S.L. Armstrong's Blog, page 24

Advent: Day Twenty (NSFW)

Title: A Christmas Tradition

Characters: Hadi, Judas

Origin: The Keeper

Advent Day: Day 20 (December 16th)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 3,197

—

Hadi hummed a carol to himself as he worked in the kitchen. Though Judas usually took the lead with cooking—his lover had such a natural touch with recipes and ingredients—he had insisted that this dessert be made by his own two hands. They had been abroad for many Christmas seasons in the past, enjoying bits and pieces of the world while he was still young, but as time wore on, Hadi found himself faced with the realities of old age. He was getting older, whether he liked it or not, and part of him was finally ready to settle down. That meant spending Christmas at their home in Algeria for the first time in a handful of years.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of his baking and the distant fragrance of the perfume oil Judas had set up in the main room. There was a wonderful chill outside from the dusting of snow that had fallen just hours ago, but inside, Judas had endeavored to make their home warm and inviting. When Judas appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, he laughed. "You're not supposed to see until I've finished!"

Judas smiled. "Forgive me for worrying. You've been in here quite some time." He peeked over at the mess of pans and bowls and measuring cups Hadi had used, and just the scrutiny brought a blush to Hadi's cheeks. "Do you… need any help?"

Hadi sighed, though he couldn't help but smile through his embarrassment. "You don't suppose it's a lost cause, do you?" He worried at the sponge cake still rolled up in a tea towel and cooling a bit in its pan.

Judas stepped closer and dipped a finger into one of the bowls, tasting the chocolate buttercream frosting he had just prepared. The hum that rumbled from Judas gave him a little hope. "I wouldn't say that. This isn't bad at all."

Hadi chuckled. "I'm glad to hear it. That was my third try."

"Only three this time?" Judas gave him a nudge with his hip. "Maybe next year you'll get it the first time."

"Watch it." Hadi bumped Judas' hip in return. "If you aren't nice to me, I won't let you have a piece of my Yule log." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Hadi's cheeks flushed. "I mean—"

Judas leaned over and kissed him softly, slowly, and tasted of butter and chocolate. "I wouldn't dream of missing out on a piece of your log," he purred with a smirk.

"Now, why does that sound vaguely phallic?" Hadi chuckled against Judas' lips.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right. Of course not." Hadi rolled his eyes and grinned, pecking Judas' lips one more time before turning back to the cake and frosting. "So much for my surprise. My mother was thrilled when I asked for the recipe, but I never expected to have so much difficulty with baking."

"The last ten years weren't an indication?" Judas teased, wrapping his arms around Hadi's middle from behind.

"Hush. The cake should be just right. Will you hand me the chestnut puree? I have to mix it into the rest of the plain buttercream for the filling." He pointed to what he needed, and Judas made himself useful, not directing him, but helping in the small ways he could. He knew better than to take over when Hadi was trying so hard to do things himself, though Hadi had to admit that having an extra hand—not a pair, since Judas kept one arm firmly around his waist—was a welcome blessing.

Judas nuzzled the scar on his throat, and Hadi moaned softly, his hands stilling in his mixing. There was nothing quite like that feeling, knowing he was the utter source of completion and peace for another human being. It worried him as much as it thrilled him. He was human, while Judas… Judas would live until kingdom come. There would be a time—far too soon for Hadi's comfort—when Judas would be alone again. It made him all the more intent on enjoying every moment they had together, filling Judas' memory with a lifetime of love, laughter, and pleasure.

"Mind telling me," Judas murmured hotly against his ear, "why you decided we needed a Yule log cake?"

Hadi shivered. "It's a tradition. I thought, in my old age, it was time to set down traditions for us."

Judas laughed, hugging him a little tighter. "Old age? Hadi, you only just turned thirty-five."

Hadi bit back the words that sprang to mind in response. Words that would remind Judas of how little time they might have, that he could go any day, that thirty-five was ten years closer to that eventual end. He couldn't do that to Judas, though. He just couldn't let that grief and reality touch his lover at this festive time of year when they celebrated Yehoshua's message and the love they had for one another. He blushed as his hesitance caused Judas to nose him. "All right, maybe it's a little preemptive, but traditions are important. They set up that little bit of anticipation and joy. I want you to look forward to a Yule log cake every year and adore it when you get it."

"I already adore it." Judas went to the refrigerator and pulled out the bottle of milk. "I also find the whole thing incredibly endearing of you. You even managed to wrangle us a Christmas tree."

Hadi licked his fingers and gave Judas a look. "You never told me you'd not ever had a tree!"

"It's not a tragedy," Judas chuckled, pouring them each large glasses of milk. "This time of year, I was usually alone. It took a special sort of Keeper to stay with me through the holiday rather that spend a precious week or two with family they rarely saw."

Hadi smiled and set his chestnut buttercream aside to accept his glass of milk. "You're my family now, and this is a special time of year for you. Besides, we visited my family only a couple months ago, or have you already forgotten my mother's cooking?"

Judas groaned, though he still smiled over the lip of his glass. "I swore my stomach would explode if she fed me another bite."

"She was just happy to finally meet you. The twins were rather fond of you as well," Hadi chuckled.

"Remind me to never pick up a basketball again," Judas said, rubbing at what Hadi assumed were phantom pains his lover would always carry with him.

"I'm just happy you agreed to come with me, to be around my family instead of being so…"

"Mysterious?"

"Yes," Hadi chuckled. "You don't need to be so aloof, not with my family."

Judas was quiet for a moment. "I do it to save my heart," he admitted, staring at the cake. "Getting too close, it can break my heart."

Hadi swallowed thickly. "Isn't the heartbreak worth the life of love and family?"

"It might seem that way." Judas looked up, shadows in his eyes. "But as the years pass, and the lives pass, and you're left behind? It's just so much grief. Too much grief. I chose to distance myself because I just couldn't come to terms with all the sorrow in my life as those I loved, I cherished, died one by one. You know this."

"I know," Hadi whispered. "Death is a part of life. It always hurts."

"Except for me. There is no end. Death happens around me, and I grieve. I have grieved since Yehoshua's death, and there seems to be no end to that grieving."

Hadi held Judas' gaze for a long moment, and he finally asks, "Will you grieve me?"

Pain streaked through Judas' eyes. "Forever."

Hadi set aside his milk and wrapped his arms around Judas' waist. "Don't be sad. Please, don't be sad tonight or looking too far in the future. Tonight is about now, about the celebration of the season. You're going to have cake and milk, and you're going to hum carols with me as we spend time near the fireplace and our tree." A smile worked its way onto his lips. "And I'm only thirty-five, and that means I'm going to make love to you on the sofa, and you're going to love it. Another tradition of ours."

Judas laughed, the darkness fleeing from his eyes as he returned Hadi's embrace. "Is that so?"

"Yes." Hadi dipped down and brushed his lips over Judas'. "If you're really good, I'll eat my portion of the cake off that gorgeous stomach of yours."

A shiver ran through Judas' body. "At this rate, we'll never make it to the sofa."

"Of course we will. That's part of you being good," Hadi teased, nipping Judas' lower lip. "Now, help me with the cake, and we'll take a couple pieces into the other room."

In an ideal world, he would have finished the cake hours ago so it could have chilled, but with Judas' help, he was able to assemble the different layers into the rolled cake and frost it with a couple laughs and a little intentional mess that they cleaned up with tender kisses and licks. By the time they finally made it into the main room, they were laughing again, and Hadi stopped short when he saw the pillows and blankets set out in front of the fire. He raised his eyebrows at Judas. "Well! Someone's been busy in here."

"You asked for a romantic holiday." Judas nosed his cheek. "I tried to deliver."

"You have." Hadi flopped down on the blankets and leaned back on a pillow, his milk and cake carefully balanced. "I love it. I love everything about this." The tree glittered in the corner, the air was thick with cinnamon and pine, and it was warm, candles flickering around them. "It's perfect."

Judas sat beside him and set his milk aside. "I'm glad. I want this to be all you imagined." He stabbed a piece of cake, put it into his mouth, and moaned. "You've also done quite well!"

Pride and happiness swelled up in Hadi, and he practically beamed. "Hours of work finally paying off. I'll only get better at it over the coming years." They tucked into their pieces of cake, sharing bites with one another between kisses. Each kiss seemed to last longer than the one before, and he was soon straddling Judas' lap on the blankets, feeding him a small bite, followed by a deep, languid kiss. Judas was blissfully hard against him, and it only fueled Hadi's own arousal.

"If this is how we eat the cake every year," Judas moaned, "sign me up."

Hadi laughed, the sound low and sensual. "Is that so?"

Judas' arms went around him, slid down to squeeze Hadi's ass through his jeans. "You in my lap, feeding me, kissing me, what else could be better?"

The groping only made Hadi more intent on his goal to end this night with a bang. He set the plate down and threaded his fingers through Judas' thick hair. "Both of us naked? My lips around your cock?" He nipped at Judas' lower lip. "Or maybe my cock sliding inside your slick… hot… body?" he asked, a gentle bite placed along Judas' throat between each word.

"Hadi." The moan of Hadi's name was the most arousing sound he'd ever heard. "Yes."

"Yes?" Hadi whispered against Judas' pulse.

Judas rocked their bodies together and exposed his throat shamelessly to Hadi. "I want to feel you inside."

Hadi shuddered and tightened his grip on Judas. "Then I think we need to switch places, hmm?" He rolled to the side, laughing as they shifted around, pulling off their clothing as they went. It didn't take long for both of them to strip, and Hadi moaned at the sight of Judas. "God, you're beautiful by firelight," he breathed, pulling Judas into another kiss as he ran his hands over Judas' chest and abdomen.

"You just… want to… eat icing off my skin," Judas moaned between kisses.

Hadi just laughed again and reached over to his plate, dipping his finger into the chestnut buttercream. "You have a point," he admitted, smearing his finger down Judas' obliques from his ribcage down to just above his groin. Judas eyes were hot as he dipped down, and he loved the pleasure he saw in them as he licked the sweet, nutty trail. He couldn't avoid Judas' cock, though, not with the hot length of it nudging his chin and throat. Turning his head, he suckled at the tip until Judas moaned his name and tugged at his hair.

"Want something?" Hadi purred against the head of Judas.

"You know I do," Judas said, arching. "It's been too long since we last coupled so fully."

Hadi kissed his way up Judas' body, raking his teeth over his nipples while running his fingers through the thick thatch of hair on Judas' chest. "It's intense."

"It makes me feel possessed," Judas confessed with another moan, his hands tightening in Hadi's hair. "The feel of your seed within me…"

Hadi shuddered, his cock twitching with intense interest. "Please tell me your perfect candlelight set-up includes a hidden bottle of lube."

Judas bent over with a laugh and pulled a vial out from under a pile of pillows. When Hadi raised his eyebrows, he had the delight of watching Judas' cheeks flush. "I just hoped."

Hadi grinned and threaded his fingers through Judas' hair, slowly pulling him close again. "I love when you tell me exactly what you want. Don't even think about apologizing for it," he whispered before their lips connected. He took the vial and slicked his fingers. Judas wiggled forward and rubbed their bodies together perfectly as he reached down and began to tease and caress Judas' opening. He was always gentle, always patient when fingering Judas. He just couldn't help it. He wanted every instant to be filled with pleasure, not discomfort, and when coupling was so intense for them, the foreplay was a wonderful build that allowed them to draw out the act.

The kisses never stopped. It was something Judas seemed to crave, and Hadi never withheld. The sugar and chestnut flavor of their kisses lessened, and when the taste of Judas became potent once more, Hadi moaned. It was perfect. The warmth of the fire, the twinkle of the tree, the light snow outside their windows, and the decadent spread of pillows and blankets under them. This Christmas made all others pale in comparison, and Hadi knew he wouldn't give this up next year or any year after. This would be their tradition, the thing Judas could hang onto when all else was gone.

He curved his fingers inside Judas, rubbed against the gland there, and grinned into their next kiss when Judas groaned low and long. "I love the way you sound," Hadi murmured into Judas' mouth. "Makes me want to do that again." And he did.

Judas spread his legs wider, pushed up against Hadi harder, and another of those gorgeously deep groans filled the room. "Hadi," Judas panted. "At this rate, you'll make me come before you ever manage to take me."

"We can't have that," Hadi chuckled, pulling his fingers back and slicking himself. He didn't have to tell Judas to sit back, didn't have to say a word. He just guided with his hand at Judas' hip, and Judas aligned and joined them. Hadi's breath caught in his throat, and he gripped tightly at Judas' hips as Judas slid down him and settled atop his lap. "Oh, God, Judas," he all but whined, the tightness and heat around him so intense.

"Yes," Judas breathed. "So perfect to have you here, to feel you inside." Hadi looked up, and Judas' dark eyes were so dark and intent that the gaze alone made him shudder. He knew what a look like that meant. Judas was committing the moment to memory, taking in every detail. The thought warmed him so completely that he wanted to give Judas even more to remember. A grin curled his lips as he pulled at Judas' hips and thrust up, and the moan he was rewarded with only encouraged him to set a slow, deep pace. Judas moved atop him, their lips brushed one another, and Hadi thought for a moment that nothing could be closer to heaven.

Hadi lost himself to the rise and fall, the hammering of his heart, the heat of Judas' body. It was slow. It was painfully, gloriously slow as they drew out every moment. Foreplay or not, it seemed Judas was in no rush to come. It was everything he loved about Judas. There was no rush. With Judas, time simply felt timeless, and all Hadi's worries about mortality and grief and age vanished. Each kiss made those fears feel miles away, and when Judas squeezed just so around him, Hadi forgot his own name.

"I love you," Judas whispered, lips brushing against lips. "My heart, my Keeper."

Hadi whimpered, the words filling him with such love he thought he would burst if he didn't kiss Judas, touch him, take him, somehow express what he felt. "Love you, too," he panted, his fingers tracing over stubble and jawline, down to where Judas' pulse raced in his neck. "God, how I love you!"

Any other words he would have spoken were cut off by another kiss, and his hand finally found its way down between their bodies, curling around Judas and stroking him in time with their rhythm. It seemed to last an eternity, a lifetime filled with pleasure and the sweetest of aches, and when he felt Judas tighten around him, he followed his lover into the bliss of release without hesitation, their moans and gasps shared between trembling lips.

Judas' eyes, so dark with flickers of firelight in their depths, stole Hadi's breath away. That look. The look that made him feel as if he were the world to Judas, as if the sun and moon rose and set on his whim. That look both broke Hadi's heart and caused his soul to thrum with infinite love. "Merry Christmas," he whispered, fingers stroking over Judas' cheeks and brow.

A smile curved Judas' lips as he shifted wickedly in Hadi's lap. "I hope there are many more Christmases like this in our future."

Hadi chuckled, kissed Judas again, and laid back, taking his lover with him. "As many as you want."

Judas nuzzled his throat, breathing, "I want all of them."

A lump formed in Hadi's throat as he hugged Judas tightly, basking in the afterglow of pleasure. "Then all of them it'll be."

A moment of quiet, of just their heartbeats, the crackle of the fire, and sound of the wind outside. Just as Hadi was beginning to doze off, content to remain on the floor and sleep until morning, Judas murmured, "Merry Christmas."

Hadi thought, through the fog of sated exhaustion, that they'd begun a fine tradition, and he hoped the memory of it would sustain Judas long after he was gone.

