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Just A Little More

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“Please, Knight-Captain, I need more,” he whined. Absolutely shameless, no sense of decency, writhing at the end of Cullen’s tongue. “Just a bit more of you. Please!”

“Ser Carver, you know I can’t give more,” Cullen paused to say, momentarily lifting his head from between Carver’s buttocks. A frown, a shift in his posture. It’s not that he didn’t want to, but. “Meredith would have my head.”

“I. I honestly don’t give a fuck about her,” the Knight gasped, pushing his hips towards his Knight-Captain’s face.

“Be that as it may, I do,” Cullen announced, somewhat regretfully. His hands massaged the firm globes in his hands, his eyes returning to the pretty little hole presented to him. Ready for anything, anytime he’d feel like it. It winked at him - wet, alluring and inviting. So pink. But, alas.

Cullen lowered his head yet again, his tongue circling the most private parts of his favorite Knight. This damn Knight that wished to ruin everything they had, everything they had worked for. For everything they’d suffered to be for naught, whether he thought of it or not.

At that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Carver moaned, meeting his tongue - ever so receptive, so damn responsive.

“What if-- what if it was only, only the tip?” the Knight asked, his voice breathy and barely there. “You wouldn’t have to move, Knight-Captain.”

Cullen couldn’t hold back his gasp, couldn’t help stopping his tongue at that moment. This was new.

“Please, Ser, I only want to know what it feels like,” Carver continued, such sincerity in his voice.

A small bite at Carver’s loosened hole, a moment to think about it. It was a bad idea. The worst idea so far. But Cullen was titillated by th--

“You’ve had your fingers, your fucking tongue in there. Come on, Ser,” those ice-blue eyes staring at him from behind his shoulders, like a Mabari puppy on his fours. So serious, so convincing. Such a good boy, Cullen’s Knight. “I know you want to.”

Cullen held the eye contact, his hands still in place, idly grabbing and releasing Carver’s buttocks. Considering.

“I won’t tell anyone, you know that.”

Cullen sighed. “I know you wouldn’t. But it’s still wrong. I’m your superior officer.”

Carver smirked, some horrible idea clearly dawning in his head. “Well, what if you just slicked up that gorgeous cock of yours, and I happened to... Oh, I dunno, accidentally fall onto it?”

If Cullen wasn’t red before, he was certainly blushing by now. His hand shot up to the back of his neck, his gaze scanning the sheets, too intrigued by the idea to face his beautiful Knight. “Carver...” he warned.

“Accidents happen, right? Sometimes they’re happy ones,” the insolent man chuckled. “I swear you won’t have to do anything. Just a taste, okay?”

Cullen groaned. He found it so hard to say no when Carver got like this. He’d known he was way in over his head with this man when he’d invited him to his quarters for the first time, Carver leaning on his table to give his report, an insufferable smile on his face, a hipbone shamelessly peeking from beneath his armor. Maker, he’d known the first time they had met - those eyes could have anything they wanted. Anyone.

“For me?” The same eyes were seeking his own now, pleading him, begging for him. How was he to win this?

He slicked himself up almost unconsciously with the oil by the bedside table, especially reserved for Carver’s visits. "Better have your little accident happen promptly, before I realise what a mistake this is,” he signed, a defeated man.

Carver merely grinned, shifted his hips, and grabbed Cullen’s cock. He guided it to the entrance, almost with expert precision, and Cullen kind of wanted to ask him about that, but--

What he felt next was pure bliss. A pressure, tighter than he’d ever experienced, the wet and hot grip of Carver’s muscles engulfing him steadily. Maker. It wasn’t as he had imagined it - it was so much better. The body of his Knight accommodating him with such ease, such welcome. As if made for him, as if it belonged to him.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Carver breathed, his shoulder blades twitching, his face still turned towards Cullen. Mouth open, eyes shut, like it was the best thing he’d ever had. “Maker, Knight-Captain! Oh Maker!”

“Carver,” Cullen whispered, trying very hard to keep his hips still, swallowing, his hands moving up and down the other’s thighs. “Don’t move, Knight. Or I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

Carver trembled all over, quivering under Cullen’s hands, his breathing shallow and loud. “You-- you’re not responsible, uhh, Knight-Captain.”

If a coherent thought had been possible for Cullen at that moment, he’d have drawn out, having fulfilled his Knight’s wish. As it happened, he was lost in the moment, rationality banished by sensation. His hands came to grab the man by his hips, gently pulling him further into his lap.

“Oh, Cullen. Yes, yes,” the Knight gasped, adjusting, moving very carefully back and forth. Tiny movements, each impaling him further, just a touch closer to becoming fully seated.

Cullen felt like drowning, lost in the sea of pleasure with Carver, breathing in tandem. Too afraid to close his eyes, to lose the smallest of expressions in his Knight’s profile, or the beads of sweat traveling down his tanned back. The sheer bliss on his face was heavenly to watch, lips wet with spit and his eyes half-open, foggy.

