of her soft little tongue, the suction of her lips, the way she looked up at him as she reached into his half-undone slacks and cupped his sac — it was all too much.
“Fucking— darling, you’re going to make me come,” he grated. It took all his willpower to keep from meeting her mouth with hard, desperate thrusts. Sweat gathered under his stiff collar and along his hairline as he fought his instincts and that tightening coil of pleasure at the base of his spine.
He panted, each breath laden with the scent of her desire, with the scent of his, and tipped his head down so he wouldn’t miss a second of her expression. “Is that what you want?” Theodore’s hips flexed, gently, as she answered his question with a firm squeeze. “Ah,” he choked out, “you want… you want me to come on you again and then finish what I started. Greedy, greedy witch. You could have— you could have just told me that, you know.”
He could feel her lust burning so hot and so bright in the bond between them. It scalded him from the inside out, this unfettered connection that let him into the very heart of her. It wasn’t refined and she clearly had no idea how to use it yet, but it was brutally honest — an open door between their minds that let him feel the crush of his and her desire.
It was too much. It wasn’t enough.
The pull made him ravenous, her touches, her taste only made it worse. He wanted to devour her. He wanted to debauch her. He wanted to see her covered in his release and he wanted to kiss her hard as he fucked her. He wanted to love every inch of her. He wanted to slide his tongue into her and never leave. He wanted and he wanted and he wanted.
Will it ever be enough? Theodore allowed himself to carefully rock his hips to meet her mouth and was rewarded with a soft, feminine moan. No. It won’t be.
How could it, when their bodies were perfectly attuned to one another? How could this relentless, beating desire ever fade when every single part of her cried out for every single part of him?
If Theodore couldn’t understand his ancestors decision to forgo non-elvish consorts before, he absolutely could not now that he knew the joy of knowing, of touching, his. How could anyone who felt this desire and this crushing love abandon their consort? How could any sane society ostensibly built around family make that choice?
He could never leave her. He could never choose anyone or anything above Margot Goode. She was his whole world. What madness drove a people to disregard this unfettered joy he felt when he locked eyes with her?
Of course he knew the answer was the simple, insidious fear of extermination, but Theodore could not imagine choosing the fear of death over the pleasure of a single moment with his consort. No sane person would.
Never, in all his life, had he felt like he understood Thaddeus II’s madness. Not until then, when he knew that Margot was his at last. He might go mad too, forced by his position and his ego to subjugate his instincts and tear himself apart from the inside.
Theodore dug his hands into Margot’s hair and held on tight as his orgasm built into a painful pressure. He gasped, hips bucking, and used their connection to warn her, Darling, I’m going to—
Margot’s response was a streak of lighting in his mind. Do it.
She went soft around him, pliant and open, ready to take anything he had to give her. Theodore let out a hoarse laugh as his hips stuttered into her stroking hand and eager mouth. It made his cheek sting, her little clawmarks twinging every time he moved his jaw. “You’re perfect,” he babbled. “So fucking perfect. So beautiful. So fierce and soft and smart and mine—”
Her eyes fixed on his as her cheeks hollowed out with a long, hard pull.
Theodore came with a harsh exhalation, his lungs seizing as she wrung everything out of him. His second orgasm was somehow more powerful than the first, as if his body was only gearing up before. Now that it knew the feeling of her and had her luscious scent in its pores, there was no going back.
Coming down from the blinding pleasure, Theodore focused on Margot as she slowly pulled her mouth off of him. His throat went painfully dry when he watched her swallow hard. A pearly drop of his release escaped her pink lips to run down her chin.
Margot didn’t shy away like he expected her to. Rather, she leaned forward to ruck his shirt up around his middle and laid a series of open-mouthed kisses along his abdomen, as if to say thank you.
Keening a low, yearning note, Theodore smoothed her hair back behind her ears. His voice thick, he said, “I’m going to make you come so fucking hard, darling, you’ll forget your name.”
“Impossible,” she whispered against his skin. Her wicked little tongue drew a line over his hip. “I’m a Goode through and through. My name is all that I am.”
He used his grip on her hair to pull her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze when he bit out, “That is not all you are. You are my everything. You are my world. Do you understand that?”
“No.”
She was pliant under his hands, her throat bare and outstretched in the primal supplication his roaring instincts demanded. It was the sexiest thing she could have done, and Margot didn’t even know it.
Her expression was open, guileless. In doing this, Margot had been stripped to her most vulnerable self. He saw it in the bruises in her eyes, the tender hope that glowed in them despite the sorrow there. Disbelief ran through their bond like a jagged spike, but the tenor of it didn’t feel like she doubted him, rather that she just couldn’t believe anyone would look at her and see their whole world.
Releasing her hair to drop to his knees once more, Theodore ran his hands down her sides to curl them around her naked waist. He tugged her to the edge of the cot. “Darling,” he breathed, pressing one tender kiss to her swollen lips after another, “you are… you are my pride. You are my comfort. You are every sexual fantasy compressed into all five feet and three inches of you. You are my joy and my home and heart. You are more than I could have ever dreamed of — and I’ve had twenty-five years to dream.”
Carefully laying her back into her pitiful little cot, he lavished her with kisses. Theodore rained them down on her face, her arms, her fingertips, her breasts and belly and thighs and ankles and tiny, defenseless toes. “My fierce little healer,” he breathed, returning to pay special attention to her vulnerable throat, “who can bring the dead back to life with her soft little hands and make her sovereign beg for her soft little mouth. You have no idea how powerful you are.”
Giving into instinct for just a moment, he dragged his fangs down her throat, marking her with four livid streaks of red before sliding down her body and between her legs one last time.
