Ten Pye
TEN
Pye
“You won’t teach me?” Avirin’s features twist. “I thought we agreed —”
“I will teach you.” Pye’s hand settles over hers. “Just not in the way you’ve come to expect. We cannot lie together; it would pose greater risks to you than just your social standing.”
Her mouth pulls into a tight line, gaze hardening on the topiary over his shoulder.
This sudden change of plans has thrown her, visible in the restrained swell of her pupils.
When Pye reaches for her, she sidesteps his touch instinctively, her face shifting with remorse when she sees his hand. “I’m sorry, I — need a moment.”
“It’s all right,” Pye murmurs. “I’ll be here.”
She moves away, slipping behind a tree trunk like she wishes not to be seen.
Pye sinks down on the stone wall around the pond.
He knows this is the right decision, but that doesn’t mean it brings him any enjoyment.
When these lessons began, he didn’t expect them to progress so far, or at all.
He’d thought Avirin was a sheltered girl looking to raise some kind of breeze.
She’d take one look at the reprobate Pye truly was before she’d go scurrying back to the safety of her life.
He hadn’t realized Avirin was fighting “peculiarities” of her own.
He wishes he could make her understand, assure her that this decision is made out of care for her rather than any lack of desire — but why does he need her to know that so badly? Why do the words claw at the back of his lips in desperation to be heard?
None of it is pertinent to their lessons. It is a personal desire, and Pye has warned themself they would not start down that road. They are here to aid Avirin in pursuit of a husband and nothing more. There cannot be anything else.
Avirin appears before him. Her shoulders are still tense, but there is a certain awareness in her gaze when she exhales. “What are the risks?”
A smile alights on his mouth. Avirin is never without academic curiosity, and when Pye extends their hand, she does not hesitate to take it. The touch of her bare skin is electric, like the day in the park with the hole in her glove.
He caresses her there again. Her breathing quickens.
Pye could get hung up on that sound, but they remember their purpose, lacing their fingers with hers and ambling deeper into the greenery. There is no sign of anyone else, but Pye lowers their voice anyway. “What do you know of sex? Of what it can lead to?”
Avirin stumbles into him, like the word itself were a rock sneaking under her heel. Her voice is strained, a flush spreading over the tops of her breasts. “You mean — children?”
She is impossible not to look upon, but Pye tears their eyes away. “Children, yes, and infections as well.”
Her fingers tighten in his. “And is there no way to avoid those outcomes? No way to simply enjoy the act on its own?”
Hot images flash through Pye’s mind. Pictures of Avirin “enjoying” the act with him, hair strewn across his pillows, neck arching under his tongue, lips parted around his name…
For fuck’s sake, focus!
It’s quiet and dark near the back of the gardens. Tall bushes surround them in uniform lines that guide them deeper into the foliage. Once they wander down a corridor, a maze opens before them, sprawling in different directions that all draw the eye.
Pye leans closer to Avirin. “Your choice.”
She scans each path in turn before she tugs Pye behind her, weaving down a flowery passage that seems to guide them further into the maze.
Pye smirks. “I daresay you intend to lead me into the heart of this.”
Avirin flashes a mischievous look over her shoulder. “Perhaps I do.”
The corridor grows tighter. Pye tries to think of anything but the back of Avirin’s neck, the soft place where her hair meets her skin.
She had asked him a question. An important one.
Pye clears their throat. “The risks can be mitigated with certain potions, but they aren’t a guarantee — nor are they easily accessible.
They can only remove the…undesired effect once it has been contracted. ”
Avirin’s pace slows with understanding. “These potions…are they legal?”
Leaves scrape Pye’s palms as he presses branches out of the way. By way of answer, he poses a question to her instead. “Do you want children, Lady Avirin?”
Her step falters. “Everyone has children.”
“Not everyone. Do you want them?”
From this angle, he can’t make out her face. Her voice sounds hurried and cramped. “Wives give their husbands children. That’s what happens after marriage. We’re meant to —”
“That is not the question, my lady.”
The two of them emerge from the passage into a space enclosed by hedges.
A fountain trickles at its center, the heart of the maze empty save for them.
Now Pye can turn to her fully. The moth wings of her mask are bent out of shape, and Pye lifts a hand to smooth out the delicate paper which flutters every time she blinks.
“What do you want for your future?” he murmurs. He should drop his hand. He should put that space between them again, but that yearning returns, a craving to know more. To know her. “What do you want? Without obligation. Without expectation.”
Her lip trembles. There is something that wants to escape her, but she does not put words to it.
Her gaze travels to Pye’s mouth, and his tongue dips over his lips, summoned by her eyes. In response, her pupils swell. The brown of her irises is gone and replaced with deep black inkwells brimming with unwritten words.
“We could be anyone beneath these masks,” she whispers.
Her breath is warm against Pye’s lips. “That’s the purpose of a masquerade, isn’t it?
A chance to be someone you’re not. Someone you could be in another life.
” When she swallows, her throat bobs. “A life where I could be your wife. Where you could be my husband.”
Pye hasn’t dared let themself imagine it.
It slams into them full-force now, knocking the breath from their lungs.
What if these lessons were merely a glimpse into a lifetime laid out before them?
What if the two of them could be together?
What if he was blessed to watch Avirin uncover every inch of herself, forever?
It’s impossible. They both know that Pye cannot give her the life she desires, but he is a hopeless creature, a servant to this untapped longing.
