S.L. Armstrong's Blog, page 23

Authorial Intent & Me

Kicking off 2012 with a somewhat… well, not bitchy blog post, but with a topic that really annoys.

Authorial intent and who can say what that was.

In my book, the only person who can say what an author intended with their book is the author. Now, readers can take whatever they like from the book, have it mean whatever they want it to mean to them, but for a reader to say 'This is what the author intended' is just rubs at me. A reader cannot know my intent unless they speak to me directly and ask.

I know it's a fine line between 'The author intended this' and 'I think the author intended this', but it's an important line. Maybe it's because I was such a big fan of Tolkien and, within that fandom, there was a lot of speculation about his intent with various stories and characters. I was always very aware of putting words into a dead man's mouth, and I didn't want to ever say this, definitively, was what J.R.R. Tolkien intended with what he wrote.

And so, now that I'm writing and publishing, I find myself perusing conversations and viewing the discussions with a much different eye. While I try to never jump in or insult my readers, it can raise my hackles when someone says 'Such-and-such character was a just X, and the author shouldn't have made them that way'. Well, my response—in my head, mind you—tends to be, maybe the author didn't write them that way; it's just how you, the reader, interpreted it. And that's all well and good. Readers should interpret the works they read however they want. But to say the author meant it? I think that might be a little too far.

I never meant for Riley to be the 'cheating boyfriend'.

I never intended Kasper to be the 'creepy doctor'.

I never intended Logan to be the 'abusive boyfriend'.

I never intended The Keeper to be a soapbox about Christianity.

However, these are all things that have been said to have been my intent with those characters, stories, rather than merely what a reader took away from the story. Maybe I'm being too sensitive about it, but words are powerful things to me. I choose them carefully when writing, when communicating, and when I review/share my views of books. Thus, perhaps, I'm putting too much weight in readers' comments and how they word thing.

Still, before you say 'The author intended X', stop and think. Is it truly what the author intended—did the author say this is what they intended with their book?—or merely what you, the reader, took away from the book? As an author and reader, I'm much more interested in the latter when I come across reader discussion/reviews for books, whether they be mine or someone elses.

Happy 2012, everyone! I hope everyone's holiday season was awesome and that the new year is full of prosperity and good luck.

Advent: Day Twenty-Nine (NSFW)

And so we come to the final Advent short. I hope everyone enjoyed the Advent Challenge and all the free, smutty shorts we offered, and I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season. May you have received everything your heart desired! I wish you all an amazing new year!

Title: The Twinkle Of A Life

Characters: Quinn, Dorian, Lorelei, Patrick

Origin: Polyfidelity (WIP)

Advent Day: Day 29 (December 25th)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 3,599

—

Patrick grinned like a madman as he turned his wrist back and forth, loving the way the light glinted off the surfaces of his Omega watch.

"It's not a Rolex, but—"

"It's perfect, Lorelei," Patrick insisted. "God, it's the best watch I've ever owned. I know it cost a mint, too." Just like the other big gifts they had all contributed to in order to get something special for everyone. Quinn was still rubbing his hands over the beautiful, leather-bound law volumes they had bought him. Lorelei had wept five full minutes when she'd opened the box containing her brand new brushed copper KitchenAid mixer with every attachment imaginable. And Dorian… Well, Dorian was looking at his American Ballet Theatre membership card like he was going to make sweet, passionate love to it.

"Should we leave you two alone?" Patrick teased, poking Dorian's side with his toes and watching his lover twitch on the floor.

"Shut up. It's just… so beautiful," Dorian purred. "It means watching Giselle, going to exclusive events, dress rehearsals of some of the best dancers in the country."

Lorelei leaned over and kissed Dorian's cheek softly. "You're adorable."

"I'm just glad he likes it," Quinn said with a chuckle.

"Why wouldn't he have liked it?" Patrick gave Quinn a nudge with his shoulder.

Quinn nudged him back. "Who knows with Dorian? He's a moody Broadway baby."

Dorian flushed, giving them all a silly smile. "I'm not on Broadway yet."

"You will be," Lorelei assured Dorian. "We all know it."

"One dream come true at a time. I've met my quota for the year," Dorian grinned at Patrick specifically, and then Quinn and Lorelei. Reaching up, he tugged a lock of Lorelei's red hair, pulling her down for another kiss.

Patrick raised an eyebrow at the way Dorian shifted and stretched out on the rug, moaning softly into that kiss. He leaned close to Quinn. "Do you think he's doing that on purpose?" he asked, licking his lips, unable to look away from Dorian's body.

Quinn chuckled softly. "Dorian is many things, but subtle is not one of them."

It had been a long, trying year for all of them, but Patrick was settling in finally. At first, he'd worried he wouldn't fit into their lives, but he had. Somehow, they'd made him a part of their family. Patrick wanted to think it had been effortless. It had felt like it some of the time. But, they'd all had their moments, their jealousies and needs. They'd assured him those issues would crop up again in the future, but they'd all promised one another to be honest about the feelings. Nothing could be fixed if no one opened their mouths.

Though Dorian was opening his mouth quite a lot at the moment. His hands moved over Lorelei's nightgown-encased body with zeal. Patrick's cheeks tinted pink as Dorian hiked the gown up, cupped Lorelei's ass through her panties. He had to look away, or else his cock was going to become way too hard to ignore.

"You don't like what you see?" Quinn murmured near Patrick's ear.

"It's… not that," Patrick whispered. "You know I think they're fucking gorgeous."

"What is it, then?" Quinn crooned, his deep voice sending shivers down his spine. "Thinking about touching them? Touching me? 'Tis the season…"

Patrick smiled. "To grope and tumble with your three lovers?"

"Perhaps," Quinn laughed softly, nipping his earlobe. "I meant, 'tis the season to celebrate what sees you through the harsh, cold times. Love, family, hope for the future."

Dorian squirmed on the floor, drawing Patrick's gaze. "So, when I say I want you to get your asses down here and rock me around the Christmas tree, it's 'cause I want to make my Yuletide gay… and celebrate love, hope, and family."

Lorelei laughed, giving Dorian a light slap. "Could you been any cheesier?"

"I'm sure he could try," Patrick laughed. Then, he looked at Quinn. "So, now we're going to strip and fuck by the warm light of the Christmas tree?"

Quinn cupped Patrick's cheek, brushed their lips together. "No. We're going to undress each other, kiss, touch, and make amazing love by the warm light of the Christmas tree."

When Quinn spoke like that, Patrick's insides turned to jelly. Before Dorian and Quinn, he'd only wondered about loving men, but now that he had them, he never wanted to let go. "Kiss me?" he breathed.

"Of course," Quinn murmured, cupping his face and drawing their lips together. It started light and sweet, but Quinn effortlessly deepened it. Quinn's hand moved from his face to his neck, and down the collar of his shirt. It felt like his shirt melted open of its own accord, and he distantly wondered how the hell Quinn learned to unbutton a shirt so smoothly. The answer didn't seem important when Quinn tugged his shirt free from his pajama bottoms. Those hands slid up his skin to tease at his nipples, and he moaned loudly.

"Need a little help?" Lorelei offered.

"Those pajamas do look terribly uncomfortable." Dorian's voice was much closer than before, and the firm rub to his cock through his pajama bottoms couldn't have been anyone else.

Being the utter focus of the three of them was overwhelming, but Patrick rolled with it. He moaned as Lorelei slid his sleep shirt off to join her nightgown on the floor. Patrick let his hands roam over the bare expanse of Quinn's chest. He loved the warm feel of Quinn's body, the broad expanse of flesh and muscle. Patrick had never thought Quinn looked like a lawyer, though Dorian always teased Quinn about being the poster child for law firms.

Quinn kissed him until he was hard and breathless, and by that time, he'd been stripped. Dorian's body was firm against his side, and Patrick watched Quinn pull Lorelei into kiss. God, he thought they were beautiful. Lorelei's lush body and fiery hair, and Quinn's strong arms and arresting features. It made his heart ache to be a part of this, a part of them.

"You all right?" Dorian asked, lips trailing up Patrick's throat.

Patrick turned to Dorian, eyes hungry and dark. "I've never felt better," he moaned, and then took Dorian's mouth in a searing, wet kiss.

Dorian moaned and practically crawled up into his lap. He ran his hands down Dorian's back, loving that perfect taper of muscles brought on by years of dancing. His fingers moved from waist to ass, and when he gave it a squeeze, Dorian gasped back from the kiss. "Gods, yes."

"Hey," Lorelei pouted. "You see that, Quinn? Stole him right under our noses."

"We'll have to steal him back later," Quinn chuckled, and a shift of his arm and hand made Lorelei squeak and shudder. "I have my hands full."

Patrick glanced over to see Lorelei spread out on the floor, Quinn's mouth at her breast while his hands worked her panties off. He moaned, turning back to Dorian, his hands massaging Dorian's ass. "You want to feel a cock up your gorgeous ass today?" he asked, nipping at Dorian's chin.

"I want whatever everyone else wants," Dorian panted, rubbing himself shamelessly against Patrick. "Whatever configuration, I'll be spectacularly happy."

Quinn pulled off Lorelei's nipple with a wet sound, and she cried out, arching against the carpet as Quinn sank two fingers inside her. "Lorelei's wonderfully wet." His blue eyes turned to Patrick and Dorian. "What do you want, Patrick? Our first Christmas morning together, what do you want?"

Patrick flushed. "Your cock in my ass." Quinn had been his first, and he still had a soft need for the elder man he hoped would never fade. "Lorelei beneath me… and Dorian's cock in my mouth." He flushed, wondering if it was too selfish, too much to ask of them. "I mean, if everyone else would like that, too, for a start." He was not so naïve as to think they wouldn't go for a second… or third round throughout the day, all of them tasting one another in some varied way or another.

Dorian grinned at him. "And you thought you'd never be able to imagine all four of us together at once." He brought his hand to his collarbone, making a show out of tearing up. "I'm so proud!"

Quinn laughed. "That sounds amazing, a wonderful start to our morning." Quinn adjusted his glasses and looked down at Lorelei. "What do you say, Rory? Do you want Patrick's thick cock stretching you open?"

"How many times have I told you to not call me Rory?" Lorelei asked, slapping Quinn's hip.

"About as many times as I've called you it?" Quinn kissed her. "So? You want Patrick's cock?"

Lorelei flushed, and with her pale skin, it was vibrant and beautiful. "Yes," she said, glancing at Patrick. "I want his cock inside."

Quinn motioned to Dorian. "Go grab the lube and a handful of condoms, pretty boy."

"That means moving." Dorian pouted for a moment and wiggled on Patrick's lap. He was smiling an instant later, though, and with a quick kiss, he hopped off Patrick and practically danced his way back into their bedroom.

Patrick watched him with a grin, admiring the sight until Dorian disappeared around the corner. He looked down to see Quinn already offering him his hand. "Get down here," Quinn ordered, though the words carried no sting, just that quiet authority he'd always admired.

"Join us," Lorelei insisted, beckoning with her own hand. "I still owe you a million kisses for the mixer."

"With all the hints you were dropping, it wasn't a hard gift to choose," Patrick said, laying out beside her. He kissed Lorelei softly as Quinn moved down her body, spread her legs wide. She cried out into their kiss a second later, and Patrick pulled back to moan. "Tasting you?" he asked, breathless, eyes on Lorelei's blushing face.

"Yes!" Lorelei gasped. "God, Quinn, your tongue…"

Patrick chuckled, his hand massaging one breast, teasing the nipple, as his mouth sought the other. "Quinn is great with his mouth."

"I learned from Dorian," Quinn murmured, and then a low, muffled moan lilted up to Patrick, and Lorelei arched, pushing her chest against Patrick's mouth.

"He going to make you come?" Patrick asked, nipping and sucking her nipple while his fingers played with the other.

Lorelei whimpered, one hand in Quinn's hair, the other clinging to Patrick. "Yes!"

Patrick could easily feel the tension in her body, the way her muscles clenched, her breath caught. She was gorgeous, her pale skin flushed down to the tips of her breasts. He tugged at a nipple with his teeth, twisted the other between his fingers, and watched her. Waited. It was something he'd grown to love, the arousal just watching Lorelei come could spark.

She gasped twice, and her nails dug into Patrick's shoulder. Quinn's head moved quickly, and Patrick's cock twitched at every wet sound that made it to his ears. God, he just wanted to sink into her, make her scream for him. In moments, Lorelei bucked and gave a choked cry, her limbs twitching uncontrollably as her climax washed through her. Patrick closed his eyes, moaned against her breast, and let the sounds of her pleasure and Quinn's enthusiastic attention to her pussy.

"God, that's fucking beautiful."

Patrick looked up and shuddered. Dorian was leaning against the edge of the hallway, lube and condoms in one hand while the other pumped his cock. He looked like sex and seduction incarnate, and it just made Patrick all the more eager to taste him, to push into Lorelei, to feel Quinn take him. "You planning on just watching?" he asked, astonished that the words made it out with how breathy his voice already was.

Dorian pushed off the hallway wall and stalked closer. "I'll do anything you want."

"Anything?" Patrick wondered if any of them could hear how loud his heart was pounding.

"Anything," Dorian assured him, dropping to his knees beside Patrick.

Quinn kissed his way up Lorelei's squirming body. "Dorian is so flexible."

Lorelei laughed breathlessly. "You love… his flexibility."

"We all do," Patrick murmured, pulling Dorian against him. "And I can't wait to see some of it in action in a moment." Patrick let his tongue snake out and lick sensually at Dorian's lovely lips.

"You have some crazy position planned?" Dorian asked with a shaky moan, dropping the lube and condoms in order to hold onto him.

Quinn recovered the dropped items and smacked Dorian's ass. "Butterfingers."

"Just have better things to do with my hands," Dorian breathed, arching for a kiss from Quinn as his hands wrapped around Patrick's cock and stroked.

Patrick groaned, pressing up into Dorian's hand. "Fuck," he moaned.

"I know," Lorelei purred. "They're just so lovely together." She pushed Dorian's hand away from Patrick's cock, and the snatched up a condom. "I want you inside."

Quinn grinned against Dorian's lips. "She's as impatient as you."

"Shut up and kiss me again," Dorian demanded with a tug to Quinn's hair.

Patrick laughed and spanked Dorian's ass until the dancer shifted over to Quinn's very capable hands. The two of them were erotic as all get out, but the sight of Lorelei taking hold of his cock and rolling a condom down the length of him is what made his cock positively ache. "Eager?"

"Just as eager as you," Lorelei laughed, squeezing and stroking him through the condom.

Patrick rolled over, slipping between Lorelei's spread legs. "You think I'm eager?" he asked, nudging her moist opening with his cock.

"I know it," Lorelei gasped, pressing down against him.

"Yeah, I am." Patrick surged forward, filling Lorelei in one, smooth thrust. She was always so damn hot, so wet, and a moan rumbled through him. "God, Rory, you feel so damn good."

Lorelei's fingers tangled in his hair as she pulled him down for a kiss. "So do you," she whimpered, parting her lips and sliding her tongue into his mouth.

He could hear Dorian and Quinn moaning behind him, but all that mattered in those moments was Lorelei, the softness of her beneath him, around him. She loved him. He could tell in the way she would smile at him, the way her cheeks would flush when he'd compliment her, the way she'd go out of her way to surprise him with his favorite foods when he was stressed out about a production at work. And he had been so afraid of loving her while loving Dorian. He'd thought his heart would rip into pieces under the stress, but even after all the trials, it hadn't broken; it had just expanded. He just hoped it came across in his own actions, his kisses, and the tender way he thrust into Lorelei again and again.

Hands moved along his back, and his eyes closed. Patrick shuddered under those strong hands. He knew those hands. "Quinn."

"Right here," Quinn purred in that damn sexy voice right near his ear. "I'm going slick and spread you while you love Rory."

Lorelei cried out, and Patrick opened his eyes to the vision of Dorian sucking and pinching Lorelei's breasts. His eyes focused on Dorian's cock, thick and dark, and his mouth positively watered. "Yes," he hissed as Quinn's lubed fingers sank into his ass. "Want you all… love you all."

"We love you, too," Dorian replied an instant later. The quick response made everyone smile. Dorian had always been so focused on action. It was wonderful to see him finally trying to say the words instead of just letting everyone assume his feelings. "Well, we do," he insisted with a laugh at everyone's smiles and silence.

"Of course we do," Quinn chuckled, curving his fingers just right inside Patrick.

Patrick threw his head back and cried out, pushing deep into Lorelei. Her nails raked down his chest as she whined, her thighs tense against him. "God, help me!"

"I don't think that will be necessary," Quinn said, lips trailing up and down Patrick's back. "I love how tight you are."

A flush stole over his cheeks as Patrick met Dorian's eyes. "So I'm a tight ass?"

Dorian grinned, twisting Lorelei's nipples so she writhed beneath Patrick. "You know it."

"But tight means I'll fit so perfectly," Quinn purred, nipping at the ridge of Patrick's spine. Those fingers were gone just long enough for Quinn to grab a condom and lube, and then Quinn's cock was pressed to his hole.

His body protested for a few seconds, but when he forced himself to exhale slowly, Quinn took advantage and pushed inside with a careful, steady thrust. It forced a ragged cry from him, feeling that fullness after nearly a week on the giving end rather than receiving, but it was good, so good. Quinn took his time, gave him a moment to adjust before making small thrusts, setting a pace that rocked him perfectly into Lorelei.

Lorelei craned her neck, licked and sucked at his throat, and Patrick thought he would go mad with the pleasure. He moaned, lashes fluttering, and he eagerly moved back against Quinn before thrusting forward into Lorelei. Their sounds, their smells, they made his heart race, and then the wet tip of Dorian's cock nudged his lips. He looked up. Dorian was straddling Lorelei's face, and her mouth was around his balls, sucking and pulling at him, and Dorian's groans only encouraged Patrick.

"Open up," Dorian murmured. "Gods, Patrick, please…"

Patrick parted his lips and sucked the plump head of Dorian into his mouth. He shuddered. Everything swam in his head. Quinn in his ass, Lorelei around his cock, and Dorian pushing deeper into his mouth and throat. God, he wanted more. Anything. Everything. He was utterly theirs. An extension of their pleasure, their need, and he didn't hesitate for a moment to give them all every piece of him.

"Oh, fuck," Dorian panted, and his fingers tightened in Patrick's hair. "Can't… stop myself…"

Patrick only had a moment to prepare himself before his mouth was flooded with Dorian's come, and he drank the release down, sucked even after he'd swallowed the last drop. It pulled loud cries from Dorian, cries that only served to make his own cock twitch as he thrust back and forth between Lorelei and Quinn.

"Keep sucking," Dorian begged, tugging at his hair until he complied. "Yeah. Gods, yeah, just like that. Fuck, Patrick!"

Quinn groaned behind Patrick. "You're incorrigible."

"You know how good his mouth feels!" Dorian jerked, pushed his cock deep, and Patrick rode out the movement expertly. It had taken him months to do it, but now that he could, he relished the power it gave him. "And Rory's mouth on my balls and ass only makes it that much harder."

"Want me to stop?" Lorelei panted.

Dorian whimpered. "No."

"Didn't think so," she said with a breathy laugh.

Quinn's tongue moved along Patrick's ear, his hands firmly around Patrick's waist. "Reach between you and Lorelei," he murmured. "Make her scream against Dorian's ass."

Patrick moaned around Dorian and sucked fiercely as he reached down, following Quinn's orders without pause. He found Lorelei's clit and circled it twice, loving the way the slightest touch made Lorelei buck and squirm. Quinn's pace altered, deepening and speeding up, and he just about spent himself then and there. Only sheer willpower held him back, the need to bring everyone else pleasure before himself.

His fingers rubbed faster at Lorelei's clit, and it only took a few of those deep thrusts from Quinn, driving him deep inside her, before she screamed, clawing at Dorian, who cried out and bucked into Patrick's throat. It was a chain reaction, all of their bodies connected, all of their pleasures intertwined.

Lorelei came, squeezing around him in that beautiful way of hers, and Quinn's low groan and deep thrust signaled his end. It was all Patrick needed for his own release. He trembled between Lorelei and Quinn, his come flooding the condom. The pleasure simply seared through him, and his throat went lax, allowing Dorian to push so fucking deep as he came a second time.

Patrick swallowed in order not to choke, and he felt completely, thoroughly debauched and loved. The twinkle of the Christmas lights on the tree, the scent of pine and sex, and the sounds of his lovers were all burned into his memory. This moment—inside Lorelei, Quinn deep inside him, and Dorian's cock plugging his throat—was a moment of thorough possession. He was home. He was where he would always belong.

Dorian slowly pulled out, left him gasping, and cupped his face. He blinked slowly, dazedly, as Dorian's face came into focus. It was when Dorian's thumbs brushed over his damp cheeks that he realized he'd shed tears in those final moments. Dorian smiled faintly, eyes deep and full of the love he so rarely spoke aloud.

"You all right?" Dorian whispered.

Patrick swallowed thickly. "Yeah. Just… realizing how perfectly I fit with the three of you."

Quinn hugged him tightly from behind. "It took you this long to figure it out?"

Lorelei's hands moved over his chest and shoulders. Quinn held him close. And Dorian… Dorian's lips pressed to his, and Patrick thought his heart would shatter under the pressure of love he felt for the three of them. But it didn't. Nothing broke. Everything was whole and right, and Patrick laughed into Dorian's kiss.

"No," Patrick said, closing his eyes as he savored his life. "Took me this long to accept it."

Advent: Day Twenty-Eight (NSFW)

Title: Season of Giving

Characters: Morpheus, Ethan

Origin: Life After Death (WIP, sequel to Oneiros)

Advent Day: Day 28 (December 24th)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 6,922

—

Ethan ran. He ran simply for the joy of running, and he loved the beach, the feel of sand and surf beneath his toes as he panted with exertion. The sun beat down on him as he kicked up sea water with every stride, but it only felt wonderful against his skin as the sea breeze whipped his hair about him. He licked his lips and concentrated, and it was as if the world rippled around him, the waves extending to the rocks lining the shore and distorting the sky.

One instant, he was running through the waves, and the next, he was racing through a forest, weaving in and out of the slender trunks of a copse of aspens. Laughter bubbled up out of him, loud and joyous, and he whooped, leaping over a fallen trunk and swiping at the leaves of a distant branch. It was far higher than he should have been able to reach, but a stretch of his imagination gave him all the height he needed, and he touched them before floating back down to the forest floor. He whirled and grinned and fell backward with his eyes closed. Instead of slamming to the leaf litter, however, his fall was met with the most comfortable pillows he could imagine. He panted and smiled, breathing in the crisp scent of freshly fallen snow, the smoke of a nearby wood-burning furnace, and apples.

