A gay sex stories: Pale Moon, Crimson Blood Karl slowly opened his eyes, as a thin ray of sunlight touched his chest. His eyes drifted to his side, only to find himself alone in bed. Of course. He sat up, motioning out of the bed, when a sharp, throbbing pain flooded his head. He had drunk way too much the night before. He almost couldn’t remember what had happened. Almost. The thought made him grin.
Recovering from the mild daze, he slowly made his way towards his room’s window. Karl stared at the thick, ornate curtains that covered it, bracing himself. With a quick tug, he parted the drapes, and let himself be soaked by the warm sunlight. Eyes closed, he just stood there for a moment, his body welcoming the morning sun that shone over the eastern walls of the royal palace. He slowly opened his eyes to the beautiful mosaic of light the stained glass windows projected upon his body, and at this moment noticed he was hard. Maybe the previous night had not been enough…
He brushed the thought away and motioned towards the window, dispelling his momentary awe. As he flung it open, the cold winter air filled his lungs. Karl’s eyes jumped to the guards training on the courtyard below, the clattering of steel filling his ears as they swung their swords against each other, and his mind began to clear. What had happened last night?
He turned away from the window, his senses finally clear enough for him to notice his own smell. The night sure must have been pretty… Active. The smell of sweat permeated his body. And it was not the only one…
“Gods, I need a bath,” he muttered to himself. With that, he walked away from the large window and grabbed a robe that lay on the floor, remarking how his clothes were not, in fact, scattered all over the room. That was strange. Had it been somewhere else, then? He put on the robe, and moved towards his chamber door, opening it slowly.
“My prince.” The guard outside the door greeted Karl with a small nod.
“Good morning, Gregor.” He said in a low, tired voice. “I shall be making my way to the thermal baths. Send one of the servants there with a clean set of clothes, please.”
Gregor looked at the bulge in his robe, and responded, with a mild grin on his face. “Clothes. Of course, my prince.”
Karl had neither the time nor the energy to engage with the guard’s innuendo, so he just kept on going. The man was quite the tiresome type.
The prince slowly made his way through the palace, a beautiful, hundreds of years old structure from which his father, king Maellarn III, ruled the city of Zhorn and the Empire at large, passing through large tapestries adorned with the city’s crest, stained glass windows depicting scenes from Zhorn’s history and plenty of servants, whom Karl greeted rather mechanically, who moved busily through the palace as it slowly awoke.
Finally, the prince arrived at the thermal baths, a large room filled with round pools of naturally heated water, all of which were currently empty. He dropped his robe to the floor, not even bothering to place it upon one of the small benches next to the pools, and stared at his reflection in the calm water of the pool in front of him. His dirty-blond hair was messy, and a small stubble marked his face, in desperate need for a shave. Taking attention away from his face and toned, muscular body, however, was his hard cock, which almost seemed to pulsate. Karl closed his eyes and gave it a couple of strokes as he descended the steps into the warm pool.
He shivered as his feet made contact with the hot water, but that just made him hornier. He spit on his hard member, using it as lube as he rubbed it. At this point, the water level had hit his balls, and the water started to make splashing sounds as he increased his pace. With his eyes closed, all Karl could think about was the night before, and that mysterious man he had met…
All of a sudden, he felt a pair of warm hands touching his shoulders from behind. “Do you need help with that, my prince?”
Karl opened his eyes as he turned to the figure behind him. The woman actually was quite attractive, with long black hair, cascading down her shoulders and framing a delicate face, soft features and perfect olive skin. He could feel his cock deflating.
“Good morning, Keira,” he sighed. As he turned to look at her, he noticed a set of clothes, lazily dropped over a bench. Of course. “Thank you, but I will not be requiring any, uh, services today.”
“Are you sure, my prince?” She wiggled her chest slightly, trying to show off her large breasts, which seemed like they might burst out of her tight dress.
“I am quite sure. You may go, Keira.”
Her face soured. She turned around and left, her hurried pace with barely any trace of her usual sensual gait. Karl knew the servants had a small competition for who would be the first to bed him. Maybe if they had included the messenger-lads in their wager…
He tried to take his mind off the interruption, moving further inside the pool. He would need to have a stern conversation with Gregor. Gods know these women are already quite annoying in their advances, the last thing they needed was encouragement.
He sank into the thermal pool, letting the water cover him up to his broad shoulders. He closed his eyes and let himself relax, taking in the heat of the baths. He could feel the whole of his body, his muscles relaxing, tension softening. In the quiet of the bath, he felt a sharp pain on the side of his neck. Wow, last night must have been rougher than I imagined.
Last night.
Yes, it had been a bit rough hadn’t it? He barely felt himself stiffening once more, as his mind started to unravel, lost in memory…
The place could best be described as a gutter. And that would be a bit unfair to gutters. Like a symphony of distaste, the crooked notes of a half-deaf bard clashed and mingled with a near-overwhelming scent of sweat and shitty ale. It was almost curious how the tavern ever lingered in a precise level of uncomfortable grime, never dirtier, never cleaner. Must be a hard state to maintain.
The man could best be described as striking. In perfect dissonance with the tavern, he was an orderly figure; impeccable dark doublet, neatly pressed and of fine cloth, along with his tidily combed raven hair clashed with the man’s pale-skinned face. Smooth features, plump lips and piercing blue eyes, which stared at the prince’s direction.
Karl sipped at his ale, a hint of a smile on his lips. His eyes faced forward, but the edges of his vision could make out the man, sitting at the bar, who gazed at him. The man’s eyes, however, quickly darted away as Karl, in a swift movement, stood from his table and crossed the tavern all the way to the bar. Unintelligible grunts, fingers tapping on wood, the clink of coins, the suave sound of flowing liquid, Karl’s mug was full. His peripheral still caught the stranger, eyes still skewed away, who now sat at a short distance.
In a sudden, pounce-like motion, the prince was there.
“So, what is it that brings such a lordly presence to a place like this?”
Eyes widening in surprise, the man’s rising blush filled his pale face like a drop of blood on the water.
“I was… I was just thirsty, that’s all.”
“Well I be damned, this is one foul place to quench your thirst.”
“You’re here too, though.”
“Indeed I am,” Karl said, and took a healthy chug of his ale. Terrible as ever. “I guess you are not the only one with terrible taste.”
The stranger seemed to study Karl with those sharp eyes of his. He seemed thoughtful, yet a tad bit amused.
“You see,” the prince said, gesticulating with the half-filled mug, “this ale right here tastes like pisswater. But it is the best pisswater in town.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer ale that just doesn’t taste like pisswater at all?” His own short sip was followed by a soft grimace.
“Oh well, once you live in a place as dreadful as this, you start to see beauty in the honesty of pisswater.”
“Gods, how many of these have you drunk tonight?” He jested.
“Enough,” Karl shrugged. “Now, for you to come looking for a drink in a ditch like this, you must not be from here…”
“I’m Northern. Though I have been in Zhorn for a little over a month.”
Now that he mentioned it, the man’s accent did have the suave rhythm of the North, though his skin seemed a bit too light for what Karl knew of his people.
“Oh my!” A sardonic grin formed on the prince’s face “Am I in the presence of one of the famed Northern Dukes?”
“Gods no.” He averted his gaze, the old familiar blush trickling back in. “I’m a mere citizen, that’s all.”
“Oh, I see. And how has your citizenship been liking this mighty fine ditch you have been dumped in?”
“Come on!” His eyes glinted with newfound vigor, despite his yet-flushed face. “You are making the city sound much worse than it actually is! It just oozes all that exquisite Southern beauty…”
“Don’t worry,” he said with a handwave, “once you start getting used to Zhorn, you’ll see the awfulness. Just you wait, it seeps in slowly, but you can bet that it does.”
“How cynical. You should learn to see the beauty of things, you know. You are so… unromantic.”
“Oh I can be quite romantic,” he smirked, then shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “That is what I’ve been told, at least…”
“Is that so? Do women often say that to you?”
The Northerner’s voice was provoking. Karl grinned, and said to the same tone, his voice half-whispering:
“No. Though I do often hear it…”
“Ah,” he bit his lip softly, “the famed Southern charm.”
The prince bowed mockingly.
“And how would you say it compares to all the other Southern marvels you have seen?”
The man hesitated for a moment, eyes sinking towards the floor.
“I… I haven’t really seen much…”
Seeing Karl’s accusatory look, he added:
“I have been a bit busy…”
“Not here for sightseeing, then?”
“Business,” he admitted.
“Oh, of what kind?”
“The dull, repetitive kind, I’m afraid. It has kept me occupied for quite a while.”
“Not tonight, though?”
“Not tonight,” the dark-haired man’s mouth curled into a slight smile.
“So, unfamiliar and eager for a drink, your citizenship just walked into the first pub he saw, none the wiser to its quite famed low quality?”
“You got me,” he sighed, overly dramatic.
Taking another sip of his terrible ale, the Northerner continued:
“Though now that you have caught this dreadful secret of mine, the least you could do is help me out with my situation…” His eyes met Karl’s. Piercing. Deep. Hungry. His voice was laden with a desire that seemed to be previously hidden. “Why don’t you show me around?”
“Yes… I could do that.” Grin widening, the prince chugged in one sip the rest of the notorious pisswater.
“I am Karl, by the way.”
“Delightful to meet you, Karl,” he said provocatively.
Arm in arm, the two of them walked down less crowded streets, the constant sensorial nausea of the pubs now far less present, and allowing for the ethereal beauty of the moonlit night to seep in. Maybe all those ales had started taking effect, for it was not a common occurrence for Karl to see any form of beauty to the streets of Zhorn. Yet under the silvery light of the full moon, everything carried a special glint. Broken glass shone like perfectly polished blades of silver; puddles of dirty water reflected the world above as a ghostly reflection of itself, dazzled by the silvery warmth of the orb reigning over it; loose cobblestones on the poorly-kept street, bathed in its own eerie gleam, looked as the very bridge to the realm of the gods.
Yet nothing shone more than his eyes.