His body moves without permission, edging closer until their noses brush.
Pye gathers her skirts in hand, but they don’t move further until she nods fervently.
“I cannot give you everything,” Pye concedes and sinks to their knees. “But I can give you something.” There’s a whine from the back of her throat that nearly has him pinning her hips to the trellis. “Do you remember what to say if you want to stop?”
It takes her a few tries before she finds the word. “H-honey.”
“And do you want to stop?”
“No.”
He doesn’t deny either of them any longer, hiking her skirts until she can hold them up.
He groans at the sight of her. In the study, he’d caught a distant look in the mirror, but now, he can take her in fully.
Her thighs are plush and covered with striations, a halo around exactly where he wants to be.
“This is what a husband should offer you.” Pye keeps their eyes on hers, leaning forward to brush their lips along the inside of her knee. “Satisfaction that is purely your own. Attention free of distraction.”
Their mouth drags up her thigh and catches on the texture of her skin. Pye takes it as an invitation, mouthing against the marks until she makes a muffled sound.
He licks his lips to savor the hint of her sweat. “Do you understand?”
Heavy breaths strain the bodice of her dress. “Yes, Sir.”
His curse vibrates against her skin. It feels like he’s been plunged into ice water, every part of his awake and alive. Sir. She must have picked it up from Samuel, but it’s dizzying to hear it in her voice, at once so demure and obstinate. So very Avirin. So perfect.
Her eyes flash with fire at what she’s done to him.
Pye sinks their teeth into the juncture of her thigh, in appreciation — in punishment. “Don’t start,” he growls, but there’s no hiding the way his voice is threaded with need.
Avirin’s legs quiver, but her response is low and steady. “I wouldn’t dare…Sir.”
Fuck.
All Pye can do is bury their mouth between her legs, desperately taking her clit between their lips.
Avirin’s moan cuts through the night air.
It’s all too quick, too urgent, like Pye needs to make her come before they lose the chance forever.
There is a lesson they want to teach her, but gods, the thought of Avirin crying out around their tongue is too potent to ignore.
He has to slow down. He has to focus. Pye drags the flat of their tongue against her cunt, and, with all his strength, pulls away.
Avirin pants, eyes wide and glassy. Her skirts have slipped, her fingers gripping for anything she can find, tangling in the bush against her back.
Pye breathes over the slick seam of her pussy. “If you’ve been touching yourself, then direct me.”
She looks like she wants to cry. Her hand feints toward his head to pull him back in, but she understands the rules of this game. She grits her teeth and forces her fingers back into the greenery to keep herself in place.
“Instruct me,” Pye purrs. “Tell me exactly how you want me. Tell me where to touch you, how to move my mouth, if I should use my hands.” His fingertips glide up the outer lips of her cunt, pressing just enough to pull back the hood of her clit.
“If a man won’t take your direction, he’s a waste of your time. ”
Avirin stifles a groan, but Pye is patient. They do not move until she forces her mouth open, and the words tumble out. “Put your mouth…” In the end, she can produce only a needy sound.
Pye nudges her clit with his tongue when he enunciates, “Tell me, my lady.”
Her hips rock to tempt Pye closer, but they force themself still. It’s a battle of wills, and Pye intends to win, to lap up every spoiled sound she makes, to savor every ounce of fight she has in her.
Finally, Avirin huffs behind her teeth and jerks her hand from the shrubbery. She reaches between her legs and shudders when she brushes her clit. “Put your mouth…here.”
Her cunt looks like forbidden fruit, swollen and sweet. Pye waits no longer to close their lips around her, moaning when she drips into their mouth. They want more, setting the tip of their tongue against her as their proboscis begins to suck.
Her body spasms, head tipping back with a strangled sound. “How —”
Pye shows her their tongue, exposing the way it shifts between the flat human muscle she knows and an elongated tube with a hole at the tip.
Avirin watches Pye dazedly. For a moment, he wonders if it has scared her. If it disgusts her. But then she pants, “Again.”
Pye lowers their mouth, suctioning their lips and proboscis at the same time. The noises Avirin makes are positively indecent, and Pye’s cock twitches as they guide her fingers to the back of their head. “Hold me as close as you want. Guide me where you want me.”
Her fingers curl into Pye’s hair. When he mouths against her, she writhes like a woman possessed, skin glowing in the light as a tendril of hair falls from its pin. “Lower,” she gasps, pressing against his head. “Just — a little —”
When they find the place, she keens and rocks into their mouth. Her hips roll in a desperate rhythm, and Pye follows it, setting their tongue and lips to match her frantic pace.
Her mouth falls open. “There!” Her words choke on a sob. “Just — there — please!”
Pye stays exactly there, ignoring the strain of their own desire while they work her hips against them. Her release builds so swiftly, eyes rolling, gasps sharpening, hair snagging in the bush when her head tosses back.
She cries out when she crests the peak. Pye buries their mouth against her and laves between her legs, sending the moths on her mask all aflutter.
A chance to be someone you’re not. Someone you could be in another life.
Pye shuts their eyes and allows themself one temporary illusion.
Just for tonight. Just for this moment. As long as his lips touch her skin, he belongs to her.
He is her husband and her wife. He will steal glances at her from across the party.
He will kiss her knuckles on the carriage ride home.
He will hold her in his arms as she drifts off to sleep, and he will thank the ancient gods that he never has to let her go.