"Enjoying yourself?"

The voice startled him just a little, but the moment his eyes snapped open and found the youthful face of his lover there, he relaxed, the smile returning to his face. "Guess you could say that."

"You seem to love your runs." Morpheus ran his finger from the hollow of Ethan's throat down to his navel. "Do you know how long you have been here?"

Ethan purred, shivering in the wake of that intimate touch. "No. Time is hard to measure here. Days bleed into one another, and seasons change at a thought. How long have I been here?"

Morpheus leaned down, brushed his lips over one of Ethan's nipples. "A year. It is Christmas in the Waking World, and I have made it Christmas here in the Land of Dreams. For you."

"For me?" Ethan breathed.

"You came to me at Christmas." Morpheus lifted his head, and something hopeful shimmered in the warm, brown eyes. "Does the anniversary mean anything to you?"

Ethan grinned. "Sure it does. A year's a long time. Fuck, a single day in ICU felt like an eternity when I was waiting for that kidney." A shadow must have moved over his face because Morpheus brought his attention back to the present with a simple brush of their lips. He played with a lock of Morpheus' curly hair. "Feels a lifetime away. I have so much here with you, things I'm still just skimming the surface of."

"You're happy to be here with me?"

Ethan chuckled. "I won't say it's always perfect, 'cause I'm not perfect, but… yeah. I'm happy here." He'd been scared shitless at first, and it had taken him a long time to adapt to Morpheus' realm of dreams, but it was worlds better than what he'd had in the Waking World.

Morpheus smiled, and the expression was stunningly beautiful. "It pleases me that you're happy."

"Are you happy with me here?" Ethan asked, running his fingers over Morpheus' golden cheek.

"You have helped heal something I didn't want to admit was broken." Morpheus kissed Ethan softly. "My heart is not so broken anymore."

"What do you do for Christmas in the Land of Dreams?" Ethan murmured. "Does Santa come to visit?"

Morpheus laughed, the sound lyrical and warm. "No. We can do anything you like, Ethan. How do you want to spend Christmas? With me?"

Ethan chewed at his lower lip for a moment, but a grin slowly curved his lips, and he closed his eyes. It always helped to close his eyes, just so he could visualize what he wanted better. The bed remained beneath them, but the sea breeze stuttered to a stop, the roar of the waves replaced by the warm crackle of a cheerful fire. He opened his eyes again and smiled, sighing happily. Apart from the spacious bed, they were in his apartment, the one he'd lived in once Jesse had left. It was a small, studio apartment, but he'd known it would be easy to decorate.

He stood from the large bed, stepping forward from the alcove into the main space of the room. "I… never got to finish decorating. I had to call 9-1-1 because the pain got to be too much, and then I never came back." He flushed a little, looking back at Morpheus. "Help me decorate? Your way?"

Morpheus raised an eyebrow at him. "My way?"

"My decorations suck. This way, we can imagine whatever we want and decorate together, the way I never got to." He ran a hand through his windswept hair, pushing his blond bangs back from his eyes. "Or is this just kinda pathetic, me getting closure?"

"Closure is never pathetic. It's necessary so you can begin again." Morpheus rose from the bed, and suddenly there was a box stuffed full of ornaments at Ethan's feet. "We will decorate together."

Ethan's heart thudded in his chest, and his throat tightened. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why would you decorate with me, Morpheus? You're a god. You have all of the sleeping universe beating down your door to demand your time. Why would you spend it with me?" Ethan had to know, had to hear the words Morpheus just hadn't said yet. Words Jesse had said with annoyance until the words had stopped altogether. "Why are you here?"

Morpheus exhaled softly, looked around the small room. "Because you are here." His dark eyes returned to Ethan. "Because you need me, and I need you."

Ethan swallowed. "Just need?"

"No," Morpheus admitted. "Not just need."

Ethan waited, but Morpheus said nothing, plunging them into a silence filled only by the snapping of the firewood and the pounding of his heart in his chest. Morpheus looked up at him, and they stared at one another for a few seconds until Ethan finally swallowed thickly and whispered, "Please, Morpheus. Say it if you mean it."

He needed to hear it, needed to feel that emotional connection from Morpheus if it was actually there. He knew Morpheus had reservations, that Morpheus had been burned really fucking badly before, but so had he. Maybe his life couldn't compare to Morpheus' long existence, but they'd become close. It was more than casual, more than just need that kept them together. His eyes pleaded with Morpheus. He'd accept any answer, anything that was real for Morpheus.

Morpheus stepped close, one hand coming up to cup Ethan's cheek. "I am here because I love you," the god said, voice so low and rough, Ethan couldn't mistake the feeling behind the words.

Warmth rushed through him, more visceral and true than the heat from the fire that crackled nearby. He tilted his head, leaning into Morpheus' hand as emotion welled up in him. "I love you, too," he breathed, and when Morpheus' fingers moved to his hair and pulled him forward and down a fraction, he eagerly parted his lips. Morpheus' kisses were always so consuming, as if the god breathed life into him every moment their lips were locked.

Morpheus pulled back, leaving him panting, his mind a bit dizzy, and he laughed softly. "You're here decorating with me 'cause you love me."

"Yes," Morpheus said, his voice practically shimmering with amusement to Ethan's ears. "Where do we begin?"

Ethan concentrated, and when he glanced over, a bare Christmas tree appeared. "How about there?" he suggested, kissing Morpheus again before dipping down and grabbing a few decorations from the box Morpheus had caused to appear.

"A beautiful tree." Morpheus reached for another ornament and placed it carefully. "Have you always decorated a tree at Christmas-time?"

"I only missed a couple," Ethan said, loving all the unique, gorgeous colors of the ornaments. "The sicker I got, the less energy I had, and Jesse wasn't big on the holiday spirit."

Morpheus was quiet for a few moments, adding decorations slowly to the tree. Silence meant his lover was thinking, and Ethan gave him the time and silence to do that in. When Morpheus spoke, the words weren't what Ethan was expecting.

"Why were you with Jesse?" Morpheus paused in his decorating and looked at Ethan. "You don't speak of him with warmth or love."

Ethan fought the anger that instantly rose in him, the bile of indignation. He took a few deep breaths, staring down at the colored glass ornament in his hands. "We met in college. Had the same Intro to Psychology class. I'd been in college a couple years, just taking a couple classes at a time so I could keep a full-time job without stressing myself into a coma. In a class meant for freshmen, we sort of gravitated to one another because we were both a little older. I had fucked around a bit by the time we became friends, but it was different with him. The friendship was there, and then it just deepened. It felt perfect. We bickered a bit, but it felt like it only made us closer. Then, my mom died, and he was with me through the entire thing, all the mourning, all the legal shit. He stuck with me, and I thought I was in love. I thought we could tackle anything together."

He reached up and hung the ornament on a good, strong branch. Morpheus was quiet beside him, but the silence wasn't awkward. Somehow, in this place, the silence was encouraging. Maybe Morpheus was messing with their surroundings, working some quiet sort of magic, but it put him a bit more at ease, and he gave Morpheus a sad smile. "If you'd asked me why I was with him then, I'd have told you because I loved him. But after my mom died, things just got more difficult. I started getting sick more often, and I'd get really fatigued after lots of activity. I can't pinpoint when it all shifted. It was slow, y'know? Sex became exhausting. He was so passionate, had so much endurance I just didn't have. We joked that I was just getting old, but Jesse just got quieter and quieter. I thought it was just a bit of a dry spell, that he was working through me not being able to keep up with him like I used to." He shook his head. "This answer is becoming the story of my life."

Morpheus just smiled and put another ornament on the tree. "It was a difficult question. The answer was bound to be complex."

Ethan chuckled, glad for a moment of levity. "You saying I can't handle it?"

"I'm saying you can take your time."

Ethan looked down at the box of ornaments and chose another, but he hesitated putting it on the tree. "I'm not sure why I was with him near the end. We were spending less time together, I knew I wasn't meeting his sexual needs, and that had dropped his interest in sex with me down to zero. He would stay the night with me, would always come help me out when I wasn't feeling well or when I needed a shoulder to cry on. I'd interpreted that as devotion. I'd thought we were having rough times and that we'd make it through, but I was lying to myself. He was only with me out of obligation, probably just trying to finish what he'd started."

Morpheus' arms wrapped around him from behind, and Ethan let out a long breath, setting the ornament on a branch. "He left. I told him to leave. I didn't want to be someone's emotional charity case." He smiled ruefully at the ornament. "I actually thought he'd come back, hold my hand, tell me he loved me, that he was sorry, that the stress of me being sick had just made him stupid." Ethan poked the ornament, made it sway in the lighted bough. "It was me who was stupid."

"That situation wasn't about stupidity," Morpheus murmured against Ethan's ear. "It was about need and fear. It was about selfishness and a need for more compassion that many humans possess." He paused, and then pressed a kiss to Ethan's throat. "What of the situation now? Trapped in my world, unable to go back, unwilling to go forward?"

Ethan turned in Morpheus' arms, his fingers curling in Morpheus' silky hair. "I was afraid of moving on, afraid of being trapped here. Now, I'm just afraid of being parted from you… and afraid that I'll be forgotten in your vast realm. It's been a year, and I'm looking forward to another year, and another. Do you think I need more than you're able to give?"

Morpheus stared down at him, and not for the first time, Ethan wondered what thoughts moved through the god's mind. "What is it you need? What is it I need to give?"

Ethan licked his lips, knowing his answer was short but infinitely complex. "Love, devotion, time… and honesty."

One of Morpheus' eyebrows lifted. "Honesty?"

"Yes, honesty." Ethan looked away for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Honesty meant so many things! "I don't expect you to be… all mine. I get that gods don't tend to devote themselves to anyone person, but—"

Morpheus pressed a finger to Ethan's lips. "You make a vast assumption about gods with that statement."

"Is it not true?"

"We are not all like Zeus."

"So the seventy-two virgins, the conquests, the… sex with your sister and half-brother's mother's handmaiden?"

Morpheus laughed. It wasn't often he made Morpheus truly laugh, and the sound washed over him in the most wonderfully sensual way. "I'm not those gods."

Ethan smiled and tilted his head. "Then what should I expect?"

"Love, devotion, time, and honesty," Morpheus murmured, his lips traveling down Ethan's exposed throat. "No obligation, just mutual need and mutual love."

Ethan moaned softly, a shiver traveling down his spine. God, those words made his eyes sting, but his skeptical nature made him hesitant, and his hands tightened in Morpheus' hair. "You're sure you can give it? For the next year?"

Morpheus' teeth nipped at his pulse. "For much longer than that. I won't abandon you to fear and uncertainty."

"God," Ethan breathed. "What on earth do I have to offer that's worth all that from you?"

Morpheus tugged at Ethan's chin until their eyes met, their lips brushed. "Do you love me?"

Ethan's cheeks heated up, but he nodded. "Yes."

"Then that is all that must be offered, all that is worth my love in return." Morpheus smiled faintly against Ethan's lips. "I have wanted a lover that would be as devoted to me as I was to them. My wife, my lovers, even Caleb… my love simply wasn't enough."

"You didn't love Caleb," Ethan whispered.

"Didn't I?"

Ethan swallowed. "I think you could have, but he would have had to give up living to be with you. I can see how tempting it was for him because you… Morpheus, you are bright and shining and so passionate."

"But he didn't choose me," Morpheus said, a soft sadness to the words.

He pulled Morpheus closer. "He had to choose life. For someone who has years ahead of them, it's a lot to ask, a lot to let go."

"But I didn't ask that of you," Morpheus murmured.

Ethan smiled. "You didn't have to. I had given up. I was out of time and ready for it to be over. All you're asking for is my love, and you have it."

Morpheus seemed to brighten, a glow returning to his face as he smiled and glanced at the tree. Ethan followed his gaze and watched as the tree shivered, suddenly sporting a glittering tinsel garland and a more traditional string of popcorn and cranberries. "And you have my time. Times like these."

Ethan grinned, reaching out and running his finger over the garland with a happy laugh. "Times like these that we build together, remembering the past, but making our own future."

"A future that spreads out beyond thought." Morpheus nuzzled Ethan's throat. "The idea of you, beside me, for years uncounted makes my very heart tremble. It's been too long since I felt that."

"But you feel it with me," Ethan breathed, offering his throat fully again.

Morpheus moaned. "Every moment. Together or apart, you're in my thoughts. My desires. My innocent musings."

Was there anything more fulfilling, more heart-warming, than knowing you were in the thoughts of the person you loved? Ethan doubted anything could make him feel more cherished than that. He smiled as another suckling nip from Morpheus pulled a soft moan out of him. "Have I ever told you how sexy I find men who have innocent musings about me?"

"No," Morpheus chuckled, his hands moving over Ethan's clothed body. "Innocent musings about you are sexy?"

Ethan pressed into Morpheus' hands. Never had he felt so at home, so at peace with himself. This little memory of his apartment, Christmas music playing quietly on the radio, the fire crackling, and his gorgeous god touching him. "I find the fact that you think of me at all sexy," he whispered.

Morpheus' lips blazed over his throat, making Ethan so hard in his jeans. "How could I not think of you?" Morpheus asked. "How could I not want you near every moment we're apart? Wonder if another creature or mortal in my realm has caught your eye?"

"Well there was that centaur—Ow!" he laughed as Morpheus pinched him. "Teasing! I'm only teasing." He pulled Morpheus' mouth up to his, their eyes meeting as he whispered, "There is no other. Even in this world of wonders, no one but you."

Morpheus kissed him, and it was almost like the world around them trembled with the passion he felt in every swipe of Morpheus' tongue, every shift of their lips and bodies against one another. One moment, he was rubbing his clothed body against Morpheus, and the next his clothing was melting away, turning to water that trickled down his body but left him dry. He gasped, pulling out of the kiss with a look of awe. "You… you've never…"

"Did you like it?" Morpheus asked with a deep chuckle.

"Hell yeah," Ethan moaned, eagerly pushing into Morpheus' hands as they swept down his naked body. Morpheus smiled, looking young and perfect, and Ethan moaned. The bed full of pillows beckoned, and Ethan let Morpheus lead him to it. "You going to fuck me in front of the fire, in the glow of the Christmas tree?"

Morpheus nipped Ethan's lower lip. "No. No fucking tonight," he murmured. "There is too much love in me tonight to do anything hard and frantic."

Ethan shuddered and ran his hands down the front of Morpheus' tunic, pushing it open and off Morpheus' shoulders. "I stand corrected. You going to make love with me? Replace the sickness in my memory with the love we share?"

"Yes," Morpheus breathed. He wrapped his arms around Ethan, pulled him close, and the tip of his tongue teased Ethan's lower lip. "I want to give you a special gift tonight, your Christmas gift."

"A gift?" Ethan panted, and as his hands moved down Morpheus' body, Morpheus' trousers faded until Ethan's hands touched smooth, warm skin. "I get a gift?"

Morpheus kissed him softly. "My body," he whispered, a vulnerable shimmer in the brown eyes.

Ethan's jaw dropped. He couldn't help it. "Your body? But… I've never had you like that."

The slightest flush of rose streaked over Morpheus' golden cheeks. "That is the idea."

It was a gift, one that Ethan would never have expected. Whenever he had tried to turn the tables a little and be more dominant with Morpheus, he was always foiled. Morpheus was a master at manipulating things back to his own comfort level and making Ethan love every second of it. He'd started to let go of the desire to take Morpheus, which made this gift even more special. In a world that changed to all his fantasies at every whim, the one thing that he couldn't imagine into being was what Morpheus was going to give him.

Ethan caressed Morpheus' face. "I love you," he breathed before easing Morpheus into a series of soft, reverent kisses. He moved them onto the bed and pressed Morpheus down into the mattress and soft sheets. "Do you have a favorite position?"

"This one," Morpheus moaned, parting his legs so Ethan could settle comfortably against him. "I like seeing the one I am with, kissing. This is the only position that offers such intimacy."

"Other positions can be wonderful and intimate," Ethan pointed out.

Morpheus' lips twitched into a half-smile. "Not for tonight. This one is perfect."

Ethan chuckled, licking over that smile. "Then we won't tamper with perfection." He brought their lips together again and began a slow, sensual rhythm of rocking and swiveling his hips, loving the feel of Morpheus' hard length against his. Silver Bells began playing on the radio, and he smiled, humming along as he trailed kisses down Morpheus' neck and chest. His fingertips teased Morpheus' nipples, and he delighted in every moan, every breathless sound he was able to pull from his lover.

It was unusual being on this end of the pleasuring. Usually, their physical relationship centered on Ethan. He was the utter focus of Morpheus' passion, brought to such heights each time they coupled. It was only now, as Ethan's lips moved over Morpheus' skin, teased at a dusky nipple, that he realized how one-sided their loving had been. Perhaps it had been selfish of Ethan, never forcing the subject, never pressing Morpheus to receive instead of giving all the time, but when he'd landed in Morpheus' realm, he'd been battered and bruised. Ethan had needed to be the center of someone's world, and Morpheus had so selflessly given him that.

"Thank you," Ethan breathed before lapping at Morpheus' tight nipple.

Morpheus' fingers were tangled in Ethan's hair. A moan passed Morpheus' lips along with, "For what?"

Ethan pressed a reverent kiss to Morpheus' chest, right above the god's beating heart. "For giving me time. For giving me you without asking to have much of me in return."

"You had to heal." Morpheus smiled at him, the expression full of such love and understanding that Ethan thought no human could have affected it. "You still must heal, but the wound is not so deep anymore."

"Neither is yours, I hope," Ethan whispered, nuzzling warm skin and licking down to Morpheus' navel. "The wound left by Caleb… by everyone before me."

"With your help, my wounds are slowly healing," Morpheus moaned, encouraging him down even farther. He couldn't deny Morpheus. He worshipped every inch of skin between navel and sex, and he suckled at the base of Morpheus' beautiful cock. It was perfect, the perfect length and thickness, so perfect that Ethan often wondered if Morpheus had always been this way or if he had taken this form based on his fantasies. "I've been this way a very long time."

Ethan poked Morpheus' ribcage. "Reading my thoughts?"

"I cannot help it when you're thinking so loud," Morpheus chuckled.

"Then you know how much I love your body?"

"Almost as much as you love the rest of me," Morpheus purred, "and it brings me joy to know."

Ethan grinned and continued downward. Given the chance to truly explore, he took full advantage, scooting even lower between Morpheus' legs to lick and suckle at his balls, loving the soft texture of them and the way the attention made Morpheus shift against him.

Morpheus spread his legs wider with a low groan. "I'd almost forgotten how wonderful foreplay could be," he murmured.

Ethan licked lower, dared to circle his tongue around Morpheus' tight hole, and that hiss, the tension that sang through Morpheus made Ethan's cock twitch. "Foreplay is most of the fun," he said, and then began to push his tongue inside.

"I'm beginning to see that!" Morpheus cried, his fingers diving into Ethan's hair as he bucked. "Gods alive, the pleasure!"

Many times, Morpheus had driven Ethan mad with such pleasure, but now it was Ethan's turn, and he was determined to cherish the gift Morpheus was giving him. He wanted to make Morpheus fly, to scream and writhe, to lose control in a way the god never had. That was his goal. Strip away Morpheus' control and leave him trembling and sated in the wake of it all.

His tongue worked in and out of Morpheus until he felt the flesh tremble against him. Only then did he pull back, but just far enough to replace his tongue with two fingers. He imagined them slick with lube and smiled when the thought was made real with just a small effort. He eased one finger inside Morpheus, loving the gasp that accompanied the thrust.

"You're getting… quite good at that," Morpheus laughed breathlessly.

Ethan just grinned. "It's a skill you've helped me with, a power you've allowed me here. Just imagine what great things I can do if I start imagining toys to use on you."

"I've been in the dreams of many people with—ah!—varied imaginations," Morpheus panted, and his fingers tugged lightly at Ethan's hair so he looked up. "I don't want that tonight."

Ethan felt heat move through him. "Not tonight," he agreed with another thrust of his finger. He curved it as he withdrew again, searching for that spot inside. Did gods have that spot, too? As he struggled to find it, he began to truly wonder, but then Morpheus bucked and cried out beneath him, and he couldn't help but smirk as he began tormenting that spot with first one, and then two fingers.

Morpheus was soon writhing on the bed, panting and sweating, as beautiful as any god should be in the midst of such pleasure. It always stole Ethan's breath away. He was this perfect creature's lover. Morpheus' chosen. The one in which all hope was placed for happiness and love. It was a heavy burden, but one Ethan willingly shouldered. If he could lighten the grief of Morpheus' past—even just a little—then he would in any way he could.

"So damn gorgeous," Ethan whispered, rubbing at that raised place inside Morpheus. "You're so unbelievably gorgeous." He then dipped down and drew Morpheus' cock between his lips, moaning. It fit his mouth and throat so well. Morpheus may have had this shape for a long time, but their bodies seemed to have been made for one another.

Morpheus gave a choked cry, his fingers tightening in Ethan's hair. "Ethan!"

He groaned and held tightly to Morpheus' thigh, steadying Morpheus' hip with his other hand. He rose and fell, sucking Morpheus deep into his throat over and over, teasing the head with his tongue every few seconds. Morpheus tugged at his hair, bucked and cried out, but he refused to stop, and his mouth was soon filled with Morpheus' come. It wasn't bitter, wasn't the least bit unpleasant, and the surprise of that sent a jolt of pleasure through Ethan. He redoubled his efforts, sucking passionately at Morpheus to milk every drop, which he swallowed greedily.

When Morpheus finally succeeded in prying him back, he groaned, his eyes hazy as he looked up at Morpheus and panted, "You taste… like a dream."

Morpheus laughed breathlessly, his cock remaining hard, wet from Ethan's saliva. "I taste like a dream?"

"You aren't bitter at all." Ethan pulled his fingers from Morpheus' backside. "I thought it would be just like any other man's."

"I'm not like any other man," Morpheus purred, fingers tracing down Ethan's throat. "I can't believe I'd not let you taste me in all this time."

Ethan kissed from one hip to the other, loving that heat of Morpheus' flesh. "Every time I tried, you'd somehow turn it all back around to be about me."

"I don't think I can do that anymore." Morpheus combed his fingers through Ethan's hair. "I like your mouth too much."

Ethan grinned. "Then I haven't lost my touch. I'd worried."

"Don't worry," Morpheus insisted. "I'm going to keep your mouth very busy from now on."

Ethan groaned, his cock positively aching against the sheets. "Promises, promises." He circled his fingers at Morpheus' entrance. "You ready, or…?"

Morpheus pulled him close, arched his hips. "Yes, Ethan," he said, and Ethan had never thought his name to be as lyrical as that moment.

