Chapter Seven #2
Zyr’s eyes opened slowly, soft gray lit by lightning as he studied Robin with a single-minded focus.
The thrill from touch that rattled through Robin had nothing to do with the constant soft shiver of power over Zyr’s skin.
He had felt that the other day, mouth full of storms and old books.
Was surrounded by them now, with the storm in hand, watching him with crackling eyes.
Robin had made himself careful over the years. Watchful. Cautious. He had drilled it into his head and actions.
Careful, cautious people didn’t hit on the people who admitted obsession beyond their own ability to stop or control. Collect or die, and finding yourself a part of that collection.
All good arguments. Valid. Sound.
Every one of them imploded on impact with that intense stare, meaning turned on its head with Zyr’s rough, unsteady, “I know now what I’m feeling. Free.”
Robin pressed closer, felt the chair to his shin, saw the flex of his own fingers as he dragged Zyr’s head back just that much further. Just enough to bare his throat and see Zyr’s eyes go dark.
Robin had always been shit at impulse control.
“Courageous,” he said, just before he leaned in and caught Zyr’s lips with his own.
Kissed him the way Robin needed to kiss a man who slammed his boots defiantly down onto stone, whose harsh gasps went steady under direction, who rasped free and powerless with equal surety, all barbed tail and ridged teeth and the ability to fry an entire room full of assholes.
Heated and starving and fierce. Like Robin had a right to.
Zyr’s lips parted on a growl or a gasp, his tail coiling higher up Robin’s calf. Clinging. Kissed Robin back without trying to take over, as Robin held fast and licked the broken, wanting sounds from his eager mouth.
They should stop. Robin should want to stop. Never interested him, the idea of kissing a man with dragon teeth, no matter what his bookshelf said. