Jean-Claude's Dream

Jean-Claude’s hand slid down Richard’s hot shoulder, over his right breast and back to his other arm. He was behind Richard who was kneeling at his feet, his throat offered in submission. Richard’s eyes were closed, his face peaceful as Jean-Claude worked a little magic to keep the werewolf king calm.

Richard had been a very bad werewolf, very bad indeed, tearing up Jean-Claude’s personal bed in a snit over Anita and Asher. Bad Richard, bad. There was no way to completely roll the werewolf king’s mind, but Richard had said he would do whatever Jean-Claude wanted to atone for his misbehavior.

The ardeur was rumbling just below the surface fighting to get out, and Jean-Claude wanted to feed it with the blood of the wolf king. Sex and a feeding. Perfect. “You know what I am going to do, mon ami?” he whispered softly into Richard’s ear?

Richard swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Yes,” he answered breathlessly.

“Good,” Jean-Claude said and actually eased Richard on to his back on the thick carpeted floor. There was going to be some blood, but black hid it so well. He could feel the werewolf king’s heart beating like a trapped bird beneath his hand. “Power, Richard,” he murmured and leaned over the werewolf to kiss that hot brown skin over his heart. “So much power.” He wanted Richard nude, but he wasn’t sure how to get the werewolf out of his jeans without scaring him away. Still he had to try. “The door is locked,” he whispered seductively and moved back so that his mouth was brushing the Ulfric’s throat. “I want to see you.”

Richard opened his eyes and looked up at Jean-Claude who was now kneeling over him. “I thought I was just feeding the ardeur,” he said drowsily, vampire magic keeping him calm. He wanted to be calm; he liked being calm. Jean-Claude’s hand brushed back over his breast, his fingers toying with one of his sensitive nipples. A hard pinch had him writhing on the floor.

“The ardeur may leave a stain,” Jean-Claude reminded him.

Richard considered it a moment and then sat up with a grace that Jean-
Claude envied. On his feet in one smooth movement, Richard unzipped his jeans and skinned them down his eternally tanned thighs. He was so beautiful Jean-Claude thought his throat would tighten at the sight of him.

Soon they were both on the floor nude. Richard understood that as powerful as he was, there would be some sex involved, but Jean-Claude was keeping him calm. “Think of ma petite,” Jean-Claude told him as he slid half over the werewolf’s incredible body. He ran his leg over Richard’s thigh, his hand over Richard’s hard belly. Sliding it lower, he found the werewolf with a soft erection. This was not Richard’s thing, but he was holding on desperately to the calm that Jean-Claude was feeding him.

A slight adjustment of Richard’s head, and Jean-Claude’s fangs found the deep pulse in the werewolf’s throat. Hot liquid power filled his mouth as his hand clasped Richard’s cock. The werewolf was hard and eager, and Jean-Claude’s thumb knew just where to brush the wolf king’s swollen flesh.

The ardeur flared to life, driving both of them to the edge of reason. Richard’s body could not contain the pleasure that was ripping through him. He tossed his head and moaned, his seed spilling on to his own hot flesh. That loosened the controls that kept Jean-Claude from feeding. Richard moaned harder as the ardeur filled him with heat and pulsed through his body, swelling him with new need, releasing him and filling him again.

He couldn’t breathe as long as the ardeur fed off him, and every pull of Jean-Claude’s mouth on his throat was another orgasm.

Jean-Claude’s own passions were riding the waves of pleasure. He wanted to fuck the werewolf king but knew that would break whatever trust was being built between him and the Ulfric. He rubbed his cock against Richard’s hip and let the ardeur slip him into sweet oblivion without too much effort on his part. But the thing that shook him the most was Richard’s wild abandon. He wanted the werewolf to know such pleasure that he would never flee from him again.

Once sated, the ardeur returning to its quiet place, Jean-Claude rose on his elbows and looked at the nearly unconscious werewolf. Asher was right, Richard was beautiful, and lying there with his eyes shut, a look of angelic calm on his face, the werewolf king was breathtaking.

Shaking his shoulder, he said, “Richard. Richard?”




“Sorry, Jean-Claude. Just Jason,” the young werewolf answered, startling his master out of his rather noisy nap.

Jean-Claude’s eyes flew open. It took him a moment to realize what had happened. “I was asleep?” he asked in disbelief.

Jason grinned. “And dreaming.”

Jean-Claude suddenly looked horrified. “Did I say anything?”

“You were calling for Richard.”

Jean-Claude sat up. This could not be! He did not nap, and he did not dream. Or at least he hadn’t. “Nothing else?” he asked.

“Not that I am aware of.”

Jean-Claude accepted it as truth, but he knew he had fed the ardeur. OH NO! He raised his head and prayed that he hadn’t…….the phone started to ring. “Get that,” he told Jason.

“Sure thing. Hello? Richard? Yeah, sure thing. Right here.” Jason smiled at Jean-Claude and held the phone out towards him. “It’s for you.”