Looking for a hot way to celebrate summer? Try the Goodfellow M/M Erotica series, especially its new installment, Goodfellow in June. Midsummer, a full moon, and a fae prince. Click the ‘read more’ link for an excerpt.
“Stay here with me, instead,” Robin suggested.
Griffin licked at his lips. They shone in the moonlight. Robin hadn’t wanted to taste anything so badly in a long time.
“What, just… drink all your wine and eat all your food?” Griffin asked. But his eyes and voice were hopeful.
“You have permission to avail yourself of anything here that would please you,” Robin said with a smile. “My wine, my food, my flower crowns, myself. All, some, none.”
Griffin was pink to his ears, by then. He took another drink, a longer one, before he seemed to gather his courage to ask, “Why? I mean, do you really want…?”
“You?” Robin raised his eyebrows. “Of course. I don’t seem like the sort of person who does anything he doesn’t want, do I?”
“No.” Griffin chuffed out a laugh.
“But you do,” Robin said gently. “And that’s not what I want. I want you to please yourself. For once.”
There had been no doubt that this young man was whom Robin was meant to help. It was up to them how, but when it involved love, Robin was always extra keen. Mortals were so fascinating in how they approached sex and affection—be they together, one at a time, or in any combination with a dozen other possibilities. Regardless, Robin was always more than happy to provide. Even the ones that weren’t as pretty as Thomas Griffin.
And he was pretty. As they talked through the short, silver-lit night, drinking their elderflower cocktails and snacking on honey cake, the stars rolled above and the river babbled below. Griffin told Robin about his family, old money, academics, privileged, pseudo-liberal. He told Robin about his studies, art history, ancients, Latin and Greek. He fully revealed the sensitivity hinted at in his pale, green eyes, as if he’d never been mocked, as if he’d never been hurt.
Sometimes that was all a mortal needed. That wouldn’t be the case, with this one.
The sun rose, orange and pink over the weathered mountains, and Robin and Griffin greeted it with a toast.
“It’s so beautiful,” Griffin said quietly, the sunrise reflected in his eyes. “I don’t feel tired at all.”
Robin twirled a lock of Griffin’s black hair around his finger idly.
Griffin turned his face into Robin’s hand and shut his eyes when Robin brushed the line of his cheekbone.
“Good,” Robin whispered. “I hoped you weren’t finished with me, yet.”
Up to this moment, Griffin had been gentle, graceful, his movements confined and careful. But now, he set aside his drink and reached out to grab Robin’s face in one hand, the back of his neck in the other. He pulled Robin close and parted his soft, pink lips for a kiss. Robin darted his tongue along the edge of Griffin’s top teeth, tasting elderflower and honey and Thomas Griffin.
There was something charmingly fumbling about the way Griffin took control of the kiss, the way he pushed into Robin and pulled him back for more. Griffin was perhaps experienced, but not in taking what he wanted, just as Robin more-than-suspected. Robin put all his considerable powers of intuition into making every move, every kiss, every nip smooth, acquiescing to Griffin’s silent demands like water flowing through ever-changing channels. Griffin’s lips were more lovely even than Robin had hoped, so sweet as they slid against his own, demanding as his tongue invaded then licked, his teeth closed then bit at Robin’s lower lip.
They kissed for long moments as the sun rose higher on the far side of the ravine, fingers tangling in hair and hands searching out new places. Then Griffin pulled back and yanked his own shirt off, of a sudden. He tossed it into the ravine below.
Robin laughed. It wasn’t often a mortal surprised him, but Griffin had just managed it. How delightful. He helped Griffin remove his boots and jeans, leaving him in a small pair of blue shorts that clung high on his thighs. His cock was full and hard in their confines, stretching the fabric to reveal a fat head and promising length. He was pale in the sunlight, slightly tanned about the neck and arms, the hair on his chest sparse and dark. There was no definition in his abs, but they were flat and his hip bones inviting. The stark contrast between his inky black hair and pale-leaf green eyes seemed more intense in this light, revealing as it was.
“Do you feel the sunlight?” Robin asked. He held out his hand and Griffin returned to him, to a small blanket they’d occupied all evening. “How it energizes everything?”
“I’ve never been a morning person, but I’m starting to come around.”
They kissed some more, Robin easing them into the position Griffin was attempting to muscle them into: Robin on his back, Griffin resting atop him, between his legs. The weight and press against Robin’s cock caused a surge of blood that made him want to laugh for joy. Griffin rubbed his own erection against Robin’s through their remaining clothing, his slim hips rocking deliberately; the motion dragged his waistband lower and lower, until only his cock was holding them up.
Robin spread his legs wider to allow better access, but he groaned for freedom from his wrap. He should’ve let himself hang free.
“Is this okay?” Griffin asked into his ear. He smelled of the woods and elderflowers and sweat, clean and marvelous. “I just—I fucking love this feeling. Your cock feels so good. Can I–?”
“Yes,” Robin said. He didn’t particularly care what the question was, as he had given Griffin carte blanche already in his mind. “You can do anything you want.”
“But what do you want?” Griffin paused and lifted himself enough to look Robin in the eye.
Robin tucked some hair behind Griffin’s ear. “I want you to come so hard you’ll never forget this day. This place. What happens here, right now.”