Like two small moons in their own right, the cold piercing blue blended with the pale rays in a near symphony of hues; simple, yet gorgeous. And they stared right at him, framed by the delightfully soft face of the raven-haired Northerner. Karl realized they had been silent for a while, just looking into each other’s eyes as they walked. I want him. I want him so fucking much.
As if on cue to Karl’s own thoughts, he leaned in, blue eyes still steady. Their gait did not slow, as the man’s face neared Karl’s neck. They were less than an inch apart; the warmth of another body, the soft caress of breath, the sheer tone of eagerness the air carried, all bathed the prince’s neck. All less than an inch away. He could no longer hold.
In a quick motion, he shoved the man against the wall, overcome with desire. Karl pounced, his mouth hungrily seeking the Northerner’s. Their lips touched in an eruption of passion, their bodies tight, connected as if one. Arms wrapped around the other man, their tongues explored each other, twisting in a synchronized dance of pure lust. For the first time, Karl felt the grace of the man in front of him, a few inches shorter than himself and of a perfectly soft frame, his warm body near-melting into the prince’s arm, soft muffled moans and hands firmly grasping onto him. He could feel himself growing stiff.
As the man drew his mouth away Karl let his lips wander, tracing a gracious pattern from cheek all the way to neck, letting himself be overcome with the slight sweet scent of the mysterious man.
“Aren’t you afraid anyone will see us?” The man muttered, a muted tone of pleasure underlining his words.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“Good,” he replied, a slight malicious grin forming on his face. On cue, the Northerner slid himself free of the prince’s grasp and, as if moving a ragdoll, thrust Karl back into the wall, held off the ground. Under his power.
He squeezed his hand on Karl’s ass, commanding and, surprisingly, the prince caught himself obediently wrapping his legs around him, letting himself be held completely. He had never really felt overpowered before, his pleasure beholden to another, his own self completely at someone else’s mercy. He felt exhilarated. As the Northerner lunged with his mouth, his hand still held onto Karl’s ass. He could feel it touching him softly but assertively, in a gentle, hungry caress. He squeezed, and let his hands sift through, slowly moving them around, fingers advancing further and further inward, every new squeeze bringing his strong fingers closer to his hole. Karl shivered, uncertain yet excited, the thought of this man playing with his asshole filling his mind more and more. His asshole, untouched throughout his life, now seemed to pulsate in yearning, the suave yet anguishing ache of desire burned inside of him, screaming for relief, its quiet yell slowly overcoming Karl.
Then it all stopped.
After a mere moment whose obnoxiously loud silence seemed to extend far beyond the very notion of time, he let go. In a swift motion, the prince was brought back down. He could feel his own expression of surprise, a face of confusion clashing with the flush of passion and a painfully hard cock. The man sported a teasing smile.
“Well, I think that’s enough for the moment.”
Karl couldn’t form any response beyond a stammer.
“Oh come on, Karl. Be patient, dear. There are far better ways to do this than in a dirty alley. Besides,” his grin widened, “there is a place I want to show you.”
“Didn’t you say you hadn’t been anywhere in town?” The prince had gathered back a bit of his composure, but his face was still stricken by the denial.
“Hm. Yes, I guess I lied…” He dismissed, playfully. “Now come on. We do not, after all, have all night.” He turned to go, but not without a slight flicker on the raging bulge that strained Karl’s trousers.
He belonged to this man now, and they both knew it. Obedient, his mind clouded by the thick curtains of desire, the prince followed.
The buzz of the city’s nightlife diminished more and more as the two of them made their way through dark alleys and shadowed corners, the gorgeous light of the moon shaping the scenery into a morose paysage that seemed to ooze its own tragic beauty. Then they stopped, faced with a large manor. The silvery rays framed its sharp corners, the meld of light and shadow constructing the delicate patterns of its façade and the abrupt shapes of its twisted gargoyles, the hulking form imposing its grandeur onto Karl, small and insignificant before the ancient building. Although the streets around them showed a visage of decay and neglect, the house stood immaculate, not a single grain of dust or sign of wear barring the power of its presence, a hall of smooth dark stone that seemed to stand beyond the weary touch of eons, and would long remain after all around it is crushed into dust.
As the Northerner approached the manor, his dark garb melding with the house’s own shadow, Karl noticed something. The house’s windows, framed by sharp ornate arches, were stone, of the same dark shade as the rest of its walls. Whichever haunting secrets its halls hid, would never see the light of day.
At a mere touch of the pale-faced man, the manor’s large ebony doors parted, its ancient archway as a gargantuan mouth of stone ready to engulf them, and the two of them were bathed in eerie crimson lamplight. Though muffled by a soft carpet of blood-red velvet, their steps seemed to echo as the entrance hallway swallowed them in. At its very end, awaited a woman, brown of hair and dressed in a flowing gown, intricate patterns of silk and lace in a piece of black and bordeaux that reflected the bloody light of the hall. Her pale-skinned form was as that of a phantasm of ages past. Lips curled into a welcoming smile, the woman approached them, lithe steps as if floating above the floor itself.