A thought. It was just a thought, and his cock was slick with lube. He pressed his mouth to Morpheus', drew him into a deep, slow kiss as he pushed against Morpheus, into him. Ethan's breath caught, and his lashes fluttered, and the look on Morpheus' face… the shock, the pleasure, Ethan was so glad to have seen that moment. He'd remember it for all time, the look that had crossed Morpheus' face the first time Ethan had slid into the glorious, tight heat of him.

Ethan let out a shuddering breath as his body rested against Morpheus', joined as deeply as he could manage. He felt Morpheus' legs shift against his sides, curl around him, and when Morpheus' heels actually dug into his ass, trying to pull him deeper, he groaned. "Morpheus…"

"I'd forgotten," Morpheus panted. "It feels… you feel… so good."

"Just getting started," Ethan choked out, making that first rocking thrust. Morpheus' heels dug in again, and he set a rhythm, slow and deep. He'd not always been a bottom; he'd taken other guys before, but he couldn't remember it being this good. None of them could have possibly been as beautiful, as passionate, as perfect as Morpheus was in those moments when pleasure transformed both of them and made everything around them seem to blur and fade away.

Ethan couldn't stop kissing Morpheus. He couldn't not touch the god. Even as Ethan rocked in and out of Morpheus, Morpheus' body clinging to him, he couldn't keep from touching him. He wanted nothing but this, the intimacy, the need, the way Morpheus pulled at him, gasped into his mouth. It was everything he'd ever dreamed about, the bright, vivid fantasy that used to get him through those endless nights in the hospital. When every bit of pleasure had been sapped out of him, all energy lost to illness, the dream of being love, of loving, of intimacy and trust and ecstasy, had kept him company.

"I always heard," Morpheus panted into another series of kisses. "Your dreams… always crying out to me… so much need and fear and grief."

Ethan found his throat tightening up against his will, and he tightened his hold at Morpheus' hip. "Never knew anyone was listening."

"We listen." Morpheus smiled. "Every so often… we can't help but listen."

Ethan gave a breathy laugh, blinking back the sting of threatening tears. "You calling me a loudmouth?"

Morpheus pulled Ethan's lips down to his with a groan. "I love you."

He didn't have to respond. He didn't have to say over and over how much he loved Morpheus, because Morpheus already knew his innermost thoughts, knew that he'd give just about anything to stay in this moment of pleasure with Morpheus forever. He moaned into their kisses as his hips sped up, and the pleasure built and built until Morpheus was squirming beneath him, gasping and tugging at his hair. His hands caressed from Morpheus' nipples down to his straining cock, and he pumped at the length, his thumb rubbing at the slit at the tip.

"Ethan," Morpheus gasped. The dazed look in Morpheus' eyes, the way his hands pulled at Ethan, it was exactly what Ethan had wanted. Ethan wanted Morpheus completely undone. "Ethan!"

Ethan thrust harder, faster, pleasure pulling him down, but he pushed it back, focused on Morpheus. "Yeah, I know," he panted, brushing their lips together. "It's like being broken apart, shattered to bits, but it feels so good, and you know I'll catch every piece… help you put yourself back together."

Morpheus' back arched, and his breath caught as his nails raked down Ethan's back. Ethan knew he'd have bruises along his ass from the pressure of Morpheus' heels. "Ethan—" Morpheus' cry of his name was clipped, ragged, and then he was coming. Ethan hadn't ever seen Morpheus so free, trembling under him, around him, his seed hot over Ethan's hand.

The pleasure of feeling Morpheus' body clenching around him was second only to the pleasure of watching all those emotions wash over Morpheus' face, through those dark brown eyes. Nothing existed but those eyes as the pleasure melded with the sweet pain of Morpheus' nails at his back, and his mouth opened, but only a soft, choked squeak escaped as he thrust deep and finally let go. He wasn't sure if the lights that flashed in his vision were imagined or his thoughts made manifest, but his vision narrowed to just Morpheus' eyes as he came hard, holding tightly to Morpheus as the world around them spun.

It felt like he was falling in slow motion, that weightlessness of climax when the world seemed to fall away, leaving you behind in a warm, comfortable haze. He was floating. No, wait. He was actually floating. As he pulled back from Morpheus' throat, he blinked several times with a soft gasp.

Morpheus was beaming up at him, and a caress to his cheek brought his gaze back to Morpheus' eyes. "So this is how it feels?"

Ethan flushed so hard he felt his pulse in his cheeks.

"It's beautiful," Morpheus purred. "Nothing to be embarrassed about."

The world slowly coalesced around them. The crackling fire, the tree with its lights and ornaments, the walls, the ceiling, and the softness of the bed with all its pillows. It wasn't jarring. As his heart slowed, the world came back to them, and Ethan grinned. "That doesn't usually happen when we make love."

Morpheus kissed Ethan's throat, stroked his hands up and down Ethan's sides. "I don't usually let go."

Ethan shuddered and moaned. "The entire dream world twists and turns to everyone else's whims when you let go?"

"Maybe not everyone's," Morpheus chuckled. "Yours, though. Your mind is powerful, focused. The centaurs have been helping you; I can tell."

"Giltdard has been especially nice." He saw a flicker of jealousy move over Morpheus' eyes and pinched him. "No one but you could make me stop time and space like that. I'm all yours. This Christmas and every moment you have free from your work."

Morpheus closed his eyes for a moment. "I should not be so jealous of your friends."

Ethan nuzzled Morpheus' throat. "No, you shouldn't."

"But I am."

"Because you worry I'll stray… that I'll be tempted away by the wonders you have hidden in your world. I understand, but you don't have anything to worry about," Ethan insisted, winding his finger around one of Morpheus' dark curls. "What can I give you this Christmas?"

"What?"

"A gift. You deserve one." But he didn't know what he could give of himself to help with that jealousy, to help heal hurts like Morpheus had just done for him. He'd never remember his apartment the same way again, and it made his heart feel lighter than it had before. It was the perfect Christmas gift, and he wanted Morpheus to have that same feeling of receiving something wonderful for the holidays.

"You have given me yourself," Morpheus murmured.

"But it isn't enough." Ethan rested his head on Morpheus' shoulder, making a soft noise when his cock slipped from Morpheus. "If just having me was enough, you wouldn't become restless when I visit the centaurs or take me hard and fast as if you have something to prove when I return from seeing the unicorns."

Morpheus kissed the top of his head. "You've noticed?"

Ethan snorted. "My ass certainly did. You leave me sore for days." He tilted his head up. "What can I give to ease your fears?"

"I don't know."

"Not even a clue?" Ethan sighed softly, not disappointed, but a little annoyed with himself for being unable to come up with something. He traced idle patterns up Morpheus' chest and over to his arm. His fingers trailed along the muscles and tendons, down to his palm, and then it occurred to him. "Would you like to mark me somehow?"

He looked up to see Morpheus frowning. "Mark you?"

"Not like a passion mark," Ethan chuckled. "I don't know what your custom would be. I mean, when people are devoted in my day and age, we exchange rings as a mark, a sign that we're together. Or if someone matters, we get their name tattooed on our skin. Would you like something like that?"

"My name upon your flesh?" Morpheus stared at him.

Ethan smiled at him. "If that would make you happy, more secure in what we have. You can brand my ass with your name."

Morpheus laughed, the sound melodic and deep. "It would not be your ass I would see branded." He picked up Ethan's left hand, ran his fingers up the palm and to his ring finger. "Just here." Morpheus encircled Ethan's finger with his own. A flare of magic and heat so intense, Ethan cried out, and then Morpheus pulled his fingers back.

On Ethan's ring finger, circling it in dark, black ink, was Morpheus' name in its original language. He knew it was Morpheus' real name the same way he knew other things about the Land of Dreams. It was just a certainty, a knowledge of what it said, what it meant. The letters were beautiful, etched in his skin, and Ethan couldn't look away. "Your mark."

Morpheus held up his own left hand, the ring finger bare. "And, if you want me to, I shall wear yours."

"I—I don't know. I mean I want to!" Ethan quickly corrected, his eyes darting up from Morpheus' mark. "I just don't know if I have the skill. What if I accidentally cut your finger off?"

Morpheus chuckled. "Then I imagine it back, whole and unharmed."

"You're sure?" Ethan asked, and when Morpheus nodded, he gingerly took hold of the outstretched hand and bit his lower lip, concentrating. He imagined light, bright and hot, and drew his name in the air over Morpheus' finger. His handwriting wasn't the most elegant around, but it was better than chicken scratch. He imagined the letters, imagined the light piercing Morpheus' skin.

Morpheus' shout shocked him so badly he jumped, his eyes snapping open. "I'm sorry!" he yelped, his heart pounding in his throat. God, he couldn't look. He didn't want to see what sort of damage he'd unwittingly done. He just didn't have the skill!

Morpheus was panting, flexing his hand. "No one… has ever been able to manipulate my form but family." Deep brown eyes focused on Ethan. "Look, Ethan. Look what you—and no one else—have done."

Ethan chewed at his lower lip and tried to steady himself before looking, but when he saw the glimmer of light still at Morpheus' ring finger, his heart was in his throat again. The letters were there, just as he'd imagined them, his name glimmering in his handwriting, almost like the letters had been drawn there in flame. His cheeks flushed at the sense of possession that washed through him. God, he'd done it. He'd actually marked Morpheus. Pleasure and the smallest bit of fear swept through him. He looked up to meet Morpheus' gaze. "They're still written in light. Do—do you want them darker like mine?"

"Do you want it to remain this way?" Morpheus asked, his other hand smoothing up and down Ethan's side.

"It might be distracting like that." Ethan smiled. "Light isn't very permanent, anyway."

Morpheus arched his neck, kissed Ethan softly. "Then turn light into darkness."

Ethan licked his lips and nodded. He stared down at his name on Morpheus' finger, and he concentrated. His eyes narrowed, and he exhaled steadily until it was like his world narrowed to that spot, that intention. Light to dark, light to dark, he kept repeating the words in his mind, and it was as if the light glinting from Morpheus' skin was sucked back into a void, pulled inside Morpheus' body until it disappeared, replaced with darkness.

He let out his next breath in a rush, laughing softly. "Holy shit…" Such a little thing, and yet, it was an accomplishment that made him feel like a million dollars.

Morpheus reached up with that hand, cupped Ethan's face. "You are full of surprises," he murmured.

Ethan grinned, though he knew it was a little goofy and lopsided. "Good ones, I hope."

"Astounding ones," Morpheus chuckled.

"But I wear your mark now," Ethan purred. "How's that for a Christmas and anniversary gift?"

"One year seems such a short time."

Ethan blanketed himself over Morpheus again, settling his head against Morpheus' shoulder. "A blink of an eye… and a lifetime."

Morpheus hugged Ethan, and Hark! The Herald Angels Sing began to play on the radio. "A good lifetime."

Ethan smiled against Morpheus' throat and closed his eyes, savoring the moment. "The best."

Advent: Day Twenty-Seven (NSFW)

Title: The Glittering Boughs

Characters: Morningstar, Radueriel

Origin: Morningstar

Advent Day: Day 27 (December 23rd)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 3,560

—

Radueriel stepped out of taxi and instantly smiled. He breathed deeply, taking in the wonderful chill of the air. Winter wasn't a deathly, colorless season to him, it was a chance for the world to rest and renew itself. The cold brought people together, and even though he knew Christ was not born anytime remotely close to late December, he enjoyed that the spirit of togetherness and joy remained surrounding the holiday. As he looked up into the overcast sky, he watched a few snow flurries make their way down from the heavens, and it pulled a soft laugh from him.

"You forgot your hat on purpose, didn't you?"

He whirled around to face Morningstar, a bright smile on his face. "I like the snow."

"And you wear it well," Morningstar admitted, shaking his head, "but you'll get cold before we pick out a good tree."

"I will just appreciate the warmth of your touch even more," Radueriel reasoned, lacing his fingers with Morningstar's.

Three years together, and they had finally moved out of Morningstar's hovel of an apartment. Their new space was larger, large enough for their very first Christmas tree. He had thought they would just purchase one of the pretty trees he saw in the department stores, something with lights already attached, but then Morningstar had insisted on a real tree, and he couldn't deny his lover. That Morningstar was even allowing him a large tree was a pleasure in itself, and as they stepped past the fence of the outdoor vendor, the scent of fresh pine and snow wafted to him.

"How do we choose?" Radueriel grinned, reaching out to brush each branch they passed. "They are all beautiful creations."

"Preferably, by making sure it's no larger than our twelve foot ceilings, and no wider than that little bay window area you prepared for the tree." Morningstar looked around the lot. "Do you want something that smells like pine, or one of the more scentless trees?"

Radueriel frowned. A scentless tree? What was the point of a scentless tree? "I would like one that smells of pine."

Morningstar kissed his cold cheek. "I figured as much. Hmm." He walked down the many rows of trees, as if searching for something very specific. When Morningstar stopped and regarded a particular tree, Radueriel tried to figure out what it was his lover saw in it. It was beautiful, but it looked so similar to the others. "This one," Morningstar announced.

"Why?"

Morningstar chuckled and looked to Radueriel. "It's just tall enough to fit the space and leave room for the tree topper you bought, and just wide enough to fill the bay window. And, if you put your nose to it, you'll smell how piney it is."

Radueriel couldn't help himself. He shoved his face right into the heart of the pine boughs and inhaled. It was fragrant and cold, sharp and sweet. Grinning, he stepped back. "I think it wishes to return home with us."

"I think so, too." Morningstar laughed as he went to find the lot owner and negotiate a price.

Radueriel stayed with the tree. Even after a few years, he still left most of the financial dealings to Morningstar. Yes, he had a job, but it just went into some account somewhere that allowed him to pay for the groceries and occasional trinkets they would buy. With both of them working, he hadn't needed to worry about running out of money, so he left the finer aspects of the accounting to Morningstar. He was good with trees, though, good with growing things. He felt a certain kinship to them. They were all God's creations, after all, even if the angels didn't perish like the growing things of the earth. He only wished he could keep the tree for longer than the holiday season. When Morningstar returned, he smiled. "We should get more green plants for the apartment. I want to help things grow."

"In the middle of winter?" Morningstar asked with a chuckle.

Radueriel felt his cheeks heat up, tingling against the cold air. "We were barred from interfering, from influencing anything on the earth. The tree will eventually fade. I want something I may help flourish."

Morningstar gathered him close, and the press of Morningstar's lips to his cheeks was warm and comforting. "I'll buy you everything you need, but for now, we'll enjoy our tree, hmm?"

Radueriel nodded and shared a sweet kiss with Morningstar before helping take the tree to the waiting taxi. "Do the taxi drivers not mind the tree sap?" he asked as he watched Morningstar tether the tree to the top of the cab.

"They don't when you tip them well," Morningstar said, tying the last knot. "Come on. Get inside where it's warm, and let's go home. You can put all those beautiful ornaments you bought on the branches after supper."

As they slid into the taxi, Radueriel asked, "I cannot when we arrive at the apartment?"

"No." Morningstar told the driver where to take them. "The tree has to settle a little, and we have to feed it."

Radueriel all but bounced in his seat. Feed the tree? It wasn't dead yet? "What do we feed it?"

"Traditionally, I think it's cool water mixed with sugar? It helps to keep the tree vibrant and alive." Morningstar smirked. "Manny will make a terrible mess of any of the ornaments you put on the lower branches."

"Manny is a good cat." Radueriel looked out the window as the city of New York passed them by. "He's old, too. I do not think he will ruin our ornaments."

Morningstar nudged him. "He's a cat, Rad. They can't help themselves, no matter how good, or how old, they may be."

Radueriel laughed and cuddled close, enjoying the view out the window and the lilting tunes of praise and holiday joy from the speakers at the front of the taxi. Taking the tree from the cab to their apartment wasn't too difficult, thanks to the elevator. They never really used it, so it was yet another cause for excitement to Radueriel.

Soon enough, the tree was set in its stand. Radueriel's bright eyes couldn't help but glance over to the boxes of decorations he had chosen for the tree, but each time he looked, Morningstar flicked him and told him to wait. He didn't want to wait! He wanted to see all the shiny globes, the ornaments and tinsel and tree-topper. Especially the tree-topper, which he had bought himself and refused to reveal to Morningstar. Nevertheless, Morningstar practically dragged him into their kitchen. From the looks Morningstar gave him, his pouting and constant glances at the tree were endlessly amusing. He bounced impatiently in his seat throughout their supper.

"You are like a child on Christmas morning," Morningstar commented between bites. "If you had ever been a child, that is."

Radueriel childishly stuck his tongue out, and then cut another piece of meat and stabbed it with his fork. Food was so good, and though Morningstar often joked that Radueriel would gain a hundred pounds at the rate he ate, Radueriel refused to stop indulging. Heaven had been so bland without Morningstar that Earth was as brilliant and gold-tinted as Heaven had once been to Radueriel. "It is exciting, Morningstar. Do you not find any joy in the moment, in sharing this time with me?"

A light blush colored Morningstar's cheeks. "Of course I do, Radueriel." He reached over and wrapped his hand around Radueriel's. "That you're here with me…" Morningstar smiled. "It is the greatest gift our Creator could have given me. To see you, touch you, laugh with you… I would trade it for nothing."

"Then revel with me." Radueriel lifted Morningstar's hand. "Sing with me. Love with me. Take pleasure in my innocence—and innocence you have striven so hard to keep safe."

Morningstar stood and helped Radueriel up, pressing their lips together in a deep, slow kiss before he pulled back and whispered, "Let's decorate our tree."

Radueriel hugged Morningstar, and he squeaked ever so softly as he was hugged back. He practically danced his way into the living room and dove into the boxes with exuberant, eager hands. The lights were first: beautiful, white, twinkling lights they attached to the branches with a few twisty ties. Morningstar seemed to get just a little annoyed by the prickly pine needles, but Radueriel just laughed and inhaled the scent of the tree whenever he had to move close and reach inside to secure the lights.

After all the lights were attached, he added the glittery globe ornaments, the jewel-like snowflakes, and the glass icicles. He hadn't really thought about how everything would go together. He had just seen such beautiful things in the stores! Morningstar had told him to choose things he thought pretty, so that's exactly what he had done, from the ornaments to the garland of little, multi-colored, blown glass balls.

"Not the most… cohesive of designs," Morningstar commented, and when Radueriel fwapped him with the empty packaging of another batch of ornaments, he laughed and added, "but it's beautiful. It's beautiful! I promise."

"Just wait. The lights are not on yet." Radueriel just knew that would help tie everything together. He bent down and rummaged at the bottom of the tree until the found the tail end of the cord to the lights. Morningstar handed him an extension, and he plugged the two together and sat back. Morningstar plugged the other end into the wall, and he gasped as the tree lit up, all his ornaments glittering in the glow of the sparkling white lights.

Morningstar wrapped his arms around Radueriel's waist and pulled him back against his body. "Stunning."

Radueriel smiled brightly. "It is just missing one thing." He reluctantly slipped from Morningstar's arms and fetched the topper. Unsteadily, he climbed the little step ladder and set the white-clad angel atop the tree, plugging it into the upper strand of lights. Immediately, the fiber optic wings lit up, and the candle the angel held glowed. He stepped down and stared up at it. "Now it is stunning."

"You bought an angel?" Morningstar chuckled. "That is… so perfectly you, love."

Radueriel turned to face Morningstar. "And is being perfectly me good enough?" he asked, a moment of uncertainty filling him. "Do I not bore you with my silliness?"

"Oh, Radueriel," Morningstar murmured, tenderly running his fingers through Radueriel's long, dark hair. "You never bore me. Through you, I'm able to experience all the things that are worth celebrating. You bring light back to the things that had lost their sparkle to me."

Radueriel blushed and smiled, playing with a golden lock of Morningstar's hair. "I know you are world weary, that life with Him has left you just as jaded as being parted from Him. I just think there are so many beautiful things in this world. Do you not think they deserve to be celebrated?"

"I'd celebrate anything with you," Morningstar purred, kissing him sweetly.

"Even tinsel?"

Morningstar laughed. "Even tinsel."

Radueriel ran his hands up Morningstar's chest. "Could we celebrate the tinsel and the lights and our joys? Here? Under the tree?"

"Are you asking me to make love with you?"

Radueriel blushed. "Yes."

Morningstar cupped his face and drew him into a deep, sweet kiss. Radueriel's heart began to pound, and blood pooled low in his body. Arousal—even after all this time—was something that still fascinated Radueriel. No longer being an angelic body, the arousal was hotter, heavier, so much more potent than what he'd felt in Heaven all those long years ago with Morningstar. By the time Morningstar broke the kiss, Radueriel was swaying on his feet, flesh warm and hard, his breath short.

"Let me fetch the lube," Morningstar moaned as Radueriel leaned in and kissed, nipped at his throat. "Radueriel, I can't get the lube if you're doing that."

"Mmm," Radueriel whimpered, the sound soft and high. "All right." Morningstar never wanted to hurt him, and he insisted the lubrication was always—always—necessary. "I will wait for you here."

Morningstar pulled away, and Radueriel watched until he disappeared into their bedroom. He worked quickly, removing his layers of clothing and tossing them over the back of their sofa. He moaned softly as his hard flesh was exposed, and he stretched himself out on the floor beneath the tree, smiling up at the lights and ornaments. Manny darted past, playing with a stray piece of tinsel stolen from one of the lowest boughs of the tree. He laughed. It seemed Morningstar was right about Manny playing despite his age, but it just made him smile, and that's exactly how Morningstar found him when he returned from the bedroom.

Morningstar stopped short and stared at him so long that Radueriel felt a flush creep over his cheeks and down his neck to his chest. "Is something wrong?"

"No." Morningstar's voice was rough, a little gravelly, and Radueriel was about to frown with concern when Morningstar rounded the sofa. The large bulge in Morningstar's jeans gave away his arousal. "You're just… stunning."

"Like the tree?" Radueriel asked happily, reaching out in invitation.

Morningstar took his hand and sank down to the carpet. "Even more so than the tree."

Radueriel held out his hand. "Will you make love with me now?"

"All night," Morningstar breathed as he knelt between Radueriel's spread thighs. "Forever."

Forever was such a nice thought. Radueriel liked the idea of forever with Morningstar. It's what he had wanted in Heaven, what he wanted now. When Morningstar's lips touched his again, Radueriel plunged his fingers into the golden mass of his lover's hair. The kisses were passionate, an edge of hunger that Radueriel hadn't known in Heaven, and he moaned when Morningstar parted from him.

"I need to undress," Morningstar panted softly. "Can't make love with you in jeans and sweater."

