The Consumption of Magic

by TJ Klune

  “Yeah,” I said. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Succinct as usual.”

  “Yeah, it’s kind of my deal, in case you hadn’t figured that out yet.”

  He was lying on the bed, propped up against the headboard. He wore a soft pair of sleep pants that the servants had left out for us at Mama’s direction. They were slung low on his hips, stretching tightly against his thick thighs. His feet, strangely enough, looked delicate in the flickering candlelight.

  He wasn’t wearing anything else, much to my delight. The hard planes of his stomach were covered in a light-colored hair that spread up to his considerable chest. In one hand, he held a book, the edge of which rested against his sternum. His other arm was propped behind his head, bicep bulging, the hair in his pit causing my mouth to go dry.

  He was posing, the bastard, and he knew what it was doing to me. My eyes might have bulged a little as he unfairly flexed his biceps. He arched his hips subtly, but enough for me to notice. It was a practiced move, one he did when he wanted me to take control.

  And I wanted to. I wanted to fucking devour him. To press his face down into the mattress, his ass on display in the air, as he let me do whatever I wanted to him. He was trying to manipulate me a little bit.

  And normally it would work.

  But this was going to be different. We wouldn’t see each other for weeks after tonight. I needed this to be more.

  So instead of pouncing on him like he so clearly wanted, I pressed my back against the closed door, propping myself up and making it clear I wasn’t going to come any closer. At least for the moment.

  I didn’t miss the quick frown, but it was gone before it could settle. He knew what I was doing. Which meant we were both playing now.

  First things first, though. “I talked to my parents. And the King. Morgan gave them a summoning stone before he left. I think he just hands those out freely now. The jerk.”

  “Yeah?” he said. He set the book on the nightstand next to the desk, which was most likely filled with a variety of oils and toys that could be inserted in the most pleasant of places. He brought his other arm up behind his head too, clasping his hands.

  That cheating bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing. Oh, he was going to get such a fucking.

  “Yeah,” I said, keeping my voice even, like I wasn’t affected by the obvious display in front of me. “They send their love.”

  His sharp smile softened a little. “They okay?”

  “As best they can be. The King says you can’t stab Dimitri.”

  His brow furrowed. “Why would I be stabbing Dimitri? Besides the obvious.”

  “We might need him to find the Great White.”

  “Ah. Right. Well, then. No promises.”

  “Figured as much.”

  “Good,” he said. “Kevin all tucked in?”

  “Wing handled too and everything. I think I’m more upset than he is that he’ll lose the ability to talk to you guys for a few weeks while I’m gone.”

  “You would think as someone whose destiny involved dragons that you’d be able to explain why things like that happened.”

  “Eh. Plot holes of my life, I guess.”

  “And Gary and Tiggy finally stopped yelling at you and Morgan and Randall?”

  “Only because Tiggy dragged Gary away. But not before Gary promised to, and I quote, ‘Bring the pain all up in yo wizard asses if anything happens to my little sweetmeat.’ I’ll be honest. That kind of gave me the warm fuzzies and the creeps all at the same time.”

  “Sweetmeat, huh?” Ryan said, spreading his legs a little, the fabric of his sleep pants pulling tight against the muscles in his thighs. “That’s a new one. I can see the fuzzy creeps in it.”

  “I think he’s just trying to get it all out there before I leave.”

  Ryan frowned at that, his body tensing more because he was uncomfortable and not because he was trying to get me to nail him against the wall. “Have you guys ever been apart this long before?”

  I shook my head. “No. The longest time was when Morgan made me go into the Dark Woods to meditate for a couple of weeks. He thought it was important that I find my inner self or some other crap. That sounded super boring, so I spent five days building a fort out of pine cones and an effigy of myself out of leaves, only to have Tiggy and Gary come find me because they said they wanted to make sure I wasn’t dead, but I’m pretty sure they couldn’t survive without me. We spent the rest of the time I was supposed to be out there meditating accidentally getting captured by a rather feisty group of sprites who somehow had mistaken Gary for a divine being that needed to be sacrificed in order to ensure the health of the forest.”