“Welcome, children. It is a pleasure,” the word carried a malicious emphasis through her soft red lips, “to have you amongst us tonight.”
His companion smiled at the mysterious hostess, a lingering expression that seemed to carry its own secret message in a language Karl could not understand. Grabbing the prince’s arm into his own, the man continued through the wide hallway.
Finally, the path opened into a large chamber, a system of ornate chandeliers hanging from the tall domed ceiling filling the room in the same blood-red lighting as the hallway, though high enough not to fill the room completely. The lamps’ positions cast large shadows within the hall, creating a large kaleidoscope of reds and grays that ebbed and flowed as its inhabitants moved.
And move they did.
The chamber was a large ballroom. Its dark, well-polished floor reflected the room’s eerie lighting onto itself, a myriad of clashing hues framing, at their very center, the delicate shapes of elegantly dressed ballers, twirling forms flickering between light and shadow as if transitioning between unknown realms.
Clad in the finest cloths, cut in impeccable forms and colored in distinct reds and blacks, many even wearing masks, the motion of the dancers was hypnotic. They weaved elegant patterns through the hall, paired and synchronous, notes in a symphony of otherworldly beauty. If Karl had gazed at them for a moment longer, he might even have noticed how many of the guests, despite the intricate lighting scheme, cast no shadows of their own. Yet he didn’t.
His awe was dispelled as he was handed a glass of dark red wine. His companion, who also had a glass of his own, took Karl by the arm. As two of them walked together towards the dance floor, he took a sip of the wine. It tasted sweet, with a certain warmth that was hard to explain. The prince could feel the warmth filling him, driving him. Heart beating faster, Karl felt that the wine itself tasted of desire, as if magnifying tenfold the burning flame of lust that consumed him from the inside. He was acutely aware of the strong arm of the lean man that held him, his touch, his scent, fueling Karl’s passion, making of him little more than hunger.
“Quite a vintage, isn’t it?” The Northerner’s eyes grinned of malice. Karl couldn’t help but notice his own mouth, agape. He quickly patched it with another swig of wine.
And then they were in the eye of the storm, twisting forms drifting past them in eager dance, guided by the suave tune of an unseen violin’s soft cry. The music itself danced, its beauty filling the space in between ballers and swinging its notes at the graceful swing of the crimson lights, enamored yet careful.
In between the carnival of forms and senses were the two of them, bodies entangled, moving in a slow pace that followed a certain undertone of melancholy in the smooth melody. Karl never had considered himself a great dancer, but at this moment his body knew nothing but to follow, his steps gracefully accompanying the muted swiftness of the dark-haired man’s own feet. He did not lead. Not anymore. Now he followed on cue, held and loyal, enslaved by desire. He would wish no different. In a tight embrace, they danced.
Karl grew more and more distant from the world around them, lost into the man who held him. His pale eyes carried a depth that just drew him in. Karl could see the hunger in those eyes, in the curve of his grin in the eagerness of his grip. Yet the man teased him. A soft touch on his ass, a slight leaning of the head, a playful biting of the lip. The prince knew the man wanted him, and he himself could barely contain his own lust. He wished the Northerner would just fuck him right there.
They twirled in a fabulous clash of passions. Though he knew he was not in control, Karl felt their rhythm grow in the pace of his own beating heart. They were close together, eager dextrous steps swinging them around the room, driven by the energy of their very lust. And then lips met.
A soft touch, silky plump lips embracing his own, and Karl barely knew if their gait stilled or roused. The man’s mouth was far hungrier than his eyes, tongue forcing its way into Karl’s mouth, exploratory, predatory, eager. The prince felt himself give in more and more to the touch, near melting into a steely embrace. Beholden to another, he swirled in body and in mind, the rough touch of his companion’s mouth rousing more and more the yearning he felt. His body demanded, but he knew it was not up to him.
Then sharp, delightful pain as he sank his teeth into Karl’s lower lip. He barely had any time to process the feeling, however, as he felt his companion’s hand beneath his trousers, closing tight on his cock. Karl coalesced into a shambling mass of pleasure, the sudden sensation replacing the feeling of contained desire. Tight in their grasp, the man’s fingers twirled, softly massaging his shaft and balls, the shifting tightness in a crescendo of warm stimulation. He could not hold. He would not hold.
“Please,” he found himself near pleading, “please I want you inside me.”
He was held tight against a wall, the man’s rough embrace holding him off the ground as he pleasured him. In this moment of near clarity, Karl noticed they were not the only ones in such a moment of debauchery, as several couples near them gave into their own pleasure. To his right he could see the very woman who received them, with a form in a bright elegant gown beneath her own skirt, neat braids of long blonde hair the only thing visible as her face was buried tight against the hostess crotch. She sighed, face a mask of pleasure, lost eyes not even acknowledging the presence of any other people. And then Karl’s eyes turned back to the light pits of warm hunger that stared back at him.
“Is that so?” He squeezed tighter around his balls.
“Ngh… yes,” Karl whimpered. “Please!”
“Alright.” The man let go. In a moment his hand was back out, and he gently put the prince back down. “Come with me, then. I sure could use some more wine.”