"Not in the way I would like best," Radueriel agreed, reluctantly letting Morningstar sit back. His hands went for Morningstar's jeans, unsnapping the button and pulling the zipper down with just a little difficulty. Morningstar was always beautiful when aroused, and once he had peeled the denim away, this time was no exception. In Heaven, there had been no such thing as foreplay, but now that he had returned to Morningstar and felt all the pleasures a mortal body could contain, he had been trying to give as well as receive. His hand closed around Morningstar's sex, and he wiggled down a little on the carpet as Morningstar moaned and pulled off his sweater. Leaning over, he gave the head the daintiest of licks.

Morningstar shuddered, his hand gently caressing Radueriel's hair. Oral pleasures were still a curiosity to Radueriel. Oh, the joys of finding release between Morningstar's perfect bowed lips was something Radueriel frequently enjoyed, but he was still sussing out the mechanics of giving instead of receiving. It was a slow task for him, something to ease into. Morningstar was no small man between his thighs, and it took a bit for Radueriel to adjust.

"Yes," Morningstar groaned. "God Almighty, I love when you taste me."

Those words only made Radueriel more determined. He altered his angle and began to bob, gradually taking more of the musky, thick flesh into his mouth. His own organ throbbed, demanded to be touched, to be teased, but he ignored it. Morningstar's melodic cries of pleasure pushed him onward, made him bolder. He sucked and licked, pumped his hand, all while remaining delicate, elegant in the act. It was a fine dance of lips, tongue, and fingers, and Morningstar was gasping above him, his fingers tightening in his hair. Making love with his glorious bearer of light, God's most beloved angel, was a greater than any blessing to be found in Paradise.

"Wait… Oh, God, Radueriel, wait." Morningstar moaned and started to pry him off his sex, and he gave in without a moment's hesitation, looking up at Morningstar with eager, wide eyes.

"Have I done something wrong?"

A breathless laugh escaped Morningstar, who caressed the angles of his face and his slightly swollen lips. "Not at all. There is just so much more I want to celebrate with you before I come. My cock just couldn't take much more of your lovely lips."

'Come' and 'cock'. Such crude words to Radueriel, but they made his heart race to hear along with Morningstar's compliments. He laughed softly and lay back, stretching his arms above his head and playing with a lock of his hair. He would have preened a little at his wings, but those had been taken from him when he'd chosen to come to Earth, to Morningstar. It was a choice he never regretted. "Make love to me?"

"Endlessly," Morningstar purred.

The cap of the lube was popped, and as Morningstar bent his lips to Radueriel's sex, two slippery, cool fingers pushed into his body. Radueriel gasped, arched. The pleasure! It was always so intense, wonderful to indulge in. The humans had it wrong. Lust wasn't a sin. Lust was an affirmation of God's love, of His divine hand offering the purest of pleasures with another being. Radueriel cried out as Morningstar's fingers moved inside him, touched places that made his toes curl. All the while, Morningstar's talented mouth moved on his hard organ.

"M-Morningstar!" Radueriel gasped, the lights of the tree and the colors of the ornaments swimming in his gaze. "Oh—oh! Please, Morningstar!"

But Morningstar didn't stop, not as he had when Morningstar had warned him. No, Morningstar brought him the clarity of climax, his whole body trembling beneath their beautiful tree as he spilled himself within the confines of Morningstar's mouth. He twitched, his fingers weakly tugging at Morningstar's fine hair—like spun gold—but Morningstar would not relent. Beyond the pleasure of immediate release came the dull ache of sustained arousal, and Radueriel whimpered to the boughs of the pine above him.

It was beautiful, all-consuming, and his whimpers were met with a deep, vibrating moan from Morningstar, who only pulled back after several more sucks to his organ. "Please," he panted, his eyes meeting Morningstar's. "Join our bodies."

"Yes," Morningstar moaned. Fingers left his body, and he tugged Morningstar closer by the fallen angel's hair until he could wrap his arms around shoulders and waist. His fingertips teased over the scars, the place where Morningstar's wings could appear if he willed it. Even in his exile, in his punishment, God Almighty hadn't the heart to sheer Morningstar's wings. The thought made love swell up in Radueriel, and he peppered kisses to Morningstar's lips as Morningstar moaned and pressed against him with the tip of his sex.

The penetration was slow, steady, and Radueriel felt his head spin with pleasure, the lights glimmering in the halo of Morningstar's golden hair above him. There was the slight sting of pain, something wholly belonging to the reality of flesh and blood, and Radueriel cherished it as reminder of all he'd gained when he'd left the perfection of Heaven.

There were kisses, soft touches, and Morningstar's sex moving in and out of him in long, slow thrusts. Radueriel heard the distant sound of Christmas music, probably hidden inside one of the many apartments in the old, lovely building. The glittering glass icicles shivered on the tree limbs each time Morningstar surged forward and his shoulder bumped the needles. Radueriel laughed, the happiness and joy in his heart needing voice. Morningstar smiled brightly against his lips, and Radueriel thought—not for the first time—that his heart would shatter with sheer amount of gladness he felt.

"Morningstar."

Morningstar dipped down, brushed their lips together. "Laugh again," he whispered. "I want to wrap myself in your laughter."

Radueriel laughed for Morningstar, for himself, for their love, for the love of their God. He laughed before the pleasure swept him away and all he could do was gasp and moan, his toes curling as he met every thrust. Morningstar was masterful, his touch so knowing, and Radueriel clung to him, loved him, and savored every moment under the tree with his fallen angel.

Morningstar's hand snaked its way between them and curled around his straining organ. The touch brought a cry from his lips, music that twined with Morningstar's voice as they moved together. His fingers dug into the tattoos on Morningstar's back, and he arched, his head thrown back as ecstasy stole away his senses. His seed spattered up his skin, and he distantly felt Morningstar's lips at his throat, that strong, beautiful body shuddering above him. Heat spread inside him, and he couldn't help the silly, joyful smile that bloomed on his face.

After a moment, Morningstar's lips found his. Radueriel thought he might purr like Manny did when he was scritched. His arms weakly wove around Morningstar's neck, and he chuckled, the sound soft and lyrical. "Beautiful," he slurred. "Like stars in your hair."

"Ever a poet," Morningstar breathed against Radueriel's lips. "My poet."

"Yours." Radueriel moaned as Morningstar thrust into him again, his sex still hard inside him. "Morningstar?"

Morningstar grinned, wicked and bright. "I said endlessly, love."

Radueriel gasped and arched as pleasure spread warmly through him again, and his eyes stared up into the glittering pine boughs. "Endlessly," he breathed, and he couldn't think of any better way to spend eternity.

Advent: Day Twenty-Six (NSFW)

Title: Piercing Cold

Characters: Nahele, Keegan

Origin: World of Egaea (WIP)

Advent Day: Day 26 (December 22nd)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 3,793

—

Nahele huffed as he waited. He had set everything up to his liking. He had stoked the fire so his den was filled with a cheerful warmth, set out beeswax candles to lend a sensual glow he knew would look good on his spotted fur, even spread out the furs and pillows of his nest-like bed with the oil in a bowl within reach. It was perfect but for one thing: Keegan hadn't returned from the den housing Bleidd and Terrill. He had known his lover would be visiting his fellow Maith tonight, but by all the gods, he'd have sworn Keegan would have returned. Hadn't his hints of a pleasant night worth remembering been enough? He didn't want to feel jealous of Bleidd and Terrill—not at this time of year, not tonight—but his tail began to thump against the bed as he wondered if Keegan would appear through the heavy flaps at the entrance of his den.

Just as he was about to give up, chalk the night up as a disappointing loss, the flaps over the door to his den parted and Keegan stepped through. Nahele's breath caught as he took in the sight of his Maithean lover. Keegan was all darkness and fallen snow. Ink black hair, pitch eyes, and alabaster flesh. Slight in height, lithe in frame, Keegan was the epitome of an elegant diplomat. His black trousers and blood red tunic only accentuated the paleness of his skin, and Nahele's tail began to swish with anticipation.

"Sorry," Keegan murmured, stepping into the main area of the den. His dark eyes swept the simple room, a small smile tugging at his sensuous lips. "This is… unexpected."

"For a diplomat, you seem oblivious to subtlety," Nahele chuckled, rising from the nest of furs and pillows.

Keegan's eyes slowly focused on Nahele. "I didn't miss your hints, but I had promised time to Terrill before you intimated there was something of interest for me here tonight."

Nahele laughed. "Well, it's good to know where I stand on the priority list of your affections. Maybe after tonight, I'll move up a notch or two."

"I don't know," Keegan teased, picking up on Nahele's tone. "It would take something pretty spectacular to push you up to the same level as Terrill."

Nahele growled softly, even though the teasing didn't truly bother him. He knew his role, knew that Terrill was Keegan's closest friend and that he was just Keegan's lover. He liked their arrangement, and he doubted they would have something too terribly lasting with Keegan bound to go back to Tira or Stoyrm with the rest of the Maith when their tasks were complete. Even knowing all he did, he couldn't help but play into their familiar game of dominance. He stalked toward Keegan. "You don't know what I have planned."

Keegan's eyes widened, but they still sparkled with mirth in the candlelight as he slid away from the entrance, circling backward away from Nahele. He wasn't sure if Keegan knew how intoxicating it was when they circled one another like this, hinting at the hunt, the chase that made his feral spirit perk and push toward the surface. "Maybe I don't care to find out what you have planned," Keegan huffed, but he was almost in position, almost just where Nahele wanted him.

The moment Keegan rolled his eyes in exaggerated boredom, Nahele sprang forward, pouncing Keegan back onto his bed. The Maith's yelp and laugh made his heart race, and he pinned Keegan down, his tail swishing and flicking triumphantly as he dug his claws into the furs beneath them. "You want to know," Nahele purred, his words trilling with the feline sound as he smirked. "You always want to know anything that involves this." He emphasized the word by grinding his half-erect cock down against the seat of Keegan's black trousers.

Keegan groaned and the tension in his hips told Nahele just how hard he was trying not to arch up into him. Keegan's lips tried to form words, and he loved how difficult it seemed. "You're… getting pale fur all over my leggings."

"It won't matter if I end up ripping them off," Nahele chuckled.

Keegan gave him his best glare, but the scent of arousal that permeated the room sort of reduced the effect. "These are very good leggings. You will not be ripping them off. I don't go about ripping your clothing off."

Nahele rubbed himself against Keegan with a grin. "I don't wear clothing."

A moan lilted up from Keegan, his eyes closing. "I know."

"So, you don't want me to rip these off? Rub my cock against you? Suck you?" Keegan shifted under him, and Nahele loved how hard his lover was for him. He didn't know if Keegan was wanton for everyone he took to bed, but he liked to think he was special in that sense. "Or would you rather return to your den and handle this yourself?"

Keegan's eyes snapped open, a defiant light in them. "Rip them off."

"I knew you'd see reason," Nahele said, smirking as he pulled back just enough to set his claws against Keegan's leggings. Clenching his fingers, he yanked, and the tearing of the cloth as he shredded the seat of Keegan's pants sent a thrill through his feline spirit. He was careful not to scratch Keegan in the process, but that didn't stop Keegan from gasping at the roughness and what must have been a unique way of getting undressed for the Maith.

He batted away the strips of fabric and purred when Keegan's cock and sac were revealed. "Mmm. You like it when I'm rough, don't you?" he asked, gripping Keegan's sac and tugging, teasing at it with his claws just to make Keegan squirm.

Keegan cried out, arched up into his touch. "Yes!"

Nahele knew Keegan liked it rough. Keegan liked minimal oil, a little penetrative foreplay, but in the end, as long as his cock was large and he was ruthless in its use, Keegan was happy. Something niggled at Nahele's thoughts, whispered that it was a strange behavior from one who had no feral qualities, but he loved fucking Keegan too much to ask questions. "You want it rough tonight, too," he purred, giving Keegan's long, flushed cock a light slap.

Another shout left Keegan's lip as a tremor wracked his body. "Nahele…"

"Answer me!" Nahele ordered, giving another, harder, slap to that gorgeous, bare cock. Keegan's body didn't have the hair or fur a feral-Maith had, and it was endlessly fascinating to Nahele.

Keegan writhed. "Yes," he admitted with a moan.

Nahele grinned, showing off his sharp teeth as he gripped Keegan's cock and squeezed. "Then you're going to be glad you came. I have something special planned for you." He teased the tip of his claw over the slit of Keegan's cock, relishing the whimper it pulled from Keegan before releasing the flesh entirely. "Legs wide. Now!" he ordered when Keegan hesitated, landing another slap a bit lower.

Keegan gasped and did as he was told, or tried to. Parts of his shredded trousers made it difficult, and Nahele growled for a moment before clawing and ripping the two legs of fabric. He used the strips to his advantage, though, knotting them to a couple of the supports of his nest. When he straightened again, it was with a deep purr as his eyes raked over Keegan's exposed, vulnerable body. "Just going to gawk?" Keegan panted, the breathless quality of his voice taking out all the sting of the words.

Nahele simply chuckled darkly and turned, crawling off the nest without a word, just a teasing, controlled flick of his tail against one of Keegan's thighs. He could scent Keegan's confusion, that strange sweetness of fear alongside the arousal, and the soft, needy sound of protest from the bed made his ears perk as he slipped out the flaps of his den into the cold night. Five paces from his den, there was a wooden box, and he brushed off the newly fallen snow from the lid and pulled it up from the ground. He smirked as he entered the den again, seeing Keegan's body jump with what had to be relief. "Thought I might leave you like this?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Keegan said. He remained still on the nest of furs, and Nahele had to admire Keegan's restraint. "I figured I'd give you another minute before I left."

"Leave?" Nahele came close with his box, a hungry light in his eyes. "No, Keegan, you won't be leaving. Not yet. Not any time soon. I have something special planned tonight."

Keegan swallowed, glancing down at the box. "What's that?"

"Your surprise."

"I hate surprises."

"You'll like this one."

"How do you know?"

Nahele set his box down on the floor just beside the bed and rolled his eyes, reaching over and slapping Keegan's balls, his tail twitching at the cry that rang out from the rough touch. "Because, even though you're one skeptical bastard, I know your tastes… and where you're from."

He watched confusion war with need on Keegan's face. "Forrin?"

"Mmmhmm," he purred. It was the only hint he planned on giving, and he bent down, silencing any other questions by drawing his textured tongue over Keegan's exposed hole. He only did it to work Keegan up for a few seconds, and then he dipped down beyond Keegan's line of sight to the box, tossed aside the lid, and picked a small icicle. Without letting Keegan see, he pressed the tip of the ice right against Keegan's hole.

Keegan's whole body tensed. His breath caught, and his hands twisted in the sheets. "N-Nahele…"

Nahele couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk that made its way to his face. He continued to push the small icicle into Keegan's ass. "Yes?"

"Nnh—" Keegan's back arched. "Cold!"

"I know. Take it in, Keegan. Plan to chill you so thoroughly inside that when I shove my cock into you, you'll scream from the sheer heat of me." Nahele used steady pressure, even as Keegan's body fought him, and the soft, needy cries that made their way from Keegan's lips only cemented Nahele's course. He didn't stop until Keegan's body swallowed the whole icicle and the tip of his finger. "Yes, just like that. You're so fucking hard," he breathed, leaning down to lick up the stiff length of Keegan's cock.

Keegan squirmed, tugged against the strips of his leggings that tied his legs up and apart, but Nahele had tied the knots well so they just tightened the more Keegan struggled. "It's—ah!—melting inside," Keegan moaned, the slightest tremor in his voice that Nahele found endlessly sexy.

He had planned for the melting ice, though. Within seconds, he had a thick, absorbent blanket pushed under Keegan's ass, spread out to catch the water that began trickling from Keegan's hole. He moaned at the sight of Keegan's skin flushed both from arousal and the intense cold of the ice. "Yes, work your muscles around it, feel the cold seeping from you," he encouraged with another lick to Keegan's cock. Another moan and bout of squirming, and he was certain the small icicle had fully melted. There was only one thing to do about that.

He chuckled to himself as he reached down to the box again. He prepped the icicle carefully with a few strokes, making sure the surface was smooth before prodding Keegan's hole again. Keegan's whimper became a full-throated cry, and when he looked up, Keegan's eyes were wide with shock, with questions. He kept pushing the thicker icicle inside, purring, "This one I found near the ravine, where the winds are so strong the icicles curved."

Keegan's muscles tensed, and he became so silent and still. Nahele watched him as he eased the icicle inside, and then the curved, smooth tip of the icicle rubbed where he'd hoped. Keegan bucked and screamed, his cock jerking against his belly. Never had Nahele seen such beauty. He'd had adventurous lovers in the past, but no one as willing and open as Keegan. He rubbed the icicle against that area several time, until a desperate keening sound filled the room, Keegan's body painfully tense.

"I'm going to push this inside," Nahele rumbled. "It's thicker where my hand grasps it, and you'll love it as you're filled with the cold thickness."

A sob left Keegan's lips, but he suddenly relaxed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Nahele found Keegan's submission—when he could finally wring it from the Maith—a gorgeous sight to behold. He continued to push the thicker icicle inside until it, too, was swallowed by the gripping heat of Keegan's body. He leaned down to lick at the wet, cold hole, Keegan's moans wrapping around his senses.

"So deep," Keegan panted, his hands fisting the furs beneath him. "So damn deep and cold!"

"Yes… Squeeze around it," Nahele instructed, teasing from Keegan's hole up to his sac and lavishing attention on the lightly haired skin. He loved that Keegan only had a dusting of dark hair covering his smooth skin. It was so different than the thick, downy fur that covered most feral-Maith's groins. He licked over and over, feeling as Keegan clenched his muscles around the ice and cried out. Part of the icicle slipped out, making Keegan jump a bit beneath him, and he looked down with a chuckle. "Ah, ah, ah," he reprimanded, pushing the smooth, partially melted ice back into Keegan's trembling body.

"Nahele…" Keegan whined.

"What, Keegan?" Nahele purred, nipping at the base of Keegan's cock. "Not big enough for you anymore? Need something more substantial to fill you up?"

Keegan writhed, hips arching up. "Yes!"

"Such a wanton for size," Nahele chuckled. He reached into the box for the final icicle. He was certain Keegan was expecting his cock at this point, but Nahele wasn't through tormenting his fickle, prickly lover. Keegan would remember tonight for the rest of his life. The icicle was larger than even his cock, thick, long, the tip of it rounded and slick. "Time to scream for me," Nahele said, voice dark and foreboding, and then he pushed the icicle against Keegan's wet, reddened hole. There was so much more resistance, and Keegan's body went very, very still as the thick tip breached him. Another moment of stillness, of silence, and then—as the first two inches of the wide, icy phallus slid inside—Keegan let loose one of those beautiful, musical screams that always sent a thrill of pleasure through Nahele.

He was relentless with the icicle, pushing it deeper and deeper, panting as he watched the ice spread Keegan's hole wide. He pushed it deep, reveling in every scream, every jerk, every tremble Keegan gave him. The way Keegan reached up to the pillows and clawed at them made heat throb in his own cock, and he tried to turn and thrust the ice deep inside Keegan, ignoring the sting of the chill on his one hand, the other taking hold of Keegan's cock and stroking roughly until he earned another scream. "Nahele!"

"So fucking hard. Do you want to come with the ice spreading your ass wide? Or does the ice just make you want my cock even more? The heat of me ramming into your ice-cold hole?"

Keegan sobbed, head thrashing back and forth. "You! Gods, you, Nahele, please!"

"Since you asked so nicely," Nahele purred, leaning down to bestow a final nip to Keegan's sac before he pulled the half-melted icicle out and let it fall to the floor. "So cold and wet inside, aren't you?" Nahele reached for the oil, coating his fingers liberally, and he thrusts two fingers inside that icy passage, fingering Keegan only long enough to lube him, not warm him up. "Ready for my cock?"

Keegan's eyes were dazed, stormy windows into the Maith's tortured soul. "Please," he breathed, arching his hips.

He couldn't deny either of them any longer, not with Keegan so desperate. Slicking himself with the warm oil, he positioned their bodies and slammed forward, his tail going rigid with pleasure and pain as Keegan's icy body gripped around the entirety of his thick cock. "Fuck!" he growled, the word nearly lost in Keegan's piercing cry.

Nahele didn't give him any time to adjust, any time to warm. Instead, he set a brutal pace, his clawed hands taking hold of Keegan's hips with bruising force as he thrust over and over into the tight chill of Keegan's ass. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt, and it made his cock feel burning hot, large and full inside Keegan. The fucking was as brutal as Nahele loved, as merciless as Keegan craved.

Keegan met him thrust for thrust, or at least tried to. His ankles bound, held apart, meant Nahele was able to take freely, watch as pleasure and pain moved through the lithe, pale body beneath him. There was nothing to compare rutting with Keegan to. It was singular and all-encompassing. As soon as they were done, it left Nahele with the itch to fuck all over again, coming until his balls were dry and aching and Keegan was reeking of his musk. Tonight, though, he'd leave them both utterly satisfied, and as Keegan's nails raked down his furry arms and another cry rent the air around them, urging Nahele on.

A low growl built in his chest, gaining force as he pounded his body into Keegan's, and his claws dug into Keegan's vulnerable skin. His tail twitched, flicked about restlessly as his pleasure compounded, and something in the way he fucked Keegan made Keegan's eyes open and focus on him. The look in those smoky eyes sent a chill through him to rival the one surrounding his cock. It was a lost, needy, terrifying look, one that begged him. But what was Keegan begging for? More sex, more pain, just… more? He wasn't even sure. In his own need, all that seemed important was filling up that strange void with sex and scent.

Dipping down, he broke their gazes to nose Keegan's head to the side and bite over Keegan's pulse. His sharp teeth dug into the vulnerable flesh, and he tasted copper on his tongue as Keegan's screams rang in his ears. If Keegan wanted pain and pleasure, then that was exactly what Nahele would give. He marked Keegan's throat deeply and set to fucking him with renewed vigor, using every bit of his natural speed as a feral cat. Keegan arched and writhed, moving eagerly into his fast thrusts, and he gave exactly what Keegan demanded: rutting that would leave him sore for days to come.

By the time his hand finally snaked its way between their bodies, he was panting and growling at Keegan's neck like a wild thing. Keegan's nails dug into the fur at his shoulders, gripping so hard they actually tore at skin beneath his pelt. A last surge of speed sent his hips and hand into a blur of movement, and the moment Keegan's come shot over his fist and onto his fur, he was lost, roaring his triumph as he filled Keegan with his musk, scenting him in the most personal way possible.