Advent: Day Nineteen (NSFW)

Title: Quiet As Mice

Characters: Sasha, Aneira

Origin: Sacrifices (World of Egaea)

Advent Day: Day 19 (December 15th)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 1,583

—

Sasha stared down at the tiny infant in the cradle and smiled. The pregnancy had been hard, the birth harder, but now that Laurel was here and well, Sasha could only think every hardship had been worth it. Rhys had even been an adequate secondary parent, though Sasha didn't trust him alone with her daughter just yet. Maybe, when Laurel was a little older, Rhys would teach her things, but right now, Laurel was hers. Theirs, Sasha thought, her eyes darting to the bed.

On the bed, Aneira was sprawled out, naked and glorious. The later part of the pregnancy, and the healing following Laurel's birth, had put a damper on their usually active sex life. Just seeing Aneira there, thighs spread, her fingers sliding along her damp sex, was enough to make Sasha's body tingle, wetness to spread between her legs. If they did this right, they would have mind-blowing sex while Laurel slept.

If they did it right.

Sasha stalked over to the bed, crawled up between Aneira's legs, and met those dark, rich brown eyes. She nipped at a knee, her mind reaching out to her mate's. Not a sound. If you're loud, you'll wake Laurel, and then… well… there won't be much we can do then, will there?

Aneira chuckled, and then stopped herself with an apologetic look. I'll try. You know I'll try. But they both knew it would be a challenge. Sasha could remember the last time they tried to have silent sex. Their secret tryst at Aneira's parents' home hadn't remained a secret when they'd woken up the whole damn house.

Aneira's fingers traced over her ears, and she had to bite back a hungry growl.

Eager for me? Aneira's mindvoice practically purred in Sasha's mind.

She flashed Aneira a wolfish grin and licked and nipped her way up Aneira's thigh. Always. The muscle of Aneira's thigh tensed under her lips, and Sasha could smell the deep musk of Aneira's sex. It made her mouth water. She'd been aching for this moment, a brief bout of silence and stillness, when they could be together. Thoughts of you have been a distraction. How can I run the pack with a clear head when all I can do is think of this?

Her eyes on Aneira, Sasha then licked up the seam of Aneira's sex, barely biting back a moan as the thick flavor of her mate filled her mouth. If it took her considerable effort not to make a sound, she couldn't imagine what it took Aneira. Aneira's body became stiff, her hands flew to her mouth, and the barest of squeak slipped out. Sasha just wanted to laugh. It was the most adorable damn thing, and so she presses her mouth to that wet flesh, suckling Aneira's clit between her lips and flicking it with the tip of her tongue.

Aneira bucked beneath her, tension rippling through the muscles of her abdomen and legs. She saw Aneira's hands tighten on her mouth, trying so hard to keep back the small sounds that would normally have echoed in their chamber. A thrill of wickedness shivered through her, and she sucked harder, her teeth nipping at the sensitive nub. Aneira's hands instantly darted for the sheets, and the loud bark of a moan escaped her made them both freeze, their gazes snapping to the cradle.

For a few seconds, all Sasha could hear was the pounding of her own heart, but when no sign of stirring came from the cradle, she let out a laughing breath and fwapped Aneira's thigh with a grin. Aneira's cheeks turned red, but her smile was unmistakable, even beneath the hand that had returned to cover her mouth.

Sasha shook her head, giving Aneira the best stern expression she could. If you cannot be quiet, then we can't do this. But, gods, Sasha wanted to do this. It downright ached to not have made love with her mate for weeks!

I'll be quiet. I promise. Aneira reached down with one of her hands and brushed her fingers through Sasha's hair. I haven't been able to stop thinking about this all day.

Then hush. Quiet as mice. Sasha bent to her task once more, drawing Aneira's clit between her lips and suckling, licking, scraping her teeth so very gently, and then slipping two fingers into the wet warmth of Aneira's body.

Aneira tried her best, and Sasha had to give her usually vocal lover credit. Aneira thrashed, bucked, and whimpered, but never did a cry leave her tightly pressed lips. Sasha almost wanted to see how far she could push Aneira, just how quiet Aneria could remain when Sasha did her worst. With that in mind, Sasha curved her fingers inside Aneria, sought out that spot that could drive her mate wild with passion, all while her lips and tongue tormented her swollen nub.

Aneira's eyes became the size of saucers, and her hands flailed a little, staying only for a moment at the sheets, Sasha's hair, or even moving to cover her own mouth. Sasha… Sasha! She could hear Aneira's voice inside her mind, so desperate to find an outlet for that pleasure, and it made a wave of heat unfurl between her legs as she licked and sucked, touched and teased. She knew when Aneira's breaking point approached, and she briefly thought to ease back, to deny Aneira the pleasure. The thought was gone in a flash, however, and she pressed her fingers upward again, delighting when Aneira gasped harshly but managed to choke back all but the softest squeaks of sound.

Sasha rode out the bucking of Aneira's hips, softening the pressure of her suction, and eventually pulling back with a broad lick from where her fingers remained inside up to the top of Aneira's throbbing sex. She trailed kisses up Aneira's trembling body, lingering at Aneira's nipples for a few seconds before moving up to her mouth. "You're amazing," she whispered against those parted lips before claiming them in a deep kiss.

The kiss was anything but chaste. It made Sasha's toes curl and moisture gather between her thighs. All she wanted was to keep kissing Aneira, make her come again, and get off herself… all without waking Laurel. Sasha began to move her fingers in and out of Aneira again, and kissed her way down Aneira's throat, nipping and sucking, a low, soft growl eking its way out of her. It was possessive and needy, and the slick way her fingers moved in and out of Aneira only increased her own need.

She straddled one of Aneira's thighs, rubbing her wet sex against the golden flesh as her teeth bit into Aneira's throat. Her thumb rubbed over Aneira's sensitive clit as her fingers spread and thrust. Sasha's mind was turned to the simple base pleasures of mating, her body singing with desire for the woman who writhed and squeaked beneath her. Aneira's sounds slowly grew louder until Sasha truly worried Laurel would wake, and then she did the only thing she could think to do. As her hand and hips moved faster, she pressed her other wrist to Aneira's parted lips. Bite if you think you'll scream, she offered, and then bit harder at Aneira's shoulders, trying to keep her own silence.

Sasha could tell just how badly Aneira was trying to stay quiet by the trembling of Aneira's lips. The restraint only lasted for a couple seconds, though. Aneira's hands tightened at Sasha's shoulder and hip, pulling her closer, making her thrust faster. It was impossible to resist that encouragement, and Sasha gasped when Aneira's teeth sank into Sasha's wrist. It hurt like hell, but the muffled sound of Aneira's pleasure just made her own body tighten. She growled and ground her hips down against Aneira. With her mate bucking under her, it was only a matter of seconds until pleasure exploded through her. It took biting hard to keep her own cry from shattering the quiet of the room, but when her body finally stopped writhing against Aneira's, she collapsed and relaxed her jaw, panting against the raw, bloody mark she'd left behind.

Aneira panted harshly, her hands weakly moving up and down Sasha's shoulders. That pleasant, hot tingle of a great orgasm lingered in Sasha, and she all but purred. Her wrist hurt like hell, and she was sure Aneira's throat would smart for a couple of days, but, damn, it had been worth it. She snuggled close to Aneira, grinning like a loon, and circled Aneira's nipple idly with her finger. Managed to keep quiet enough for Laurel to sleep.

Barely, Aneira's mind whispered to her own. That mindvoice was thick and sated, and Sasha couldn't help but smug. The general thoughts must have passed between their minds because Aneira rolled her eyes and poked her. I've been insanely aroused. It's about time you noticed.

Sasha pulled Aneira into a deep, loving kiss. Maybe we should start trusting Rhys with Laurel once a week or so. I miss us.

Aneira moaned softly and wrapped her arms around Sasha's neck. I think that's an excellent idea… for us… for Rhys… and for Laurel.

Sasha hummed and pecked little kisses to Aneira's cheeks and lips. Laurel gets some time with her father, and I get you… Loud… Passionate… Unapologetic. Aneira's moaned response called for a playful pinch, and they quickly lost themselves in more kisses. What better way to smother their noises? Sasha couldn't think of one.

Advent: Day Eighteen (NSFW)

Title: Tooth and Nail

Characters: Ruin, Mary

Origin: House of Cards (WIP)

Advent Day: Day 18 (December 14th)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 1,959

Warning: Violence

—

Ruin slammed Mary against the wall outside the bar she'd asked him to meet her at. It forced her breath out of her in a rush, made stars twinkle in her vision for a moment. Fuck, it was cold. The snow crunched under her combat boots, and his knee between her legs, pushing the seam of her jeans against her, pulled a high-pitched sound of need from her throat. It wasn't fair. Ruin shouldn't be able to make her want so badly, to betray Rae by opening her mouth wide and taking Ruin's tongue into her.

Poor Rae. Tortured Rae. All because Ruin said Rae had spent too much time in Ruin's territory. Time for the long-dead, dethroned king to move on. But Mary didn't understand. How was tormenting Rae and his lover, Deimos, going to help Rae move on? Not even Rae could answer that for her, and Ruin… well, Ruin was too busy suffocating her with a kiss for Mary to get a word in edgewise.

Mary shoved him away with a cry and glared at him. He was flushed, beautiful, deadly, and, God, those eyes. Ruin's eyes always seemed to shimmer, move like molten silver in his face. It only reminded her of who and what he was. "You're an asshole," she panted.

Ruin smiled, all teeth and hunger. "You knew that before you started fucking me, Legs."

That name. She loved it as much as she hated it. "Leave Rae alone."

"We've gone over this," Ruin said, slowly closing the little space between them. His proximity made her so wet, her sex feeling thick and hot in her jeans. "It's just happening the way it has to. Rae has to face his sins, face his despair. Only when he is hopeless, at the bottom of the barrel staring up, can he begin to climb out." He braced his hands on the wall, trapping her, leaning in, and he smelled so good. Like gunpowder and lilies, an edge of salt and tears. "He has to have nothing before he realizes he has everything, Legs."

"So you take everything, and then what?" Mary growled, shifting between him and the wall. Shifting, but not struggling. Struggling would be a waste of time, and with the tingle of pleasure moving against him brought, it was yet another lose-lose situation. Ruin was awfully good at those.

"I leave. The rest is up to him," Ruin said, but there was a roughness around the edges of his voice.

The answer infuriated her, and she shifted again, pulling a low, deep sound from Ruin. "I can't accept that," she panted.

"That's the beauty of it." Ruin leaned down, brushing their lips against one another. "You don't have to."

Mary snarled. "Damn you."

"Too late for that, Legs."

And then he was kissing her, and she was letting him. Just like the other times, it was so easy to hate and need and want with Ruin. Mary forgot they were in a snowy alley that smelled of old alcohol and rotting garbage. Ruin's hands slipped the button of her jeans, slid the zipper down, and cold fingers moved against her. She cried out, head slamming back against the brick wall with a sharp crack. Her hands dove under his shirt, and she raked her nails down his back. Mark him. Mark that fucking tattoo of ten swords in his flesh. Mark him just as he'd marked her fucking soul.

Ruin's mouth and teeth moved over her throat as he groaned against her. His fingers knew her, knew what she liked. They rubbed hard and fast against her, making her knees weak. Mary clung to him. She hated him a little for that. She didn't need him. If she needed Ruin, then it would be such a betrayal to Rae. If Rae knew… if he knew she was fucking his tormentor…

But when Ruin's fingers pushed inside her, all thought of Rae and right and wrong were blown from her mind. She shouted, dug her nails into Ruin's back, and all but rode his fingers.

"Going to make you bleed, Legs," Ruin panted near her ear. "Going to make it hurt as much as make it feel so fucking good."

Mary came. She came biting into the fabric covering Ruin's shoulder. It was hard and good and like fire burning through her. It only made her want him more, the cold and alley be damned. She kissed him. Kissed him hard enough to taste blood. Whether it was his or hers, she didn't know, didn't care. "Have room upstairs, over the bar."

"You inviting me up?" he asked, a dark, sharp smile on his lips.

"I'm saying get the fuck up there before I rip you to shreds… or change my mind." But she wouldn't change her mind, and Ruin's smirk told her he knew as much. She dug her nails viciously into his skin, trying to wipe that expression from his face. "Upstairs. Now."

Ruin's groan morphed into a ragged laugh. "Eager to get me naked. I like that."

Mary was about to scratch him to ribbons, but he pulled away so completely, so suddenly that she nearly staggered forward. Which allowed him to catch her, damn him. She straightened and glared at him. "I'm not some fucking damsel in distress."

She cut off any argument he might have had with a sharp pull to his scraggly, shoulder-length hair that brought him down into another kiss. By the time she pulled away, Ruin had either forgotten to protest or didn't think it worth the effort. That was fine by her. She pulled him into the warm bar, and they passed the alcohol-dazed patrons of the dive, making for the stairwell and her room.

It was cramped. It smelled. But it was cheap. It was close to Rae and Deimos. Though it did amuse Mary darkly that Deimos—a god of death and time—stood powerless against a tarot card. A tarot card. She still didn't fully believe it was a tarot card that walked, talked, and caused so much anguish.

He's the Ten of Swords, Mary told herself. All he ever will be is anguish.

Still, something whispered in her mind that he was more than hopelessness, despair, anguish, and ruin. There had to be something more, or else why would she want him so much?

Because there's a part of you that knows it's all you deserve.

Mary shuddered at the thought, and then she was opening the door to her meager room that had a dresser, double bed, nightstand, lamp, and a tiny bathroom. She wasn't ashamed. It's what she could afford. It's what she needed. And as she turned to face Ruin, as he shut door, grabbed her arms, and slammed her against the cheap wood, she knew the room wasn't all she needed. Mary stared up at him, panting, poised there with her jeans still half-open, her panties soaked, and her nipples tight. She knew what Ruin offered in bed. She knew she'd take every bruise, every cut, every bite, and only ask for me. "Like what you see?" she finally asked, and was her voice really that husky?

Ruin smiled, slow and shark-like, and purred, "You know I do, Legs."

She raised one knee between Ruin's legs and rubbed at the hardness there beneath the denim. "Then what the hell are you waiting for?"

"For you to beg," Ruin groaned.

Mary couldn't help herself. She hauled back and punched him in the gut. "I'll never beg," she said as he doubled over and coughed. Even as she said it, she didn't really believe it. He'd make her beg. One of these days, he'd drive her so fucking wild, she'd beg.

Ruin gave a barking laugh, and then grabbed her by her upper arms—so hard, she knew she'd bruise—and shoved her onto the bed. He pulled off her combat boots, her sensible socks, and then peeled her jeans off. "Only a matter of time, Legs," he said, and there was such dark promise in his words. "And time's something I have an infinite amount of."

"Shut up and fuck me," Mary ground out, ignoring the way Ruin's voice sent a shiver through her. She pulled the button and zipper free and shoved Ruin's jeans down his hips. Thank God he didn't wear anything beneath them; it made it easier to grope him roughly, give him a little more incentive.

Ruin slapped her hands away with a moan and took hold of her legs. With a harsh yank, he dragged her closer to the edge of the bed. His hands pushed her legs open and pinned them harshly to the bed at her sides. It left her utterly exposed, but the sharp words that sprang to her tongue were cut off by a cry as he knelt and attacked her pussy.