“Maker, Cullen, you’re so big,” Carver sighed.

“Stop.”

“Ser?” came the confused reply as he halted his movements. A blink, a furrow of his brows, his body in suspended above him.

“Stop talking, for Maker’s sakes,” Cullen grunted, “or I’ll be done far too soon.”

The Knight chuckled in relief, lowering himself fully on his Captain’s cock with a shudder. Oh, it was too late to turn back now, Cullen thought, encircling Carver in his arms and pulling his slick body against his chest.

“Oh, Maker, I’m so full,” Carver said in wonder, “so filled up by you, Ser.”

Cullen breathed against the other’s back, pinching the skin of his chest between his fingers because of those indecent words, trying hard not to lift his hips, trying not to throw the man on his stomach and fuck him into silence. “Can’t shut up, can you?”

“No, Ser,” came the saucy response. The Knight leaned back on his commanding officer, actually nuzzling his ass against his groin. “Ohh, but you feel so good.”

That was it. Cullen may be a patient man, very well control of himself for the most part, but this man right here? This attitude, all this teasing, from a Knight under his command? He could hold himself no longer.

He pushed the other man down with his body, forcing him against the linens, pressed tight against the bed. An arm trapped between the lower back of the Knight and his own stomach, holding him there with all the weight he dared to summon. “We’ll see if you’re so chatty soon.”

Carver whined, high and beautiful, ever so responsive to the slightest stimuli. The embodiment of sin beneath the Knight-Captain, his sweet ass trying to gain altitude, wriggling around his cock. “Please, Ser, fuck me,” he pleaded, his cheek on the pillow, rapid breaths parting from his open mouth.

Cullen couldn’t refuse, wouldn’t say no to such a request. He began moving, slowly at first, keeping an eye on his Knight’s reactions. Those soft sighs, that wince playing on his features. “This hurt?”

“No, it’s so good, don’t stop.”

He lowered his head, his nose breathing in the scent that was sweat and Carver, his lips tracing his shoulder blades, not quite kissing, as he moved inside of him. Deep and slow, sensual strokes in the tight tunnel, trying to make it as good as he could for his Knight, trying not to chase his own pleasure.

Maker, it was hard. Carver met his strokes to the best of his ability, wriggling under Cullen’s grasp to participate, to egg him on. Their pace increased, the volume of their voices with it, and Cullen soon found himself slamming into the other man, his arms supporting his weight on both sides of his shoulders. Carver pushing against his chest, their cheeks brushing as they moved together.

Oh Maker, he shouldn’t have done this. He should have seen it for the trap it was, should have just refused this terrible idea. He tried to think of it as one, but as Carver shivered under him with a loud groan, such thoughts were banished from his head. This was good. Beyond amazing, really. It didn't feel wrong, giving and receiving such pleasure with the man he’d fallen for.

“AHH!” came a shout, the walls of the Knight contracting around his officer’s cock. Cullen repeated the movement over and over, driving into the spot that made Carver lose his coherence with punishing blows. The Knight was moaning low in his throat, chanting his pleasure, his head hanging and his arms trembling under his weight.

Cullen shifted, supporting himself on one arm, snaking his hand between the legs of his lover. A slow caress, shaky as he tried to maintain the rhythm, had Carver arching his back with a shout as he spent himself on the linens, wetting Cullen’s fingers in the process.

He collapsed on the bed, chest down and ass up, his inner muscles gripping the Knight-Captain in a tortuously slick and heated embrace. Cullen closed his eyes, chasing his own pleasure, listening to the labored breathing of the warm and beautiful man below him.

Carver. It was always so easy to think about him. Carver under him, Carver wriggling his ass against him. Carver wanting him, giving him access, welcoming him so readily. Those blue eyes looking up at him with such adoration, that wicked smile, all those innuendos falling from his sinful lips. And Maker’s breath, now he had his Knight right where he wanted him!

He looked at him lying there, helpless, trusting, and completely at his mercy. Because he wanted this, wanted to be here, wanted Cullen with him. He came with a quiet cry, screwing his eyes shut again. Stuttering his hips to a halt, laying his spend inside his favorite Knight, his favorite person.

“Mmm,” Carver hummed, squeezing his inner muscles as if to milk him, impudently demanding all of him.

Cullen, slowly coming down from his high, lowered himself on his lover and turned them on their sides. He gripped the chest of the Knight, pulling them together, still inside of him.

“Are you alright?” Cullen asked, his lips pressing small kisses to the neck of his lover, gentle and caring.

Carver snorted. “You need to ask? I’m fucking wonderful.”

Cullen chuckled, about to dislodge himself from the other’s body, but a hand flew to his buttock, keeping him in place.

“Oh, don’t you fucking dare. You’re staying.”

Surprised but compliant, he settled himself against his Knight, his fingertips tracing little circles on his stomach, breathing in his scent. Lodged together that way, they eventually fell asleep - for the first time in each other’s arms.

Cullen would worry about this tomorrow. For tonight, he was just a man.