Keegan became utterly pliant beneath him, panting raggedly, his limbs twitching. His eyes were half-open, and Nahele wasn't sure Keegan was fully aware of him, of their surroundings. Whatever hounded Keegan, whatever sins or pains or ghosts, were silent in these moments, and Nahele didn't dare move. Not yet. Not until Keegan came back to himself, to him.

The moment came too quickly. Keegan blinked twice, slowly, and then righted his head. That distant, foggy gaze focused on him, and Keegan gave him one of those genuine, sweet smiles. It wouldn't last. Nahele bent down, brushed his lips over Keegan's, trying to keep the afterglow, keep Keegan in the beautiful, hazy world. But, it had to end. The warm, soft weight of Keegan beneath him tensed, and the unfocused nature of Keegan's eyes faded. The sharpness returned, though tinged with sated exhaustion, and Nahele supposed he should be proud he'd managed that much this time.

"Are you all right?" Nahele murmured, scent-marking Keegan's shoulder.

Keegan nodded. "Yes," he croaked, his voice raw, rough.

Nahele tried to smile, but he knew it wasn't the vibrant grin he might have given if that haze of pleasure and freedom lasted for Keegan. Even so, he wiggled, thrusting gently for a moment. "Had enough for tonight?"

"Yes!" Keegan groaned, his voice breaking. Nahele took pity on him and pulled out as gently as possible. Despite his roughness during the act, the last thing he wanted was to make Keegan regret trusting and submitting to him. He took great care in untying Keegan's legs and lowering them to the bed, and his tail twitched as he failed to hide a smirk. Keegan gave him a look but didn't make an effort to scold him.

Even when he had managed to get Keegan into a comfortable position, tossed the soaked blanket, and fetched a warm cloth to soothe away the last of the cold as he moved Keegan beneath the furs, the silence lingered. It made his tail flick and twitch, not exactly from nerves, but from the knowledge of all the things left unsaid between them. He couldn't force Keegan to speak, though, and he was uncertain he would want to hear what Keegan might say, what dark secrets lurked beneath the tense surface of Keegan's control.

He crawled in beside Keegan, and he hesitated a moment before reaching out and drawing Keegan against his chest. Cuddling wasn't something Keegan sought, but it was something Nahele so badly wanted to give. How could he soothe Keegan? How could he break through the wall that kept them at odds when they weren't rutting? How could he make Keegan talk to him?

"I won't be able to walk tomorrow," Keegan finally murmured.

Nahele nuzzled Keegan's hair, inhaling his scent and sweat. "No."

"Will you take care of me?"

Was that a note of frightened longing Nahele heard? He began to purr. "Of course."

Keegan shifted back, brought their bodies closer, and even overlapped their arms. "I like honey in my tea and my cheese warmed on toasted bread."

Nahele couldn't help but smile into the damp, dark hair. It was a small thing, but he'd take it. He'd take the little bits of Keegan the Maith offered, and he'd respect every inch he was given. "Of course, Keegan."

Silence.

And then, "Goodnight, Nahele."

Keegan didn't move out of his arms, and Nahele chalked it up to one small victory in the long war ahead.

Advent: Day Twenty-Five (NSFW)

Title: The Pretty Painter

Characters: Brice, Trela

Origin: Of the Shadow World: Madness (WIP)

Advent Day: Day 25 (December 21st)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 2,888

—

"Look, Brice! Her skirt looks like petals. Flowers dancing and twirling…"

Keeping Trela still and quiet during any artistic performance was always a challenge, but with Trela's brother, Ranae, dancing on the stage, Brice had finally resigned himself to the fact that it was an impossibility. Trela had shifted to the edge of his seat when Ranae entered and refused to sit back until he exited the stage. He had also given Brice his version of the storyline in whispers since the very first number. While the story that spun itself in Trela's mind was fractured and sometimes nonsensical, Brice couldn't help but be pulled in by Trela's view of the dancers. When Trela would speak so fervently and whisper into his ear, he couldn't help but be inspired, and it was as if the dancers in front of him transformed under that inspiration.

In truth, it was a hallucination, one of many that Trela had been the source of since their lives had started to balance one another out, finding the middle ground between mundane reality and true insanity. Trela couldn't help but spark such things in Brice, and Brice had finally given in, letting Trela's power as a muse transform the world around him for short periods of time. It meant he spent a bit of time crazed, teetering on the edge of insanity, but it also meant Trela became more lucid, able to share hours—sometimes even days—with him and not be pulled back into the haze at a moment's notice.

It was a compromise. As Trela had once said, their roots were now entwined. He was a part of Trela, and Trela was a part of him. Brice no longer worried about going on dates with Trela, taking his lover out, bringing him to meet his folks. He loved Trela, and he'd be damned if he was ever going to be ashamed of that love—and of who he loved—again.

"Yes," Brice whispered, letting Trela's vision of the ballet fill his mind. "The music is like colors, isn't it? Pink and blue and swirly red."

"Like candy for your ears," Trela chuckled. "All sugary and tasty. Cotton candy and sugar plums and snowflakes. The dark music swirls and sticks, and the darkness makes the other colors all the brighter. They dance, all elegance and skill."

Brice all but moaned at Trela's words. "On their toes, they dance for us."

Trela giggled, cuddling as close as he could while still being in his seat. "Up on their tippy-toes."

"God, baby, nothing is simple with you. Nothing is normal," Brice whispered.

"Because nothing is ever normal," Trela purred. "All depends how you look at it, how you see it, how you read into it. Like a book. Between the lines. Between the dancers."

"Between them?" Brice murmured, and when Trela nuzzled his neck, his eyelashes fluttered, blurring his view of the dancers and the stage.

"Mmm… the spaces between. They're just as full of life, full of meaning and color. Arms move, legs move, and the spaces between envelop them, always changing."

Brice shuddered in his seat. Trela's voice was deep near his ear, his words moist to his senses. "Trela…"

"You're all red and swirly inside." Trela was as close as he could be while remaining out of his lap. "Heart pittering like the dancers on the stage."

"It's because you're close," Brice breathed. "It makes me want you."

Trela stared at him for a moment before grinning. "Okay."

He started to move around the armrest, climbing into Brice's lap, and Brice laughed softly, pushing him back. "Not here! Trela, we can't here!"

Trela huffed, and made the most adorable expression he'd ever seen on the redheaded imp. "Why not?" he asked, and the mumbles and choking noises from people clearing their throats made him look around at the people near them and just grin.

"We're in public," Brice whispered, trying not to bother the people around them anymore than they had. "I've told you, making love in public isn't something people like."

Trela pouted, but before he could open his mouth, Brice motioned for him to whisper. Trela leaned close and whispered obediently. "They're silly. Making love is happy. Everyone should be happy everywhere."

"I think so, too, but right now, everyone wants to watch the stage, the pretty dancers, listen to the colors. You like doing that, too." Trela murmured his agreement, which just made Brice grin. "You still have to tell me what the next few scenes are like. Look! Here comes Ranae again!"

Trela gasped, cuddled close again, and watched Ranae twirl around the stage. It was just a distraction, and it didn't last too terribly long. Before Ranae was finished on stage, Trela was whispering in his ear again, filling his mind with images that made The Nutcracker so much more than a two-act ballet with music by Tchaikovsky.

***

"Baby," Brice moaned, his hands tight on Trela's hips. The limo bumped over a pothole on their way back to the apartment, and Trela squirmed on his lap. He had been aroused for hours, sometimes intensely, sometimes it was a low burn. But it had all been Trela's doing, and now they were alone in the limo. "God, you're driving me crazy."

"You said later. You said not in public. We're not in any public now. We're in a car with dark glass. We see out, but no one sees in." Trela whined softly and nipped at his lower lip, shifting in his lap.

It was as private as they could get without waiting until they made it through traffic back to their loft, but with the way he could feel Trela's erection pressing against his, he knew neither of them could wait that long. "Baby, are you sure you want me now?"

"Please," Trela breathed against his lips. "Want to paint the colors… make love… with you. While the sounds and visions are fresh and pretty behind your eyes."

Brice moaned, rubbed against Trela. "Okay," he panted. "We'll paint the colors here… now." They could make love again when they got home, something deeper and slower than what the backseat of a limo offered.

Trela all but bounced in his lap. "The colors!"

"Pants off." Brice was glad he'd brought the little tube of lube with him tonight. He could never trust what Trela would want where. He gave Trela's ass a bit of a smack. "Do you want to push into me, or me into you?"

Trela bit his lower lip as he leaned forward so he could shimmy out of his pants. "I want to take you."

It was a statement of startling clarity for Trela, and it made Brice shudder. He still tended to take Trela most of the time, but now that they were starting to balance out one another's craziness, Trela had been taking him more often. God, he just loved it when Trela took the lead with him. "All right. You inside me," he groaned, kissing Trela's neck. Trela's fingers moved to the seat of his pants, and he groaned, shifting until he was able to guide them to the button and zipper.

"I know you like it when I take you," Trela purred against his lips. "I can feel your mind go all happy and bright when I do it."

Brice pushed his slacks down, and then his boxers. They could keep their shirts on, but the pants had to go. "I do," he admitted. "I just didn't know you liked it as much as I did. Do you want me to ride you? On my knees? On my back?" There was enough room in the limo to accommodate any position Trela might like.

Trela looked around, and from the look on his face, it was as if he didn't see the surfaces of the limo as seats. He must have seen something completely different. As he followed Trela's gaze, it was as if he could see himself on every surface: bent over the side seat, on his knees on the floor, lying across the back seat with his legs spread wide. Trela's lips were suddenly at his ear, and he shivered.

"What do you see?" Trela breathed.

Brice moaned, kicking his slacks and boxers off with his shoes. "Possibilities."

Trela inhaled deeply next to his ear, and it was like the visions cleared up a little. It took him a couple seconds to realize Trela was feeding, sipping from his insanity. Trela trembled against him, moaning as he kissed Brice and pointed to the back seat of the limo. "I like that one best."

"You want to take me with my legs spread wide for you?"

"Yes," Trela breathed, drawing him into another kiss. Trela tasted of strawberry Pop Rocks, sweet and fizzy against Brice's tongue. His flavor was ever-changing, a swirl of sugar and spice that depended wholly on his mood.

Brice couldn't stop kissing Trela. It meant he didn't move from the seat, only arched up against Trela. He couldn't help it. All he wanted was to feel Trela, to drown in the sweet flavor of him. It was so good, too good, and he moaned, hands smoothing over Trela's pale skin, gripping at his ass. Making love fled his mind, and when Trela tried to pull back, Brice cried out, panting. "Baby—"

"I want to make the colors," Trela said in that sweet, loving way. Innocence and lust rolled into one. "Make love with me. I want to push inside."

"Yes," Brice breathed. He got up from the seat they were on and went to the one Trela had pointed out. He snatched the lube from his slacks pocket, knelt on the seat, and lubed up his fingers. Brice glanced to Trela, and then pressed his fingers to his own hole, rubbed against it with a moan, and then eased two inside. "Trela…"

"Demon," Trela corrected playfully, kissing his way up to the edge of Brice's shirt. When he reached the fabric, he skipped up to Brice's lips. Whispers of red hair tickled his stubble and ears as they kissed, and he felt Trela's hands pull at his fingers, shooing them away from his hole. He groaned and quickly grabbed a handful of lube, reaching out and stroking Trela before Trela could push inside unaided. That touch alone pulled the sweetest moan from Trela's lips, and when he opened his eyes, Trela was like a being made of light, as if someone shined a warm light through a million precious stones, and all the iridescent glints had been gathered together to form a face, lips, fiery hair, and eyes like the clearest emeralds. He gasped, staring up at Trela. He knew it was a hallucination, something brought on by Trela's closeness, but God, it was so beautiful, like his lover had been transformed into the angel of his imaginings. "Trela…"

A bright smile lit up Trela's face, and he watched as Trela closed his eyes and sighed. "You see me."

"I see only you, baby," Brice moaned, squirming to the edge of the limo's seat and guiding Trela's cock to his entrance. Those eyes opened again, and a soft moan escaped Trela before Trela took hold of his hips and pushed forward. Trela wasn't too long or too thick; he was perfect, just perfect for Brice, and feeling their bodies press flush against one another pulled a deep sound from his chest.

Brice slid his hands up Trela's chest, down his sides, and around to his ass. He held Trela tightly to him, relishing the pleasure of being filled by his lover. "Feels so good. Tingles through my senses."

Trela made a soft, high-pitched sound in the back of his throat. His hips shifted, squirmed, and he moved a little within Brice. "Pretty painter," Trela trilled. "Can't make colors if you keep me still."

"Just for a moment, baby," Brice panted, slowly opening his eyes to stare up at his glorious muse. After a moment, he released his hold on Trela, hands gently cupping Trela's hips. "You can move," he whispered. "I want to feel you fly."

"Already flying," Trela moaned. "Every moment I'm with you."

The pace was wonderful, not too fast or too slow, and with just enough power to rock Brice into the leather-covered cushions. Trela's hair was a curtain around them, flashing brightly with the passing lights outside, and to Brice's eyes, he was even more luminous. Trela moaned and held him close, and nothing had ever seemed more erotic than the way Trela's hands stroked up and down every inch of him, clothed or unclothed.

Brice arched up against Trela, his hands clutching to the waifish muse. There was nothing like when they made love. It was never hard. Never rushed. To rush with Trela was a terrible sin, in Brice's opinion. Trela deserved only the most gentle of touches, the sweetest moments of pleasure. And when he gave himself to Trela, Trela treated him with the same love and affection. He stared up through the haze of pleasure and hallucination, gasping Trela's name. His cock strained between them, aching for a touch, and he finally wrapped his hand around himself. Trela didn't have the best coordination for jacking him off while taking him.

"Love you, baby," Brice gasped, stroking himself in the same moderate, perfect pace Trela's cock fucked him.

Trela opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the limo veered, taking a sharp turn a little too fast. Trela flailed for a moment and gripped Brice, but all it did was ensure they both toppled over. The world spun for a moment, the lights and colors making him dizzy as they rearranged. When the car corrected itself, it jostled them again, and Brice ended up on top of Trela. Trela laughed, and the awkwardness of the moment disappeared. That shimmering laughter made everything right in Brice's world, and he shifted them into a more comfortable position, sitting astride his red-headed muse. Trela reached up and tugged him down into a kiss, laying tender claim to his mouth.

"Love… you, too… pretty painter," Trela purred up against his lips between kisses. A soft moan replaced words as he began to rise and fall on Trela's lap, picking up where they had left off. His own pace was just a little faster than Trela's, still unhurried. Trela touched him all over, and Brice chuckled, knowing how Trela liked to have his hands free.

Trela gave a long, low moan when Brice made a particularly deep thrust, and one of those elegant, pale hands moved down to his cock, closing around him and stroking. "Trela," he groaned, loving the way Trela's hands played along his flesh, twisting, pulling, pressing him in all the right places. "Baby, I'm close."

"Close… close, like the wind in the leaves," Trela whispered. He whimpered, a plaintive, high-pitched sound that went right to Brice's cock. "Close, too. Close as breath."

Brice kissed Trela, hungry for his lover's mouth as Trela's hands brought him to the very edge of release. He bucked in Trela's lap, took him as deeply as possible, and groaned into their kiss. He came over Trela's hands, tasting Trela's mouth throughout, and the world spun in the most wonderful of ways as pleasure pulsed through him.

Trela gasped and shuddered beneath him, and the hand on his cock tightened painfully for a couple seconds as Trela cried out. He felt the heat of Trela's release inside him, and in his mind, it was like a burst of light filling him up. Some of Trela's brightness transferred over, making him as divine and beautiful as Trela always was to him. It left him panting dizzily, his breath mingling with Trela's, and Brice smiled. "Close… as breath…"

Trela laughed softly, panting and kissing him. Trela squirmed beneath him and wiped his hands down the front of Brice's shirt. It drew his attention down, and he felt his cheeks heat up.

"We've made a mess," Trela giggled.

Brice licked Trela's lower lip, pulling another moan from his lovely muse. "Just another splash of color, baby. You like colors."

"I love your colors," Trela purred, settling beneath him and tugging his hair until he gave in and dipped down for yet another kiss. He took a chance, drawing his index finger through a line of his come and offering it to Trela. He shivered when Trela extended his tongue and licked the bit of fluid from his fingertip. "Mmm… you taste fizzle-pop."

"God, you're so sexy and innocent. You make me hard while still feeling just a little dirty for loving you like I do," Brice murmured between languid, wet kisses.

"You're not dirty," Trela insisted, smiling against his lips. "Messy, not dirty. Full of color and life and dancing sugarplums. I've been everywhere, been muse to many, but you… You're my painter. You'll always be my pretty painter."

Brice nuzzled Trela's cheek. "Always," he promised, and something inside him—that odd place that had come into being when he'd first made love with Trela—knew it was a fact. He was Trela's, their roots entwined, bound together, bringing balance and longevity. He'd keep Trela sane-ish, and Trela would keep him young.

He couldn't think of a better arrangement: love, insanity, and endless color.

Advent: Day Twenty-Four (NSFW)

Title: Yuletide Sacrifices

Characters: Audric, Jarrett

Origin: A Knight's Sacrifice (serial WIP)

Advent Day: Day 24 (December 20th)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 1,640

—

Their first winter together, and Jarrett was a ball of nervous energy. Each night, Audric held him, called him Malin, and rode him until he screamed with the agony of pleasure coupling with his king was, but Jarrett never stopped hoping Audric would see him. Maybe tonight, he could force the issue, show Audric that he was only a man, not a memory, and that Malin needed to finally be put to rest. It was easier said than done, though, and Jarrett's stomach roiled with anxiety as he entered Audric's private chambers.

In his hand, he carried a simple gift. A knight's gift. He wasn't given much gold, and Jarrett himself was but a simple man. His father had been nothing but a farmer who'd managed to get his son attached to a great knight as a squire. It had been such a great honor to serve Malin, to learn from him, but as much as he had loved the man who had taken his hand and made him into the knight he was today, he couldn't forever live in Malin's shadow.

Audric turned to him with a smile on his lips. God help him, Audric was stunning. Beautiful. It made his decision to press the issue with his identity even harder. He didn't want to lose Audric. The last year had been so hard, so dark, but maybe the new year could be walked in light and laughter and truth. Maybe… just maybe…

"Malin," Audric purred. "I thought you might have become lost."

Jarrett forced himself to bite back the sinking feeling that threatened to turn his stomach. The smile that came to his lips must have looked forced. Couldn't Audric ever tell that his smiles rarely lit up his eyes these days? He had to hope that Audric couldn't blind himself that much. "Not lost," he finally insisted, shutting the door behind him. There was no escaping. He knew what he had to do.

He was about to open his mouth when Audric rested his hand on Jarrett's shoulder, frowning just a little. "Why the delay, then? Is anything wrong?"

Jarrett hesitated, and his heart pounded in his chest as he tried to form the words. He could tell Audric right now, and Audric would listen. He would have to. All he needed to do was speak the truth. He took a deep breath, and his hand tightened around the gift he had brought with him. He could do this. "No," he blurted out. "Nothing wrong. I just don't know if my gift will please you."

Audric perked right up, and the return of that bright, knowing smile began to melt what he had thought was an iron resolve. He couldn't do this. He couldn't rob Audric—the man he loved—of the only man Audric had ever loved.

"What have you brought?" Audric held out his hands. "I shall see your gift, and then give you mine. At least, part of mine. I have two gifts in mind for you tonight."

Opening his hand, Jarrett revealed the intricately carved miniatures of Audric, Holden, and a horse. "It isn't much," he murmured, "but I made them for you."

Audric's eyes lit up. "You carved these? I didn't know you could carve!"

"I've carved since I was but a lad," Jarrett told him. "My father taught me."

Audric's brow furrowed, and Jarrett could see the wheels turning in that brilliant mind. He swallowed thickly, waiting for Audric to respond, to put the pieces together. "But your father was a nobleman. How odd that he would carve."

"Audric…" Jarrett's tongue kept tying itself into knots.

"Well, it's wonderful that he taught you, anyway," Audric dismissed with a wave. He reached out and accepted the little figurines from Jarrett, admiring them up close for several seconds before drawing Jarrett into a lingering kiss. Jarrett just tried to hide the disappointed slump of his shoulders and lose himself in the kiss while it lasted. Audric seemed determined to hold onto the lie, and it just weighed him down, even as he felt the smile curving Audric's lips as they pressed to his.

The kiss was enough to leave Jarrett half-hard and pliant against Audric. He even whimpered a little when Audric pulled back, but Audric's rich, amused chuckle pulled him from that wonderful haze of pleasure. He flushed, stepping back. "I'm glad you like them."

"I love them." Audric then reached for something in one of the fine chairs that littered the room. When he turned to Jarrett, Jarrett's heart seemed to stop. Audric was holding a scabbard, elegantly tooled and perfectly designed, and offered it to Jarrett. "I've noticed your scabbard is old, scuffed." Audric grinned. "I thought I would replace it."

Jarrett took the scabbard from Audric, and his eyes trailed over every detail. The leather was well-oiled, rich and warm. The tooling was in a detailed scrollwork, and just below the throat of the scabbard was his name.

But not his name.

Malin.

Audric had chosen to have them inlay Malin's name on the scabbard.

Jarrett, with shame, thought he might cry.

"You're speechless," Audric chuckled. "I'm glad you love it. Normally, I would take all the credit, but the craftsmen spent many hours getting all the details just how I wanted them. My other gift is even more personal."

Jarrett sniffled and blinked several times, trying valiantly to keep his cheeks dry. God, his heart couldn't take much more. He took a steadying breath and forced a smile to his lips. "What's the other gift?"

Audric drew him close, taking the scabbard from his hands and setting it aside. He felt so fragile in Audric's arms, even if he was just as strong, just as built as his king. Even with his hopes shattered, there was still the slightest comfort in those arms as they held him close. Audric leaned forward and for an instant, he forgot his heartache, breathing in Audric's scent as Audric nuzzled his ear and throat. "I want you to take me tonight, Malin."

Take Audric? Jarrett's heart began to race. "You're certain?" he asked, voice breathless and deep.

"Yes," Audric whispered, and then he nipped at Jarrett's throat. "Do you not wish to feel me around you?"

When Audric's tongue began to trace his ear, Jarrett was lost. He pulled Audric into a hungry kiss, his hands making short work of Audric's night clothing. He'd stripped down to just his leathers, boots, and shirt, and Audric's hands were just as skilled as his. Fabric fell to the floor just before Jarrett pushed Audric back onto the bed. Their bed. Malin's bed. But, Malin was dead. He was here now with Audric—no matter the name Audric called him—and as he rubbed himself against Audric's eager, hot body, he didn't really care whose name had been on the scabbard. This was his king, his love, and his fucking bed.