“But will you…”
He laid his fingers onto Karl’s lips.
“Come. With. me.”
And he went. They walked through the gorgeous ballroom, the entire rest of the party now bereft of any shame as the hall was a mess of bodies and moans, elegant clothes being ripped out to the sweet sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Karl felt himself rock-solid as the man led him by the hand through the revelry. He saw the ballers’ eyes, contorted into expressions of delight, their soft yells lodging themselves within his ear and filling him once more with the warmth.
Then they stopped, right in front of the bar, where the man who had previously served their wine was currently balls-deep inside a red-headed man, and did not seem to bother when the Northerner grabbed a bottle and a glass from behind the counter. He sat on a bench, poured himself some wine, and took a swig.
Karl stared puzzled, yet before he could say anything, the man opened his own trousers and dropped them with a quick motion. Out of them bounced a large, thick shaft, smooth and pale and seeming way too large for so lean of a man. Stiff and eager, it seemed to draw him in, a slight drip of precum leaking from the tip of his engorged head.
“Well go on; I do not believe it will suck itself, will it?”
Obedient, he was on his knees in a second. He ran his tongue over the leaking precum, his mouth feeling with its delicious salty taste as he started motioning down, lowering his tongue to the point where head met shaft. He teased it lightly, gently licking around the sensitive spot back and forth, framing it with his tongue, letting the taste of the dark-haired man sink in. He was hungry, desperate, but he couldn’t help being a tease.
Karl held onto the base of the thick shaft as he licked, slowly increasing and decreasing the tightness of the grip. The Northerner looked at him with a face of faux-indifference, but Karl could see the glow in his eyes. He saw the slight twitches in the unbreakable mask of power whenever his tongue ran over the very tip. He just sipped at his wine, in control, but Karl knew he could barely contain himself.
He smiled lightly and took the man’s head into his mouth. He did so in a motion suave and gradual, lips slowly enveloping him. And as he did, his right hand moved towards the Northerner’s balls. It was near torture, but Karl managed to be gentle; a light touch, fingers slowly drawing a line towards his taint. And there he let himself be rough.
As his tongue danced around the throbbing head he held in his mouth, Karl pressed hard against the man’s taint. At this moment he heard a gasp as the Northerner seemed to nearly spit his wine. Finally he got a reaction, and the rough shape of a grin formed around the man’s cock. Karl continued to push, his other fingers in a gentle motion around his sack, and in a seductive movement pulled his head away, dragging out his tongue. Crowning the gesture with a soft kiss on the tip, he looked up into the devouring blue eyes of the man above. He had dropped all poise of neutrality, and wore his hunger on his face.
“You’re such a little whore, aren’t you?”
The prince responded with another kiss. And then another, and then another, trailing a pattern throughout his entire length, hand still doing its work. With another sigh of pleasure, the man laid back and enjoyed, hand now resting on Karl’s golden curls. His grip tightened whenever he moved his lips to the sensitive head, with an occasional sweep of his tongue crowning his performance.
With a large kiss on the very tip, Karl let his mouth open up again and started slowly enveloping his length with his own mouth. And then the Northerner shoved.
In a rough movement, he grasped tight at Karl’s head and forced him lower, his eyes fixed and voracious. The prince got the message, and let himself get pushed down, slowly filling his throat with the large shaft. He could feel his eyes starting to tear up as it entered, the hard, throbbing cock seeming impossibly large to fit inside him. And yet it did. For a moment, all he did was savor the moment, face buried on this man’s neatly shaved crotch and shaft nearly choking him, strong grasp pulling at his hair and completely under someone’s power. Then he started swallowing.
“Nghh, that’s it…” The man said in a breathy tone.
He grasped harder and started pulling Karl up, then in another thrust brought him back down. Slowly, he started fucking the prince’s throat, bobbing him up and down again until his face was back into his crotch. Up and down he increased his pace, grunting as he hit the back of Karl’s throat, and bringing him back up. Up and down his thrusts got rougher, his cock pulsating eagerly.
With a harsh yank, he pulled Karl back up, spit trailing out of the hard shaft. He felt himself gasping for air, face covered in spit, tears and precum, and he had never been hornier in his entire life. The Northerner jumped to his feet, pulling Karl with him, and kissed him. Tongue eager and hungry, he scrubbed the prince’s mouth for his own taste, darting through the very entrance he had been ravaging.
He held Karl in his arms, eyes fixed in his, and as their mouths parted, they stopped and looked. The dark-haired man looked nigh-entranced, a cold flame of passion burning within his eyes.
“Karl…”
“Yes,” he responded, mesmerized by the gorgeous man who held him.
“I need you to make me cum. Can you do that? Can you get me to cum inside your throat?”
“Please,” he felt himself near begging.
The man smiled, a soft pure smile highlighting his beautiful dimples. And then he pushed down on Karl’s shoulders. In a moment, the prince was on his knees, and the raven-haired man had his cock back inside his mouth.
He held onto the sides of Karl’s head and thrusted. He did not wait, he did not start slowly, he fucked. As he did, it was clear the previous moment had been no more than a warm up, his harsh, rapid thrusts drilling into Karl’s warm opening, stretching his throat, filling him up, mercilessly pounding away.
