Daemon & Sunny Ch. 06

Forced to break away from her breasts in order to finish undressing her, Daemon twisted his head, kissing his way down her abdomen. She gasped when he licked and laved at her navel, gasped and then giggled, pushing him lower. Bypassing her lower curls—he'd never finish undressing her if he gave in to his lusts—Daemon slid off the bed and pushed her tights all the way to her feet. Removing her slippers, he peeled off the last of the fine mesh material. Only then did he start kissing his way back up her body, savoring the softness of her inner thighs against his lips.

She twisted away; from the confused look in his eyes, that disappointed him, but Sunny knew her limitations. He was simply too good at the Prayer for Sun for her to remain standing. Climbing onto her bed, she adjusted the multitude of pillows so that she relined in the middle, spread her legs, and patted the inside of one thigh. "Come here, Daemon. Make love to me."

The sinuous speed in which he climbed on the bed told her how eager he was to comply. Catching her ankle, he lifted her leg and suckled on her littlest toe, working the tiny digit with lips and tongue. Sunny gasped as pure pleasure shot straight up her leg to her groin. She'd never considered her feet to be such an erogenous zone, and yet they clearly were!

Prying open the eyes that had involuntarily closed, she couldn't prevent a moan from escaping her throat. That look in his gaze, dark and knowing, relentlessly masculine, told he knew exactly how strongly the warm, wet glide of his tongue between her toes was affecting her. How comparable it was to the gliding of his tongue, when focused at the other end of her legs.

Head thumping back onto the pillows, Sunny gasped and writhed, feeling the ticklish caresses stimulating all the way up into the depths of her belly. He was slow, relentless and methodical about making love to her toes. Frustration rose within her, making her grit her teeth against the urge to beg. Until she realized she didn't have to plead, tonight. Panting heavily, Sunny focused on the pattern-painted ceiling of her bedchamber, and growled, "Prayer for Sun! Now!"

Daemon eased his suckling, wracking his memory for what that phrase meant. It was in the information Armon had gathered for him. The Prayer for Rain, he knew, was the religious phrase for fellatio, and the Prayer for Sun was...Ah, yes. Cunnilingus. I'm most happy to oblige, my queen...

Releasing her toes with a last lick that made her whimper in sexual frustration, Daemon kissed his way up the inside of her calf, her knee, her thigh... Her fingers fisted in his hair, pulling his face exactly where she needed it to go. Compliant, Daemon inhaled her musky scent, and buried his nose and mouth in her warm, damp, fragrant folds. Her arousal was so high and tight, she keened and thrashed within bare minutes, forcing him to grasp her hips and hold them still to prevent injury. When he finally eased her down the far side of the slope of her desire, he enjoyed the dazed look in her blinking, unseeing eyes. Backing up, Daemon picked up her other foot, raising her toes to his mouth.

"Sweet Natura...no...no...nooo..."

He might have put her foot down, not wanting to do anything against her wishes...if it were for the way she thrust her foot at his face, and once planted on his jaw, wriggled her toes against his lips. Smirking, he gave her the same treatment. In turn, he was treated to the sight of her writhing voluptuously, then frantically, then finally—from the way she gasped and keened, clutching at the covers as she shuddered—orgasmically. Delving between her twitching, splayed limbs, Daemon devoured her again, driving her right back up to the peaks of her climax.

"Ah, Goddess—yes!!"

Now that was a sound to please a man's ears, deafening though her volume might be. He chased her from peak to peak, keeping her orgasms going, until her moans were one constant, gasp-punctuated song of need. Gentling his touch, he licked her as clean as he could, then crawled up her body. Not over her, but beside her. Collapsing onto his side, lungs heaving, loins aching, Daemon waited for her senses to return. Finally, her deep aquamarine eyes blinked, focused, and shifted to his face.

"You..." Her voice was hoarse from all that groaning. He'd loved her with his mouth, satiating her needs, but had done nothing for his own; his manhood still jutted hard and hot from his groin, rubbing lightly against her hip as he lounged beside her. "You haven't...?"

"I am at your command, Sunny. You own me," he reminded her, catching her hand and bringing it to his bare chest. "Body...heart...and soul."

Her eyes darkened with need, and something else. Something stronger, fiercer. "Take me!"

Her demand woke an answering force within him. Rolling over her, their near hands still clasped, Daemon sought and tangled his other hand with hers, pinning her willing body to the bed. Roughly, he parted her thighs with his knees, stooped just enough to position himself, and thrust, slamming home in her hot, wet depths. She cried out, head tossing back, knees lifting to twine her calves behind his thighs, his buttocks, his back with each stimulating, hard stroke.

...

Black and White intertwined, doubling the loop, and curving further into the Greater Circle. Scales slid sinuously, seductively together, drawing their bodies closer together. The tips of those long, draconic tails were coming into view, coming into reach. Almost...almost was the ouroboros of the Imperial Dragons complete...almost...

...

His Councillors gaped at him. Lord Chancellor Estoll recovered his voice first. "You want to...toabolish the Royal Marriage Laws?"

"You heard me. It is an antiquated notion, that royalty should only marry royalty, or nobility. And genetically an unstable one," Daemon stated. "Inbreeding is always a threat, when you limit the ability to select a mate in a particular segment of a population."

"Not with the assistance of modern genetics! Any potential flaws can be detected early on in a pairing, and corrected if necessary in the resulting offspring," Lady Vinalya, the Chancellor of Medicine, asserted.

"Isn't it better to not have to worry so much about potential flaws?" he pointed out.