Audric was usually so dominant with him, but this time, he could feel the difference in his king. Audric had made up his mind, and with the confidence of a ruler, he seemed to be sticking by his offer without even the slightest hesitation. That fortitude just served to make Jarrett even more determined to make it amazing for them both. Perhaps, someday in the future, Audric would know this was him, not the long-dead Malin. He'd look back and remember the hungry kisses, the gentle press of his fingers inside Audric's body, and the heat of his eyes. Yes, Jarrett had to believe that one day, Audric would remember every instant of this and know that it was a beautiful first.

Jarrett added more oil to his fingers and stretched Audric, loving the soft moans that lilted from Audric's throat. "Look at me," he breathed, desperate for Audric to meet his eyes in case he would see him, truly see him, just this once. When Audric's dark eyes lifted, he held that gaze. "I want to look at you, kiss you while I take you. While we make love."

The heat and love that entered Audric's eyes threatened to bring tears to his own. "Anything you wish," Audric promised, kissing him again with those wonderful, lush lips. If only that were true. If only this Yule brought him everything his heart desired. At the very least, he had this: Audric to himself, the love in those eyes, and his place in Audric's bed.

He smiled as he pulled his fingers from Audric and pressed him down to the softness of the bed. He flicked his hair with a practiced snap of his neck, and when Audric reached up to play with the auburn strands, he couldn't help but purr. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"As much as I love you," Audric moaned. "Take me."

Jarrett couldn't help but laugh softly. "Even when you submit, you command."

"It's a talent," Audric growled and pulled him into more kisses.

Jarrett didn't wait another moment. He slid effortlessly into Audric's body, and it took all he had not to come as soon as he was entirely encased. The heat. The tightness. The trust. They were given to Malin, but Jarrett hoped—prayed—that they would one day be given to him. Perhaps not tonight, but soon. Sometime soon. If God had any mercy, Audric's eyes would clear and the memory would die, replaced by the reality.

By him.

By his love.

And then, maybe, they could begin again. Love together. For now, though, Jarrett accepted the whisper of Malin's name as Audric gripped him, touched him, worked him as they made love on the fine sheets. He loved enough for both himself and the dead knight. Loved with the passion of the hopelessly enamored. Jarrett loved his king, and nothing—not even his own heartbreak—would make him risk losing Audric's love.

Advent: Day Twenty-Three (NSFW)

Title: A Solstice Mating

Characters: Veerle, Ky'ahn

Origin: World of Egaea (WIP)

Advent Day: Day 23 (December 19th)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 4,173

—

Veerle grinned behind the furs that covered her face, protecting her from the fierce chill around her. Even in all her furs and an extra two layers beneath that, she was still freezing and did her best to move as quickly as possible. The sooner she got back into her hut, the better off she would be, but she couldn't go back until she found Ky'ahn. There weren't too many of the Varan about, even in the small window of daylight they had before the long Solstice. When she finally spotted Ky'ahn heading toward the hut the Varan shared with a couple of the other lower ranking mothers and their nest of children, she rushed to intercept her.

"Ky'ahn!"

Ky'ahn turned at her shout, and opened up her arms just in time for Veerle to jump into them. "What in the names of the stars are you doing out here?" Ky'ahn laughed. "You'll freeze. You have to return to your hut."

"Only if you come with me," Veerle insisted, grateful that Ky'ahn's excellent hearing helped pick up the muffled words through her furs. She watched as Ky'ahn's face turned just the barest hint of pink, her slightly golden hair whipping about in a gust of frigid wind. She shivered even as she laughed. "You're coming with me. Now."

"But, Veerle! You don't—"

"Yes, I do," Veerle interrupted, tugging Ky'ahn along with her. The sun was setting already, and she wanted to get warm again. She just hoped the way Ky'ahn gave in and followed her meant Ky'ahn would be willing to help rid her of that chill. She wasn't a mindreader like Drayis; she couldn't invade someone's thoughts or influence them by any magical means, but with the way Ky'ahn's thoughts pushed at her telepathic senses, she didn't need to pry. Ky'ahn knew what tonight was, and she was already wishing her heart would stop pounding so loud Veerle might hear it. Not in this wind, she whispered to Ky'ahn's mind with a laugh, loving the way Ky'ahn's red eyes widened for a moment at that touch of their minds.

Before she could say or think anything else, they reached her hut door, and she pulled the latch and entered the heat before quickly shutting the door with a groan of relief. A fire still blazed in her wood-burning stove, and she was grateful for all the extra firewood the Varan had given her to see her through the week. The Varan might be able to withstand the extreme cold, but she would freeze to death without all the extra heat.

Ky'ahn looked around, a small smile on her lovely lips. "I wasn't expecting you to seek me out this week," she murmured, her hands rubbing over her slightly swollen belly.

"You never expect me to seek you out at all," Veerle sweetly said. She quickly began to remove her layers. "But I always do."

A flush touched Ky'ahn's snowy skin. "Yes, you always do."

"I learned the most intriguing thing about your customs yesterday," Veerle purred as she hung up her heavy coat and pants along with her outer shirt and leggings.

"Oh?" Ky'ahn asked, but her tone was two pitches too high for Veerle not to hear her anxiety.

Veerle pulled off her next layer, leaving her in just a tank top and shorts. "I learned that lovers pair off tonight and don't leave their beds until the sun rises again. Did you have someone you were going to spend tonight with?"

Ky'ahn swallowed and shook her head. "Only the other lesser mothers and the children."

"That doesn't seem like a way to celebrate the setting of the sun," Veerle all but purred as she crossed to Ky'ahn. "Especially when you have someone to celebrate with."

"I do?"

Veerle lifted her hand and cupped Ky'ahn's cheek, rubbed her thumb over the soft skin. "You do," she breathed before bringing their lips together in a slow, deep kiss. Even kissing Ky'ahn was enough to turn Veerle on, to make her moist between her thighs. And when she brushed her tongue against one of Ky'ahn's fangs, heard that high-pitched, sweet whine, it was all she could do not push Ky'ahn down and taste her sex then and there.

She kissed her way down Ky'ahn's throat, nipping over the pulse as Ky'ahn moaned softly. "You're sure? I don't… want to impose."

It was Ky'ahn's way of saying she wasn't worthy of spending time with Veerle, and Veerle was tired of that old song and dance. No matter how the social structure worked here with the Varan, she had a lover in Ky'ahn, and it didn't matter that Ky'ahn wasn't one of the more prized females in the tribe. "You're mine," she murmured against Ky'ahn's throat. "And I'm going to enjoy seeing how many times I can make you come tonight."

Ky'ahn gasped, shivered. "You're very adept with your hands and mouth."

Veerle laughed softly. "I am. But it's not just my hands and mouth you'll enjoy tonight."

"Hnn?" Ky'han's hands had finally begun to move over Veerle's body, touching her arms and hips, sweeping up to cup Veerle's breasts.

"I have a surprise for you," Veerle whispered, her own hands making short work of the sparse furs Ky'ahn wore. "But that's for later. Right now…" She pulled Ky'ahn to the bed, kissing her along the way, touching her full, soft body. She loved Ky'ahn's body. A mother's body. The large swell of her breasts, the wideness of her hips, and even now, life grew within the Varan, made her belly bulge just a little. Ky'han, to Veerle, was the most beautiful female she'd ever laid eyes on.

Gently, she eased Ky'ahn down to the bed, and then—under that blood-red gaze—she began to remove the last of her clothing. Ky'han's breath was short, her nipples tight, and by the time Veerle knelt between her thighs, the thatch of pale hair surrounding her sex was damp. Veerle pressed their bodies together, kissed Ky'han with all the tenderness and need she felt for the other woman, while her thigh pressed up against Ky'ahn's wet mound.

"I won't be able to do this soon, rest on top of you," she breathed, rubbing her thigh up against Ky'ahn until she earned a deep moan. Her fingers traced over where Ky'ahn's belly was starting to stretch with child. "But I know you think that means I won't touch you, won't kiss or pleasure you, and you're so wrong."

Ky'ahn moaned and arched sweetly beneath her. "You give me so much more than I deserve already."

"Horseshit," Veerle laughed. "You deserve all I have and more." That was enough talk for her tastes, and she dipped down to Ky'ahn's breasts, cupping and massaging them until Ky'ahn's nipples began to tighten. She moaned and suckled at one. Even with her massaging, she couldn't help but gasp and pull away when a small bit of liquid escaped the breast into her mouth. She stared at Ky'ahn, who gasped and flushed as much as she'd ever seen a Varan flush. "Was that…? Are you…?"

"It comes and goes," Ky'ahn whispered, looking away from Veerle. "The other women with infants… it makes my body prepare early. I would understand if… if you didn't… with me anymore."

Veerle kissed Ky'ahn, silencing any further protest, and then pulled back enough to stare down into her beautiful eyes. "It's all right." She smiled. "I just wasn't expecting it." Her hand moved lower, cupped a full breast, and her finger swept over the hard, damp nipple. "It's sexy as hell."

Ky'ahn gasped, rubbed herself against Veerle's thigh. "Is it? Truly?"

"It really is," Veerle moaned softly. To prove it, she dipped down again and sucked in earnest, milking Ky'ahn's breast until another bit of liquid released into her mouth. Without shock urging her to pull away, she tasted the milk. "Sweet," she whispered. "Much sweeter than I would've thought."

"Veerle. Moon and stars, Veerle! That's…"

Ky'ahn's voice trailed off into a moan, and Veerle chuckled as she suckled more, teasing and worrying Ky'ahn's nipple with her lips and teeth, all while pressing her thigh into Ky'ahn's shifting body. Her own nipples hardened, and she moaned around Ky'ahn when Ky'ahn's hands finally found their way to her, plucking and pinching the sharp way she liked best. Ky'ahn was always so hesitant, so ready to be rejected or humiliated, and it made her heart soar to feel her hands exploring and teasing without any suggestion on her part. "Yes, just like that," she moaned as she switched to the other nipple, her free hand dropping between Ky'ahn's legs. She wanted to bring Ky'ahn to a mind-blowing release, and that meant teasing her clit fast and unrelentingly.

It wasn't long before Ky'ahn was squirming under her touch, gasping and crying out, lost to her pleasure. Those moments, when Ky'ahn thought of nothing but them and what they did, were precious to Veerle. There might be complications in their future, she might butt heads with the male Varan time and again, but Ky'ahn was hers. All hers.

"Come for me," Veerle breathed, her eyes intent on Ky'ahn's flushed, gorgeous face.

Ky'ahn's breath caught for a moment, and then she bucked, her back arching sharply as she cried out. Her pale body trembled with the force of her climax, and Veerle felt a rush of moisture between her own legs at the sight. She ducked down, captured a thick nipple in her mouth, and tugged at it with her teeth, her fingers sliding down along the wet seam of Ky'ahn's sex. She pushed two inside and loved how Ky'ahn next cry was breathless and choked.

Gods, Veerle's mindvoice purred to Ky'ahn as she continued to use teeth and fingers. I could make you come dozens of times a night and never grow tired of it.

Ky'ahn groaned softly, still panting beneath her. "We'll see… tonight…"

Veerle grinned. Ky'ahn was right. Tonight, of all nights, she would push their limits, bring them both all the pleasure they could handle and a little extra just to celebrate Solstice. She pulled back from Ky'ahn's chest with a smirk. "You should never doubt me. I have something special for tonight. Do you want to see? Or should I make you come a handful of times before I give you your Solstice gift?"

"A gift?" Ky'ahn blinked slowly, and Veerle could see the pleasure recede just a little in the scarlet gaze. "What gift?"

"You didn't answer my question." Veerle began kissing her way down Ky'ahn's body. "Because I'm thinking I should taste you before I give you your gift."

Ky'ahn moaned, spread her legs a little wider, her fingers combing through Veerle's hair. "You make me think about nothing but your fingers, lips, body."

"Good," Veerle breathed, a possessive wave of affection washing through her. "I want you to think about nothing but me, especially now." She rubbed her hands over the soft, tender insides of Ky'ahn's thighs, and then leaned in, inhaling the rich musk of Ky'ahn's sex before extending her tongue, drawing it up the length of Ky'ahn's lips.

Ky'ahn's moans egged her on, a constant source of inspiration and encouragement, and she lost herself in the act of licking, sucking, and thrusting into Ky'ahn. It took a little longer to work her up a second time, but Veerle knew exactly what Ky'ahn liked best, and she set to giving every pleasure she could, curving her fingers and flicking her tongue rapidly over Ky'ahn's clit. She could feel when the tension took hold, when Ky'ahn's body began to thrum with release, and it made her own sex throb. She sucked with all her strength and shuddered when Ky'ahn finally cried out again, clenching around her fingers. She withdrew them, replaced them with her tongue so she could lap at Ky'ahn's release.

These were her favorite moments, in the aftermath of one of Ky'ahn's orgasms, tasting, touching, and listening to her. Nothing compared to Ky'ahn's beauty when her skin was lightly flushed, her eyes dazed, and that beautiful smile on her lips. It was an expression that made Veerle believe she was Ky'ahn's entire world. To take Ky'ahn away from her everyday pains and struggles was one of her greatest pleasures here in the icy wilderness. The life that had left Ky'ahn on the low end of the hierarchy simply because her children were female. She loved being able to take her from that and show her how beautiful and important she was.

When Ky'ahn's twitching died down, she pulled back with a grin. Ky'ahn tugged weakly at her, guiding her up, and she chuckled as she wiped her face and offered Ky'ahn all the kisses she wished.

Ky'ahn's fingers combed through Veerle's hair, and she practically purred. "Does this mean I can now see your gift?" she asked between sweet kisses.

Veerle grinned. "You sure you're up for it?"

"Yes!" Ky'ahn laughed, her hands sweeping up and down Veerle's back. "You have me so very curious. I've never been given a gift before."

"Well, you get one tonight," Veerle purred, kissing Ky'ahn one more time before forcing herself to roll over. She reached under her bed, her legs kicking awkwardly as she searched for the box she had hidden. It made Ky'ahn laugh, and she nudged Ky'ahn with her knee. When she straightened again, there was a wooden box in her hands. "I've… had it for a while, but I thought you might enjoy it."

Ky'ahn sat up, cradling her belly in a way Veerle was sure must be instinct after having had so many children. She handed Ky'ahn the box and watched as Ky'ahn opened it. Ky'ahn's eyes widened. "What is it?"

Veerle laughed as Ky'ahn gingerly plucked the leather straps out of the way and held up the largest part of the gift, the strange material glinting in the firelight. "It's what we call a strap-on. It allows us to… couple more like men do."

Ky'ahn's fingers moved over the finely crafted phallus. "More like men?"

Veerle nodded. "One of us can wear the harness and slip the phallus inside." She smiled, enjoying the gentle blush on Ky'ahn's cheeks. "It can be incredibly intimate, pleasurable."

"I've felt little pleasure under the heaving bulk of a male." Ky'ahn lifted her gaze from the phallus. "Would it be different beneath you?"

Veerle leaned over, brushing her lips over Ky'ahn's. "I'd like to think it would. Your pleasure is as important to me as my own. It makes me very different from the men of your kind."

Ky'ahn's breath shuddered against Veerle's lips. "I want to try with you."

"I'd hoped you'd say that," Veerle said with a grin, her heart beginning to race as she plucked the harness from the box. "I'll make it so amazing for you."

"Is that why you've worked me up?" Ky'ahn asked, the accusation in her words softened by the smile on her lips. She watched as Veerle shifted and pulled the leather up her legs, adjusting a couple of the straps.

"I was going to whether you wanted to try or not," Veerle chuckled. "Even without gifts, it's still Solstice, and your tradition was quite clear." Her eyes sparkled as she picked up the phallus and inserted it into the opening of the harness. She shifted it about until she was happy with the position, and then secured the last of the straps. She stroked along the smooth material, giving Ky'ahn a very good view. "Do you like the way it looks?"

A deep flush stole over Ky'ahn's cheeks. "Yes," she breathed. "Isn't it strange? A man's organ never made my body ache, but seeing one on you…"

Veerle braced herself over Ky'ahn, loving the ego boost Ky'ahn's words gave her. "Seeing one on me what?" she asked, nipping at Ky'ahn's throat.

"It makes me ache to have you between my thighs." Ky'ahn spread her legs wide, arched against Veerle. "You truly wish to mate with me throughout the Solstice darkness?"

Veerle rubbed the head of the phallus along the wet seam of Ky'ahn's sex. "Yes. That was the idea."

Ky'ahn moaned and smiled up at her. "I don't deserve you. I deserve to be at home with the children and other mothers."

"Nonsense." Veerle nipped Ky'ahn's jaw and kissed her way to Ky'ahn's lips between words. "You deserve to be right here… with me… all night… my cock claiming you."

"So crude!" Ky'ahn gasped, pulling her closer.

"You love it." Veerle let the phallus continue to tease Ky'ahn, working her lover up. "So beautiful," she breathed, kisses down to Ky'ahn's breasts. She nipped and suckled, Ky'ahn's hands in her hair again. She didn't mind one bit that Ky'ahn was a passive lover. With everything Ky'ahn had been through, it didn't surprise Veerle one bit. Besides, she loved seeing how much pleasure she could bring her sweet Ky'ahn.

Ky'ahn pressed her hips, rubbed herself against Veerle. "So… are you," she moaned. "Please…"

"You want my cock?" Veerle whispered against a wet, tight nipple.

"Yes," Ky'ahn whimpered. "I want to know its pleasures. I want to be marked as yours tonight."

It's all the encouragement Veerle needed. "You're mine tonight," she growled softly, possessive as she aligned the strap-on with Ky'ahn's body and gently eased her hips forward. She might not be able to feel Ky'ahn's body hugging her as a man would, but she could feel the way Ky'ahn's breath hitched, the shift of her hips, the quiver that rippled through her thighs and abdomen. She didn't have to be a man to enjoy the look in Ky'ahn's eyes as she filled her up, spreading her with the thickness of the phallus. She'd chosen one of the thicker ones she owned, knowing that Ky'ahn's body was looser than hers from having so many children. She didn't think it a negative. To her mind, it made Ky'ahn all the more alluring. Her body could do something so many Elves' couldn't! She was beautiful, and Veerle did everything she could to make Ky'ahn believe it as she pushed deeper, thrusting forward until the leather of the harness was pressed snugly to Ky'ahn's sex.

Ky'ahn let out a shuddering breath, her hands tight on Veerle's arms. "By the stars," she whispered, eyes sparkling with need. "Feels so… full… good."

Veerle rolled her hips, moaning as the harness rubbed against her. "Just because a man has a cock doesn't mean he has a clue how to use it," she said with a wry smile.

"Veerle," Ky'ahn whimpered, arching her hips into Veerle's slight movements.

"Ky'ahn." Veerle bent down, licked and kissed at Ky'ahn's throat as she slowly lengthened her thrusts. The soft, wet sounds of their bodies moving together only increased Veerle's own arousal. "Gods, never felt this before," she admitted.

"Felt… what?" Ky'ahn began to move against Veerle with more ease, more desire. "You've never done this with another?"

"I have," Veerle moaned, the harness rubbing her when Ky'ahn moved up into her thrusts. "It's just never… felt so damn good. Never done it with you before." That was the difference to her. It was just being with Ky'ahn that turned every act into an erotic, emotional experience.

Ky'ahn blushed and smiled up at her, and Veerle swore her heart would burst with how much love that single look inspired in her. She dipped down when Ky'ahn craned her neck for another kiss. She set a steady pace, leaving enough time between thrusts to make every movement sensual. It was a sharing, not just a taking, and she wanted Ky'ahn to feel the difference. If Ky'ahn's deep moans and clinging touches were any indication, she was doing a very good job of it, too. It brought a possessive smirk to her lips, made her blood pound through her with a rush of pride and dominance.

Ky'ahn's lips moved along her shoulder, brushed her throat. If Veerle had been standing, her knees would have buckled. Soft cries filled her ears, and the way Ky'ahn moved… gods help her, it was a sinful delight. The shy, restrained Varan she'd met so many months ago had given way to this sexy, hungry woman who pushed up into every thrust Veerle made. There was nothing more arousing that seeing the transformation, than knowing this pleasure had been her true gift to Ky'ahn. Veerle panted, head thrown back, her throat utterly exposed, and her mind swam as Ky'ahn nibbled, sucked, and the slick sounds of their bodies echoes in her ears.

"Gods save me," she breathed, her body tense, her rhythm becoming fast. Ky'ahn's sweet cry brought a shudder to Veerle. "Nothing like you."

Ky'ahn's hands dug into the meat of Veerle's ass, urged her onward. "Veerle," she mewled, her voice uneven, trembling in a musical, gorgeous way.

"So close." Veerle squeezed her eyes shut. "Do you want… to feed?"

"Yes," Ky'ahn gasped. "Please, Veerle…"

Veerle immediately arched her neck and pressed it against Ky'ahn's mouth. "Drink," she panted desperately. "Drink before I—ah!"

Ky'ahn's mouth latched onto her without hesitation, and those sharp fangs ripped through her skin. The pain was blinding for a moment, a cold spike driven through her neck, but the next instant, Ky'ahn's venom pumped in through the wounds, and the chill was replaced with a wave of heat and arousal. Her head swam, her skin tingled, and a ripple of pleasure shot down her spine and exploded in her cunt, sending her screaming over the edge. Her hips bucked, thrusting deeper and harder into Ky'ahn as she rode out the pleasure.

She barely registered when Ky'ahn's mouth left her neck, but that scream her lover let loose spoke to that primal, sexual creature inside her. Ky'ahn trembled under her, her nails scratching down Veerle's back, but it was all hazy. Veerle's body pounded with the venom, with pleasure and climax and need. Her hips thrust deep a final time, and she rested there, panting, shivering. Her sex felt thick, wet, and she ached to reach down and make herself come again.

Ky'ahn whined, rocked up against her. "Taste so good… feels… even better."

"I know this gift… was for you," Veerle panted, her hands squeezing and kneading absently at Ky'ahn's full breasts, "but please, tell me you're going to give me a moment, put on this harness, and fuck me until I scream."

"You want me to…?"

"Yes," Veerle moaned, and she knew it wasn't just the venom talking for her. She wanted to be utterly undone by Ky'ahn, to give herself completely and take everything her sweet lover offered in return.

Ky'ahn moaned as Veerle rocked into her. "It's… just the venom…"

"No, it's not," Veerle insisted. "It's you. It will always be you." Her sex throbbed between her thighs. "Please, Ky'ahn, please…"

Ky'ahn nodded, uncertainty in her eyes. "Yes." A small, hesitant smile curved her lips, her sharp canine teeth peeking through the expression. "Yes, Veerle."