Mary writhed, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling until he groaned against her. She was hot. Burning up. It didn't feel like she'd come in the cold alley. Mary was gasping within minutes, Ruin's mouth vicious against her. Teeth and tongue worked her clit, and his nails bit into the tender flesh of her thighs. When he thrust two fingers into her, she screamed. Mary shuddered against the sheets in the stuffy warmth of her rented room, coming against Ruin's eager, hungry mouth.

As she lay there, panting, her head spinning with pleasure and the stinging pain she'd come to associate with sex and Ruin, Ruin crawled up her body. She watched him toss his shirt aside, and then his hands were on her shirt. He ripped it.

"Asshole."

"Shut up, Legs, and just enjoy yourself, hmm?"

At least he had more care with her bra. The minute her breasts were bared, his mouth was on them. She arched her back, pressed closed as the heat and hardness of his cock rubbed against the wet slit of her. His teeth bit around her nipple, and his fingers pulled and twisted the other until she was screaming again, her nails raking red ribbons down his shoulders.

It was when he'd pushed her to the edge yet again that he finally thrust into her, slamming himself forward so hard that it ripped another harsh cry from her throat. "Fuck!" she cursed, the pain mixed with just enough pleasure to make the penetration bearable. Better than bearable. Intoxicating was more like it. As he set a rough, unapologetic pace, all she could do was pull at his hair and dig her heels into his ass.

This is what they had: fucking and violence, pain and pleasure. She didn't know why she wanted it so much, why Ruin made her heart race and chills race down her spine.

Their lips met in another series of hard, toothy kisses, and she tasted blood again. This time, she was sure it was hers. Didn't matter. It just added another layer of pleasure atop all the other pleasure. She dug her nails into the meat of his back, pulled, left a wake of beaded blood along the grooves. Ruin bit her throat, made her scream yet again, and he drew the blood he'd promised her he would. It was good. So good. And goddamn him for making so good.

"Hate you," Mary growled, staring at the ceiling as his hand snaked between them, rubbed at her mercilessly.

"That's the problem, Legs," he panted against her ear. "You don't."

Mary's world became awash in shades of red as she came against his fingers, around his cock. She shouted his name as he groaned hers, as he spilled himself inside her. The world spun, and Mary didn't think it would ever right itself.

Not with Ruin walking the earth.

Advent: Day Seventeen

Title: From Her Perch

Characters: Ronan, Moon

Origin: House of Cards (WIP)

Advent Day: Day 17 (December 13th)

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1,111

—

Moon liked her tree. She'd named it Frank. Frank was a nice name, and he was a nice tree. He cradled her body comfortably, her bare feet dangling beneath her wispy white skirt. She liked the skirt. Skill had given it to her. Woven from some fine fabric Skill had come across in some world or another. It didn't matter. Moon liked it. And she liked Frank.

Her attention was drawn, though, from the tree and her skirt to the clearing ahead. She wouldn't be seen. She didn't want to be seen. Not yet. There were three dozen men and women around the circle of the clearing, near the treeline. Inside stood two men, huffing and puffing in the icy weather. One was tall, broad, with dark hair and a cruel name. Moon had never liked him. He'd made something in her belly slither and roil.

The other… the other she kept coming back to over the years. Just to watch. Always to watch. Moon wasn't allowed to become involved. Outside. The Devil said they had to stay outside, but Moon hadn't always obeyed. A memory tickled at her colorful, twisty mind, but it slipped away before she could grasp it. Instead, she watched her wolf—the pretty blond who was shorter than the other men but had bluebell eyes—fight the bad wolf. The wolf who had driven the pack to the brink of starvation the last three winters.

"Your time as Alpha in this pack is through!" Her wolf growled, circling his opponent, who just laughed and puffed himself up like a balloon. It was supposed to make him look menacing, she supposed, but to Moon, a big balloon didn't seem any more dangerous than a little balloon. Any balloon could be popped.

"You're foolish as fuck if you think you can actually beat me! Two bouts, and you're already close to calling it quits!"

Fire flashed in her wolf's eyes. "Who's quitting?" A little smirk flashed across his face. "And who's the one who drew first blood?"

The dark, nasty wolf roared and charged, but her wolf was quick, agile, and he darted out of the way with his own clipped laugh. After a few seconds, the time for laughter was over, and the fight continued, slashes, dodges, bites, and grappling in the dirt of the clearing.

It was messy. Moon didn't understand why wolves—even in the skin of humans—had to be so messy. She bit her lip to keep from crying out when her wolf fell to the ground, but he jumped up as quickly as he fell. The dark wolf, though, didn't fare as well. Her wolf may have been smaller, but he was faster. Didn't the dark wolf know that the little creatures were the ones to fear? He mustn't, else he wouldn't have attacked her wolf as he had.

But it would be over soon. They were tiring. The night smelled of snow. Oh, how she loved snow. Dancing on ice was so much fun. Gliding and spinning and slipping. Her cheeks would get pink, her nose icy, and she'd laugh. She'd like to dance on ice with her wolf, except he didn't know he was her wolf. Could someone be hers if they didn't even know she existed? Well, she knew she existed, so of course someone could be hers. He was just a little deaf to her voice at the moment. In time, he'd hear her. When the time was right. When was time wrong? Maybe she could ask Frank. Frank had been around a long time in this world. Maybe he would know how time was right or wrong. Or she could ask one of her brothers or sisters. One of the ones who wouldn't roll their eyes at her. She needed to know when time was right. She wanted to touch him. It had been so long since she'd wanted to touch someone… have someone touch her.

A sudden silence made her eyes focus again, and she saw the dark wolf fall. The others around the clearing had stopped cheering for one side or the other. Everyone watched. Everyone waited.

"Do you yield?" The question was ragged, but with a depth, a power she doubted the other wolves could see, though they probably felt it nonetheless. She could see it, though. A glow, a spark that lit up her wolf in the moonlight.

The dark wolf thrashed. "No! I'll never yield!" He had weight to his advantage, and her wolf was bucked off. With the other wolves watching silently now, they grappled, and when her wolf brought the dark one down again, he didn't move.

Her wolf had won. Moon wanted to clap and cheer for him, rush into the clearing and dance with him. But the time still wasn't right. Her wolf—Ronan, Ronan was his name—Ronan was reaching for a woman. She was willowy, golden hair, and she didn't seem to care he was covered in blood. Messy. It was going to get messier if the look in her wolf's eyes indicated anything. The woman had been the bad wolf's woman. The woman would now be her wolf's woman for a little while.

Until the time was right and Moon would be his woman.

Moon's heart fluttered at that fuzzy, distant future she'd only barely glimpsed. A future she wanted, the woman inside her wanted. She bit her lower lip as her wolf bore the woman down. They were going to smoosh now. She understood the mechanics. Ruin had explained it to her a couple of times. Smooshing was supposed to be fun. Moon thought she'd smooshed once, with a girl in a madhouse long ago in France, but it was too filmy. She couldn't grasp the memory. Instead, she watched as her wolf ripped at the woman's clothing, as the woman tore at his jeans.

They were naked soon enough, or close enough to push together over and over. She didn't care for clothes either. They were bulky, unnecessary, and they made dancing more difficult more often than not. If she could go about naked, she would, but many beings on most worlds didn't like nakedness. Moon wrinkled her nose. Such a silly thing. The wolves didn't care. They seemed to enjoy their nakedness. They howled as her wolf took his winnings, and Moon wondered—not for the first time—what it would be like to be the focus of her wolf's rage, lust, and love.

Love.

Ideas didn't fall in love.

But… that could change, couldn't? Everything changed.

As Moon watched Ronan rut with the female wolf, taking his place as Alpha, she hoped. She hoped even the unchangeable could change.

Advent: Day Sixteen (NSFW)

Title: Unleashed

Characters: Bleidd, Terrill

Origin: World of Egaea (WIP)

Advent Day: Day 16 (December 12th)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 3,995

—

The solstice was in full swing, and Bleidd loved the festive, bright celebration. The food stores had been opened, some of the best dried meats pulled out and turned into rich, hearty food. The kitchen had prepared dozens of sweet cakes and honeyed morsels. The Maith of Bleidd's kingdom sang and drank and danced, loving life while the world was blanketed in the harsh beauty of ice.

Bleidd crouched beside Terrill's chair in the great hall, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed. "Dance with me?" he asked.

Terrill looked around, and then back to Bleidd. "Dance with you?"

"You never dance with me." Bleidd gave him a toothy, slightly intoxicated grin. "At least, not in public." Their relationship was well-known, had been celebrated publicly the previous spring, and so Bleidd was ready to revel in his love with his long-time companion in front of their subjects. "Last winter, we were all on the brink of death thanks to Doran. This winter, I want to celebrate life and love with my husband. Dance with me."

Terrill might have blushed, but Bleidd knew he'd taken in his share of the mulled wine. His skin was already lightly flushed to begin with. The scent of it had been driving him to distraction. Terrill looked down at him, and he watched a quiet affection pass through the stormy depths. Terrill was far too reserved, too used to being on the sidelines. He grinned when Terrill finally reached out and used his shoulders as a support to stand up.

"Very well," Terrill chuckled, standing and pulling Bleidd upright as well. "A dance, maybe two, but I refuse to fall all over myself in front of your subjects."

"Our subjects," Bleidd corrected with a snort, "and I don't think they'd care in the slightest."

"They might if you just happened to fall atop me once I was down there," Terrill laughed, and damn, the Maith knew him too well.

"I'm not that drunk," Bleidd quipped, tugging Terrill with him to the center of the hall. There was plenty of room here to dance together. "One dance, and then we can retire." Bleidd couldn't help himself. He cupped Terrill's face and kissed him softly. "We have our own celebrating to do, and I know you don't like fucking me in public."

Terrill moaned softly, melting against him as they began to move to the cheerful music. "I'm still growing used to you touching me public, so sex will have to wait."

"But it's not an impossibility?"

Terrill smiled, pressed their lips together briefly. "I still let you hunt me in the forest, take me as the wolf inside you demands."

It was Bleidd's turn to groan, his cock twitching in his loose trousers. "Tease."

"I'm only a tease if I don't follow through, and believe me, I will," Terrill laughed and spun him around. They linked hands and danced, stepping around one another, but whenever Bleidd tried to bring them close, Terrill made a swift step that kept their bodies apart.

Now he was certain Terrill was teasing, and it made him growl playfully and try to anticipate Terrill's evading moves to foil them. Why had he never noticed what a good dancer his husband was? It felt an eternity ago that he had barely taken notice of Terrill, and he couldn't imagine going back, giving up the love they shared. He laughed as he realized he wouldn't want to give up these silly games they still played with one another either. Terrill never quite settled, always keeping him on his toes, and gods above, he loved the dark-haired Maith for it.

After several tries, he finally stepped right into Terrill's path, foiling another attempt at escape. Once their bodies collided, his arms quickly locked around Terrill's torso, keeping them together, and he delighted in the soft moan the closeness pulled from Terrill. They continued to move, but Bleidd was in control now, and he dictated the way their hips swayed, grinding them together until the healthy flush on Terrill's cheeks deepened ever so slightly, the musk of his arousal perfuming the air around them.

"You certain you wouldn't like to just take you here on the dance floor?" Bleidd growled, dipping his head down to begin licking and nipping along Terrill's throat.

Another moan rumbled against Bleidd's lips as Terrill's hands tightened on his bare shoulders. "If you wish to have my body, Sire, you will have to take me to your chambers."

"Spoilsport." Bleidd bit at Terrill's pulse, loved the sharp, desperate cry it forced from Terrill. "But I love you anyway."

"Think you can at least make it until the end of the song?" Terrill panted.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe," Terrill laughed breathlessly, grinding against him just right.

Bleidd didn't apologize for his arousal; he reveled in it. They shifted and danced, pressed close, and when Bleidd loosened his grip around Terrill, he noted with a hungry growl that Terrill didn't pull back at all but just pressed closer. He could feel the ridge of Terrill's cock through the fabric of their light trousers, but it was just more taunting.

When the last sustained note of the song sounded, Bleidd practically yanked Terrill from the dance floor. There were a couple cheers from the surrounding Maith as he pulled Terrill up toward their chambers, and he grinned wolfishly at his husband, groping him shamelessly. "I do hope you're through teasing now."

Terrill moaned and practically stumbled into their rooms. "Almost. Just… one more thing…"

Bleidd snarled, truly frustrated. What did he have to do to get Terrill in bed?

"Don't make that face. You'll like it." Terrill nudged him and went to the trunk at the foot of their bed. He pulled out a wooden box. The sight of it made Bleidd raise an eyebrow. "Well, it's Solstice, isn't it? For you."

Terrill handed him the box, and Bleidd slowly smirked. "You've kept this present secret. Must be special."

"The smiths weren't done with it until yesterday. I didn't want to even hint at it in case they couldn't finish in time." Terrill bit his lip and looked at him expectantly. "Happy Solstice, Bleidd."

Bleidd sat on the edge of the bed, his arousal forgotten in the wake of Terrill's sweet offering. He opened the lid of the box and stared down into the satin-lined interior. Nestled among the blood red fabric was a white gold collar. Set in the gleaming, beautiful metal were emeralds, and when he looked closer, leaves and vines had been etched into the collar. He blinked slowly, and then looked up at Terrill. "It's lovely." He gave Terrill an odd smile. "But… a collar? Am I your pet now? The wolf domesticated?"

"Hardly," Terrill murmured with a smile. "It's just… to remind you who's always waiting for you when you come back from the hunt or from the borders. It's not to cage the beast, but so the beast remembers home and mate. Wearing the collar doesn't mean you're trapped or leashed, but that you have a place where you'll always be welcome."

The words were so sweet, and the thought Terrill must have put into the gift… Bleidd lifted the collar from the box and held it out to his mate. "Will you put it on me?"

A flush tinted Terrill's cheeks. "Of course." Terrill took the collar from him, and when Bleidd lifted the thick mass of his blond hair, Terrill settled the cool metal against Bleidd's throat. "You don't always have to wear it."

"No, but tonight, I want to." Bleidd felt when the fastener snapped into place, and then he let his hair down once more. He looked at Terrill, positioning his chin just so to give the best view of the collar around his throat. "Do you like it?" he asked, somewhat unsure. It wasn't heavy, wasn't tight, but it was there, a soft reminder that he'd given his heart to another.

"It's beautiful on you," Terrill breathed. "I just knew the emeralds would look amazing against your skin. Warm… tanned… the most beautiful, sunkissed skin I've ever seen." Terrill's hands brushed broadly down Bleidd's chest, fingertips teasing at his nipples before moving lower, along his ribs and down his abdomen to his loose pants. The touch made Bleidd feel utterly desired, cherished, and he grinned as Terrill whispered, "Want to see the rest of your skin."

"I'm aroused," Bleidd warned with a smirk.

Terrill just chuckled and pushed Bleidd's trousers down to pool at his ankles, sinking to his knees before Bleidd in the process. "Even better," Terrill purred, leaning forward to lick the tip of Bleidd's cock, capturing a bead of fluid from the slit.

Bleidd groaned, brought his fingers up to sink into Terrill's dark, curly hair. "Oh, fucking hell," he panted. "I've been as free with my favors as any wolf during mating season, but you… you drive me mad with just a look. A lick, and I want to possess you—mouth, body, and soul."

"Good thing I want the same thing," Terrill murmured against the head of his sex. He rolled his eyes up, and Bleidd's breath caught at the gleam in them. "So possess me, wolf."