“FUCK, KARL,” he yelled. “FUCK! I’M CUMMING! I’M GOING TO FUCKING CUM, AND YOU BETTER SWALLOW IT!”
His pounding grew faster and rougher, and Karl could see the sheer bliss on his face. He thrust once. Twice. On the third thrust, Karl felt it. One after the other, ropes of warm liquid started shooting into the back of his throat, an animalistic scream of pleasure thundering from the Northerner as Karl was filled. Though he tried to swallow it all, it was just too much. He could feel it leaking, the rapid motion splashing it all over his face.
Covered in spit and cum, Karl panted and swallowed as his companion gathered him back into his arms, holding him in his embrace as they gathered their breaths.
Gently, he started kissing Karl’s face, lips slowly cleaning off the cum that soiled him.
“That’s a nice throat you have, isn’t it?” He whispered, a soft bite into his ear, a gentle kiss on his jaw, a gradual shift back towards his chin.
“You weren’t half bad yourself.” Still out of breath, he leaned in for a light kiss. “But I can’t help but wonder… Isn’t it your turn, now?”
The man grinned a wolven grin.
“You’ve earned it,” he said in a sly tone.
Moving gently but strongly, he raised Karl onto the bar as if he weighed nothing at all. In an instant, the prince’s trousers were out, and the Northerner started licking.
In one long drag, he ran his tongue from Karl’s taint all the way through the soft line of his balls and over his dick. The prince shivered as waves of pleasure shot into his body from the man’s skilled touch. The sweet movement of his tongue led to Karl’s balls, and all of a sudden one of them was in his mouth. His tongue not stopping for a moment, he started sucking, playing with it, tightening and loosening. Yet the most arousing thing was his eyes, hungry gaze boring a hole through his very soul.
With two fingers, he clamped Karl’s head. He held, pinched, twisted, moving slowly but assertively, mouth nonstop, now working on the other testicle. The prince felt near-overwhelmed with sensation, filled by the delightful warmth of the dark-haired man’s touch.
His mouth went down, back at his taint, soft kisses and light licks, a gentle touch contrasting with the increasingly rougher grasp of his hand. Yet the mouth kept moving. Lower and lower, and all of a sudden Karl could feel the smooth brush of tongue on the entrance of his asshole.
“Mhmm…” He bit his lip, overwhelmed by the new sensation. His hole and been pulsating the entire night. There was something about this man that made Karl want to be fucked. He needed to be ravaged. Yet he had never even felt at his asshole before. He had always been the one to fuck them. Instantly, he had fallen in love with the sensation.
“Eager, aren’t we?” The Northerner said, slowly rubbing his index finger on Karl’s entrance. “And so, so tight. Have you ever been fucked, Karl?”
His eyes were needy; the man’s amused.
“N… no,” he replied, another moan as the tip of a finger broke through.
“So we are having some fun tonight.” His mouth formed into a lupine grin, fingertip curling slightly before leaving the prince’s hole.
In a sudden move, he grabbed onto Karl’s sack, grasp tight and eyes eager. For a moment, he just stood, looking into the prince’s eyes as he twitched from the grip. Then, he went back to work. Mouth as wild as ever he buried his face into Karl’s ass, making way with his tongue, inserting himself inside, eagerly opening for what was to come.
He swirled inside, periodically interrupting his kiss with a wet spit into his hole. The prince felt himself relaxing, his opening wet and permissive as the Northerner’s hand massaged his balls, fingers twisting them around, tight grip squeezing them in a near-painful state of bliss.
In a harsh motion, the man shoved his finger into Karl’s mouth. He barely gave it a second thought and welcomed it in, sucking it, savoring it. Leaving it good and wet. Of course, what followed was this same finger meeting the opening of his hole.
It started slowly, tip gently making way for itself. Then it went deeper, and deeper. Karl moaned in pleasure and pain as the finger buried its way inside, snugly occupying the tight space of his asshole. The man grinned and twisted it around slowly.
“Oh, so you do like it? Interesting,” he pushed it further, lodged to the base. “My little anal slut. Who would have thought?”
His finger started drifting back, then slowly making its way back in. The man spit one or twice more into Karl’s asshole, but did not stop his motion. Back. And forth. Back. And forth. He could feel it start to slide easier, the sweet burn of attrition bringing him shivers. Then the finger was out.
He saw the man add a bit more spit, then felt it. A second finger dug itself into him.
“FUCK!”
He squeezed tighter.
“Oh, you weren’t expecting that, were you?” His lips were filled with malice.
Another bit of spit, and he was back in motion. Now there was no pretense of kindness; hands firm around his balls, his fingers shot back and forth, fucking him with taste. Karl squirmed at the touch, and started feeling a new form of euphoria; the Northerner had hit the right spot. By his grin, he noticed it at the same time as Karl, and started pushing further, moving quicker. Fingers darted back and forth, knocking on Karl’s center of pleasure, introducing him to a menagerie of unfamiliar sensations that embraced him and carried him into eternal bliss. He was mush, he was melting flesh, he was nothing but pleasure, a slave to the sensation that pulsed from the deep thrusts inside of him. He could feel something building up inside of him, something he had never come close to experience. It roused within, a building pressure of thundering heat, a primordial state of self yearning to be released. And it suddenly all stopped.