A soft, excited squeak escaped Veerle as she kissed that beautiful, slightly bloody smile. Even when she started to ease back and withdraw from Ky'ahn, she couldn't get enough of those kisses. Ky'ahn moaned softly when the rest of the phallus slipped free, and Veerle rolled them both onto their sides. She smirked when Ky'ahn reached down and curiously stroked at the length of the strap-on.

"You look so sexy," Ky'ahn breathed against her lips, and the light touches that trailed from the harness up to her nipples left her moaning and arching closer to Ky'ahn.

"You will, too," Veerle insisted.

Ky'ahn groaned and fiddled with the buckles of the harness' straps, undoing them until she was able to push the bulk of it down Veerle's legs. It left her exposed, and Ky'ahn's fingers slipped down her body and between her folds. Veerle's moan was devoured by a hungry kiss that sent her toes curling, and Ky'ahn pulled back after another few seconds, whispering, "How long do you need to recover?"

"How long will it take you to get the harness on your gorgeous hips?"

Ky'ahn laughed, and the sound brought Veerle as much pleasure as any touch to her body. "Not long."

"Good," Veerle purred. "I want every moment of tonight to be filled with pleasure. So much pleasure that you'll never spend another Solstice any other way again."

"Even once we have a family?"

Veerle reached out and rubbed the palms of both her hands over the slight bulge in Ky'ahn's belly. "Especially when we have our family. A night for you and me, for just the two of us, so we can celebrate all we've been blessed with."

Ky'ahn's eyes filled with warmth, and when her lower lip trembled slightly, Veerle feared she might cry, and hugged her closer. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Veerle murmured with a smile, her hand rubbing circles over Ky'ahn's belly. "Celebrate tonight with me? This night and every Solstice from now on?"

Ky'ahn grinned against her lips and pulled her closer. "Always, Veerle. Always."

Advent: Day Twenty-Two (NSFW)

Title: A Christmas Kiss

Characters: Logan, Kasper

Origin: Catalyst

Advent Day: Day 22 (December 18th)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 4,808

—

Kasper flushed the toilet and washed his hands, humming Jingle Bells softly to himself. He loved Christmas with Logan. Soon, Logan would wake up, they'd have a perfect, simple breakfast, and then they'd laughingly attack the gifts under the tree. Four Christmases in, and it never got old for Kasper. As he dried his hands, he looked up into the mirror, and a frown curved his lips.

Dammit.

There was more silver at his temples. He'd noticed the slight change last year about this time. Time was marching on, and it was slowly—but surely—turning his hair from gold to silver. He leaned in closer to the mirror, combing his fingers through the unkempt hair. Dammit, dammit, dammit! Logan hadn't even hit thirty yet, but here he was, forty-three and graying.

Logan's reflection appeared over his shoulder, and he froze, caught in the act. He straightened and cleared his throat as Logan stepped close, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"Good morning," Logan said, kissing his throat and wrapping his arms around Kasper's midsection. When he was slow to respond, Logan tilted his head. "Something wrong with your reflection?"

Kasper felt heat creep over his cheeks. "No."

"Don't lie to me." Logan forced him to turn back to the mirror. "You were intent on your reflection when I walked in. What were you looking at?"

Logan, only four years older than when they'd first met, was still so young, so fit… so fucking beautiful. His dark blue eyes were just as intense and intent, his voice commanding. Inside the playroom or out, Logan mastered him in all ways. Kasper looked away from the mirror, and then back, meeting Logan's eyes. "There's more gray in my hair."

"So?"

Kasper pulled away. "So? So, I'm getting old. Gray hair. Crow's feet. And no matter how long I spend at the gym or in the pool, I've still put on ten pounds since last Christmas." He knew he sounded vain, and maybe he was. A little vanity wasn't a bad thing, and he just worried so much that Logan wouldn't think him as attractive as he did four years ago… or, hell, even last year. "Maybe I should dye my hair."

"No!" Logan instantly protested. "You will not dye your hair. And you will not get plastic surgery to remove those amazing laugh lines. They mean we've had a lot of smiles in the last few years. That's a good thing!" Logan's fingers reached up and combed through the hair at Kasper's temples. "I love the silver. Fuck, the way you're going, you're gonna end up silver all over without much hair loss. Do you know how fucking hot that is?" Those hands moved down his back to squeeze his ass. "How sexy you are?"

Kasper groaned, pressing closer to Logan. "I am? Still?" he asked, hating that lilt of insecurity in his voice.

"Still," Logan purred into his ear, sending a tingle down his spine. "You're sexy as fuck. Always have been, and always will be." Logan cupped his hips and rubbed their bodies together a little. "Will you still think I'm hot when my hair goes all salt-n-pepper?"

Another moan filled Kasper's throat as his body hardened, and he smiled as he wrapped his arms around Logan. "Of course. I'll be eighty, but…"

Logan gave him a sharp slap on his ass. "You will not." He laughed. "Could stop acting as if you're on social security and Medicare? You're an active—" Logan kissed Kasper. "—sexy—" He kissed him again. "Forty-three, and you're as active—if not more—than you were at thirty-five."

Kasper tried to nab another kiss. "All your fault. No fewer than four nights in the playroom means I have to stay flexible and active."

"Me, too," Logan chuckled. "You keep me on my toes, make me go all out every time, and I love it." Logan granted him one more kiss, but then pulled back with another playful slap to his ass. "Now, get your ass away from the mirror and down to the tree. It's time for me to serve you breakfast so we can open presents."

Kasper gave in with a laugh, and combed his hair quickly before heading out of their bedroom, and downstairs to where they had the tree and the bulk of the decorations set up. Logan practically skipped past him into the kitchen, and he smiled as he curled up on the sofa in front of the Christmas tree and fireplace, where their basset hound, Simon, was lounging. Logan always knew how to lift his spirits. They kept buying more and more decorations, but instead of making Kasper feel trapped by clutter, they somehow made him progressively happier over the years. With Logan's help, he was starting to have a real home, and as their cat, Micah, made himself at home in Kasper's lap, he felt happiness seep into every fiber of his body.

In minutes, Logan handed him two poached eggs, some toast, and a glass of juice. Kasper grinned, accepting his plate and fork. "Perfect," he purred, and then immediately dove into the simple meal. He didn't need or want anything big or fancy, and Logan knew just what he liked.

It didn't take long for him to put away the food, and after Logan took up their plates, Kasper shooed Micah from his lap and crawled to the stack of presents under the tree. Just as he was reaching for a long, beautifully wrapped package, Logan made a sound.

"No, not that one. That one's last," Logan said, falling to his knees beside Kasper. "Any one but that one."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have put it right up front, then," Kasper teased, and when Logan stuck out his tongue at him, he just laughed and set the long package aside. The other presents were plentiful, but Logan had piqued his interest. He couldn't help but look back at it several times as they enjoyed the other gifts they had given one another. When everything else was open and set aside, and Micah was playing with his new furry play-mice, he finally reached for the box again. Logan chuckled and motioned for him to go ahead, and he eagerly pulled it forward.

Logan huffed while he carefully opened the package, preserving the beautiful, metallic paper and ribbon. "Hey. It's pretty paper, and this way, we can reuse it."

"Just open the present!" Logan said with a grin.

Kasper rolled his eyes and pulled open the box. He pushed the tissue paper aside, and then his breath caught and a deep flush suffused his face. "Logan," he breathed. Kasper ran his fingers over the oiled, dark leather of a gorgeous single tail whip. "But—"

Logan crawled close to him, eyes dark and hot. "It's time."

"Is it?" Kasper asked, shaking his head a little. "I'm not sure."

"You've come a long way. We both have." Logan caressed his face and drew him into a sweet kiss. "You've taken all the steps. You're ready for this."

Kasper's heart pounded, and he licked his lips. Logan sounded so confident, so trusting, but could he be trusted? After all they'd been through, the darkness of addiction still felt so close sometimes.

"Do you not want to?" Logan asked, fingers tracing Kasper's throat.

Kasper moaned softly. "I do," he admitted. "God, Logan, I do. I jack off sometimes just remembering how it feels, but I didn't want to ask. I didn't trust myself." He finally looked up from the whip. "I still don't think I trust myself completely."

"That's the wonderful thing about this." Logan brushed his smiling lips against Kasper's. "I trust you, and I trust myself. I won't let it go too far. So, the question is, do you trust me?"

"Implicitly," Kasper whispered.

Logan smiled against his lips. "Good. Up to the playroom, then. I want to see you naked and bound."

Kasper groaned when Logan pulled away, gingerly taking the whip from the box and carrying it reverently up the stairs to their playroom. He stopped short when he entered, eyeing the large post in the center. "You've been planning this, haven't you?"

"Nonsense," Logan chuckled. "Santa just left you a surprise during the night."

Kasper rolled his eyes and smiled as he set the whip down on the counter beside the door. He was about to pull his t-shirt off when Logan's hands stopped him. He looked over his shoulder, and the look in Logan's eyes made his pulse race and his cock ache in his pajama bottoms. He moaned as Logan ran his hands up under his shirt, teasing his nipples before pulling the fabric up and over his head and arms. The same tender treatment was given to his pajama bottoms, and by the time he was completely naked, his cock was heavy and dark.

Logan went to the door and took Kasper's collar from its peg. Kasper averted his eyes, and the familiar slide of the leather sent a shiver down his spine.

"So fucking sexy, naked, hard, and collared," Logan purred. "Go to the post and kneel on the base, your arms outstretched."

Kasper's heart was pounding as he made his way to the post. It had been years since he'd been strapped to these sorts of posts, but, God, the thrill of it had been intoxicating. It would be intoxicating again, but he had Logan to pull him back this time. He knelt on the base, his cock nudging it a little, and then held out his arms. There was nothing like this. There was nothing in the world like giving up all power to Logan, riding the waves of pain and pleasure as he submitted himself entirely. The weight of the collar at his throat—now warm and soft—was like an ever-present brand reminding himself of all he offered… and all that would be offered in return.

There was a bit of rustling, and when Logan came into view again, he was wearing safety glasses on the top of his head like a headband and smiling as he took each of Kasper's arms and pulled them to the right position, binding them into place. The cuffs were perfect, fitting nicely around his wrists. There was even a polished area on the far side of the post where he could steady himself and grab hold. The forethought Logan had put into all this was astonishing, and he moaned softly, shifting on his knees.

"Such a pretty slut," Logan chuckled, fingertips trailing over Kasper's arms and down his back. "Are you going to please me today?"

"Yes," Kasper breathed.

"Mmm… good. I wanna hear you scream, watch you tremble as I push you right to your limit. Do you want to find that limit today, Kas?"

Kasper moaned and shifted again on his knees, but when he failed to answer, Logan slapped his ass so hard that the sting stole his breath away. "Yes!" he panted out. "Yes, I want to find my limit with you!"

Logan caressed Kasper's cheek. "Then that's what we'll do," he murmured with a smile. "You know the rules. You know your safewords."

"Yes," Kasper all but panted. His head swam with need. "Banana. Apple."

"You'll use them if you have to?"

Another nod was about all Kasper could manage. "Please…"

Logan flipped down his safety glasses and moved out of Kasper's field of vision. He wasn't gone, though. Those hands smoothed up and down his back, massaging lightly until he was a little more relaxed and could sit still on the platform. It was only then Logan granted him his first touch of the whip, simply running the oiled leather over his skin, teasing him.

"Logan," Kasper moaned, leaning up into the touch of the whip. They hadn't even begun, and his cock was already achingly hard. The first light strike came a minute later, and he gasped at the sting that spread across his lower back and the top of his ass.

"I've spent the last five months learning from Sir Robert," Logan said.

The next lash brought a shudder through Kasper's body. Sir Robert was an expert with the single tail, and that Logan had managed to secure time with him… A third strike to his back–just a little harder this time, more sting in it–took his breath away. The kiss of the whip was like nothing else. Kasper had missed it, remembered it vividly in his private moments. But, this time, it was Logan whipping him, not some nameless, faceless Dom or Domme he'd managed to hustle.

A rhythm slowly built, each strike precise, placed with care across the most sensitive places of his back and ass. A few snaps of the lash missed him entirely, but the sound alone made him jump. Logan was playing with him, making him lean back and ache for every blow. The sound turned him on just as much as the pain, and he moaned as the sting deepened into a throb, and then into an ache.

"Yeah, lean into my whip. Feel the pain and pleasure burn through you," Logan panted, his voice like an echo in Kasper's hazy mind. "Just like that."

Kasper was breathing fast and heavy, his head hazy as he sank into the cadence of Logan's whip. It wasn't like before. It wasn't all about the pain, about that high he could manage when pushed to the brink of consciousness. This was about so much more, and by the time he relaxed into the lashing, he was crying out, hard and swaying elegantly. He was completely consumed by the pain, pleasure, and the intense arousal that soared through him the more Logan pushed.

And Logan did push. It was as if every strike was placed for maximum sensation, the pain and pleasure caught in a balancing act. Logan manipulated him perfectly, tipping the scale back and forth, back and forth, and finally letting pain ease into dominance. The shift pulled a scream from him, and then another as the same force was spread from his ass up to his back. It was harsh, but he could take it. He could take anything Logan would give him. He would do anything Logan wanted, anything at all.

Just when he thought his skin would break, and he would come with the rushing pain of it all, Logan's strikes began to lighten. Kasper almost shouted for it to not end, but then Logan would give him another round of hard lashes. It was a lover's touch, a Dom who was in love, and Kasper soaked in every moment, his cock and balls so ready for release. But his release was Logan's to give. Always Logan's to gift to him, and so even when the whip pushed him to the very edge of his control, Kasper held on. He held on until Logan moaned and the lashing tapered off completely.

After a moment of stillness where all Kasper knew was the burning, blistering pain of his back and ass, he felt Logan's hot, wet tongue move over his shoulders. The pain was unimaginable, but glorious. Kasper screamed again, gripping the post fiercely, his whole body trembling as Logan licked that one line over and over. Vaguely, Kasper realized Logan must have drawn blood, but the thought is lost when Logan yanked on his hair, pulled his head back, and rubbed the hot, hard thickness of him along Kasper's ass.

The groan that escaped him was ragged, wild with need, and he arched his back as much as he could, pushing back into that rubbing. God, he wanted Logan inside him, wanted Logan to take him hard.

"So fucking beautiful," Logan practically growled, his grip tightening in Kasper's hair until he cried out again. "You want my cock? Want me to spread you wide and fuck your ass as it burns from the whip?"

"Y-Yes!" Kasper gasped out, the need to be filled overriding every other sensation. A second later, Logan pushed two slick fingers inside him, and he choked out a moan as they were pushed deep one instant and pulled out completely the next. Logan's cock quickly replaced those fingers, thrusting inside him until Logan's thighs rubbed against his abused ass, pulling a ragged scream from his lips.

Two hard thrusts, and then Logan stopped moving. Logan licked up Kasper's ear, panting hard, voice deep. "I want you to ride my cock," he said. "I want you to ride it until I come, and then, if you're good, I'll let you come."

Kasper sobbed, but managed to give a little nod. Riding Logan would be agony, but he loved it. His cock was so damn hard, his balls aching, and he wanted to come. He wanted to be so good, please Logan so well, that he'd at least be allowed to jack himself off. Kasper began to rise and fall as best he could, using the post for leverage, and he moaned, whimpered, and shuddered as Logan's cock moved in and out of him slickly, thick and hard and everything Kasper loved about sex with his husband. The sense of possession, of being everything Logan wanted and more, was better than any high from pain and submission. This was what Kasper craved from their sessions, this moment when Logan took him after his soul had been flayed open by an expert caning or a thorough mastering. There was nothing hidden between them in these moments, and Kasper thrived in the honesty of their relationship.

Logan moaned behind Kasper, the guiding hand on his hip shifting until Logan's thumb teased one of the welts. It sent pain and pleasure sizzling through him, and Logan's voice barely registered through the din of his own cry. "Yeah… fuck yourself on my cock. Just like that!"

Logan's hand tightened at his hip, and then he bucked with a shout. The liquid heat that spread inside Kasper pulled another sob from him, and his arms trembled as he forced himself to keep rising and falling, determined to bring Logan every ounce of pleasure he could. The grunts and groans he pulled from Logan sent tendrils of pride and pleasure through him.

"Enough," Logan rasped at last, taking hold of Kasper's hips so firmly that Kasper cried out. A shaky laugh puffed against his ear, and he whimpered when Logan pulled free of his ass, come seeping down his thighs. "So fucking eager. So fucking beautiful the way you beg for more." Logan's lips trailed from his ear down his neck and over the leather of his collar. "You make me happy, so damn proud."

Those words cut through Kasper even deeper than the lash, and he wept, moving back into Logan's every touch. His own need for release seemed so trivial; he'd pleased Logan, and that's all that mattered. He was a little startled when the cuffs on his wrists were released, and he would have fallen back if it weren't for Logan's support. He looked around, trying to clear his head enough to seek Logan's eyes, but the question he couldn't bring himself to voice was soon answered.

"Off the pedestal," Logan commanded. "Turn a little and sit back on your heels. You can use your arms for support, but I want your thighs wide. Display yourself for me."

Kasper moved stiffly, his body aching wonderfully. He shifted back from the post, kneeling on the soft carpet of the playroom floor. Flushing—he was amazed he could still flush after years of this—as he spread his legs wide and leaned back, he finally raised his eyes. Logan was sweaty and gorgeous, his cock half-hard and still wet with lube and come. Kasper moaned, leaning back on his hands, displaying himself completely for Logan. He wasn't shameless; he was proud. He'd pleased Logan, and Logan had given him something he'd thought he'd never feel again.

And it hadn't gone too far. He hadn't used Logan, and Logan hadn't harmed him.

That, too, was cause for celebration, and Kasper hoped that what Logan had planned was a celebration. The hungry gleam in his husband's eyes was enough to make him mewl, hips shifting unconsciously, and he had to look away. Looking at Logan just made him want to crawl, to suck him, to give him all the pleasure that could possibly be had. There was so much satisfaction in pleasuring Logan, in giving of himself until he simply bled.

Movement caught his eyes, but he closed them to resist the urge to look, but that only lasted a moment until his eyes shot open, and he cried out at the soft heat of Logan's tongue against the shaft of his cock. He whimpered as Logan teased up and down him several times before sinking down the length of him. He felt the head of his cock nudge into Logan's mouth, and the clenching, bobbing movements Logan gifted him with pushed him to the very edge in seconds. He was too worked up, too ready to explode, and the pleasure didn't last long. His hands clenched in the carpet, his body on fire as he screamed his release.

Logan moaned around him, sucked every drop from him until Kasper was whining softly. He wanted to lift his hands, cradle Logan's head against him, but he didn't dare. He was still wearing his collar. He was still submitting to his master's every whim. It took all he had not to seek the intimacy of touch, but he managed it, and when Logan finally pulled back from his sore, spent cock, Kasper was ready to do anything to earn a kiss.

Logan's hands smoothed up and down his torso, and he moaned, shifting up into every touch. He expected Logan to slap him, maybe pinch his nipples, but instead, those hands just moved to his collar and removed it. He shivered, tears springing back to his eyes as he was helped up from his position and carefully held close. Logan tilted his head up and, without demanding anything more from him, possessed his mouth in a deep, sweet kiss that sent him trembling in Logan's arms.

Logan pulled back after another minute of kissing and breathed against his lips, "Fucking hell, Kas, I love you so much!"

Kasper's arms weakly clung to Logan. "I love you, too." God, he did. He did with every sore fiber of his being. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you so much."

Logan smiled against his lips. "Don't just thank me. It's your triumph, too. You're the one who just took the lash beautifully. You're the one who gave a hundred and ten percent. And you're the cause of something else, too." Logan chuckled and brought one of Kasper's hands down to his groin. "Just look what you did," Logan reprimanded playfully.

Kasper groaned, shifting impatiently against Logan as he felt how hard Logan was again. Logan's recovery time wasn't usually so short, but it made Kasper's heart thrill to be the source of such arousal. With the collar off, he could speak freely, tease. "What do you expect me to do about it?" he asked with a faint grin, letting his fingers circle the wet tip.

Logan shivered against him. "Whatever you want," he purred, nipping Kasper's lower lip.

"I want to suck you," Kasper breathed, eyes dark. "I love sucking you."

"You going to swallow every drop?"

Color moved over Kasper's cheeks. "Of course." He hadn't liked it in the beginning, but now… he couldn't imagine not swallowing Logan's come.

"Give me a minute to clean up." Logan stood up and went into the bathroom across the hall, and then Kasper heard the soft sound of water running.

Kasper somehow got to his feet, his knees weak, and went to the full length mirror in the corner of the room. Slowly, he turned a little and looked over his shoulder. He couldn't keep the moan back as he took in the sight of his flesh. Logan had been careful. There were only two bloody lashes—one low on his back, and one across his shoulders. That was what Logan had been licking and sucking at, and Kasper couldn't help the way his heart sped in his chest. Welts, bruises, red marks. God, it turned him on just looking at Logan's handiwork.

"Like what you see?" Logan grinned from the doorway.

Had the water turned off so soon? Kasper hadn't noticed. His cheeks burned for a moment, but he couldn't help but smile. "It's beautiful."

"You're telling me," Logan moaned softly, crossing to Kasper and steadying him as he tried to walk forward to meet him. Logan led him across the room to the bed they kept in the other corner. "Careful there. I might like you on your knees, but I don't want you to fall on them."

Kasper laughed. "I'm all right. Some food, some juice, a long, hot shower with you, and I'll be good as new." Logan helped him sit on the edge of the bed, and then Kasper was face-to-face with Logan's cock. He licked his lips. "You still want me to suck you?"

"Unless you'd rather I just jack off." Logan smirked, rubbing his thumb over Kasper's lower lip. "But that would be such a waste, don't you think?"

"Yes," Kasper breathed. He let the tip of his tongue dart out to brush against the pad of Logan's thumb. "A terrible waste."

Logan's eyelashes fluttered for a moment as he groaned, and Kasper shivered as Logan tangled one hand in his hair. He could have sworn Logan caressed that section near his temples where he was graying, and the loving attention there made him feel weak with love as Logan pushed the tip of his cock between his lips. He moaned and suckled the head, teasing the leaking slit with tongue and teeth until Logan moaned and pushed deeper.

With the collar off, he wasn't afraid to touch Logan now, so he steadied himself against Logan's hips, touching and caressing along the bony protrusions of his hips. Logan's cock twitched in his mouth, and he moaned around the length, bobbing a couple times, working Logan deeper. He chose a slow, maddening pace on purpose, teasing Logan until Logan's hand tightened in his hair and forced him to remain still. The next thrust pushed all the way into his throat, taking his breath away and pressing his lips and nose right to the base of Logan's cock.