Another growl, loud and deep, erupted from Bleidd, and he held Terrill's head still as he pushed his ample cock between the lush, wet lips. The heat of Terrill's mouth was the most sublime sensation Bleidd had ever felt. He'd fucked countless Maith—men and women alike—but Terrill was different. Terrill had tamed him in some way while keeping the wild wolf he'd bound his spirit to free and unfettered. There was no reason to fear loving Terrill, binding himself in marriage to the Forrin Maith, and Bleidd gave himself wholly to their coupling.

Terrill moaned around him, gripped at his hips, and the slight pull let Bleidd know he could thrust deeper. The suction was amazing, and the way Terrill used his tongue and teeth pulled deep sounds from him. He tightened his hold on Terrill's braids and curls and pushed, filling mouth and throat with a moan of satisfaction.

He set a firm, thorough pace, glad that Terrill had worked up to being able to handle more of him this way. Looking down, he groaned to find Terrill's stormy eyes canted up at him, the swirling depths filled with such love and lust. He'd seen the lust before on countless faces, but the love… That was something only Terrill had ever offered up so selflessly, and it was more potent than the spirits they'd consumed during the night's festivities.

Terrill's eyes fluttered shut, and the rumble he felt around his cock was intoxicating. Terrill pulled at him again, and he gave in, thrusting deeper, faster, enjoying the pleasure of his husband's mouth to his heart's content. Those hands just kept encouraging, nails digging into his hips, adding the perfect amount of pain to his pleasure. It was only a few minutes before he grunted, his hips jerking forward as he came, but Terrill refused to stop moving on him, sucking every drop with such passion that Bleidd knew it would be impossible to soften. Not yet. He wasn't even close to being spent yet.

"Terrill!" Bleidd cried out after a few moments, barely managing to pry Terrill off his cock. "By gods, love, you going to spend all night sucking me?"

Panting, Terrill craned his neck, licked the underside of Bleidd's cock. "It was… a thought."

"You don't want my cock inside?" Bleidd ran his thumb over Terrill's wet lower lip. "You just want me here, between your lips?"

Terrill shuddered, and his nails trailed down Bleidd's thighs. "I didn't say that."

Bleidd couldn't help himself. He bent over and drew Terrill into a deep, possessive kiss. It began rather gently, but it wasn't long before he was claiming every inch of Terrill's mouth. A sweet, passive whine from Terrill's throat set his blood on fire, spoke to his feral side in a way that would have made his toes curl if he weren't too busy pulling Terrill up onto the bed and ripping away his trousers.

"Gods, Bleidd!" Terrill gasped when Bleidd pulled back from the kiss to push away the scraps of cloth left behind the harsh yank.

Bleidd's fingers moved back to Terril's entrance, and he paused for an instant, a smirk curling his lips as he teased the already slick hole. "You prepared yourself before the feast?"

"I anticipated you enjoying my gift," Terrill chuckled, his voice raspy in a way that made Bleidd's cock twitch.

"You anticipated correctly." Bleidd licked from Terrill's navel to his throat. "How do you want to be taken? On your back? Astride me?" He paused to suck hard at one of Terrill's nipples. "On your hands and knees?"

Terrill trembled against him. "You'll make me… choose?"

"I like when you choose." Bleidd sucked at the other nipple as his finger pushed inside Terrill, felt how easily the muscles parted.

"Astride at first," Terrill moaned, tangling the fingers of one hand in Bleidd's hair. "And after I make you come again, I want you to fuck me on my hands and knees."

Bleidd shuddered and groaned. "Such a fucking tease, making me sit still 'til then."

"Mmm, but you'll savor every instant, and I'll be so slick from your come, worked open for you, ready to be fucked until I ache from taking your thick cock deep inside me."

"By the time I reach a third round," Bleidd said, nipping at one of Terrill's hips, "I'll be taking your ass for a good half hour."

Terrill pushed him back, climbed atop him. "I know. That's the point."

Bleidd moaned as Terrill dipped his hand in the warm dish of oil, stroked his cock. "When did you become such a debauched demon?"

As Terrill shifted above him, put him into position, he purred, "The day you first took me to bed, Sire." Then, Terrill sat back on his cock, took him in right to the root, and Bleidd forgot to breathe, let alone think of a snappy retort.

Terrill took a few seconds to adjust, but Bleidd felt it acutely when Terrill's body let go, allowing him to sink deeper. His breath rushed out of him in a low moan, and Terrill shuddered above him. Terrill's hands ran up and down Bleidd's torso, teasing and scratching in a way that made his inner wolf curl and chuff. As it was, he moaned and returned the touches, pinching and tugging at Terrill's nipples until Terrill gasped and squirmed atop him.

Terrill set a rhythm, starting slow and deep, and Bleidd smiled up at him, rocking up into every thrust with as much power as Terrill allowed him. "Enjoying the view?"

Terrill's eyes sparkled down at him, and those strong, weapon-worn hands played at his collarbones near the collar he now wore. "Yes… Gods, yes…"

They spent several minutes rocking like that, enjoying the feel of one another, kissing, touching, tormenting one another until they were panting and moaning. Only then did Terrill finally give in and thrust back on him with all his strength, and that harder movement brought the first throaty moan from Bleidd's lips.

Bleidd reached between them, took Terrill in hand and rubbed at the wet slit. "Love when you take yourself… when you revel in my cock."

Terrill's cheeks were flushed, and his hands tightened on Bleidd's chest as he groaned. "Can't help myself."

"Why?" Bleidd growled. "Tell me why you want my cock, why you're pushing back so eagerly against me." He loved making Terrill talk, to part with those secret desires and needs. "Tell me."

Terrill whined, trying to wiggle his way out of answering, but the low growl of a warning that rumbled out of Bleidd caused him to shudder and make another hard thrust down on Bleidd. "Want your cock… because tonight… you're all mine."

Bleidd whined softly. "I'm always all yours." After they'd returned from the hellish torment of Doran's underground fortress, after he'd pledged himself to Terrill, he'd shunned others. "No other shares my body."

Not that it wasn't a thought sometimes. A lusty look from another Maith, the scent of a female when she was ripe to take, and he would chafe at his bonds, his promises. Still, he had promised Terrill, and he would never be unfaithful. He could and would look, but he'd never touch. Never. Bleidd couldn't risk the loss of Terrill.

A tight squeeze of Terrill around him made him gasp back into the present, and a touch to his face drew his gaze back to Terrill's stormy eyes. "You want others, though," Terrill breathed. "I know you're afraid you'd lose me if you gave in, but you won't." Fingers trailed down his face to where the collar was settled against his throat. The touch stole his breath away, and he simply stared up at his husband, his eyes widening. "You're mine, Bleidd. I've given you a collar, but you've already given yourself a leash. I… I don't want you fucking everyone in sight, but… maybe we can be a little more… open to sharing a third?"

Bleidd bucked, rolled them over until he had pinned Terrill to the bed. He snarled, the wolf rising inside him, his amber eyes narrowing. "You hated when I fucked other people. You fucked Keegan to prove to me that my cock was either yours or you wouldn't be mine."

"You were fucking them so you could ignore me, so you could avoid committing. I hated that you didn't consider me your mate, your equal." Terrill didn't fight Bleidd, didn't struggle against his grip. Without that struggle, his wolf felt restless. "I fucked Keegan so you'd see me as more than your subject, more than someone who was just at your beck and call. Would you treat me like that again if we shared someone?"

"No," Bleidd ground out. "Of course I wouldn't."

Terrill brushed back some of Bleidd's golden hair. "Then I've nothing to fear if we invite someone to join us on occasion, when another stirs you."

Bleidd rolled his hips, thrust himself deep. "You tempt the wolf. The wolf wants it, but the Maith in me knows that it would only hurt you. Somehow. At some point. You would hate me for taking another to my bed when I am wed to you."

Terrill cried out and clung to him with strong hands and even stronger thighs. "That's why… I'd have some say… You ask, and I tell you if I'm game, or if you having them would hurt me." Another loud moan escaped Terrill as he bucked up into another thrust. "You'd resist if I asked, right?"

"I resist now," Bleidd gasped. "I have resisted since you fucked Keegan two years ago." He'd not taken anyone else, pouring his need and love and lust into Terrill. Bleidd surged forward over and over, his head swirling with his wolf. The wolf wanted to rut, wanted to spread itself among all the beautiful, enticing Maith that it noticed. Yes, Terrill was mate, would always be mate, but mate was the one in the den. The others were pleasure and dominance.

Bleidd let out a howl, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to force the wolf back, and to keep himself for saying anything more, of agreeing to Terrill's insane idea, he bent to Terrill's neck and bit hard and deep. He would wear Terrill's collar, but Terrill would always wear his mark.

Terrill shouted, the sound ragged and harsh, and the nails at Bleidd's chest moved to his back and pulled, leaving burning ribbons behind. He thrust into Terrill over and over as the metallic tang of Terrill's blood filled his senses. It had to hurt, but he felt Terrill buck up into him, just as eager for the pleasure as he was. He growled, the sound vibrating into Terrill's torn flesh, and his hand darted between them to stroke swiftly at Terrill, work him quickly to the edge.

"Bleidd!" Terrill yelped, gasping and trembling the closer he came to release. "Oh, fuck!"

The tightening of Terrill's body around him just made him thrust faster, harder, and when Terrill came with a scream, he squeezed his eyes shut and rode that same wave into his own release, letting the red haze of blood and pleasure overwhelm him.

Bleidd pulled back from Terrill's throat, his lips wet with blood, and panted as the white haze of release and bloodlust receded. He blinked several times, and then looked down at Terrill. His throat was all but savaged, and Bleidd felt a stab of guilt. Except the guilt rolled out as quickly as it had come in because the wolf was pleased. Bleidd might not piss on Terrill, but he did everything else he could to claim the Maith as his.

Terrill still trembled minutely beneath him, and when those eyes finally focused again and locked with his, he saw the makings of a smile creep onto Terrill's face. It must have pulled too much at his neck, though, because the almost-smile turned to a grimace for a few seconds. "Going to… need some salve for that one."

The tone was still full of humor and love, and Bleidd was suddenly filled with a fierce devotion. Terrill really did love him, not just the Maith, but the wolf he'd become as well. He felt the backs of his eyes begin to sting and leaned down to lick gently over the seeping wound. "I love you."

He didn't say it often, and Terrill rarely demanded it of him, but the way it lit up his mate's eyes made every word all the more meaningful. "I love… you, too… That's why I… wanted to give you this." Terrill's fingers trailed over his collar, and he smiled up at Bleidd. "And take away the leash… you've been holding."

"I never want to make you unhappy again." The rage Bleidd had felt the night he'd discovered Terrill had chosen to bed Keegan instead of himself was something he never wanted to experience again. He'd hurt Terrill deeply, and when they'd been imprisoned, his lack of faith in his lover had led him to say terrible, unforgivable things. "I want you to never look at me with hatred. It would be worse than a death-blow, I think."

"I won't hate you if you're honest, and if you respect my wishes. If you love me and show me that love…" Terrill trailed off, that smile tugging at his lips again. "If you always come home to me, back to den and mate, then I think we can make the rest work."

"What if I hurt you?" Bleidd asked, his voice a bit softer, the slightest bit uncertain.

"Then I'll let you know I'm hurt, and we'll find a better compromise."

It sounded so simple, far too simple. Just communicate and find the middle ground? It would be more complex than that, and Terrill had to know that. Looking into Terrill's eyes, though, he could see the love there, not sad obligation or resentment. "You really want to give up having me all to yourself?"

"I'll still have you all to myself," Terrill insisted, tugging Bleidd's hair until he dipped down far enough for a soft kiss. Terrill breathed against his lips. "All the parts of you that matter are mine, all that's under the surface."

Bleidd all but purred into the kiss. "Come." He smiled against Terrill's lips. "Let us bathe. I'll tend to your throat. And then the wolf and his mate can rut."

Terrill laughed, soft and sensual. "You think my ass can take it?"

"Your ass will be in perfect condition to endure feral attentions," Bleidd growled, nipping Terrill's lower lip. "And you know it."

Terrill stretched beneath him, grinning at him with blatant promise. "Oh, I do, wolf, I do."

Advent: Day Fifteen (NSFW)

Title: Gift of Life Recognized

Characters: Bastian, Riley

Origin: Other Side of Night: Bastian & Riley

Advent Day: Day 15 (December 11th)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 4,219

—

Riley watched Zoe bat at the new scratching post with a fuzzy toy atop Bastian had bought. He laughed softly, enjoying the simple pleasure of his cat's enjoyment. The small Christmas tree blinked and glowed in the corner, and Riley keenly heard the heater click on. A blast of warm air made him close his eyes as he basked in the hot scent that filled the room, made the smell of pine all the more potent. It hadn't been but a few months since Bastian had saved his life, made him half-human, half-vampire. There were still adjustments, hard times, but they were becoming fewer and fewer.

The nightmares weren't as vivid. The hunger not as grating.

The hunger. Just thinking about it made Riley's body burn with the need to taste Bastian. Hell, even if it wasn't blood, he could go for a solid, hard fuck with his lover. Bastian had been working quite a bit throughout December, trying to get ahead of the holiday bills, and it had left Riley horny, slightly hungry, and very restless. The ticking of the clock made a muscle near his eye twitch, and he glanced at the clock face.

Six o'clock.

When the hell would Bastian come home? Couldn't Bastian feel him? Wasn't there some odd, intangible bond between them now that let Bastian know how needed he was? Riley moaned. Once thoughts of Bastian began, they didn't stop. Bastian's lips. Bastian's hand. Bastian's cock. Bastian's fangs. Bastian's blood. Riley's cock hardened in his pajama bottoms, and the slight shifting of the cotton against him forced a soft, desperate cry from his lips. Dammit. He'd jacked off this morning. He'd jacked off twice this afternoon. If he did it again…

It didn't matter. His hands were already pushing his pajama bottoms down, and then he reached for his cock. He pumped quickly, need riding high and hot inside him. This wasn't enough, though. It wasn't Bastian! It was just a pathetic shadow of what he really wanted, and he whimpered, rubbing his thumb over the wet, thick head of his cock.

The slide of the deadbolt and opening of the door made him jump, and his eyes snapped to the door again. Bastian was frozen there for a few seconds, and he could feel the heat of those hazel eyes burning a path over his body. A cool gust from the open door sent a shudder through him, and it seemed to break Bastian's daze. In the space of a second, the door slammed shut, Bastian's bag and coat were thrown aside, and his mouth was claimed in a deep, possessive kiss.

"Cold!" Riley yelped at the chill of Bastian against him. Whether it was the cold night or Bastian's need for blood, Bastian was fucking freezing!

"Ran out of blood at work," Bastian laughed breathlessly. "Boss wouldn't let me go 'til I'd made the place fucking spotless. Needed to get back to you." A cold hand wrapped around Riley's cock, and he hissed at the way the cold made his flesh feel even hotter. "Guess you felt the same?"

"All damn day," Riley moaned. "Couldn't get you out of my head. Been pacing… jerking off… cleaning. Anything to keep me distracted." Bastian kissed him again, and the hunger Riley felt in the way Bastian's tongue moved through his mouth. The hand on his cock warmed a little, stroked him, made him squirm until he was panting against Bastian's lips, his fingers tugging at Bastian's hair. "Fucking need you," Riley breathed. "Feed me, drink from me, fuck me, I don't care! Just… please…"

"Anything you want. Everything you want tonight," Bastian promised, and a smirk curled those lips against his. "First, let me take the edge off."