"There's always the risk of flaws in any pairing, Your Majesty," she dismissed.

This wasn't going as well as he'd hoped. "It's still an antiquated notion. A sovereign should be free to take anyone as their spouse."

"Politically, it's not advantageous, Your Majesty," Lord Estoll reminded him. "You need to build strong trade relations with your neighbors, if you would look beyond the borders of your kingdom for fresh genetic material, and strengthen your ties to the leaders of your communities, if you wish to build stronger loyalties among the Astorran people. Those leaders are nobleborns." He glanced sideways at Sunny, his middle-aged mouth tightening slightly. "I think we all realize you're...quite taken with your Consort, but that doesn't mean she brings in the political and financial resources that a marriage with someone of status and connections would provide. Consorts are for love," he continued, face flushing a little as he spoke, "and if you love her, then I say, may Astor's blessings be upon the two of you. Marriage, however, is for power and heirs.Not love."

Sunny, leaning slightly forward, caught sight of the impending protest on Daemon's face, and decided to intervene. "Your Majesty, perhaps this discussion could be set aside for another time?"

He frowned at her, she lifted her brows encouragingly, and he furrowed his own. Sighing, he sat back, heeding her counsel. "I suppose there are more important matters to discuss."

"Yes, like the impending visit from Queen Astrida," Lord Faragullan asserted. "No offense to you, Consort, but that is a woman who could bring a great deal of power and prestige to Astorra!"

Daemon remembered to close his eyes before rolling them. A glance at Sunny showed her smiling slightly, one corner of her mouth quirked up. He wondered what she was amused about, then recalled her prediction of just such a possibility being foisted on him.If I'd never been made king, I could've married anyone I wanted. Such as her. Of course, I'd have needed to meet her, first. Damn, I wish I'd met and married her before I wound up on the throne! Then it would be afait accompli...

"Oh, I'm not offended," Sunny drawled as the others echoed the Advisor's sentiments. "I'm just thinking we shouldn't be hasty in accepting any marriage proposals for His Majesty just yet."

"—Shouldn't be hasty? He's the last in the immediate line of succession!" one of the other males protested.

"He has to beget an heir!" one of the older women asserted, thumping her finger on the table.

"—Or at the very least, designate a successor, to prevent a civil war!"

"Gentles, please!" Sunny's voice cut firmly, if politely, through the hubub. "I am simply saying that we should not start assigning a potential wiferight now. We have the Marriage...erm, the Formal Familial Ball to enjoy, first. Let His Majesty see a suitable selection of all the eligible women availablebefore you try and make up his mind for him!He's the one who'll have to endure living with whoever he winds up with, after all. There may be someone even more suitable for him to wed than some queen from outside the Imperium."

"You would not press the suit of the nation that gifted you to His Majesty?" Lady Grunger, Admiral of the Astorran Navy enquired, arching her brow at Sunny.

"I was kidnapped and sold into slavery to the Ruyikans outside the borders of the Pax Imperium. I'm a Craidan, and my people don't believe in slavery, which is a strike against them for harboring that ill-favored act," she reminded everyone dryly. Then added lightly, "Of course, I'm also very grateful I wound up here, so that's a strikefor them...which means they currently stand at neutral equilibrium in my eyes. I'm simply saying that there's a greater choice out there than the impending visit of Her Majesty. A greater choice than any of us yet know, because the futureis so mutable. A few measly weeks aren't going to matter, ladies and lords," she added, looking around the room. "Even with the miracle of modern medicine, that's not enough time to find a bride, marry her, and conceive an heir. Not without rushing things so hastily, one runs the risk of overlooking several important factors along the way in selecting a truly suitable wife.

"As hard as it may be for the rest of you to imagine, since I do love him, I, too, want His Majesty to make the most suitable marriage possible for him. After all,I'll have to deal with his choice of bride, too."

"Sunny—" Daemon started to protest.

"—We should probably discuss that later, Your Majesty," she demurred.

He wanted to discuss it now...but her careful phrasing reminded him that he wasn't allowed to protest. Not in a way that would make him sound petulant, which protesting right now would. Good kings, unfortunately, were not supposed to be petulant. Clearing his throat, he sighed.

"...My Consort is right. It is not a decision that should be made quickly, or lightly. Though We do acknowledge the importance of assuring an heir for Our throne," Daemon added formally, if dryly. Concubines—Consort or otherwise—weren't allowed to beget royal-blooded children, since that mucked up the lines of ascention and created dissention and the breeding grounds for a civil war. Not for the first time did he wish circumstances were different. "Very well. Let us discuss Queen Astrida's arrival...without further commentary on her potential as a possible mate, if you please. I'll make no decision about wedding a foreign ruler before I've considered closer, less politically risky candidates."

Sunny restrained the urge to nod. She didn't want anyone thinking that she was pulling his strings like some piece of puppetry. Not within his own Council. The Ruyikans could think whatever they wanted, based on how he treated them; she simply wanted Daemon to appear strong among his own people.

As for a suitable wife, well, he had one coming to him, whether he knew it or not. The White Dragon had first and foremost claim on the Black Dragon...and from that latest vision, it wouldn't be much longer before their infinity-ouroboros was fully conjoined. The Marriage Mart Ball might be a good time to assert those facts to the universe.

That made her struggle against the urge to roll her eyes, though. She would have to consult with Armon on something suitable to wear, and from what she'd suffered through so far, the Chief Eunuch was a bit of a clothes-concubine. Or at least the kind of man who loved playing 'dress-up' with life-sized dolls.