My Man Godric by R. Cooper Page A

his
sides, and also up his skirts, and yet also pinned down to the
floor so he could have his way unobstructed. He, quite
embarrassingly, growled because he could not have Godric everywhere
he wanted him at once, but he would not have traded it, not for
anything. If he was desperate to touch Godric everywhere then
Godric seemed just as desperate to touch him too. Godric made
frustrated sounds deep in his throat, as if he wanted to go slow
and could not with Bertie rocking into him and drawing kisses from
his mouth.
    Godric’s fingers were pulling at the laces
at the back of Bertie’s dress, so much that he possibly ripped a
few in his haste and confusion, but Bertie could not blame him for
being unfamiliar with dresses. He shifted and tore his mouth away
to pant gratefully when Godric moved his hands to lift his tangled,
wayward clothes for him, pulling at the heavy skirts until he found
bare skin. Bertie’s knees slid cleanly to the floor on either side
of Godric’s body and he was probably dreaming but he was not going
to end this one.
    “Godric beloved,” he breathed before tipping
Godric’s head back for another taste of Godric’s mouth. He could
feel the rasp of his beard on Godric’s bare skin and Godric’s
pleased shudder beneath him as he answered.
    “Yes, my lord?”
    Bertie forgot that he was supposed to
respond. He pulled away to nip at the column of Godric’s throat
while Godric’s hands toyed with his hem, working further and
further up Bertie’s thighs until they reached his cock at last.
Godric did not hesitate before he started to stroke, his palm dry
and then sweaty and nicely damp. His grip was as strong as Bertie
had dreamed.
    Bertie dropped his head to mouth at Godric’s
shoulder, shaking with impatience. Tattoos had no flavor to his
tongue other than the pleasing salt and metal of Godric’s skin, but
he drove his hips toward Godric’s hand and left bruises as his
fingers curled into muscle and he tasted each and every drop of
ink. He moaned over the golden sun of Bohdon and scraped his teeth
over a puzzling rowan tree, but it was the red dragon curled over
Godric’s heart that made Bertie clutch at Godric’s sides and pull
away from Godric’s skilled hand.
    This was no dream, praise the gods. Bertie
could never have imagined that.
    “My lord?” Godric asked, his voice hoarse
with desire, and for once despite the need, Bertie’s mouth offered
him no words at all.
    He shook his head mutely but moved, kissing
his way down Godric’s flat stomach, glancing up as he shoved
Godric’s breeches from his path. His reward was a mouthful of cock
and the sound of Godric pleading with him for more.
    It seemed oddly right to hear Godric cry out
for Bertie, to moan for his lord as he came. It was Godric’s name
for him, and with his face hot and his mouth busy, Bertie felt it
like a stroke down his back as he swallowed some seed and spit out
the rest.
    “Yes,” he agreed finally, his lips wet and
stinging, his own prick full and unsatisfied as he climbed back
over his personal paladin, “Your lord. Let me be your lord,
Godric.” Because he wished to be. He would shower Godric in his
colors and reward him as no knight had ever been rewarded.
    Godric’s eyes blazed at Bertie’s words. His
hands were slower at Bertie’s dress laces now that Bertie had
brought him off, but he pulled the laces free at last and tugged
until all the skirts were gone. Bertie let Godric strip them from
him and then stretched his naked body for Godric’s eyes. If Bertie
was bony, Godric did not seem to mind. He did not seem to mind at
all, until Bertie, who was not used to blushing, felt his face grow
hot and had to momentarily glance away from Godric’s fierce stare.
When he looked back, Godric’s gaze enveloped him from crown to
cock.
    To spare himself more foolish blushes,
Bertie leaned in to run his tongue along the seam of Godric’s lips
and to share a breath when Godric’s lips parted for him.