Edge? There was no taking the edge off! Bastian knew what it was like when they both got this way. It was as if refractory periods simply didn't exist when they hungered and fed one another. Before he could make his tongue cooperate to form some kind of protest, Bastian shoved his thighs open and sank down on his cock, swallowing him whole.

Riley shouted and threw his head back. His fingers tangled in Bastian's hair, tugged down as his hips arched up. He had thought the sexual frenzy would die down, that he would return to his old libido, but when the hunger reared its head, nothing short of fucking and feeding would suffice. Even with Bastian sucking him off now, Riley knew it wouldn't be enough.

Still, he came hard and fast, screaming Bastian's name as he spilled himself between Bastian's demanding lips. Riley sagged against the sofa, panting raggedly, but his body still thrummed with arousal, with bloodlust, and he whimpered, squirming, his cock still rigid against Bastian's tongue. "Bastian…"

Bastian pulled back with a parting swirl of tongue and immediately kissed him again as he moaned and fumbled with the snap and zipper of Bastian's jeans. He needed them naked, needed to feed Bastian and taste Bastian in turn. He licked along one of Bastian's fangs, just barely nicking himself on the tip. Even the hint of blood pulled a growl from Bastian, who quickly suckled his tongue, squeezing every bit of blood out while he could. They pulled back with a gasp, and Bastian's eyes were wide, almost wild with hunger. "Riley… Can't wait…"

Riley smiled and arched his neck. "Then don't," he suggested.

Bastian shuddered against him, and he gasped at the speed with which he was flipped down onto the length of the couch, pinned by Bastian's weight. The suction of Bastian's lips at his throat only lasted a couple seconds, and then those fangs sank in, the pain pulling a shout from him and making his eyes sting. No matter how many times he fed Bastian, that first instant always hurt, but Bastian was getting better at whatever skill vampires had, and the pain soon fizzled out, replaced with a throbbing pleasure that made him pliant, his heavy limbs encouraging Bastian closer.

Warmth and a deep sense of nurturing filled him along with the lust and need. There was nothing like feeding Bastian, and Riley reveled in it. Once the bond had been completed, he'd discovered he had more mobility during the feedings; he could become an active partner if he wanted. Tonight, he wanted. He reached back and grasped Bastian's ass, gripped hard, pulled them together with a deep moan. His own hunger grew, bordered on ravenous, the longer Bastian fed from him, but Riley also didn't care. He only wanted to feed his lover, his master, the one who'd saved him.

He wouldn't have even forced Bastian back, but Bastian had the better instincts, the better timing, and when Bastian pulled back with a deep, rumbling groan, he did his best not to yank Bastian back down to his throat. Bastian grinned, feral and hungry and alive, and ground their groins against one another. "You taste so fucking good."

"But you stopped," Riley slurred, lashes fluttering as pleasure coursed through him. "Didn' havta."

A warm chuckle passed from Bastian's lips to his. "Already took more than I should've… for what comes next."

Riley tilted his head. "Next?"

"The part where you feed on me as you ride my cock," Bastian smirked, thrusting Riley firmly into the sofa to make his arousal apparent before gathering Riley in his arms and hefting him upright. Riley's head spun at the sudden movement, but his moan turned to a laugh as his pajama bottoms were peeled off.

"Impatient!"

Bastian licked at the blood trickling down Riley's throat. "Aren't you?"

A whimper passed Riley's lips, and he groped over to the side table searching for the lube. "Yes. Coming isn't enough."

"Never enough," Bastian agreed, fangs scraping at Riley's throat.

"Need… lube…" And then Riley's hand closed on the bottle, and he yanked his arm back, eyes dark, heart pounding. "Time to slick you up."

Bastian grinned. "Yeah, lots of lube. Want to fuck you so badly, until you're satisfied."

"Could take a lot of fucking," Riley said with a smile, pouring a generous amount of lube over Bastian's cock. He stroked Bastian, moaning at how hard, how hot that cock was, and he was completely lost. All he wanted was Bastian's cock inside him, and in moments, he hand them positioned, and then he slammed down, taking Bastian inside without pause. "Ah, fuck! God, not enough!"

Bastian moaned and his hands—those rough, strong, sculptor's hands—tightened on Riley, helping him make the most of every thrust. He whimpered at Bastian's throat, sucking hard, taking in as much blood as he could. It wasn't enough. God, it was never enough to fully sate the hunger that always burned inside him. When Bastian started to pull him back, he growled, wanting more, needing more, but Bastian's hand moved from his shoulder to his hair and yanked until he gasped and arched back. He whined, and before he could form words, Bastian's lips were on his, their tongues tangling in their mingled blood. It was messy as fuck, but the most erotic damn thing he could have asked for as Bastian tried to tame that hunger, focus it back into the way their bodies collided again and again.

He lost track of time, kissing, thrusting, moaning at every touch Bastian's fingers trailed down his spine and across his sensitive nipples. Every nerve was on fire with Bastian's blood, and even when he felt Bastian buck and come inside him, he knew neither of them was finished. Bastian slapped his ass and repositioned him on his knees before slamming back into him from behind.

Riley screamed, his cock straining between his thighs. The blood made them into animals, but that was all right. It was fucking fantastic. Bastian's teeth—sharp and dangerous—moved down his spine as they surged together. "Bastian!" He pushed back, panting and moaning. "Harder!"

Harder became almost painful, the pace deep, brutal, and just what Riley needed. By the time he came, squirming and shouting as his seed fell to the worn fabric of the sofa, his body ached. A deep, bone ache that made him groan as he pushed back against Bastian, as his own cock refused to soften. Not every feeding was so endless, so frenzied, but Riley loved when they were pushed to this extreme. Every so often, it made him remember just how alive he was… and who was responsible for it.

Bastian rammed into him again and again, and the rough shout that echoed in their living room was joined by a loud jingle as Zoe dashed into the bedroom. Bastian's fluids coated him a second time, and the pace finally faltered. He squeezed around Bastian, trying to keep him deep, but Bastian just groaned and eased back from him. "Bastian… Why are you—You're still hard…" They couldn't be done yet, could they?

"You bet your ass I'm still hard," Bastian panted with a laugh. He helped Riley up onto his knees and turned him around for a kiss. This time, however, it was slower, deeper, more intimate, even after the passion of their feeding. Bastian tugged at a lock of his hair before brushing it back from his sweaty face. "I just think we can take the next one nice and slow… make love. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

A flush crept over Riley's face. "I'd love it. Here… or the bedroom?"

Bastian nipped his lower lip gently. "Bedroom. Let me clean you up a little, and then make love with you."

"I've missed you," Riley whispered, caressing Bastian's cheek. "All these late shifts… early mornings… I'd rather have you than a lavish Christmas gift."

"Really?" Bastian asked, a goofy smile on his lips.

Riley couldn't help but kiss him. "Really."

A healthy blush colored Bastian's cheeks right up into his dark hair, so warm he could feel it against his fingertips. "So, you gonna send my lavish Christmas gift back, then?"

Riley laughed. "I didn't say that!" He hopped off the sofa, or tried until he realized his body was already incredibly tender. Bastian was right there when he moaned, and he accepted the warmth of Bastian's arm around his waist as they walked back to their bedroom, and the bathroom beyond that. "I wouldn't insult you by sending it back."

"Good, because I know you're gonna love it." Bastian teased, his voice taking on that sing-song tone that did terrible things to Riley's curiosity.

"Tell me," Riley demanded as Bastian wet a soft washcloth and shook his head. "Please, tell me?"

"Nope," Bastian laughed. "Not yet. Get clean first, and then you'll find out on your own." He reached out and bent Riley over the edge of the sink, kissing down his spine and cleaning his ass and legs tenderly.

Riley moaned, closing his eyes for a moment. "I like being messy."

"No, you don't," Bastian said against the crack of Riley's ass. "You hate being covered in come and blood."

"I don't hate it. It just usually makes a huge mess everywhere."

Bastian finished cleaning him, and then turned Riley around. "I know. Now there won't be a mess when I take you to our bed, hmm?"

Riley wrapped his arms around Bastian's neck and drew him in for a soft kiss, lingering there, the bloodlust and need now background noise he could easily ignore. "I love you."

An adorable half-smile came over Bastian's face, the kind Riley always thought were the most genuine and self-satisfied from Bastian. "I love you, too. Now, c'mon." Bastian gave his ass an affectionate squeeze. "Your present's in the spare room."

Riley's eyebrows rose, but he kept his mouth shut as Bastian took him by the hand and led him down the hallway. Was his present too big to put under the tree? His heart raced with excitement and curiosity, and when Bastian opened up the spare bedroom's door, he did a quick sweep of the space with his eyes and frowned. Nothing looked different.

Bastian crossed to the other side of the bed and dipped down. There was a high-pitched mew and the shuffle of cardboard, and then Bastian stood, cradling a calico kitten in his arms.

Riley laughed, clasping his hands in front of his mouth. "You got another cat?" he asked, but he couldn't keep the excitement from bubbling inside him. He'd wanted another cat for a year now, but with the small apartment, their busy schedules, and the whole vampire-ghoul thing, he hadn't thought they could get one just yet. "But, Bastian, I told you I didn't want another pet until we could move."

"I know." Bastian said as he brought the tiny kitten over to Riley. "Remember that three bedroom apartment we looked at? The one with the awesome kitchen and the big master bathroom?"

"Yes." Riley couldn't help himself. He reached for the kitten, taking its slight, warm weight into his arms. "But the deposits were too much. We couldn't afford it." He grinned at the kitten. "Is it a boy or girl?" he asked, not wanting to manhandle it so he could check himself.

"Boy," Bastian chuckled, "and you get to name him. Your other gift is attached to the bow."

Riley's curiosity piqued, he untied the bow Bastian had tied onto the kitten's collar, laughing as the kitten tried to climb up his chest. His muscles twitched as he removed the bow and uncovered the key taped to the back. "But… it's blank," he said, his fingertip running over the uncut edge of the key.

"It won't be blank when we get it cut to fit that new apartment."

Riley blinked several times before the little kitten's mewing broke him from his shock. "But—"

"No buts," Bastian interrupted. "I took care of the deposits, paid the first two months, everything."

"We got the apartment?" Riley felt a smile tugging at his lips. "We really got the apartment?"

"Yep." Bastian reached out, teased the kitten until he bit at Bastian's fingertip. "We move in February first."

Riley bounced just a little. "Plenty of time to pack."

"That was the plan." Bastian cupped Riley's cheek and smiled. "No more late nights now. I just… really wanted to give this to you. You've given me so much, Riley."

A flush moved over Riley's cheeks. "Have I?"

"I thought it was a social death sentence when I became a vampire. You've supported me through everything, put up with my quirks, and you give me the blood that makes it possible for me to live instead of just make do. I've never felt so close to anyone, loved anyone like I love you, and—"

"Shh," Riley soothed, pressing a finger against Bastian's lips to keep him from rambling. It was the cutest damn thing Bastian did when he was excited, hints of that shyness that had amused him when they'd first met.

Bastian kissed his finger. "You've given me the life I wanted and more," he concluded. He moved to hug Riley, but it was a light embrace. Bastian was very aware of the kitten, careful not to accidentally smother it between them. It was a small gesture that made him love Bastian all the more.

"So. A boy kitten. And I get to name him?" Riley grinned. "I'll have to think about it. We'll let Zoe get used to him while he tells us his name."

Bastian kissed his nose. "Sounds like an excellent idea."

"Know what's also an excellent idea?"

"Mmm… hot cocoa and marshmallows?"

Riley gave Bastian a little kick. "You taking me back to bed so I can show you just how much I love your gifts."

"Even better." Bastian shivered and gave him another squeeze before gingerly returning the kitten to the area beside the bed. Riley peered over and felt a surge of pride at the little litter box and bed set up Bastian had provided. He guessed the cardboard crate had just been to keep the kitten quiet for Bastian's shift.

He practically bounced when Bastian pulled him from the room and back toward their bedroom, and the kisses Bastian gave him along the way did wonders to revive his need. By the time Bastian pushed him down to the bed, he was moaning, his cock hard and ready. Riley arched up into Bastian's knowing hands, his own combing through Bastian's beautiful, dark hair.

"I can't believe you got the apartment," Riley whispered between kisses. "I loved that kitchen."

Bastian nuzzled Riley's throat. "I know," he murmured as he settled between Riley's spread thighs. "I wanted to give it to you so badly. You've been paying for everything since I moved in. It let me save up, give you everything."

Riley's back bowed as he pressed his chest to Bastian's hot mouth. "You already gave me the best gift," he panted. "You gave me life."

Bastian's head snapped up, eyes dark as they stared at Riley. "What?"

"You gave me life." Riley swallowed thickly. "I never thanked you for it. I never told you it's all right. I never… I never let you know I'm so thankful, Bastian… so thankful to have this life, to be with you, to see my family every holiday… and it's all because of you."

Bastian bit his own lip gently. "But… it won't always be easy, and you didn't have the choice. Are you really happy? Think it's worth it? You're sure?"

Riley suddenly felt a twinge of guilt. He'd put Bastian through hell when he'd come back from the hospital. The bloodlust had made him angry, promiscuous, addicted — things he'd never wanted or intended to be. He'd apologized, and Bastian had told him over and over that he understood, but maybe he'd bit his tongue too often, refused to talk about it in favor of putting their classes and lives back in order.

"I've never been happier," Riley whispered and brought their lips together in another deep, lingering kiss.

Jake had ruined him in ways, ways that Riley knew he'd never get back. But Bastian… Bastian had given him so much. It wasn't chains he was bound in. It was love. He loved Bastian. Loved him with a fierceness that wasn't born of a blood bonding. It was because Bastian was the most thoughtful, caring man he'd been with, and he wanted no one else. Ever. And ever was looking to be a very long, long time.

Riley pressed up against Bastian, trying to say without words how much Bastian was wanted, needed. There would be time for more words later, a late night talk while he lay in Bastian's arms. Now, though, was for touch and taste and love. In a burst of strength, he swapped their positions, pushing Bastian down into the mattress, and then he reached for the lube.

Bastian groaned and pinched his nipples, making him gasp. "So fucking hot when you're on top."

"I know how much you like it." Riley rolled his hips forward against Bastian before he squeezed more lube out onto Bastian's cock. "You like watching me enjoy you."

"I do," Bastian moaned. "You're gorgeous when you ride me. Touch yourself."

Riley chuckled, enjoying the length and girth of Bastian in his hand. "Voyeur."

"And proud," Bastian purred, shifting up into each stroke, "especially when I have such a sexy redhead to watch and tease."

"So you want to tease me? Make me squirm?" Riley grinned, stroking and rubbing Bastian.

"Yeah. God, yeah." Bastian shuddered and reached up to pinch and roll Riley's nipples. "Your birthday's only a few months away. We'll have to celebrate by piercing your nipples. Then I'll get to really tease you."

Riley shuddered, cried out at the idea. His nipples—always so damn sensitive—stung, hardened under Bastian's touch. "Pierce them?" They'd joked about that in the past, but Riley hadn't seriously considered it.

"You don't want to?" Bastian asked, plucking at each nipple, driving Riley crazy.

"No!" Riley bucked, his own cock neglected, aching between them. "No, I… I think I do—fuck, Bastian!"

"That's supposed to be your job," Bastian teased. "Could be sexy… rings, or those little barbells. Green stainless steel to show off how flushed you get when you're turned on."