  “Let me guess,” he said. “Tiggy smashed them, Gary kicked them in the face, you did some weird type of magic, and then you all ran away. Oh, and one or more of the sprites wanted to have sex with you.”

  I stared at him in amazement. “Have I told you that story before?”

  He rolled his eyes. “That’s pretty much how all your stories about getting captured go. That and the fact that everything, and I mean everything, wants to have sex with you.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Huh. That’s… strangely disappointing. I guess I need to spice things up a little, then. Maybe we could get a little funky.” I waggled my eyebrows at him.

  He refused to take the bait. “You think they’re going to be okay?”

  “They’ll be fine,” I said, resigning myself that I wouldn’t be having sex in the next thirty seconds. “I think. Remind me to show you that one spot on Gary that he likes to have rubbed when he starts to get upset.”

  “If it’s anywhere but on his head or back, I’m not going to do it.”

  “It’s the area between his asshole and his back legs.”

  “I hate you so much right now.”

  “Uh-huh. That why you’re all spread out like a love buffet, ready for me to take what I want?” My seduction skills were remarkable.

  He grimaced. “Really, Sam? Love buffet? That’s what you’re going with.”

  “You kind of have a boner.”

  “You’re making this less sexy.”

  “Well it’s good to know talking about your boner makes things less sexy, but Gary’s asshole sure does it for you.”

  “Sam,” he sighed.

  “Yes, babe?” I asked sweetly.

  “Are you going to fuck me, or am I going to have to do it myself?”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “And how, pray tell, would you do it yourself?”

  “There’s a dildo or two in the drawer.” He flushed slightly, eyes darting away. For all that Ryan had been involved in sex work when he was younger, he was still strangely shy actually talking about sex. It was so adorable that I wanted to ruin him.

  I grinned slowly. “Is that right?”

  “Big too.” He shrugged and looked over my shoulder instead of at me. “Bigger than you.”

  Ah, Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart. He could get a little mouthy when he wanted to get laid. It was one of the many, many things that I loved about him. “Huh,” I said. “You think it feels better too? Knowing Mama, she probably spared no expense. Bet it’s made from the finest materials. Probably would feel real good. Especially if you hadn’t been worked open too much beforehand. You know what I’m talking about. The stretch you’d feel as it was pushed into you.”

  His pupils dilated a little at that. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Yeah,” he said. “It’d probably burn. Maybe hurt too.”

  “Because you’d like that, wouldn’t you? If it hurt a little bit.”

  He nodded jerkily as he licked his lips. The flush had spread down his neck to the top of his chest.

  “Tell you what,” I said, pushing myself off the door and taking a deliberate step toward him. His eyes tracked my every move. “We could always find out, if that’s something you think you would want. I could take it out of that drawer. Spread you out a little bit. Rub it against your asshole. Then
, just when you think you couldn’t take any more, I could fuck you with it. And maybe, if you’re good, I could fuck you too. Maybe have both in you at the same time.”

  “Gods,” he whispered, arching his hips like he couldn’t help himself.

  “Yeah, I think you’d like that,” I said as I took another step. “Wouldn’t you? Two cocks up your ass. Probably feel real nice. Could never do it with another person, though. I don’t like to share.”

  He snapped his head from side to side. “No. Nobody else. Just you.”

  “Just me,” I echoed. “But….”

  “But?”

  “But if it was just me and that… dildo you already seem so fond of, well. That seems to be a different story altogether. Don’t you think?”

  His chest heaved, but he didn’t speak.

  “Ryan? I asked you a question.”

  “Yeah,” he croaked. “Yeah. That’s… different. Altogether.”

  “And you could take it too, couldn’t you?”

  He blinked slowly, face slack. “Yeah. I could. I think so. I think I could, Sam.”

