Chapter 213: Chapter 213: Pleasure (1)

The vibration traveled through their connected mouths, buzzing against Dean’s tongue and lips, a tremor that seemed to rattle his teeth. It was a primal sound that cut through Dean’s higher thought processes and went directly to the most instinctual part of his brain.

Dean’s last shred of control, the thin thread of resistance he had been clinging to, snapped. He let out a desperate, ragged noise that was half a moan and half a sob. His hands, which had been gripping Arion’s back, slid down, fingers hooking into the waistband of Arion’s trousers. He pulled, using the leverage to grind his hips up against Arion’s thigh, sending a surge of pleasure through his already aching cock.

When Arion’s tongue retreated this time, Dean followed without hesitation. He surged forward, his own tongue sliding into Arion’s mouth, emboldened by the raw need coursing through him.

Arion broke the kiss, his chest heaving. “Gods, Dean.” He managed to exhale with a low laugh. “You are getting more and more interesting.”

Dean pushed Arion’s chest and raised his head enough to reach his mate’s ear. “Do you want to see something even more interesting?” He whispered like a sin.

Arion’s eyes, dark with lust, locked onto his. Dean could see the calculation there, as he was already plotting this new development.

He let his hands fall away from Dean’s back, resting them on the bed beside his head.

Dean pushed himself up, his hands flat on Arion’s hard chest. He shifted, rising to crouch over Arion’s hips, resting all of his weight on him. Dean’s pajama pants were tight, his cock hard and pressing against the fabric, aching for more.

He kept his eyes on Arion’s as he grabbed the hem of his shirt, tugging it from the trousers, and then glided his hands until they reached the gold buttons of the shirt. Dean unfastened them one by one, like he had all the time in the world.

The first button popped free with a soft click. Dean’s knuckles brushed against the warm, firm skin just below Arion’s throat. He could feel the rapid, steady beat of Arion’s pulse against his fingers, a frantic rhythm that betrayed the Crown Prince’s calm exterior. Arion’s eyes, dark and intense, followed his every move, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He was letting Dean set the terms, and the power was intoxicating.

Dean slid his hands down to the second button. His fingers brushed against a hard, flat nipple, and Arion’s breath hitched, a sharp, audible intake of air that sounded great to Dean. Dean felt the muscles in Arion’s chest tense beneath his palms. He was a predator, yes, but for now, he was the one in the cage, and Dean was the one holding the key.

The third button gave way, revealing more of Arion’s chest, the smooth, tanned skin stretched over hard muscle. Dean’s own cock throbbed in response, a pulse that made his hips shift involuntarily. He could feel the heat of Arion’s body radiating through the thin fabric of his pajama pants, and it became increasingly hard to keep his patience.

The fourth button. Dean’s fingers lingered, his thumb circling the navel before moving on. He could feel Arion’s abs tightening under his touch, which was a sign of how much he was affecting him. He was taking his time and enjoying every moment and every reaction.

The fifth button. The shirt fell open, revealing the full expanse of Arion’s chest and torso. Dean’s hands, now free to explore, slid over the warm skin, his fingers tracing the lines of muscle and bone. He could feel the raw power that Arion was holding back inside of him, and it made him want to do it again.

The last button. Dean’s fingers brushed against the hard, thick line of Arion’s erection, still trapped beneath the fabric of his trousers. Arion groaned, a low, guttural sound that promised retribution later. His hands, which had been resting on the bed, rose to grasp Dean’s hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

“Dean,” he rasped, his voice rough with desire. “Stop teasing.”

“But it’s fun.” Dean said with an innocent gleam in his purple eyes that made Arion question who was actually in charge and if he should fight it at all.

The zipper of Arion’s trousers broke the sound of ventilation in the room. Dean’s hands were already on the throbbing tick cock.

Dean’s fingers wrapped around Arion’s throbbing length, the heat of him searing into Dean’s palm. The fabric of Arion’s trousers was already damp with pre-come, and Dean could feel Arion’s blood rushing through the thick vein running along the underside of his cock.

“Look at you,” Dean murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. “Already so desperate for me.” He tightened his grip just enough to make Arion gasp, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

Arion’s hands, which had been gripping Dean’s hips, slid down to cup his ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. “You’re playing with fire, my love,” he warned, though his voice was strained with pleasure.

Dean smirked, his purple eyes glinting with mischief. “Good. I like it hot.” Slowly, he began to stroke Arion’s cock, his thumb rubbing circles over the sensitive head.

Arion’s long fingers slid under the hem of Dean’s pants and briefs, first cupping and fondling the ass, then reaching for the already wet, puffy hole from their previous sex sessions.

The touch was a jolt of pure pleasure that shot up Dean’s spine and made his own cock twitch where it was pressed against Arion’s stomach. Dean’s rhythm faltered for a moment, a choked gasp escaping his lips as Arion’s fingers circled the sensitive rim, teasing, promising.

“Still so ready for me,” Arion murmured, his voice a low, possessive rumble that vibrated through Dean’s chest, while he pressed one long finger inside, sinking into Dean’s wet heat up to the first knuckle.

The sensation was overwhelming. Dean’s head fell forward, his forehead resting against Arion’s shoulder as a shudder wracked his body. “Gods,” he breathed, the word barely audible. He was so full, so stretched, and Arion had only just begun. He could feel the muscles of his ass clenching around the intrusion, a desperate attempt to pull him deeper.

Arion chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound. “So eager.” He worked his finger deeper, the slick slide eased by their previous encounters. He crooked it slightly, searching, and then he found it. He brushed against that bundle of nerves deep inside Dean, and Dean saw stars. A sharp cry tore from his throat, his hips bucking wildly, his hand tightening almost painfully around Arion’s cock.

“Found it,” Arion said smugly. He did it again, firm press that sent another wave of intense pleasure crashing through Dean. He added a second finger, scissoring them, stretching Dean further, preparing him. The stretch was exquisite, with a sweet burn that only added to the pleasure.

“Fuck…” Dean managed to say, panting.

“Well, Dean, you said you wanted to show me something more interesting. “What is it?” Arion asked, his mouth barely away from Dean’s lips.

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