Riley let go of Bastian's cock and squirmed his way into position. "Evil bastard." He slid down the length of Bastian with a low, long groan, closing his eyes to fully savor the aching stretch of his lover. "Bastian…"

Bastian groaned, pushed up, his hands moving all over Riley's body, everywhere he could touch. "I know," he panted. "I know."

Riley began to rise and fall, slowly, deeply, taking Bastian in root to tip over and over. He moaned, was selfish in his pleasure. It felt so damn good. Better than the frenzied fucking on the sofa. This was pleasure and love and everything warm and good in life. Riley opened his eyes, stared down at Bastian, and just kept moving.

Bastian's hands were all over him, from his nipples to his hips, to the most wickedly perfect caresses to his cock, never staying too long. It wasn't just the touches and the push of Bastian's cock that made his heart speed in his chest. The look in Bastian's eyes, so dark with love and pleasure, struck deep into him, making every movement that much better for the two of them.

"Kiss me," Bastian gasped out, his hand trailing down the center of Riley's chest to finally wrap around Riley's cock. "Please… So close…"

The touch made him shudder, and though his thighs were burning, he tried to hold out. He whimpered as he bent over, keeping his pace by sacrificing depth. He kissed Bastian with every ounce of strength he had, showing in action what was sometimes so difficult to express in words. Bastian was the world to him. His life would always be tied to Bastian's. The thought used to terrify him, but now, he felt a deep relief at knowing Bastian would love him, need him, take care of his every need.

Bastian cried out against his lips, and Riley felt that warm slickness spread inside him. It was all he needed to tip him over the edge. His breath caught, and he trembled atop Bastian, his come spattering over Bastian's belly. Riley panted as he sagged, draped himself across Bastian, and he smiled faintly as his heart pounded in time with Bastian's. The lust inside him was sated. Riley's desire was still, and he purred against Bastian's throat, utterly spent.

Bastian's fingers tangled in his hair, petting him in a lazy, uncoordinated way that made him chuckle. "Going to put my hair in knots," he warned, nipping Bastian's collarbone.

"Then I'll brush out every coppery lock later, while we sip that hot cocoa with marshmallows, and I make a mess of your kitchen with more holiday cookie baking."

Riley hummed, too content to worry. "It's all been worth it, and when the future comes, Bastian, it'll be worth it then, too. I love you, and if you hadn't saved me… I couldn't be here now to love you."

"Then I made the right choice, saving you?" Bastian asked, but there wasn't the same worry in his tone as before.

"Yes. You did," Riley chuckled, nuzzling him.

"Best Christmas gift ever."

Advent: Day Fourteen

Title: Cracked Serenity

Characters: Alasdair, Evan, Lachlan

Origin: World of Egaea (WIP)

Advent Day: Day 14 (December 10th)

Rating: G

Word count: 1,917

—

Evan sighed happily as he climbed up into his favorite bower with his sketch pad and charcoal sticks. The birds were about today, the weather warm, mild, absolutely perfect for a sketching session amongst the branches and broad leaves of the tall tree. He sat, propping himself up against the two pillows he kept stowed away in the perch. It was always a joy to draw outside, and the island of Yve was unlike any other place he had visited in all his travels. Even in the storm season, Yve was brimming with life. The gods must have willed it so. It was their home, after all, invisible to most, protected by magic much older than what he could boast of as a Fire Elf. Evan couldn't think of any other place he would rather be.

He hummed to himself and sketched. Time seemed to wander away from him as he sketched the birds that tittered and chirped around him, and it was only when he heard his name shouted from the main house that he snapped out of his artistic trance.

"Evan! Evan, come down! I need your help!"

Evan frowned a little as he quickly packed up his drawing supplies. Alasdair rarely called for him. The lesser god could simply blink and appear up in the bower with him. Why call him down? Alasdair's voice was as calm as ever. If something was wrong, his lover wasn't letting on.

He climbed down from the bower, smiling a goodbye to the birds on his way down. "Alasdair? What's the matter? What do you need my help fo—" His voice cut off as abruptly as his steps, and he stared at Alasdair for a few seconds.

In Alasdair's arms was a cloak-wrapped Elf with dark hair and unnaturally pale skin. His eyes were a cloudy green, dulled by something Evan didn't understand. What he did understand was the coloring, and he frowned. He opened his mouth to speak, but Alasdair stopped him.

"Please, draw a warm bath. He needs heat, and quickly. I will undress him."

Evan shook his head. "Why do you have what looks to be a drunken, half-dead Wood Elf in your arms?"

Alasdair gave him a tight smile. The expression was strange on the beautiful face. "A bath, Evan. He needs a bath. Heat. Please. I cannot impress upon you how important it is in these moments to get him warm."

Evan couldn't help but blink a few times to clear the worst of the shock from his mind, but he nodded and murmured, "As you wish." He led the way into their home built in the branches and trunk of an ancient tree. The bathroom was one of the innermost rooms, and he quickly opened the taps, filling their tub with water. He concentrated his energy into the water, heating it with his magic. When he turned, Alasdair had completed his own task of stripping the Wood Elf, and he helped his lover lift the Elf into the tub, settling him as gently as possible in the hot water. He hissed in a breath. "Gods, he's frigid as the peaks of Jemydi at full winter! What's going on?"

Alasdair reached over to him and brushed a lock of his fiery hair back from his face. "There is no easy way to explain."

The touch warmed him, soothed something inside him, and he licked his lips. "Then speak plainly. You're good at that."

Alasdair smiled and gave a single nod. "He is your uncle."

Evan frowned. "I have no uncle who is a Wood Elf. I'm a Fire Elf. Fire and Wood don't mix, remember?"

"Regardless, this is Lachlan." Alasdair brushed his fingers through the matted sable hair, and the Elf in the tub moaned, shifted in the hot water. "He is the latest experiment from the House of Shadows. Our Lady Gaeda sought me out, told me to take him from them before they could do anything worse than what has been done."

Lachlan? That was Uncle Lachlan? The asshole who had utterly destroyed him as a child, that ruined and warped his own three children in the process, left behind a broken wife, and caused them to almost lose the House of Fire in the First Guild War? "Why the hell did you bring him here?" Evan demanded, fury and fear filling him at the sight of the body housing his uncle's spirit. "I told you I was glad he was dead! I was rid of him. So were Tiergan, Maelog, and Dilys!" Gods be praised, when Dilys heard of this, she would piss herself.

"He did much harm in life," Alasdair admitted, "but whether or not you would will it, the Shadow Elves brought him back. We are now given a choice. Do we let the madness of being in this new body drive him to a second death, or do we help him in the hopes that this new life makes up for his past mistakes?"

Evan clenched his jaw. Leave it to Alasdair to put things in just the right way. Choice? There was no choice for him, and Alasdair probably knew that all too well. He couldn't kill his own uncle in cold blood, even if the world would be better off without him. He sighed, unable to glare at Alasdair with any real fire. "I'm guessing you chose life."

"I always do," Alasdair said with a small smile.

Lachlan moaned in the tub, the sound rough and broken. Evan looked his uncle over, and the glare he couldn't focus on Alasdair was easily offered to Lachlan. "You do know his children will be hurt. It's all Lachlan knows to do. Hurt everyone around him. All those who love him, offer him love, seek his approval…" Approval that was never given. How long had he striven to be given even a shred of his uncle's pride? But, no. He was the bastard son of Lachlan's brother. A king's whore had conceived him, and though he grew up with the rights and privileges of the legitimate royalty, he himself had never been royalty. And Lachlan had never let him forget it.

The pain of those times, of his agonizing childhood and those desperate early years as adult, made Evan's chest ache. How he hated Lachlan. Hated him with such a passion.

"Hate is a terrible emotion," Alasdair murmured, his golden eyes shining like the sun. "And do not all deserve a chance to change? Death may have altered his perspective on life."

"Or it may have cemented it," Evan snapped.

Alasdair was silent for a minute, and that sort of silence never failed to unnerve Evan. Even if Alasdair was simply thinking, when Evan was arguing to the tune of silence, it made him feel foolish. Lachlan whimpered and mumbled, shifting restlessly in the tub. He couldn't make out any actual words. The Elf was cracked, completely mad, and damn him to the depths, it actually sparked the smallest flame of sympathy in him.

"I cannot care for him all by myself," Alasdair breathed.

"He will rage as soon as he's able."

"He will need the care of another Elf," Alasdair prompted.

Evan shook his head, gesturing wildly. "They took the most violent spirit floating in the Great Sea and shoved it into the most volatile, animalistic kind of Elf in existence!"

"All the more reason to place him with a lesser god and an Elf who knows all too well what he is capable of."

Evan crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

"Not while that spark of sympathy remains in the depths of the spirit I love so much."

A flush stole over Evan's cheeks. Alasdair knew just what to say. "How long will the madness last?"

"I cannot say." Alasdair picked up the soap and began to clean Lachlan, even as Lachlan winces and made the most pathetic of sounds. "Gauwyn was mad for almost two years."

Evan sighed and removed his tunic, setting it aside, and joined Alasdair at the edge of the tub. He picked up the pitcher and tried to wet Lachlan's oily, filthy hair. "Why is he such a mess?" he asked, curiosity—for the moment—overriding any sense of self-preservation.

"The body they used was kept prisoner for months, and then murdered. I do not think they cared about his hygiene."

"King Terfel is going to be pissed the minute he finds out one of his Elves was murdered so Lachlan of the royal line of the House of Fire could live again." Evan added soap to Lachlan's hair, massaged his scalp. "And when Maelog learns of his father's return…"

"He will be angry, and then hopeful. I fear he will be grateful his lover is a skilled aura worker." Alasdair looked troubled by the thought, and to Evan, that really didn't bode well for his cousin.

"Of all the Elves to bring back from the dead," Evan muttered. "One thing is fucking certain. The world has become a better fucking place since King Lachlan was taken from it."

"It is that very fact I hope will get through to him." Alasdair paused in his cleaning to lean over and give Evan a kiss that managed to curl his toes in its simplicity.

Lachlan stirred, a little clarity filling his eyes, and Evan pulled back from the kiss, eyeing his uncle defiantly. "Uncle?"

Lachlan screamed and jerked away from them, splashing water all over the floor as he moved to the other side of the tub. He pulled at his wet hair, shivering violently while whimpering, his eyes squeezed shut. "The birds are chirping, chirping, and won't shut up! Deafening. The fog is deafening, and the sun chokes," he whimpered, curling in on himself.

Evan stared at Lachlan, at the shivering, pathetic Elf his proud uncle had been reduced to. Death would be a relief for him now, and something inside him hardened at that thought. Lachlan didn't deserve the easy way out. If that meant caring for him through this madness, then so be it. He turned to Alasdair as he tugged the ties of his trousers loose. "Pull down the blinds and make sure the bedroom is shaded from the sun. I suppose we'll have to keep an eye on him at all times."

Alasdair's eyes glimmered with warmth, even though his expression didn't change. "Then you'll accept Lachlan as your charge with me? You can forgive him?"

Evan let out a slow breath as he stepped into the tub. "I'll see him through the madness and give him the second chance at life. I never said I would forgive him."

He held Alasdair's gaze for a few seconds and was relieved when Alasdair simply nodded and offered him a small smile. "Thank you, love."

Evan managed to chuckle. "Don't thank me yet." He turned to the cowering Elf, letting out a long breath, and then inched closer, intent on drawing Lachlan into his arms. As Lachlan struggled, and the enormity of the task at hand sank in, Evan wondered if anything good could truly come of this assignment. His bastard of an uncle, in his care, and as cracked as any Elf brought back by the House of Shadows.

In that moment, simplicity evaporated out his life, and as Lachlan screamed again, Evan wondered if he'd end up just as crazy as his uncle when it was all said and done.

Release Day!

Today is a release day for me. Not a big release, but it's still a release! Alpha's Pride, which was originally published in Wild Passions, came out on its own today. It was co-authored with K. Piet, and it's going for $1.99, ebook only.

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Alpha's Pride

Alec and Nahale are feral-Maith, genetic offshoots from a fantastic race. Their clan is home to many kinds of feral characteristics, but the powerful predators—wolves and felines alike—are the protectors, hunters, and leaders. Both Alec and Nahele enjoy their arrangement, finding pleasure with one another away from prying eyes, but Alec's worries about their clan's security have long fallen on deaf ears.

Under pressure, Alec challenges Nahale for leadership of their clan, threatening to destroy the relationship they'd been building for years. Nahele is anything but weak, and his stubbornness could endanger the clan's stability, not to mention his own life. When push comes to shove, Nahele is confronted with the most difficult choice a leader can face: resist and maintain his pride or yield control of the clan to the feral-Maith he once trusted.

You've seen Alec already in my Advent series (his short with Tavish is over here), and you'll see Nahele again later in the month (with his lover, Keegan).

I can't wait to truly tell Alec and Tavish's story and Nahele and Keegan's story (though their story is MASSIVE). It makes me so impatient!

Also, Other Side of Night: Bastian & Riley is now available in print. 190 pages, and $9.99!

Finally, a little teaser from one of the bonus shorts that will be available in the Advent: Collected Shorts release that won't be available for free anywhere.

From the short Orion:

Alaric loved to watch Orion. There was something about the slight, boyish frame, the petulant lips, and how he looked encased in leather. It made hunger gnaw at him as he watched Orion all but crawl into their next meal's lap. The broad, muscular man squeezing Orion's hand stank of whiskey and arousal, but under that odor was the rich, musky scent of blood.

Orion rocked in the man's lap, and Alaric ground his teeth together. The boy was getting too close. And then Orion licked up the man's throat, slid his hand between them to massage their prey's cock through his jeans. Even from fifteen feet away, Alaric could hear the man groan, the sound deep, drunk, and needy. Jealousy flared as brightly as hunger, and then Orion's black eyes—surrounded by black kohl and red shadow—focused on Alaric.

On him.

In those black, soulless depths, Alaric saw himself, saw how devoted Orion was to him, and how bored he was with the human. Food. That's all they were, that look said. It said… watch me capture him, bring my mate a bountiful meal. Alaric felt a smile tug at his lips, and he faded back into the shadows, leaving the club and heading back to the loft he shared with Orion.

He didn't have to wait long, though, before Orion ushered the man into their den, a fey, pleased smile on his face as his heels clacked on the concrete floor. Alaric didn't think there was anything sexier, deadlier, than his petite, slim Orion, tempting men who liked their conquests young.

Orion, though, was anything but young.

The man blubbered some kind of protest at the sight of him sitting on the far corner of the bed, but Orion turned on him and pursed his lips. "Shh," he comforted, drawing a single finger across the drunk's stubble. "Don't mind Alaric. He just likes to watch."

Alaric fought the dual urges to growl and chuckle. Orion was good, but he was only partially right. He only liked to watch Orion, not their prey. Not that it mattered. Orion put on his best alluring smile and tugged the man toward the bed, but his eyes were on Alaric as he allowed the drunk to push off his coat and ride his shirt up his slender torso. Orion knew he was watching, damn him, and the sight of his dark nipples peeking out from under the black, synthetic fabric sent a shiver down Alaric's spine.

He paid no attention to the man's compliments, or even to the man himself. All he cared about was the way Orion masterfully lured the man closer and closer to him, from one side of the bed to the other, with little kisses and licks, like he was some treat from the ice cream truck. The moment the man was close enough for Orion's liking, he straddled him, pulled him eagerly down for a kiss, and tilted his head. The fool took the bait and kissed down Orion's neck, and Alaric saw the ruthless gleam in Orion's eyes as Orion smiled up at him.