  “I think so too.” I was halfway to the bed, my steps slow. I wanted to draw this out as much as I could, because I didn’t know when we’d have a chance to do this again. Ryan was right when he said it’d be the longest that Gary, Tiggy, and I had been apart, but it’d also be the longest I’d been away from Ryan since I’d returned to the City of Lockes from Kevin’s keep in the valley to the north.

  “Here’s what you’re going to do,” I said, voice low. “You’re going to turn over and get on your hands and knees. You’re going to reach up and grab the bars above the headboard that Mama had so conveniently installed. You will not let go until I tell you to. You will not turn around until I tell you to. Do you understand?”

  He nodded, pupils blown out, sleep pants tented at his crotch.

  “Do you remember your safeword?”

  That pulled him back a little as he grimaced. He mumbled something that I couldn’t quite make out, even though I knew what it was.

  “Sorry?”

  He rolled his eyes. “The safeword is Gary.”

  I grinned wickedly. “You’re damn fucking right it is.”

  “You know, I wasn’t even there when you had to hear him screaming your name while getting fucked by Kevin. I don’t know why you have to take it out on me.”

  “It’s revenge.”

  “It’s not revenge if he doesn’t know about it.”

  “But I know about it. That’s enough.”

  “You’re so weird.”

  I stopped at the end of the bed, bending over to place my hands flat on the mattress, keeping my eyes locked on Ryan’s. “Funny how you’re still just sitting there. I thought I told you to turn over and grab the bars, Knight Commander. Don’t make me do it for you.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, eyes bright, considering. “Maybe I should make you. Maybe you’d have to use your magic to make me do it.”

  I chuckled and raised a hand, palm toward the ceiling. He groaned long and loud when a little twirl of gold and green sparks swirled around my hand. It was nothing but a light show—a parlor trick, something that Morgan would certainly frown upon—but it still was enough to make his cock twitch in his sleep pants. He had a kink for magic and a kink for being controlled, and I had no problem with indulging him in both. There was a line I would draw in that I would never use large levels of magic against him. I couldn’t take the chance. I wouldn’t hurt him that way. Not even if he begged me to do more. I thought he knew that too, which is why he never pushed.

  So instead of waiting for me to threaten him a bit more, he twisted on the mattress until he was flat on his stomach. The muscles in his back rippled as he pushed himself up on his hands and knees. His breaths were quick and sharp as he reached up to hold on to the wooden bars above the headboard. The angle caused his back to arch, his ass straining against the material of his sleep pants. The bottoms of his feet were pale and lovely, toes digging into the mattress. He cut the perfect figure, the candlelight caressing his skin, casting shadows in the ridges of his muscles. He pulled on the bars until the wooden slats they were attached to swung out on hinges like a door. He shuffled slowly backward and to the side of the bed until the bars were horizontal with the length of the bed, his feet hanging off the side where I stood. The wooden slat locked into place, firm and rigid.

  “That’s good,” I said, throat dry. “That’s real good.”

  He pulled himself up using the bars as leverage, flexing all the muscles he could as he put himself on display, knowing exactly what it took to break me. I was moving even before I had the conscious thought to, and he sagged in relief when I placed my hand in the middle of his back, pressing against his skin, holding him in place.

  “I told you that you shouldn’t move once you got yourself in position,” I said near his ear, watching as gooseflesh prickled along his bare shoulders. “I’ll give you that one. Don’t make me ask you again.”

  He nodded, head hanging down between his arms, eyes squeezed shut. I let him rest for a moment until I could see him centering himself, breath slowing. A thin trickle of sweat left his hairline near his right ear and dripped down his cheek to his jaw. I reached up and cupped his face, running my finger along the sweat, brushing it away. I could tell he wanted to lean into the touch, but he didn’t.

  “Good,” I said again. “You’re doing so good for me. I’m very happy with you right now.”

