Chapter 91: ​Serving The Prince

Basil’s breath stuttered. His whole body clenched at the words. "Do you want that, my prince?" Darius asked, and there was something vulnerable beneath the dominant tone now, a question wrapped in the dark velvet of his voice.

"Yes,Darius" Basil whispered, reaching for him. "Please...please. I want—I need youinside me."

Darius began to move, trailing kiss after kiss as he slid down Basil’s body with a slow, deliberate grace that made Basil’s breath catch in his throat. The heat of him receded slightly, leaving a cool trail across Basil’s flushed skin as Darius’s lips brushed over his collarbone, his sternum, and the trembling muscles of his stomach.

Basil’s eyes stayed locked on Darius, his chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven breaths. He couldn’t look away even as his muscles tensed and his pulse raced. Darius’s head dipped lower, and Basil’s fingers twisted into the sheets, anticipation twisting tight in his gut.

When Darius’s hands gripped his thighs and spread them apart, his breath hot and damp against Basil’s most sensitive skin, Basil’s whole body jerked. He bucked backward, startled, pushing against the pillows.

"What—what are you doing?"

Darius caught his hips and dragged him back down the bed with steady strength. His fingers hooked behind Basil’s knees, lifting and spreading him wider. "Getting you ready," he said, voice low against Basil’s inner thigh.

Basil opened his mouth to protest, but Darius’s mouth found his puckered haven, swallowing every word before it formed. Basil gasped, his thoughts scattered as Darius’s tongue pressed flat and wet against his hole in a slow, deliberate lick that sent a sharp jolt up his spine.

"Urrh—wait—Darius," Basil gasped, his hands dropping to push at Darius’s hair. "That’s—you can’t—that place is dirty, please—"

His only answer was a low hum of amusement against his skin. Then Darius’s tongue pushed past the tight ring of muscle, breaching him, and Basil’s protest died in his throat.

A broken sound escaped him. Not quite a moan. Something caught between shock and a pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain. His thighs trembled violently, trying to close, but Darius’s hands held them open, strong and unyielding.

Basil’s head thrashed against the pillow. This was wrong. This was filthy. This was—Uwrhhh—

Darius’s tongue curled inside him, stroking along his walls with a skill that made Basil’s vision white out at the edges. The wet, obscene sounds of it filled the room, and Basil’s hips gave an involuntary jerk forward, pushing back against Darius’s mouth. The pleasure was different from anything he’d felt before. Deeper. More intimate. It built in his gut like a slow-burning fire, each stroke of Darius’s tongue feeding it, coaxing it higher. Basil’s hand unclenched from a fist, his fingers sliding into Darius’s hair, no longer pushing him away but holding him there.

"Ah—Darius—Please—"

Darius hummed again, the vibration rippling through Basil’s entire body. Htongue worked in slow, patient circles, then dipped inside again, deeper this time, and Basil’s back arched off the mattress. "M-More," he gasped, the word torn from somewhere primal. "Please, more—"

Darius obliged.

He ate Basil out like he was starving, like this was the only meal he’d ever wanted. His tongue thrust and curled, his lips sealed around the rim, and the sounds, wet, sloppy, greedy sounds, made Basil’s face burn even as his hips rocked in time with the rhythm Darius set.

A treacherous thought cut through the haze. How many others has he done this to? Darius moved with too much skill, too much confidence. This wasn’t the fumbling of a first-timer. He must have had lovers. Many of them. He must have practiced this, perfected it, on countless others.

The thought sent a sour twist through Basil’s stomach. Darius stopped.

Basil blinked, dazed, as Darius lifted his head. His lips were slick, his chin wet, and his eyes, dark, knowing, locked onto Basil’s face.

"What are you thinking?"

Basil’s cheeks flushed. "Nothing. I—uhh—"

Why is your mind roaming while I was serving you, my prince? Darius’s thumb traced a slow circle on the inside of Basil’s thigh, his touch firm and grounding. "Your heart and your focus should be right here. With me. Not distracted."

Basil let out a shaky breath, his gaze fixing on Darius’s intense blue eyes. "I’m not distracted," he rasped, though the erratic pulse in his throat betrayed him. "I was just—"

How could he tell him he was wondering how many others he had done this with? How could he tell Darius that the sudden, terrifying sting of jealousy was threatening to choke him? The thought of Darius using this same sharp focus, this same unyielding devotion, on anyone else made Basil’s blood run cold.

Darius watched him with hooded eyes. "You’re doing it again." Before Basil could respond, he shifted, rising to his knees. His cock, thick and dark with blood, settled against the crease of Basil’s ass. Basil clenched instinctively, his breath hitching. "Maybe my dick in your ass will keep you focused," Darius murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of Basil’s mouth. "Now relax," he whispered, his breath warm against Basil’s ear. "And breathe with me."

Basil exhaled, and Darius pushed. Just the tip.

A burning stretch, a fullness that stole his breath all over again. Basil’s fingers dug into Darius’s shoulders, nails biting skin. Basil sucked in a shaky breath. His breath came in short gasps.

Darius pushed deeper. The burn intensified, and Basil made a strangled sound, half pain, half something else. He lined himself up.

The blunt head of him pressed against Basil’s entrance, and Basil’s whole body went rigid.

"Relax, and let me in, my prince," Darius whispered, his voice thick with restraint as he pushed another inch further.

Basil was shaking, sweat beading on his forehead. "Darius—"

"I know. I know. Just breathe. You’re doing so great, my prince. That’s it. Nice and slow. I’ve got you." Darius talked him through every movement, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of sensation, until finally he was fully settled against him, his hips flush with Basil’s, his breath ragged against Basil’s ear.