Advent: Day Thirteen (NSFW)

Title: The Gift

Characters: Terfel, Gauwyn

Origin: World of Egaea (WIP)

Advent Day: Day 13 (December 9th)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 3,981

—

Gauwyn practically bounced in his seat as Terfel hefted a large package his way. They had retired from the Yule festivities when Terfel had promised him his gift was waiting in their bedroom. Their first Yule as a wedded couple, and he had enjoyed his fair share of the party, the feast, and even the mulled wine. That last one had probably affected him a bit more than he wanted to admit, but it had him in an excellent mood as he kissed Terfel and opened up the box.

His smile fell into a confused expression. He pulled up a manacle from the box, the attached chain rustling about with a metallic clang. "Um… Thanks?" He couldn't think of any other response. What the hell was this all about? Manacles and chain and a couple strips of colored silk? Other than that last part, it was like the chains he'd been bound to in the House of Earth. That thought chilled his blood, and his hand trembled as he settled the cuff and chain back into the box and fought not to hug himself.

Terfel smiled at him, soft and loving and full of understanding. "It's time you faced what happened, and learned what pleasures can be found in bondage."

Gauwyn shook his head. "There's no pleasure in bondage," he whispered. "Only pain."

"Not with me." Terfel leaned over and cupped his cheek. "Never with me, love."

Gauwyn bit his lower lip, but as much as he wanted to, he couldn't look away from those stunning green eyes. Terfel wouldn't lie to him, couldn't lie to him with the depth of the bond they had connecting them. He would sense it, see it in those eyes, but Terfel wasn't lying. His breath shivered out of him, fear entering his gaze. "Terfel, please…"

"You have to trust me, Gauwyn," Terfel insisted, refusing to let go of his gaze or his face.

A tremor started to take hold of Gauwyn's arms, and he shivered, clenching his hands into fists. "I do trust you. I don't have to be tied up to prove that." It was a weak argument, and it didn't surprise him when Terfel gave him that look. The look that said, Really? You know better than that. Gauwyn gritted his teeth. "I don't want to go back there, all right? I don't want to remember the House of Earth or the damned House of Shadows. I have a difficult enough time with the nightmares. I don't need the reality again. Not with you."

Disappointment flitted through Terfel's eyes, whispered along the soulbond, and his hand dropped from Gauwyn's cheek. A small smile curved Terfel's perfect lips, and he nodded. "All right." He stood, tucking the manacles and colorful silk back into the box and set the lid firmly on top. "I will have Fyrah take these from the room in the morning."

Terfel picked up the box and set it on the floor by the door, and then began to undress. He removed the lovely white and pale blue robe he'd worn for the festival, so unusual for the king. Gauwyn had thought it so strange to see Terfel in more than just trousers of some kind, but Terfel had wanted to make a good impression on the visiting delegates from the House of Spirits. He'd been a sight, regal and swathed in colors that made his gold hair shine, and Gauwyn's eyes hadn't turned from him but for a few moments in the night.

"Terfel…" Gauwyn whispered, wringing his hands in his lap.

"A bath would be ideal, I think. There's a chill in the air," Terfel said, his voice gentle and light as he headed toward their private bathing chamber. "I'll call for a page to light the hearths while we bathe and prepare for bed."

Guilt swept through Gauwyn without mercy, tying knots inside him even more powerful than the fear. He couldn't bear that look in Terfel's eyes, couldn't bear the disappointment. The chains and bonds in the box had been Terfel's gift to him, something Terfel had put quite a lot of thought into, and he couldn't just cast them aside like they meant nothing. "Wait," he breathed, and when Terfel only paused for a moment before stepping over the threshold of the bathroom, he raised his voice. "Wait, damn you!"

That got Terfel's attention, making him turn in the doorway, and Gauwyn hopped off the bed and crossed the distance between them. There was a flicker of anger in Terfel's eyes, but he saw it turn to surprise when he pulled Terfel down into a kiss. It was tense for a few moments, but Terfel relaxed, allowing him inside to curl his tongue along Terfel's. When he pulled back, it was with a shaky exhale. "I'm afraid," he admitted, his fingers tracing over Terfel's face. "I'm afraid because of everything that's happened in the past. That's not your fault, and I shouldn't punish you for it. I just… I don't know if I can face it alone."

He glanced back at the box, but Terfel's hand brought his face back around. His other strong arm wound its way around Gauwyn's waist, and the warmth of the embrace made him shiver as Terfel murmured, "You won't face it alone. I'd never ask you to confront the past if I wasn't about to stand by your side. I want to show you the pleasure. It will be worth it."

"You promise?" It sounded childish even to Gauwyn's ears, but he couldn't help but ask.

Terfel just grinned. "I promise. Now, does this mean we get to take my gift back out of its box?"

Gauwyn blushed but nodded. "Just… be gentle with me."

"I always am," Terfel purred, and then he brought the box back to the bed.

Gauwyn's heart raced when the manacles flashed in the candlelight. Gods, what was he doing? His imprisonment had been hellish, nothing but torture and violation. Why the hell was he doing this now? With his husband? In their bed? He didn't want to associate anything terrible with Terfel. Terfel was his safe haven from the nightmares, and—

"Stop." Terfel cupped his face, brushed his thumbs over the apples of Gauwyn's cheeks. "This isn't about torture or rape or anything else they put you through. This is about us. About trust. About taking a step together." He leaned down and kissed Gauwyn so softly, so tenderly. "I love you. That makes all the difference."

"I trust you," Gauwyn whispered against Terfel's lips. "I do, I just…" He just didn't trust himself, and that was the problem. The House of Shadows and House of Earth had messed with his brain so badly, he couldn't trust in himself, and that wound up meaning his trust in Terfel was a weak, shaky thing. "Show me." He looked up into those oak green eyes that had captured him from day one. "Show me I can trust myself… trust you."

Terfel drew him into a long, slow kiss. It was one of those kisses that made Gauwyn's knees weak and his cock hard. No one kissed like Terfel. The Wood Elf had spent decades honing that one skill, and Gauwyn was trembling with want by the time Terfel drew back.

"Undress for me," Terfel murmured, lips trailing down Gauwyn's throat. "Undress, and then lay in the center of our bed."

Gauwyn moaned, the sound bordering on a whimper as he arched into Terfel's touches. His own robe was in the way of Terfel's lips, though, and he forced himself back so he could unfasten the ties of the heavy fabric and start stripping off his layers. Yes, layers. Terfel despised the many layers worn by several of the other Houses, and Gauwyn knew it was a tease whenever he had to slowly reveal his body to his husband.

A low growl escaped Terfel, causing Gauwyn to smirk. He deliberately slowed down, peeling the last layer slowly off his chest and up over his head. While his vision was blocked, a force smashed into him, and he yelped as he was tackled down onto the bed. Terfel's hands joined his, all but ripping the fabric free of his body as they laughed and kissed. It was perfect, until he glimpsed the box again, but he refused to freeze up, no matter how badly he wanted to.

"What did you have planned?" he asked, pulling back from another kiss to moan while Terfel's fingers trailed down over his body. "How do we start?"

"Like this." Terfel's lips moved down Gauwyn's body, teased nipples, sides, and navel. "We make you crazy with lust, and then we test a limit."

Gauwyn cried out as Terfel's lips pressed to the wet slit of his cock. In moment, Terfel was swallowing him down, broad hands holding his hips to the mattress. The way Terfel could use his mouth was downright indecent, and Gauwyn writhed, moaned, and tugged at Terfel's golden hair. "T-Terfel!"

Terfel moved lower, nuzzling Gauwyn's balls, tongue lapping at them, and his mind reached out, brushed against Gauwyn's. Yes, snowflake?

Gauwyn panted harshly, struggling to organize his thoughts through the fog of pleasure Terfel so easily pulled down over him. "You—You're—ah!"

Such eloquence! You really must enunciate. Terfel's mindvoice teased him almost as mercilessly as that wicked tongue.

Gauwyn thrashed and pulled at Terfel's hair, his cries making it impossible to speak until he let his own mind extend to Terfel's, following that bond between them. His own fiery mind caressed Terfel's inner forest, and the energy of Terfel just sent his own flames flaring higher. By the gods, you make me insane! Don't stop. Please, Terfel, just don't stop!

Terfel suddenly pulled back, and Gauwyn let loose a desperate whimper as he reached for his husband. "Ah-ah," Terfel said. Gauwyn stared with wide, wild eyes as Terfel lifted the manacles from the box. "Raise your hands until your fingers touch the headboard."

It was now or never. He could do as Terfel wanted, trust that pleasure and joy awaited him, or he could call it all off and simply beg Terfel to make love to him. He couldn't look away from Terfel. The Wood Elf simply sat there, patient, lust and love radiating down that spiritual bond they were so very lucky to share. It was that quiet, unintended reassurance that made up Gauwyn's mind. He smiled faintly and raised his arms, his fingers almost touching the wrought iron bars there. A slow, even breath passed his lips as Terfel shifted and the cool metal of the first shackle slipped into place around his wrist.

"How long have you wanted to do this?" Gauwyn breathed, doing his best to keep any tremor from his voice as the second manacle closed around his other wrist.

A wolfish smirk unfurled on Terfel's face, and the expression alone made Gauwyn shift on the sheets. "Quite a while now."

"Such a barbarian," Gauwyn teased, falling back on one of their ongoing jokes to keep his mind off the fact he couldn't lower his arms.

Terfel brought his face close to Gauwyn's, and amber shimmered in the green. When Terfel's wolf was close to the surface, it meant Terfel was struggling for control. "I can smell your fear. You've no reason to be afraid of me. Not anymore." He leaned down and nibbled at Gauwyn's throat, which only made Gauwyn moan, arch his hips.

"Terfel…"

"Should you want this to end, snowflake, just say 'stop'. I'll never take what you don't freely offer," Terfel murmured against Gauwyn's neck.

Another moan shuddered out of Gauwyn, and he nodded. "I trust you." He tugged at the cuffs, and a wave of anxiety threatened to crest inside him. He couldn't move, couldn't get away, and they always did bad things when he couldn't get away. He'd been bound just like this when they'd slit his feet. He'd kicked so hard the first time that they'd strapped him down, and—

"Gauwyn!" Terfel reprimanded with a growl, pulling him from his memories.

"I'm sorry," Gauwyn gasped, his hands trembling. "I'm sorry I—"

"Don't be." Terfel nipped at his lower lip. "I know it's difficult, but just stay with me. Stay here and now. Feel me."

The way Terfel pressed down against him made him groan. Gods, Terfel was so hard! Long, thick, and always so hot against his skin. He tried to bring his hands down, to run them over Terfel's sides and tease at the rings piercing Terfel's nipples. He wanted to touch so badly, but every tug reminded him how trapped he was, how vulnerable. It forced him to surrender to Terfel's whims, and as those whims led Terfel on a path back down to his cock, he couldn't say he didn't enjoy the attention.

Terfel's breath danced along his cock. "Do you want to come down my throat?" he breathed against the tip of Gauwyn.

Gauwyn shifted as a blush colored his cheeks, and he tried to bring his cock into contact with Terfel's beautiful lips. "Yes!"

"And then?"

"And then what?" Gauwyn gasped, tugging at the shackles again. "Terfel!"

Terfel licked over the wet tip of Gauwyn's cock. "And then what do you want from me?" he prompted.

Normally, Gauwyn would have stifled the question with endless kisses, but with his hands bound, he couldn't escape the question. Terfel never asked unless he expected an answer, damn him. His cheeks turned a deep red, and he whined, squirming and trying to get another lick to his cock. It only made Terfel pull farther away, though, and he moaned needily. "I want you… inside me."

"Just inside you?" Terfel questioned, stroking him once and making him even more desperate for another touch.

"I want you to… fuck me." Just saying the word made his face and chest burn, but the look of delight it brought to Terfel's face threatened to make it worth it.

A chuckle tickled Gauwyn's ears, and Terfel licked from root to tip. "Fuck you?"

Gauwyn shuddered, arched, spread his thighs shamelessly. Gods, what was it about Terfel? How could he chase the nightmares away, hold the darkness as bay with just a laugh and a touch? "Yes!"

"Fucking you isn't slow… deep… or gentle," Terfel pointed out, placing soft kisses up the length of Gauwyn's sex.

"I—I know," Gauwyn gasped. "But I watched you all night, loved knowing I'd get to have you out of those robes and all to myself."

"Even with your arms bound?"

There was such tenderness in the question, and it warmed Gauwyn to the core to know Terfel was trying so hard to give him pleasure and not push him too far too fast. He couldn't hide his slightly embarrassed smile. "If I can't trust you to have me the way you like best…"

Terfel hummed. "You want to prove to yourself that there is nothing to fear."

Gauwyn nodded, and then groaned as Terfel lavished attention on the head of his cock with lips, tongue, and teeth. Now that he was bound, now that he was giving up that control to Terfel, he wanted to prove himself, to push away the demons that still haunted their relationship. He knew it wouldn't happen all in one night, that it would take many years, but they couldn't start down that path without a first step, right?

And then all thought fled from him as Terfel's hot, wet mouth slid down his shaft. Oh, gods help him, was there a better feeling than that tongue, those lips? Yes, and he would feel it soon enough. At the moment, though, his body burned. He cried out, tried to thrust up, but Terfel's hands—broad and strong and glued to his hips—kept him more or less still. Hands bound, hips captured, and all he could do was feel. It was as if Terfel had lit a fire inside him, given him kindling and breath to fan the ember into something so consuming that it tore a scream from him when he finally spilled himself. Everything was fire and stillness and mind-numbing pleasure, and then he was sagging into the mattress, sweaty and breathless.

"Mmm… like musky ice, a hint of smoke," Terfel growled, pressing kisses from Gauwyn's cock up his stomach, over his chest, until their lips met. "You always taste of the forest in the winter as we burn wood to keep warm. I'll never taste it enough."

Gauwyn panted, a silly grin curving his lips. "Do I light… a fire in you… despite the cold?" he asked, unable to manage more than a few words at once, his mind pleasantly hazy while the glow of climax remained.

The low moan Terfel emitted sent heat tingling through his every nerve. "Every moment," Terfel purred, rocking their bodies together, making his own arousal known.

Gauwyn struggled against his bonds for a moment, but the metal was unrelenting. Another memory threatened to surface—one of bloody, torn wrists and endless screaming—but he pushed it away, craning his neck for another kiss.

Slick fingers pressed against Gauwyn's hole, and he cried out. The panic he'd just shoved aside came rushing back as Terfel pushed two fingers into him. He pulled at the manacles again, struggling, and when Terfel's voice broke into the fog of horrid memory, he stared up with wild eyes. Terfel was looking down at him, eyes dark, his fingers still inside Gauwyn.

"Gauwyn."

Panting, body tense, Gauwyn blinked, and two tears rolled down his temples. "Terfel." He had to say the name, remind himself this was the Elf who loved him, had married him. "Terfel."

Terfel's fingers began moving in and out of Gauwyn again. "Just me, snowflake. No one else. Never anyone else."

Gauwyn whimpered and blinked to clear his vision again. "Never?" he asked, his voice wavering. "No one else but you?"

"Yes," Terfel growled, but it was that deep, comforting growl Gauwyn had learned to love. "I'll protect you. You're mine."