  Ryan didn’t like to be called names when we were in the bedroom. His name or Knight Commander was enough, but even that last was used sparingly. He didn’t like me being mean, and he didn’t like heavy—or even moderate—amounts of pain. He didn’t need to be coddled, but he was sensitive like this, vulnerable. It’d taken us a while to get here, and many stilted conversations had taken place, both of us red and embarrassed as we tried to vocalize what we wanted. I trusted him, and I knew he trusted me, but this was sex. I’d never had it before him. The sex he’d had hadn’t necessarily been ideal.

  It didn’t matter to him, or so he said.

  It mattered to me.

  Which is why I always made sure to tell him how good he was, how proud of him I was. We’d stumbled upon his praise kink accidentally, and it’d taken a bit of fumbling before we’d gotten in sync with each other. I tended to go overboard, he wanted to make me happy, and it sometimes ended awkwardly.

  But we found our rhythm, the beat that we could move to.

  Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart was important. He was in charge of many things. People looked up to him. He was dashing and immaculate. He was the commander of the Castle Guard, one of the highest honors that could be bestowed upon a knight. He made executive decisions that led to the safety of the castle. People listened to him.

  Here, though.

  He didn’t have to be in charge.

  He didn’t have to worry about making a decision, because he knew I would make them for him.

  We didn’t do this all the time. Sometimes I was on my back with my legs over his shoulders as he fucked up into me, my eyes rolling back into my head.

  But more often than not, he’d come to our room, prowling restlessly, shoulders tense and eyes narrowed, and I would know what he needed from me.

  And now with the inevitable in front of us—at least five weeks apart—he needed me to take care of him.

  And I wanted nothing more.

  I also wanted to eat his ass out, but first things first.

  He sighed as I trailed my fingers down his back, the barest amount of pressure against his skin. He hung his head between his arms, eyes closed, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth like he was supposed to. I traced the lines of the muscles in his back, feeling the strength of him. He was bigger than I would ever be, and he was proud of the body he’d created through hard work. He was dashing and immaculate, sure, and he knew it, and maybe sometimes he played up to it. He knew exactly what happened to people’s underwear if he
picked up a puppy and held it close or if he drew his sword and posed as he was wont to do. When he’d done that spread in All Knight Long! a few months ago, the painter had found it necessary to have him in an empty bathtub wearing nothing but a towel spread haphazardly over his waist. That issue had sold out rather quickly, especially with the salacious cover headline of KNIGHT COMMANDER RYAN FOXHEART REVEALS ALL! Ryan had been quite proud of it. I’d told him he probably had many teenagers masturbating over it. He hadn’t been as proud after that. And since I felt terrible, I told him I would masturbate over it, and it led to him choking on my dick in a musty hall closet in the castle.

  That had been a good day.

  I reached the top of his sleep pants, fingers pressing hard into the skin, slipping just inside over the top of his ass. His knuckles were white as he gripped the bar, and his nipples were hard. I thought about dragging it out even further, but I wanted more from him.

  I pushed my hand inside the waistband, palm flat against his ass, squeezing one cheek roughly. The smallest of groans dropped from his mouth, and I grinned to myself. A vocal Ryan was certainly one of my favorite kinds of Ryan.

  “This is nice.” I squeezed him again. “Don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” he said, voice rough.

  “Use the bar. Pull yourself up higher so I can pull your pants down.”

  He moved quickly, rising to his knees, biceps flexing until his back was ramrod straight. He didn’t let go, which was good. I was still standing next to the bed, and I could see the swell of his ass and that he was hard, probably almost painfully so.

  I thought about gripping his dick through the sleep pants but decided against it. I wanted to leave his cock alone, just to see how long it would take for him to beg me to touch it.

  Instead I reached over and tugged at the waistband of the sleep pants, pulling it up and over his dick, which slapped up against his stomach before it bobbed out in front of him. He gasped at the cool air against his heated skin, but I ignored it. I pushed the pants down until they were at his knees. He tried to lift his legs to kick them off, but I pushed back against his calves, holding them down against the bed.