Florian’s Spicy Side Story (Patreon)

[[NSFW, 18+ ONLY]]

“On the road again tomorrow,” Florian says, playing with the hem of your shirt to distract himself.

“Dreading it already?” You ask, brushing a stray curl from his face and tucking it behind his ear.

He smiles up at you, “Maybe a little bit.”

“Understandable after the last fiasco,” You huff out a laugh, amused by how his face crinkles at the memories.

It’s probably not appropriate for the two of you to spend the night together at this age. You aren’t children having a sleepover anymore, after all. You’re certain the nobility would feign outrage, calling out nonsense about impropriety as if they haven’t done far worse. It’s a good thing you pay them little mind and Florian pays them none at all.

His nerves are shot at the thought of going off on another adventure so soon. After everything he almost lost, everything you almost lost, it’s understandable. So he invited you to his room, to his bed, and you both made flimsy promises to keep your hands to yourselves.

Those promises lasted all of five minutes, if that.

Now he lays sprawled out in your lap, his head cushioned on your thighs while you run your hands through his curls. Occasionally, his fingers will slip from fiddling with the hem of your shirt to stroking the skin along your hip. Once or twice your hand has wandered from playing with his hair to running along the length of his jaw.

“Let’s not talk about last time,” He mutters, “I get a headache just thinking about it.”

“Then what would you like to talk about?” You lean back against his cushioned headboard, making yourself comfortable.

He twists in your lap, rolling over onto his hands and knees before sliding closer and grasping your waist, settling between your legs. The smile that flickers on his face tells you everything you need to know.

“What happened to no touching?” You raise an eyebrow, not bothering to hide your amusement.

He pauses, tilting his head slightly, “Did you even believe yourself when you promised that?”

“Did you?” You counter.

“Of course not.” He leans forward, his nose brushing yours.

He’s so close that you can smell the spiced orange tea on his breath. One of his favorites to have before bed, you know.

“I didn’t either,” You whisper, as if it was such a big secret.

Disregarding any chance at chastity, his kiss is all-consuming right from the start. His hands move to cup your face, drawing you so close you nearly tumble into his lap.

When you finally pull away to catch your breath, you begin to tug at his pants and help him shimmy out of them. Your clothes follow his onto the floor, landing in a messy heap. You twist around until he’s now pressed against the headboard, your legs entwined. The feel of his bare skin against your own as your hips meet is just as nice as his fancy sheets.

He expects your lips to meet his again, but they don’t. You pull away and begin to slide down his body, his hands fluttering around you as if they aren’t sure where to fall. Your mouth burns a trail along his jaw, down his throat and chest, until you reach his navel and finally look up at him. He has one hand pressed against his mouth, his eyes blown wide as he stares down at you.

“Please,” He whines, the noise muffled by his palm.

You don’t need any further begging, though he’s so pretty when he does. He’s already hard by the time you take the tip of him into your mouth. You suck once, swirling your tongue around him before dipping in to lick the slit. He nearly bends in half at the pressure around his cock, his muffled moan just short of a full on cry.

You pull off him, reaching up to tug at his hand, “I want to hear you, Flor. You sound so good.”

His hand falls without a second thought, and you feel his length twitch in your grasp as you praise him. You maintain eye contact as you take him fully in this time, swallowing around him and relishing the shudder you can see wash over him. You bob your head down, taking him deeper, and that’s when you notice-

Sparks of light. He has his hands buried in those nice, soft sheets, gripping the silk for dear life. Scattered snippets of light escape as his grip shifts, sending dazzling patterns across the wall and windows. His magic is reactionary, and he’s quickly losing control.

You bite back a laugh, using your tongue again on him as you reach up and grasp his hips with both hands. You scrape down them lightly with your nails before going back and stroking the goosebumps left in your wake.

The windows are all closed tonight, yet a breeze rustles through the air. His hair sways as his hands rest on the back of your head, whining as he fights the urge to thrust up into your mouth. When you sink down further regardless, the breeze grows stronger.

“Love,” He groans, his voice raspy, “Love, please, I’m so close.”

You say nothing, just reaching up to stroke whatever doesn’t fit in your mouth with one hand and taking his balls into your other. You feel him seize up and go stiff before he finally reaches his peak. He practically goes limp under you as he trembles through his climax, the light growing so bright you have to close your eyes against the brilliance of it.

He rests a hand on your waist as you lean into his side in the aftermath, his eyes half-lidded and fully sated.

“Seems I have to catch up,” He murmurs, pressing his thigh between your own legs.

You suck in a sharp breath but dutifully ignore the shudder that runs up and down your spine, “Sleep. The sun will be up soon and you can’t go falling off your horse.”

“But,” He begins to object, pouting.

You give him a quick kiss, firm but sweet, “Later. Make it up to me later.”

He seems appeased, falling asleep with your head resting against his chest. You pull the thick blankets over you both before your eyes slip closed as well, already fantasizing about what he might do to you in the many evenings to come.