LOREN
As Frey’s fingers walked down their body, Loren found every sensation reflected on his own skin. It was an exquisitely agonizing feeling of pleasure and he couldn’t help his eyes from fluttering or the sensual sounds from escaping his throat. Somehow, despite that, he found his feet, and staggered backwards, eyes still unable to look away from the divine being. Then, the god’s fingers closed around their erection and stopped just short of touching, and Loren collapsed. His hands found his own throbbing cock, and started pumping, desperate for a release. However, when Frey spoke next, he stopped with another groan, a mixture of every terribly wonderful and wonderfully terrible emotion he was feeling. He had never felt such pleasure (the feelings Rexanna had brought out in him paled in comparison, and his experiences before that obviously couldn’t compare) and it had been far too long since he’d really touched himself, he suddenly realized. And it had been over a year since anyone else had touched him in a manner that even remotely resembled something sexual. However, the imperative to go plant the Rose stopped him just on the edge of orgasm, and he found himself scrambling and scooting awkwardly backwards on his hands and knees, not noticing the scrapes and bumps he was getting from the cold hard ground, all the while watching Frey with a hungry look in his eyes.
A beggar's book
outworths
a noble's blood
