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The sounds couldn’t be heard outside the prince room because of silent charm which was good because Tristan was making too much noise even with his hands over his mouth as he was leaning against the wall, his legs over the Alpha’s shoulders as the heated breath and tongue ate him out.
Crying out as he shook, hips quivering as he tried to roll them in time with Lancelot way too eager tongue he arched as best he could nearly banging his head against the wall as he came.
Almost falling they slid to the floor with a thump, as Lancelot moved back panting hard, his tongue hanging out as his mouth and face were dripping, his chest heaving.
Embarrassed Tristan tried to close his knees, however, they were pushed back open, as the Alpha glared at him with those ruby eyes and then looked down at his twitching folds, the clit listing from his own juices.
Licking his lips, he looked up causing Tristan to jolt. The glare might have looked menacing but his eyes were so full of hungry desire, the look of an Alpha in a rut, and he shivered when hands slid to his inner thighs, touching him, burning him so good that he faulted trying to spread himself best he could and yelped when his hips where pushed up, nearly to the wall and he was thankful he to flexible.
Reaching out to run his hands on Lancelot’s shoulders, he panted as their lips met again, urgent, needful, full of lust and wanted, the need from his scent was causing him to be dizzy.
When they pulled back only a Silva connecting them, breath lost and he cried out when Lancelot suddenly slid to fingers into him, thrusting them into his wet heat.
It felt so good, he wanted more! Deeper, hard, needed more than fingers. He started to beg for more, wanting the Alpha to just push him down, pin him to the floor, to be filled with him and his knot alone.
Claim him, mark him, fill him to the brim-
--
Gasping Tristan jolted out of his sleep.
Panting hard he looked around confused until it hit him that he was in his room, alone and with a very unpleasant stickiness between his thighs. Hand over his chest he tried to calm his racing heart, and took a few slow breaths, trying to regain control of his body.
This had been happening ever since they had gone on a side quest a few months ago. Lancelot got into an unexpected rut after they had taken care of everything and walked up to Tristan.
At first, they assumed that he was going to say something that would cause Chion and Lancelot to start bickering and arguing again when suddenly he started to push Tristan into a wall, hands groping his behind, and if it hadn’t been for Percival, Donny, and Jade quick reaction the Alpha would have bit him.
Almost did, the teeth barely glazing his Omega scent gland just enough to send a sudden violent shock throughout his body. A pleasurable one that he managed to write off as shock.
They had locked the Alpha into a room.
Now that would have been fine but that glaze of his gland, plush the hands groping him had Tristan blushing in his room. Having laid there wide awake most of the night, he found his belly warming, as the moment replayed over and over in his mind.
The look in his eyes… how he was about to claim him.
Shivering he slid his hand down to touch himself, using his fingers to rub his clit. Leaking, he was leaking, still wound up not having cum outside the dream.
Gulping Tristan’s other hand came up, running over his chest, down his stomach, knees bending, shifting to spread himself open for someone who wasn’t there. Deep, fast gasping breathes, he gulps before pressing a finger in letting out a cry of pleasure.
He was tight, well, he knew that only having been able to use two fingers at a time. Wet, the sound of slouching had his face slowly blushing. So good, but never enough.
Closing his eyes he thought of Lancelot’s scent, how close he had gotten, that slight drag- Whimpering he rolled his hips pressing deep into himself needed to be filled, and he tried again for a third finger, tensing up with the slight burn before shaking his head.
Two would have to do.
His body screamed for something other than fingers, and he shook his head feeling the need to cum starting to rush up. Crooking his fingers trying to find those nerves, he grabbed his bed sheet, biting down on it to keep from being loud as his belly coiled tightly and he shook rapidly assaulting that delicious spot inside him and screaming into it as he came.
Flopping back Tristan took a moment to collect himself, then got up feeling embarrassed and ashamed. How could be so low to think of his friend in such a way?
Lancelot just acted out of the reaction aphrodisiac that forced him into a rut, not because he had wanted him in any way. Not only that but to do such unmentionable things in his room was shameful. More so using his friend's imagination and dream of things?
Feeling guilty, stomach dropping, Tristan lip trembled for a moment, then got up to quickly change his clothing, and bedding, lighting some incense before going back to sleep.
When the next morning came around Tristan felt somewhat back to normal, getting up to leave his room for the day. If he could focus on anything but Lancelot everything should work out just fine.
And it did.
All day with no problems.
The nights, however, repeated with those fierce eyes that seemed to hunt him in heated pleasure.