"Yours, Terfel," Gauwyn panted, managing to relax just a little. Terfel was with him, loved him, would protect him from those who had hurt him, from the memories, from himself. He had to trust, had to cling to the truth of Terfel's promises. He kept his eyes open, looking up at Terfel, refusing to fall back into the memories as Terfel added a third finger and more oil.

Terfel nuzzled Gauwyn's chin. "You still want me to fuck you?" He licked at Gauwyn's pulse. "Hard and fast?"

Gauwyn trembled and bit at his lower lip. "I… I don't…" A flush of shame spread over his face, and he averted his eyes until Terfel forced his face forward again.

"Shh… It's all right. How about we just take it slow? Nothing wrong with that." Terfel smirked down at him. "In fact, I rather like taking you slow, making you squirm on my cock."

"Terfel!" Gauwyn sputtered, his cheeks blazing even as Terfel laughed and drew him into a kiss that curled his toes.

It was slow. Fingers were replaced by that broad, inked cock, pressing against him, into him. Gauwyn pulled at his bonds, and he wanted to cry out, but Terfel just kept kissing him. One kiss bled into another, and before Gauwyn knew it, Terfel was completely inside him, spreading him in that intimate, almost overwhelming way. Only then did the kissing taper off, Terfel panting against his lips, the green eyes flickering with amber again.

"My wolf," Gauwyn breathed, and he so badly wanted to touch Terfel, to caress his face.

Terfel licked broadly over Gauwyn's lips, growling low in his throat. Mate.

Gauwyn shuddered. That single word in his mind came with the distinct scent of warm fur. Terfel's inner wolf was almost like a separate entity, the wild force behind Terfel, one that both thrilled and frightened Gauwyn. When that voice rumbled through his mind, he could feel that feral part of Terfel that had claimed him as mate. He licked his lips and tried to whine softly like a wolf. Yes. Mate. I'll always be your mate.

Terfel began to thrust, slow and deep, claiming him with every sure movement. This was nothing like the torture he'd endured. He gasped, sought Terfel's mouth again, and just as he was reaching out for that wolf-like presence, it disappeared. Terfel's eyes became that emerald green once more, the wolf caged inside him, and just as Gauwyn was about to say something, Terfel kissed him once more.

His body was helpless, his arms and shoulders aching from his struggles against the shackles, but when Terfel kissed him, everything else just seemed to fade away. Kisses and slow, powerful thrusts. There was nothing more Gauwyn could want in that moment, except perhaps the ability to run his fingers through Terfel's beautiful, golden hair. He whimpered, moaned, cried out against Terfel's lips, so caught up in the pleasure and familiar heat of Terfel's body that he barely noticed the way the pace kept quickening.

Terfel took his mouth as thoroughly as he took Gauwyn's body. Deep, possessive growls passed from Terfel to Gauwyn through those kisses, and Gauwyn would try to whine. Submissive and pliant, Gauwyn knew what Terfel wanted from him. It was hard sometimes, but right now, bound, aroused, and hungry for every swipe of Terfel's tongue, Gauwyn found it so much easier to simply give in. The memories and nightmares were so distant as his senses filled with the sound, taste, and smell of his husband. Terfel would protect him. Terfel would love him. Terfel would never harm him.

By the time the pleasure crested, he was crying out, writhing beneath Terfel. All that existed was his mate and the spine-tingling force of orgasm. He arched and screamed, bucking and clenching around Terfel until Terfel grunted and spilled deep inside him. His arms were on fire, but the weight of Terfel, the slick heat of him so deep, kept him in the moment. It wasn't until his vision blurred that he realized he was weeping again, and the soft caress of Terfel's thumbs wiping the tears away brought a quiet sob from him as he trembled. "Terfel…"

"Shh," Terfel breathed. Slowly, Terfel came into focus again. He was all golden skin, gilded hair, and brilliant oak-eyed. "I love you."

Gauwyn gave a sobbing laugh, and he so badly wanted to put his arms around Terfel, to hold and be held. "Please…"

"Of course."

Within moments, Gauwyn's arms were free, and he wrapped the aching limbs around Terfel, hugged him close. He was weeping again, held close by Terfel, pressed into the bed by the wolf-king's solid weight, and he'd never felt so safe.

All that, and only now did it finally hit home: there really was nothing to fear. Terfel hadn't taken advantage, hadn't caused him any pain other than the wonderful soreness he always enjoyed after taking Terfel inside. Instead, he was safe, warm, and covered in their fluids, which he found he didn't mind at all. A blush began to creep over his cheeks again, and he laughed against Terfel's chest, wiping away the lingering tears. When he looked up, there was a hopeful smile on Terfel's face.

"You all right, snowflake?"

Gauwyn sniffled and curled his fingers in Terfel's wonderfully silken hair. "My arms hurt, but even when I couldn't touch you, you didn't let me go."

Terfel grinned. "So, there will be no need to return my gift?"

"None," Gauwyn agreed, and before he could say another word, he was swept up in another of Terfel's possessive kisses. It would take time to undo all the damage, but one thing was certain: Terfel would see him through this from the first step to the last. His mate would always be by his side, and that was something definitely worth celebrating.

Advent: Day Twelve (NSFW)

Title: Love's Agony

Characters: Alex, Ranae

Origin: Of the Shadow World: Dominance & Lust (WIP)

Advent Day: Day 12 (December 8th)

Rating: NC-17

Word count: 2,112

Warning: Sexual violence

—

Alex ground his teeth, and even though sweat dripped from his forehead, stinging his eyes, he wouldn't relent. Ranae was arching up, still pushing his beautiful, pale ass up into the crop, and it seemed the harder Alex swung, the more eager Ranae became. And the more Ranae continued to push him for more, the angrier he got. He wasn't even sure where the anger came from, where the dominance was in his spirit when Ranae wasn't egging him on, but the moment he started to let up, Ranae jeered at him, and he couldn't help but give all he had. He wanted to leave Ranae satisfied. It was all that seemed to matter in those moments, but what Ranae wanted was bloody, furious, and darker than Alex had ever imagined himself to be.

Yet here he was, his body already aching from the strain of beating Ranae's ass red. The welts were already deepening into bruises. But just when he thought he was reaching that perfect place Ranae wanted, the dancer's musical voice lilted to his ears between panted breaths. "Is that… all you… have? So… disappointing."

Fury unlike anything he'd ever felt in his life filled Alex. He drew the crop back and let it fly with as much strength as he had in him. The scream that issued from Ranae's lips made Alex's cock ache and his stomach roil. He hit Ranae again and again, pulling each scream from his beautiful dancer's lips with skill he'd learned solely to please his lover. No matter what Ranae said, they always came back together, always fucked with pain and blood and no limits. It wasn't fair. He didn't want this! Alex wanted something so different, that perfect life he'd envisioned for himself: a job, a wife, a dog, some kids. Before Ranae, Alex had thought he knew his goals and desires.

Now, he was a complete stranger to everyone in his life, including himself.

He was a shell, and it was as if Ranae's whims filled him up and drove him. The loss of control grated at every bit of good sense he still possessed, but at times like this when he couldn't rein himself back in, it just made him all the more enraged. He shouted with his next swing, the sound ragged and almost drowned out by the snap of the crop and Ranae's scream. For a moment, he thought he was seeing everything in hues of red, his vision throbbing in time with his raging pulse. Blood. The skin of Ranae's upturned ass had broken with his last strike, and the bright crimson beaded from skin worn thin from an hour of abuse. The sight nearly sent him reeling, but whether it was from arousal or self-disgust, he didn't know.

"Why… the fuck… have you stopped?" Ranae all but hissed in front of him.

No other voice could have been so beautiful while also being so cold and cruel. Alex threw the crop to the side. "Shut the fuck up," he panted.

"Why? Are you tired? Can't keep up?"

Ranae's blue eyes practically glowed in the dimness of the room as he looked over his shoulder at Alex, and Alex felt his hands ball into fists at the mockery in that look, in that voice. "I said shut the fuck up!" He reared back without a thought and slapped Ranae's ass with all his strength, feeling blood and sweat spread over the palm of his hand. The blow sent Ranae lurching forward, and Alex's eyes darted frantically around, looking for the bottle of lube he knew they had but so rarely used.

It was resting on the dresser. A generic dresser in a nameless hotel, though the hotel room was the finest money could buy. It was a sick amusement to Alex. Ranae could probably pay someone to do this shit to him, but instead, he came to Alex. Over and over. Their… relationship just one long, bloody fuckfest. It was never going to end until one of them killed the other, and Alex wasn't so sure it would be Ranae's life that was lost.

He snatched up the lube, and when Ranae opened his mouth again with some acidic remark on his tongue, Alex hauled back and slapped him sharply across the face. "Open your mouth again unless you're screaming or sucking my goddamn dick, and I'll break your jaw," Alex growled, and he couldn't help but note the shiver—one of lust and need, not disgust—rock Ranae's body. But, blissfully, Ranae complied. Other than their ragged breathing and the popping of the cap on the bottle of lube, the room was silent.

Silence was bad. Silence meant he had time to think, and if he thought about what was going on, what he was actually doing, he might lose his mind. He poured lube onto his hand, slicking it liberally before shoving three fingers inside Ranae without preamble. With any other lover, that would have gotten a response, but Ranae stayed silent, merely shifting back into that push of his fingers. It was only after a few seconds that he thought he heard the softest of chuckles, and it made him see red all over again. He pushed a fourth finger inside Ranae and dug the nails of his free hand into that small cut.

That brought a response from Ranae, a choked sound that told him it hurt. Good. He wanted it to fucking hurt. He wanted Ranae's body to hurt as badly as his own soul hurt with every rejected intimacy and every bitter jeer. Alex didn't wait to press his thumb against Ranae, thrusting it inside along with his fingers. The muscles fought him, tensed, and he slapped Ranae's ass. "This is what you wanted," Alex snarled at Ranae's shout. "You're lucky we even had lube. Imagine the agony if we didn't."

Ranae groaned, pushed back, and that damn voice, sensual and beautiful and taunting. "You wouldn't. Couldn't." Another laugh, soft and mocking. "A single cut on my ass makes you want to puke, you couldn't possibly finger me without lube."

Alex yanked his hand away and threw Ranae onto his back. Another stinging slap to his lover's face. "I told you to shut the fuck up!" Anger, black and clawing, rushed through his veins, and he forced Ranae's legs apart. His five fingers pushed back inside, unrelenting and cruel as they forced past the clenching of Ranae's body. When Ranae opened his mouth again, Alex reached up with his other hand and wrapped his fingers around Ranae's throat, squeezing. "Shut up!"

Ranae's choking gasps satisfied him while they lasted, but they were replaced with silence far too quickly, and Ranae smirked. He actually smirked up at Alex. He tightened his grip, pushed with his fist until Ranae's body spread wide around the bridge of his hand and snapped closed around his wrist. The sudden clench of Ranae's muscles around him was so powerful it hurt, but at least it made that fucking smirk disappear. He didn't wait for Ranae's body to adjust. He didn't want it to adjust. He pushed ruthlessly forward, forcing his wrist and forearm up into Ranae's ass, the way only partially eased by the lube. He pushed and pushed, and in some remote part of his mind, he wished that he could shove deep enough to somehow reach Ranae's heart. If the man even had one.

The tension of Ranae's body was glorious, and his silence better. Alex shoved his fist and arm into Ranae as far as he could, watching Ranae's face. Those nearly luminous eyes were glazed, his pale skin flushed, and Ranae's cock was as hard as Alex had ever seen it. Ranae was truly getting off on what they did, and it both sickened and aroused Alex, which just made it all the more torturous. He withdrew his arm perhaps halfway, and then shoved it forward again, not caring if he tore the hell out of Ranae's ass.

But for as much pain as he bestowed upon his lover, Ranae was restless. It was as if he were being given almost everything he needed, and the moment Alex released his throat, Ranae cried out. "Alex!"

Yes, Alex. His name. Screamed so beautifully, that elegant back bowing as he thrust his arm in again almost to his elbow. "Like that," he purred, watching Ranae. "It's what you want, right? Ruthless pain."

Ranae writhed. "Fuck me!"

"I am!"

Ranae's eyes flashed. "With your cock."

"My cock isn't big enough to make you bleed," he spat, thrusting deep with his arm again.

Ranae's choked cry trailed off into a ragged reply. "Pretty… please?"

Alex's eyes narrowed at that tone. Even Ranae begging was a jab, an aching reminder that Ranae didn't want him for lovemaking or passionate kisses or even a hot coffee and cigarette in the snow. This was all Ranae wanted, and God damn him, that was exactly what he was going to get. Alex slapped the smile off Ranae's face and pulled his arm back, leaving Ranae to deal with the shock of being left achingly empty in an instant. He didn't bother with the lube this time, didn't bother to give a fuck about anything as he shoved his hard cock into Ranae's trembling hole.

Their screams twined perfectly, feeding into Alex's rage. He was brutal, pounding himself into Ranae without pause, without thought. Ranae bucked, his hands pulling at him. Not the touch of a lover, but of a ravenous beast, fucking on the ground and taking what it wants. Alex didn't stop. He didn't let it pull him down. All that mattered was the heavenly clutch of Ranae's ass around his aching cock, his hand across Ranae's throat, and his other hand jacking Ranae off. His touch wasn't gentle; neither wanted gentle in this frenzy of pain and agony.

When release came, it was like a flash of heat, an explosion that seared his skin. His hands tightened around Ranae's cock and throat as he shouted and came hard inside Ranae. His hips snapped forward over and over, and even though his hand was tight enough on Ranae to silence any screams, he felt Ranae buck beneath him. He pounded Ranae through his own climax, growling as his head reeled and those muscles clenched so wickedly around him. It was as if everything went hazy, the energy draining out of him as his eyes fell shut. The fire of his anger began receding, and it left his limbs feeling cold as his pace finally faltered. He panted and shivered, slamming one last time into Ranae.

His hand lost all its strength, releasing Ranae's throat, and Ranae jerked and coughed, gasping in a few breaths. Alex finally opened his eyes and looked down. Ranae's face was bruised from his slaps, his throat mottled with his handprint, but looking down only led him to the sight of his own arm covered in lube and blood. His eyes widened, and he stared at his arm, even as it began to tremble, his fingers letting go of Ranae's cock. He had come all over his palm and fingers. Come and blood and lube.

Alex stumbled away from Ranae, and he thought he would be sick when he saw his own cock covered in Ranae's blood and his come. He leaned against the wall when the world spun. Alex just wanted to sleep. He was exhausted, as if every drop of energy he'd had just moments ago had been sapped when he'd come. Slowly, he lifted his gaze from his wet cock to Ranae's pale, beautiful, beaten body on the bed. A body he'd wanted to love. A man he'd wanted to love him.

Ranae smiled, his eyes inhumanly bright. Alex's vision swam for a moment, and then he heard Ranae. A soft, pleased purr was coming from his lover, and it only made the tired, sick feeling inside Alex all the more real. He'd been horrified by what he'd done, but Ranae… Ranae looked like the cat who got the cream. Alex had to look away, his eyes going to the dark window of their top floor hotel room. Outside, snow was falling. Cold and dark and desolate. It was worse than looking at Ranae.

Ranae gingerly sat up, and Alex watched Ranae sweep fingers through the come on his stomach. He smiled as his pink, wet tongue snaked out to lick his own seed from elegant digits. His smile all teeth and sated hunger, and a shiver went down Alex's spine.

"Merry Christmas, Alex," Ranae said, his voice trilling slightly.

Alex just wanted to cry.