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After their meeting at the stables, Aerion had been displeased to find that he couldn’t shake the thought of the hedge knight from his mind. He’d wrung one hard-wrought, hardly-pleasant orgasm from himself, rutting into his hand desperately at the thought of Ser Duncan bending him over, fucking him against the wall, over the balcony ledge, anywhere, before he’d made his mind up to just go out and find the man.
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“M’lord, please,” Duncan said, his voice strained. His hands twitched at Aerion’s sides. “What is it that you– that you need?”
“I want you to fuck me, you oaf,” Aerion said dryly. “And you do not have to be so gentle about it.”
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