Once Upon a Time

第38章 Chapter 19

Jamil stared at him.

He would like to say he felt furious or betrayed, but to his shame, the first emotion he felt was hope. Painful, illogical hope that they could actually be something permanent, that they could be them. It was a fool’s hope: the fact that Rohan was of noble blood didn’t change anything, considering that under the current law, Rohan and his people were law-breakers. Even if Tai’Lehrians decided not to go through with revealing their unbonded state to the Council, Rohan would still have his fictional bondmate and wouldn’t be able to marry Jamil even if Jamil did the unheard of and married a second time.

Jamil almost laughed at his own thoughts. Rohan had never expressed any desire to marry him. He was mostly heterosexual. It was all good and well to get off with another man, but actuality sharing life with one? Rohan hadn’t even hinted about wanting that.

Heavens, he was being pathetic. A needy, pathetic idiot.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but I don’t like it,” Rohan said, his dark brows drawn together.

“I’m fine,” Jamil said with a forced smile. “Just surprised.”

Black eyes bored into him. “Don’t lie to me,” Rohan said, squeezing his hand. His voice softened. “What is it, sweetheart?”

The worst part was, he wanted to confess everything. The warm intimacy between them was incredibly hard to resist, making him feel like he could tell Rohan anything without being judged or looking silly.

“Just indulging in some wishful thinking,” Jamil said with a crooked smile. “It’s stupid.”

Rohan’s serious, steady expression didn’t change. “Tell me. I want to know your thoughts, even if you think they’re stupid. I’m sure they aren’t.”

Jamil hoped his face didn’t look as smitten as he felt. Fuck, this was ridiculous. He had never felt like this with Mehmer, no matter how much he had loved him.

“I just…” He dropped his gaze, looking at their clasped hands, Rohan’s fingers dark against his pale ones. “In other circumstances, there could have been us.” His face was burning, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Rohan.

A strong emotion came from Rohan through their bond, something tooplex to decipher.

Rohan laid his free hand on his nape and pulled him close, their foreheads pressing against each other. “I wish I could stay with you,” he said, his voice rough. “I wish I could take you with me, and damn everything.”

Jamil squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would stop him from yearning for it. He couldn’t believe how tempting it was. What was wrong with him? He was the Crown Prince, a future king of the Third Grand Clan of Calluvia. He couldn’t just run away from his responsibilities, couldn’t abandon his family and his people.

“I know it’s selfish,” Rohan said, nuzzling into Jamil’s cheek. “I know you’d never do it, but fucking hell, it feels like the best idea ever when I’m with you.” He gave a harsh laugh, squeezing Jamil’s hand and bringing it to his mouth. “Then again, I’m not good at thinking rationally when I’m with you. You could tell me to kill someone, and I probably would.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jamil said, smiling, but his voice was off. He could barely hold back the confession that made his heart feel like it was about to burst out of his chest. I adore you. Don’t leave me again.

He didn’t say anything. But he wrapped his arms around Rohan’s strong back, fingers roaming over the warm, bare skin, and held on.

Just for a little while.

When Rohan’s mouth brushed against his, Jamil parted his lips eagerly, letting Rohan’s tongue in and sucking on it. Every suck sent a new wave of bliss through his body and he moaned against Rohan’s mouth, pulling him in, tighter and tighter until it was no longer possible.

They toppled onto the bed, Rohan’s hips pushing between Jamil’s thighs, his heavy body pinning him against the soft mattress, stomachs and erections pressing flush against each other.

Jamil wrapped his legs around Rohan’s hips, looked Rohan in the eye, and said,

“Get in me.”

Rohan’s dark eyes became glassy.

He stared at Jamil for a long moment, his muscles stiff and his face tense.

“Yes,” he said, his voice ringing with tension. Desire pulsed between them, charging the air, bringing a flush to Jamil’s cheeks.

Rohan’s hands stroked Jamil’s bare thighs, kneading the thin, sensitive skin there, before wrapping around Jamil’s aching, leaking cock.

Jamil moaned, his vision darkening. He could only gasp as Rohan stroked him, milking his cock for its natural lubricant until he gathered enough to stroke his slippery fingers over Jamil’s hole. The high-pitched sound that left Jamil’s lips would be more suited for holo-porn than the room of a crown prince. Jamil didn’t care. He spread his legs shamelessly and allowed himself to enjoy the wonderful feeling of having his hole touched and kneaded. When a thick finger slid into him, he made an encouraging noise and spread his legs wider.