The man’s fingers were out, his trousers were on, he was on his feet and walking away.
“Wait! Hold on! Where are you going?” Karl yelled, clumsily attempting to follow him.
“Oh, I think it’s been enough for tonight. Great time though, hope we meet again!”
Karl awkwardly tried to pull his trousers back up as he made his way after him.
“What? What are you talking about?”
They passed the hall’s entrance, and were back on the smooth red carpet, which seemed to drag even more the prince’s gawky steps. He was near out of breath, and felt as if he was trying to catch up with a racehorse.
In a moment, they were out of the ebony doors, a breath of icy air filling Karl’s lungs as the cold night flushed away the eerie ambience of the manor. The Northerner seemed even further away than before, backing into the street and twisting in a dark corner. He struggled to catch up.
“What’s going on? What about me, you can’t just…”
All of a sudden he was cut by a forceful push, meeting the cold alley wall as a strong grasp held him from behind.
“Oh Karl, you’re too sweet.” The whisper flowed into his ear, warm and delightful. “You honestly thought I was going to fuck you inside? Hidden away where no one else would see? I want them to hear you moan, Karl. I want the whole fucking city to know you’re mine.”
His firm hand spanked Karl’s ass and squeezed with passion. Then his trousers were down, and the Northerner’s spit covered hand rubbed between his cheeks. His touch was teasing, but far from the slow mystique that had been shrouding their encounter. Instead he felt a raw hunger to the man’s warmth, a brutish roughness to his provocative demeanor. As his hand slid, his fingers dragged, arousing the sensitive skin of his asshole. Preparing it.
Karl, of course, knew what was coming, and he yearned for it. He felt it drawing near, the tip of the man’s cock dragging through his cheeks, making way. It made contact with his entrance, a rough uncaring flicker warming it up for the main event. Then it started pushing.
It entered in one rapid motion, but to Karl it was as if he could feel every inch as it passed through his hole, the massive shaft burying itself inside with a sort of gracious yet violent strike. One swift move and Karl was filled, held tightly by the strong man who had just entered. He could not help but moan, a scream of pleasure echoing through the empty night-streets.
“Was this what you were waiting for?” The man whispered into Karl’s ear, strong arms wrapped tight around him. “Did you want me to fuck your tight little ass?”
He started moving his hips, shifting the length inside Karl, building up a mild thrusting motion that soon erupted into aggressive, non-stop pounding. He still held the prince close, his motion rippling through the warm body kept in his embrace. He kissed Karl’s neck as he did, the oddly gentle, praising, barrage of kisses contrasting with the harsh pace with which he ravaged his insides.
“FUCKING HELL, YES!” He cried.
“Oh, but you seem like the type who likes having it easy. Slow, soft lovemaking.” He interrupted his words with occasional nibbles on Karl’s ear, hands rubbing exploratorily through Karl’s body. The prince felt the tender hands on him, caressing his torso and neck, soft gropes and touches, slowly ridding him of his shirt. Then they stopped and held, fingers pinching on his nipple as the pounding slowed.
“Do not expect that from me.”
A sharp sound echoed, as a resounding slap met Karl’s face, cueing his cock to again raise its incessant thrusting. He knew no response but a moan, nearly as loud as the slap itself. The Northerner let out a low grunt in response, his movement unwaveringly hungry.
“Fuck, do it again!” Karl said, out of breath.
The man obliged. He spanked again, then once more, his shaft driving through the prince with ever growing hunger. Then he shoved him, throwing Karl once more into the wall, away from his grip and from his cock.
“How sweet. A nice little gape there.” He lunged, hands pulling Karl’s cheeks apart and tongue heartily running through it. He grunted in satisfaction, then in a quick movement was back in. He thrusted and immediately pulled his dick away, vigorously lunging and pulling out, widening the gape in the prince’s tight ass.
“How about that, huh?” He said, with a slap to Karl’s ass. “Is that harsh enough for you?”
Karl barely knew how to speak anymore. Yet he had no problem feeling and, as the aggressive ass-fucking ravaged him faster and faster, he could feel the man’s hand grabbing onto his hair, pulling his head back, bringing them near eye to eye. He faced those gorgeous blue eyes, that smiled the same smile as the plump lips that closed in on his. He felt the slight lingering taste of his own asshole in the man’s mouth, the shifting caress of his tongue twisting and clashing as his cock thrusted deep inside him, right at the spot. Fast-paced. Hungry.
He bit into Karl’s lip with a grunt, thrusts slowing, hitting with resounding strength, near pressing the prince into the wall, and eventually stopping. For a moment he just stood, holding him. He slowly twisted Karl, who once again met the devilish eyes of passion that burned in the Northerner’s face. They looked at each other and kissed. They felt at their naked bodies, warm in the cold of the night. Karl only noticed their gradual movement as he felt his back against the wall, and in a moment he was pinned again. He wrapped his legs around the man for support, and stared at his hungry eyes again. The Northerner swiftly lined up, and in a second was thrusting again.