"Such a fucking tease," Logan groaned, "but I know what you really want."

Logan set his own pace, deep and possessive, and Kasper's hands tightened on those moving hips. He kept his eyes open and canted up as much as possible, and when he caught Logan's gaze, the look in Logan's eyes made him want to melt. Love, need, and passion were all in those dark blue eyes, and the knowledge that he was the one to inspire all that emotion in his husband just made him all the more eager to give himself as Logan fucked his mouth and throat.

It was what he wanted. Logan knew him thoroughly. From the whip as a gift to the fucking of his mouth, Logan knew what Kasper needed, wanted, loved. He submitted entirely, sucking and licking when he could, but Logan took his mouth at his own pace. Deep and hard, making Kasper's lips tingle and his throat ache just a little. It was a perfect way to end their scene, and he released Logan's lips to touch himself, to pump his cock in time with Logan's thrusts. His head swam as he spiraled higher and higher, moaning and moving on the edge of the bed, ready for that moment when Logan's come would flood his mouth.

He didn't have to wait too terribly long. Logan's hands tugged at his hair, making his scalp burn. He clung to Logan with one hand, his other hand working furiously at his own cock until Logan thrust deep and shouted, coming down his throat. Logan pulled back after a second, allowing him to suck, moan, and swallow, working Logan's cock for every drop while seeing to his own pleasure.

Kasper didn't let go of Logan's cock until his own release slammed into him. He grunted around Logan's cock, his eyes fluttering, and his fist was soon sticky with his own come. It was a perfect end to a perfect Christmas, and as Logan eased him off his cock, he practically purred with satisfaction. Logan gathered him in his arms, kissed him, touched him, and Kasper was in fucking heaven.

"I love you," Kasper whispered as Logan led him to their bedroom, to the huge shower that awaited them. "I love you so much."

Logan chuckled, nuzzling Kasper's graying temple again. "I love you, too. Merry Christmas, Kas."

Advent: Day Twenty-One (NSFW)

Title: The Cat Will Play

Characters: Eldan, Falynn, Dax

Origin: World of Egaea (WIP)

Advent Day: 21 (December 17th)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 4,122

—

The wind was frigid, more than enough to stop an ordinary Maith in his tracks and make them wonder what the hell they were doing atop a mountain in the middle of a blizzard at the height of the winter storm season. Then again, Dax wasn't an ordinary Maith. He loved the way the air stung his eyes and sent a chill through him with each breath. His thick fur puffed up to protect him from the worst of the chill as he bounded from powdery snow to uneven boulder to ice bank, working his way up the steepest part of the mountain. Any misstep on these treacherous slopes would be disaster, but he'd learned quickly to trust his instincts up here. His broad tail flicked to the side as he dug his claws into the ragged surface of a cliff edge, balancing his body weight until he could leap the rest of the way up.

Dax panted, the warm puffs crystallizing in the air, and his body shivered with adrenaline and happiness at finishing his climb. He ran the length of the small embankment toward the flicker of light in the darkness, the hint of warmth that beckoned him home. The moment he managed to scramble under the outcropping of rock and into the cave, he was pounced by three spotted balls of fluff. With a yip and growl, he grappled with the snow kittens, laughing as he made his way over to the fire and the two pairs of blue eyes that watched him so closely.

The cave had become home. It wouldn't be home forever, but for now, it was as home to Dax as the den he'd shared in the feral-Maith camp with his fathers in Sephryn. He grinned at his companions, Eldan and Falynn. Eldan, such a beautiful, regal Ice Elf, only chuckled at him, shaking his head a little. Falynn, though, watched him with large, haunted eyes. Even now, the Water Elf's past nipped at their heels, required patience Dax hadn't yet developed. Only nineteen, he had so much left to learn! He flopped down by the fire, purring softly, his tail swishing back and forth as the heat began to melt the snow on his fur.

"Did you have fun, kitten?" Eldan asked. "Exhaust yourself?"

Dax laughed. "Exhaust myself? Hardly. It's wonderful outside!"

"It's a blizzard," Falynn pointed out. "Cold, windy, and wet."

Eldan nudged Falynn. "Who ever heard of an Elf from the House of Water not loving water?"

Dax shook his fur out, sending water droplets flying, but Falynn was quick. Falynn's hand flew up, magic shivered along Dax's senses, and the water was held still in the air, caught by Falynn's magic. "I do love water, Eldan." With a flick of his hand, he sent the water flinging back at Dax. "I'm just not fond of freezing water."

The sudden splash of water made Dax tense and sputter. "Hey! I have to get dry!"

"There are towels," Falynn insisted, pointing to a pile of cloth that had been set out by the fire. "Use them."

Dax stuck his textured tongue out at Falynn, but laughed as he reached across Eldan and Falynn for the towels, his tail fwapping into Falynn in the process.

Falynn cried out and gave a light thwap to Dax's tail. "Dax!"

Dax blushed as he pulled back, Eldan's laughter making his ears twitch. "Sorry! It's the tail. It has a mind of its own."

"I thought your father could control his," Falynn said as he swiped at the wetness along his shirt. "Didn't Nahele teach you to control the thing?"

Dax's ears drooped, and he reached out with the towel, drying the patches of wetness from Falynn's shirt and trousers. "He tried. Papa said I would learn in my own time."

Eldan's fingers found one of Dax's weak spots and began scritching. "It's all right, kitten. Falynn is just in a foul mood because the snow kittens tore through his favorite cloak. Keegan was right. In time, you'll learn the control. We will help however we can."

Dax perked up a little, flashing Eldan a smile before nudging Falynn affectionately with his cold nose. "No wonder the snow kittens were happy to see me. They must be counting on me to make amends." Eldan's hand shifted to another spot along his spine, and he practically melted, a rolling purr rumbling out of him. "I can make amends, can't I, starfish?"

"You're just buttering me up so I'll help groom you."

"But you like grooming me." Dax's voice trilled as he spoke, his tongue darting out to scrape over Falynn's lips. He had the most beautiful, full lips Dax had ever seen. Falynn's eyes took on that dark color, the scent of arousal rising around him to fill Dax's nose. It was Falynn's centuries as a lust slave, Dax knew, that ensured a little lick to that gorgeous mouth led to full arousal. It thrilled Dax as much as it saddened him, but he gave Falynn a sultry smile. "You like grooming me as much as I like grooming you."

Dax moved down some and drew his rough tongue up the pale curve of Falynn's throat, and the deep moan his lover made went straight to his own cock. Falynn's hand came up, cupped the back of his head, and pulled their lips close.

"By the gods, Dax, how do you do it?" Falynn breathed against Dax's lips. "How do you make my heart pound so?"

"Love," Dax said with a smile. "Love instead of ownership. Just like the way Eldan's gaze from across the room can make either of us weak in the knees."

Eldan took one of the towels from his grip and began patting Dax's fur dry with a chuckle. "Technically, I do still own him, but that isn't what keeps us together, is it, starfish?"

Eldan's small hand brushed past Dax's face to Falynn's, pulling Falynn's hair back before trailing down Falynn's long, unadorned neck. Dax knew what had been there. The collars of the Water Slaves were as brutal as they were beautiful, and he had heard stories about the sheer amount of magic Eldan had used just to break the spell of the collar. It amazed him how every simple touch between Eldan and Falynn held such meaning, such history.

Falynn's cheeks tinted red. "No. It never was." He smiled, and Dax thought Falynn stunning when he smiled. "You bought me, but never owned me. Not like the others."

"Help me dry off our kitten, and then he can see to your grooming," Eldan said. "I think we could all use some thorough, intense grooming, don't you, kitten?"

Dax's silvery blue eyes lit up, and butterflies fluttered in his stomach. "Very thorough." He wasted no time, dipping immediately to Falynn's neck to lick broadly over fragrant skin while pawing at the ties of Falynn's warm clothing. Out of all of them, Falynn was the most warmly dressed, and if he wanted to get to Falynn's skin, he had to work through several layers.

"Patience, kitten," Eldan laughed from behind him. "Don't join the ranks of the snow kittens by shredding more of Falynn's clothing."

Falynn moaned. "You ruin the clothing, Dax, and I will take a switch to your hide."

A switch? Oh, that made images just race through Dax's head. And Falynn disciplining him? Dax hadn't seen all that much dominance from Falynn in their short time together, but Eldan did say it was there, buried, waiting for the right times to come forward. "If I shred it, knowing that anyway?"

"Then there will be no more grooming from me until we return to the palace," Falynn warned, eyes glittering with lustful amusement. His fingers helped Dax remove layer after layer, slowly and gently. "Please don't make me do that, kitten. You wouldn't want Eldan to be given all the grooming and pent up magic from me, would you?"

A needy whine escaped Dax. "No, I wouldn't." His heart pounded as the expanse of Falynn's chest was finally revealed, and he all but dove forward, lavishing attention onto one of Falynn's nipples with licks and flicks from the tip of his tongue. When Eldan's hands were replaced with a grooming brush, he couldn't help but moan and arch up into the sensation of the bristles working through his thick fur. The supportive fabric at his groin suddenly felt far too tight.

Eldan's voice was rich and musical. "Such enthusiasm. I think you might exhaust us in your youth."

Dax shifted, his tail shivering as he pushed up into the strokes of the brush while nipping at Falynn's nipple. Falynn's hands dove into his hair and the fur along his shoulders, and the quiet sounds of pleasure made Dax's blood boil. His purr was loud, at least to him, and he shimmied his hips, but all Eldan did was brush at his fur. He lifted his head, growling with desire. "Eldan…"

"Hmm?" The teasing made Dax's next growl deeper, louder. "Is there something you want, kitten?"

Falynn had managed to squirm out of all those layers, his body bared to Dax's hungry eyes. "Eldan!"

"Say what you want," Eldan ordered, the words gentle but insistent.

It was a challenge, one that Eldan often put to him. Part of him wanted to be petulant and put up a fight just to be stubborn, but desire always won out, and now was no exception. "I want you to pull my loin cloth off and stretch me wide with your fingers so I can ride Falynn raw." Eldan's and Falynn's gasps made him smirk, and he pulled away from Falynn's chest to glance over his shoulder at Eldan. "Any questions?"

Eldan's tongue darted out to wet his lips. "Where do I fit into this equation?"

"You'll fit perfectly in my mouth." Dax grinned, flashing his sharp teeth. "I'm supposed to be grooming you, remember?"

Falynn's fingers moved down Dax's chest, tweaked a nipple. "If we position our king just right, you can groom his cock as I groom his sac."

"Starfish," Eldan moaned. "You'll undo me long before our kitten ever touches my shaft."

A wicked smile curved Falynn's lips. "Then enough talk. Time for pleasure."

Dax couldn't get another word in; Falynn's magic was an intoxicating force. It curled around him like a lewd caress, stoking the fire of his passion into a blaze. He never quite knew what Falynn's magic was summoning in him, but something told him every touch would be twice as intense but not push him over the edge until Falynn decided they were all ready. For all his submission, Falynn held both him and Eldan in the palm of his hand.

With a ragged groan, he fell forward again, kissing Falynn deeply while his hands kneaded at Falynn's chest, his claws scraping over nipples, confident that Falynn would enjoy the hint of roughness. Eldan shifted closer to him, and the fabric of his loin cloth fell away, releasing the pressure on his cock, allowing the length to hang heavily between his legs.

The bristles of the grooming brush returned and moved down his back to his tail, and Eldan cupped his tail with his other hand, tugging it just the way he liked. It sent a thrill through him and a groan out of his purring throat. "Fuck, Eldan! You make me so fucking hot, the both of you. Make me want to rutt all night long, 'til I'm spent and sore."

Falynn's lush lips pressed against his again while Eldan pushed Dax forward. Falynn traced Dax's lips with his tongue. "All night long," he promised. "I'll make sure of it, kitten."

Dax's tail was lifted, and then Eldan's tongue circled his hole. He let loose a yowl, that unique pleasure wholly consuming. He squirmed, shifted back, wanting more than that teasing. There was nothing like Eldan or Falynn fucking him with their tongues, and Dax's world narrowed to that one sensation. That one driving need to feel Eldan's tongue move inside him. He whined, mewled, and whimpered, shaking his ass a bit as his tail shivered and shook in Eldan's grasp.

"What do you want, kitten?" Eldan asked, that talented tongue barely dipping inside Dax.

"Fuck me with your tongue!" Dax blurted out, his cheeks staining crimson. Every teasing touch of Eldan's tongue sent sparks of pleasure through him, and he tightened his grip on Falynn, urging him to scoot up far enough for him to lick over the length of his cock.

Falynn's moan was sweet, laced with that subtle magic that drew him in and promised him unprecedented pleasures if he would simply take what was offered. Lick after lick, he teased Falynn until Falynn's hands began to tug at his fur in earnest. Only then did he take Falynn's cock between his lips, flicking his tongue over the slit as he sucked firmly.

Falynn cried out, the sound vibrating through the cave, a living, breathing sound that danced along Dax's spine. Magic was not something Dax had experienced in Sephryn, but now that he'd tasted it in Tridéa, he knew he didn't want to be without it. He wanted to surround himself with Ice and Water, his precious Elves that made his soul thrum with the connection he saw between his father's. Love. Such deep love so quickly that Dax knew he should doubt it, but as Eldan's tongue finally pierced him and Falynn's hands clutched at his fur, there was no foothold for doubt to take.

He worked his way slowly down Falynn's long, slender cock. It fit so well between his lips, slid down his throat so easily. The cool sweetness of Falynn's fluids sparked a hunger in Dax to taste that rush of come. He licked, sucked, swallowed Falynn, and Eldan's tongue moved deeper into him, spread him. His cock pulsed with his racing heartbeat, clear, sticky drops of his excitement falling to the soft pine-strewn floor. Eldan then withdrew and bit the underside of his tail, which ripped Dax away from Falynn's perfect cock in order to howl with toe-curling pleasure to the ceiling of their dwelling.

They always knew how to work him up, how to send him to the brink of release with a single touch, but with Falynn's magic swirling around them, it just made him more desperate. "Want you inside," he panted out, gazing up at Falynn. Another nip at his tail sent him squirming against Eldan again, and when tongue was replaced with slicked fingers, he pushed back until Eldan indulged him and pressed them inside. His eyes fell to Falynn's face and moved along his shoulders and arms. Falynn's hands still moved through his fur, touching his shoulders, neck, and face. It was the most tender of touches, one that seemed to beg him for more without demanding a thing.

Turning his head to the side, he nuzzled one of Falynn's wrists. "Tell me how much you want to be inside me, Falynn." He had to be careful not to ask questions. Falynn had a way of avoiding truth, finding the path of least resistance just like trapped water. Ordering Falynn ensured an answer, and the longer he was intimate with Falynn and Eldan, the more genuine and open those answers became.

Falynn gasped as Dax then licked at the inside of one sensitive wrist. The flesh there had been trapped under the magic-laden slave cuffs until Eldan had freed Falynn of both collar and cuffs, but the flesh there had become a place he or Eldan could drive Falynn crazy. "Badly," Falynn panted. "I've thought about very little else since you woke me with your mouth around my cock. The heat of you…"

"Is exquisite," Eldan moaned, his fingers moving in and out of Dax steadily. "Nothing like the heat of you, kitten."

"I want that heat," Falynn said, voice deep and sure. Such certainty was rare with Falynn, and it made Dax's heart flutter. Falynn's eyes were so dark, his cock straining near Dax's lips. "Will you gift that to me now, Dax?"

Dax's tail flicked and shivered with excitement, and he licked broadly from Falynn's sac to the tip of his cock before purring, "Of course I will." Shifting forward meant leaving Eldan's fingers behind, but his body was more than ready for Falynn. It was Eldan's hands that kept him from simply mounting Falynn immediately, and he huffed, his ears twitching back with annoyance until he realized Eldan was slicking Falynn up. How had he forgotten something so basic? A flush crept up his face as he looked back and forth between Eldan and Falynn. "Shut up. You both make me impatient."

"We didn't say anything," Eldan laughed as Falynn squirmed. "Now, take yourself before Falynn hurts himself."

Falynn would, too, if they didn't take care of him. Dax didn't want to tease anymore, though. Rocking forward and down, he took Falynn inside in one smooth movement, and the stretch made his purr deepen into a loud rumbling that all but masked Falynn's soft sounds of pleasure.

There was no pause to adjust. Falynn was slim and long and rubbed inside Dax just perfectly. He drew Falynn into a series of kisses, and that sweet submission coupled with the hint of dominance as Falynn's hands gripped his hips as set the pace was everything Dax wanted. Well, almost everything. His tail swished, the tip twitching impatiently as he rose and fell quickly on Falynn's slick cock, and he pulled back from kiss, mewling, dazed eyes seeking Eldan.

But Eldan was standing beside them, gloriously naked, his cock hard and dark, wet-tipped and ready. Despite Eldan's soft-spoken, regal nature, he was a king in his bones, and as Dax looked up at him now, he could see just what the Ice Elves saw in the powerful Elf. All he wanted to do was please Eldan in that moment, and when Eldan's thumb swept over his lower lip, encouraged him to open his mouth, Dax complied immediately.

Darting his tongue out, Dax lapped at the head of Eldan's cock, his eyes remaining locked with Eldan's as he rode Falynn. Every lick was deliberate, a tease meant to test Eldan's control and encourage him to demand something more. When Eldan's hands tightened in his hair and around his ears, he knew he was about to get exactly what he wanted. Eldan didn't have to order him around; all it took was a guiding touch, a well-placed tug at his hair, and he opened wider so Eldan could thrust into his mouth.

Falynn's magic swirled around them, made every touch all the more potent. With Falynn's long cock moving steadily in and out of him, and Eldan's hips rocking back and forth, laying firm claim to his mouth and throat, Dax was in rutting heaven. It was decadent and passionate, and as Falynn and Eldan both began to take him faster, harder, Dax thought he would lose his mind. Magic and sex and lust and love, it was more than he'd ever imagined finding when Nahele and Keegan had brought him across the Great Sea to Tridéa.

There was the sticky, slick sounds of Falynn's cock pounding in and out of Dax's ass, the wetness of Eldan's cock between his lips, and then those musical cries from Eldan—deep and powerful—and Falynn's breathy, nearly-quiet moans. All the sounds echoed in Dax's ears, and the smells! Musk, thick and clean, cool and liquid to his nose. Making love with Eldan and Falynn was a symphony for Dax's senses, all of them, and he let himself fall completely under their spell, gracefully sucking and receiving, giving and taking.

The two of them pushed him higher and higher, and several times, he would have sworn he could have come without a touch to his cock. There was always some barrier, though, a fine line of tension that kept him from falling. A loud whine escaped him as he tightened his claws at Falynn's chest.

Through the haze of arousal and need, he heard Eldan groan loudly, caught in the same net of denial. Eldan didn't have his mouth full, however, and panted breathlessly down to Falynn. "Let us go, starfish. Come inside our lusty kitten and release us!"

That thread of tension that wound between the three of them receded the moment Eldan's words died in the air. The scent of magic faded, and the immediacy of pleasure slammed into Dax like a sack of rocks. Dax's eyes flew open, wide and unseeing, and he would have yowled with the force of the lust inside him if Eldan's cock hadn't just pushed into his throat. There was no hovering on the edge of orgasm, no gentle tipping from that great height. One minute, Dax was trembling with pent up, almost desperate, need, and then next, he was coming. Hard, thick, his seed panting his fur and Falynn's stomach.

The searing heat of his own release was then doubled by Eldan's sharp, silvery cry, and Dax's throat flooded with the clean, crisp flavor of Eldan's seed. He sucked it down, rocking on Falynn's lap, and then Falynn's nearly-silent cry of pleasure caressed his ears, and Falynn's cock was slick and wonderful inside him as Falynn's come coated his passage. He swallowed every drop Eldan offered him, almost voracious for his lover's taste and feeling utterly debauched. Eldan's voice wavered, and then the kingly Elf fell to his knees, drawing Dax into a deep, nearly suffocating kiss.

Their tongues curled against one another, and he pulled back to gasp in a few breaths before bending down to kiss Falynn just as passionately. Eldan's hands were warm in his fur, petting and scritching in that lazy manner he adored. Eldan even began leaning against him, and the heaviness of Eldan's limbs around him made him chuckle as he pulled back from Falynn's intoxicating kisses. "Something tells me you aren't going to brush my coat 'til it gleams."

"Mmm… There's time for that tomorrow. Sleepy now," Eldan replied, the words slurring together a little.

"But look at the mess I've made," Dax complained playfully. It was adorable, the way Eldan always wanted to rest and nap after a great rut, and he could never stop himself from poking fun at the old Elf. Falynn laughed, and the sound brought a goofy grin to Dax's face. "What?"

Falynn shook his head and leaned forward, pressing kisses softly to Dax's furry throat. "It is not Eldan's duty to clean up the mess you made."

"No," Eldan said, flopping back onto their thick nest of furs and blankets. "You made Falynn sticky, kitten, you can take the responsibility of grooming." He yawned, eyes glittering with sated pleasure. "And don't look at me like that. I know it's not a hardship for you."

Dax purred, turning to look at Falynn. "Not a hardship at all," he murmured, and then licked broadly over Falynn's sweet lips. "Shall I groom you, starfish? Clean up my mess?"

Falynn's gave a breathy moan, reached for his lips with his own. "Anything you like, kitten. Anything."

Dax closed the distance and moaned a couple seconds later. That's all the time it took for Falynn to make him melt. The Water Elf's tongue could work miracles, and even without a surge of magic, his cock already began to twitch with reviving interest. "I like you just like this," he purred, his fingers playing with a lock of blue and white hair. "Sweet, erotic, and scented with the musk of my come."

"Charming," Eldan teased, settling in the soft furs next to them.

"Possessive," Dax corrected with a grin, loving the way that one word made Falynn's face practically beam with happiness. Eldan might be confident in the love he shared with Dax and Falynn, but Dax knew that Falynn needed more time, more encouragement. With such a harsh past, Dax couldn't blame Falynn for being slow to trust and even slower to love. It was a challenge, but one Dax relished. "The more I scent-mark you, the less the snow kittens will dare tamper with your warm clothing."

Falynn chuckled, the sound rich and smooth, as his hands glided up Dax's back. "Scent-marking my body does not keep them from my clothing."

Dax pushed Falynn back until Falynn was spread out under him. "We'll see about that," he purred, and then—with Eldan's gaze a hot weight on him—Dax bent to lick each cooled, slick smear of his come, knowing by the time he was done, he'd make a mess of both himself and Falynn all over again.

Which he didn't mind one, single bit.