“Holy fuck,” Rohan said breathlessly, looking at him with dark, glazed eyes. Jamil arched, enjoying Rohan’s hungry gaze on him almost as much as Rohan’s fingers moving in his hole. Almost. It had been too long. Truth be told, he’d always enjoyed getting fucked, far more than he liked being on top. But Mehmer had wrongly assumed that, as the Crown Prince, he would want to be in charge in the bedroom too. Jamil hadn’t disabused him of the notion, ashamed to admit his own preferences, so he had rarely gotten to experience this.

It hadn’t felt this good with Mehmer anyway. With Rohan, there was no shame, the intimacy between them killing any embarrassment he might have felt. With Rohan, Jamil could moan all he wanted, push back onto Rohan’s fingers and fuck himself on them without being self-conscious about it. With Rohan, he didn’t have to be the Crown Prince; he could be just a man, unashamed of his desires. He didn’t have to hide how much he loved being fucked, how badly he needed it.

When Rohan finally pushed his cock inside, a sob left Jamil’s lips, the sensation of being filled making his toes curl with pleasure.

“Holy shit,” Rohan grated out, stroking Jamil’s smooth thigh reverently, as his unfocused black eyes roamed between the place their bodies were connected and Jamil’s face. “Look at you, sweetheart.”

Jamil realized that Rohan had meant it literally when Rohan merged their minds, allowing Jamil to see and feel what he felt. Jamil whimpered, his pleasure doubling as he now could feel how tight he was around Rohan’s cock, how much the sight of Jamil’s wantonly spread legs turned Rohan on, how badly Rohan wanted to just fuck him hard, pound him into the mattress, make him beg for his cock. “You love this, don’t you?” Rohan said hoarsely, pulling out and watching as Jamil whined and tried to impale himself on his cock. “You love being fucked. You love cock. You want cock for breakfast, lunch and dinner, night and day, up your ass and deep down your throat, don’t you?”

“Please,” Jamil mumbled, feeling delirious with need. “Please, please, please.”

A muscle clenched in Rohan’s cheek. Rohan’s hands took his hips and spread his thighs even wider. Their eyes locked, Rohan slammed back into him.

Jamil cried out. “Ah! More.”

Rohan gave him more.

After that, it was a blur of pleasure. Jamil was only vaguely aware that he was moaning, meeting every hard thrust, his fingers digging into Rohan’s muscular buttocks in order to pull him deeper into himself. They found a brutal, broken rhythm that was all need, their lust feeding off each other, the merge urging them to be closer, deeper, more, more, more.

They rolled all over the bed, fucking in every possible position, trying to sate the maddening desire to be one. It was never enough.

At some point, Jamil ended up on top, fucking himself on Rohan’s cock.

Rohan stared up at him with black, glazed eyes as Jamil rode him with shameless abandon, Jamil’s head thrown back and his mouth open in a soundless cry. Gods, it felt so good, so unbelievably good, the thickness of Rohan’s cock inside him incredibly satisfying. He didn’t care that his thighs were already trembling with the effort; he needed this.

So fucking tight and look so pretty taking my cock.

Jamil whimpered, catching Rohan’s thought. He couldn’t help but sink deeper into the merge, allowing himself to see through Rohan’s eyes again. Was that him? That moaning, panting, lustful creature riding Rohan’s long cock as if something possessed it? Lips bitten red, cheeks flushed, his cock leaking and red against his pale stomach? He couldn’t deny that the image aroused him. It didn’t help that his thoughts and desires were mixing with Rohan’s and it felt like he wanted to fuck himself, push Jamil under him and pound into him until they both saw stars. He was made for his cock—

Rohan growled and rolled them so that he was on top again. Gripping his hips, Rohan set a furious rhythm. Harder, faster, so good, the thrusts deep and sure. A roaring filled Jamil’s head as their pleasure built. “Need you, need you, need you.” He wasn’t even sure whose thought it was; it didn’t matter. They came, clutching each other and kissing desperately, Rohan’s hips still grinding into him as the pleasure exploded between them.

They fell asleep like that, their bodies and minds still one.