Chapter 4: Cambord, Part 4

He-he was being kissed. Really kissed, like a lover.

The man's mouth slid over his, rough and wet, tongue pushing into Raffé's mouth when he parted his lips in surprise. He was being kissed. By a complete stranger, in the dark of the maze. The thought, the press of that insistent mouth, made him shiver, made him ache. Raffé whimpered, clung, tried to return the kiss. When the man eventually drew back, he made a rumbling noise that went straight to Raffé's cock. "You are sweet, little prince. I will gladly take what that coward was stupid enough to reject."

"Is— What should I call you?"

The man stilled, then chuckled, though Raffé had the impression he was laughing at himself. "Call me … Cambord, little prince."

Raffé laughed, instinctively leaning forward to muffle the noise against the man's broad chest. Cambord—the family name of the most famous architects in the kingdom. They were often called 'wall makers' since that was how they had begun their trade generations ago. Every other person claimed to be related to the family. "Cambord, then."

"Is this what you want, little prince?" Cambord asked, and Raffé shivered again as calloused fingers trailed along his cheek. The gentle touch, somehow far more potent than the kiss, made his eyes sting. Nobody ever touched him, not really. Perfunctory kisses and stiff, expected embraces were not the same.

He swallowed, then said raggedly, "That's— Yes. If you want me, take me."

Cambord made a soft noise and kissed him again, arms sliding around him, a cushion between Raffé and the cold stone wall. Raffé kissed back eagerly, mimicking Cambord's motions, shyly wrapping his hands around shoulders that proved to be wonderfully broad and firm beneath layers of fabric. He broke away with a startled cry when Cambord abruptly lifted him off his feet, arms jerking reflexively to twine around Cambord's neck.

Then the kisses were back, hard, eager, and Raffé could not believe that somebody wanted him, was giving him a chance to feel something he had always so desperately wanted. He refused to think about the fact that Cambord probably just felt sorry for him. For one damn night—his last night—he was going to enjoy feeling like he was wanted. It was the closest he would ever get.

He was panting when they pulled apart, and the rough hairs on Cambord's jaw scraped against his skin in a way that kicked Raffé's awareness ever higher. "It's a little cold out here, isn't it?"

"Do you feel cold, little prince?" Cambord asked against his ear before nipping the lobe.

Raffé shuddered. "N-no." Cambord was wonderfully, almost unbelievably warm, even discounting the heat he'd sparked through Raffé's body.

Cambord chuckled again and kissed him, then began to work on Raffé's clothes. When his fingers brushed against Raffé's cock, he almost came then and there. But Cambord gave another one of those husky, lust-inducing laughs and nipped at his lips. "By all means, spend, little prince. We're just getting started, and a man as young as you can go the whole night."

The words made Raffé hot, rendered him helpless to do anything except feed moans into the mouth that claimed his again as Cambord's hand wrapped firmly around his cock and began to stroke him. It was nothing like his own hand, not even close. Raffé struggled to draw breath when Cambord's mouth tore away. "Come, little prince. Come apart in my arms. Let me feel you shudder against me as you find pleasure. Then I will show you a thousand pleasures more."

Raffé obeyed, happily and eagerly, and wished only that he had a face to put to the beautiful voice, those wonderful hands, the musky leather and wool scent that surrounded him.

But he would take what he had and treasure it, and think of it when he died at dawn.

"Beautiful," Cambord murmured. "The loveliest thing I have seen for an age. I thought you intriguing the few times I've seen you about the castle, especially in the throne room, but I like you best exactly like this." He let go of Raffé's cock, wet, sticky fingers smearing seed across Raffé's skin. Raffé swallowed, shivered, and could not quite hold back a whimper. Cambord chuckled, low and husky, a touch of smug satisfaction to it.

Raffé drew a sharp breath as fingers traced his lips. He licked them, shuddering when he realized he was tasting himself. It seemed like something that should have been filthy, but it only made him ache and burn. When Cambord pushed a thumb into his mouth, Raffé sucked it clean, drunk on the combined taste of himself and Cambord's faintly salty skin.

Withdrawing his fingers, Cambord replaced them with his mouth, sucking at Raffé's lips before licking into his mouth and stealing his breath. Raffé reached up to cling to his shirt, fingers digging into the soft fabric. Cambord pressed down on him, and Raffé gasped at the unmistakable hardness grinding against him. Letting go of one sleeve, fingers skating hesitantly down Cambord's arm, he slowly trailed them over and down. He paused again, shyness winning out, but Cambord pushed against his hands, murmured against his mouth, and Raffé's curiosity took back over. He dipped his hands further down between their bodies to rub his fingers over Cambord's cock, firm and hot beneath layers of fabric.

Cambord made a noise that almost sounded like a genuine growl—not impossible with the various types of beings that roamed the castle—and bit his bottom lip, rubbed against him, pushed into his hand. Sparks raced down Raffé's spine, over his skin, making him feel too warm, too tight. He loosed his other hand, trailing his fingers up to comb through Cambord's hair.

He gave a startled gasp when he was jerked up. Large, heavy hands gripped his ass, smoothed down to his thighs, and settled Raffé across Cambord's lap. He was hard again, bare cock rubbing against the soft fabric of Cambord's clothes. Raffé wrapped his arms around Cambord's shoulders, held on tightly, groaning into the kiss that took his mouth, claimed it, as fingers teased along his skin, pushing fabric out of the way and replacing it with scorching heat.