The pounding was harsh as ever, but now they faced each other. Karl could see every wrinkle of pleasure, every shift in the man’s expression as they fucked, and that made him horny out of his mind.
A sly curl in his lips, the Northerner brought his firm hand onto the prince’s cock. His stroking started slow, but gradually lined with the rhythm of his hips, rough hand on Karl’s shaft as his own pierced his asshole. It got harder and harder for the prince to hold.
Their lips met again as the crescendo of sensation started to rouse within Karl. Soft touch, warm body, delicate lips, assertive hand, powerful thrusts, all in an ethereal synchronicity that vibrated to the tune of the warmth that once again built deep within him. And he felt on the man’s lips that he was also close, barely able to contain the cascading ecstasy of orgasm.
Time stilled as the sounds of the winter night gave way to the powerful groan of the raven-haired man. In blissful fury, his barrage of thrusts grow stronger and stronger, heavier, faster, driven by the primal desperation that burns with lust. Then it all happened at the same time. As the Northerner’s body clenched with pleasure, Karl felt a delightful ache as the man’s teeth closed on his neck.
A sweet spark of sensation ignited the growing warmth that filled him. He felt himself losing control of himself, melting into a mess of isolated sensation. The northerner’s cock filled him, rope after rope of warm cum bursting into his asshole, his strong arms keeping Karl aloft and bound, the sharp grasp of his teeth pulling him into his own haze of orgasm, splashing their chests with his cum, crumbling into passion and pleasure.
“My prince. My prince!”
Karl came onto himself. He felt the pleasant heat of the thermal bath, its vapors melding with his own breath. As he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his cock, slowly growing soft in his hand, a reasonable splatter of white mingling with the bathwater.
As his eyes drifted around the room, he slowly made out the figure of a man amidst the mists. He looked young, with light brown hair and a messenger’s uniform adorned with the golden gauntlet that represented Zhorn. His face was a shade of beet red, as he appeared to have noticed Karl’s recent activity.
“What is it, Linus?” He asked, annoyed.
“I- it’s captain Hans, my prince. He requested your presence at the city square.”
“Well, can’t you see I’m bathing?” He closed his eyes once more.
“He- he said it is urgent, my prince,” he stammered.
“It always is, with him,” Karl said, making no move to get up.
“Please, my prince. You know I will be in trouble if you don’t go!”
The prince’s face lit up. He had had an idea.
“Alright,” he looked at Linus, “but you’ll make it up to me later.”
He blushed.
“M- my prince, I…”
The prince got up, and started up the small stone steps that led out of the pool. Linus fell silent as he saw his cock, half up, exposed. Karl started stretching, flexing his toned muscles, fully aware of the effect he had on the messenger. After a few seconds, which, to Linus, felt like an eternity, the prince put on his robe and started walking towards the door.
“See you later, Linus,” he said as he slapped the blushing messenger’s ass.
The sun shone brightly as Karl stepped out of the palace. He closed his eyes, for a moment, letting himself get accustomed to the light, and then made his way through the courtyard. He had put on a simple, but elegant tunic that did not restrict his movement very much, and, over it, wore a simple breastplate made of boiled leather. He also had his longsword hanging from his belt. He never knew what to expect when meeting with Hans. In fact, he was hoping there would be something for him to kill. He was quite sick of dealing with bureaucracy.
As he walked, he felt his stomach growling. He was starving. He cut a corner into the market streets before reaching the main square, and bought himself a small meat pie from a caring old lady, who did not seem to recognize him. Good. It could get really annoying for people to constantly bow and courtesy at the sight of him, in a bizarre attempt to garner even the least bit of favor from the royal house. All it generally accomplished was to get Karl in a bad mood. He slowly nibbled at the pie as he walked through the busy streets, and made a mental note to come back to that stand. The pie was pretty good.
As he got closer to the square, Karl noticed that it was quite full that day, with a large crowd gathered around something, shrouding the place with whisper and gossip. As soon as they noticed him, the townsfolk quieted. They stared at the prince, but made no move other than to make way for him to pass.
Eventually he reached a few guards who blocked the way. They let him through without much trouble, and he saw Hans, standing over a corpse and talking to one of the guards.
“Took you long enough,” Hans said in an annoyed tone as soon as he saw the prince.
The captain of the guard was a large, strong man, whose gray, unyielding eyes reflected his stubbornness. He sported a thick, black mustache, and wore a heavy chainmail armor, along with a tabard depicting the white and gold of Zhorn’s banners.
“Oh, fuck you, Hans. What do you want?”
The captain’s eyes drifted towards the dead woman on the floor. She was dressed in fancy but torn clothing, her golden hair disheveled and dirty and her face oddly peaceful, a woman who might even look noble if she were less tattered. She seemed unusually pale, even for a corpse.
“We’ve had another one.” He turned the woman around, revealing two, very small wounds on her neck. “The vampires took another victim.”