Chapter Four
THE PRESSURE OF LIPS against his neck told Stoan that he was dreaming. The fingers wrapped around his aching c**k only confirmed it. His eyes were closed, enhancing the sensation until he feared he would explode then and there from the pleasure of it all.
This was new.
Not the content. He was a man with many responsibilities, but he wasn’t a eunuch. And while pleasures of the flesh didn’t take priority in the waking world, he was no stranger to soft lips on his c**k while he dreamed.
But not these lips.
Dreams were distant, fickle things made of smoke and ghosts and memories. This was real. The slim, long fingers wrapped around him were as substantial as his own, the darting tongue lapping at his pulse wet and there.
But Stoan didn’t want to open his eyes. If he opened t
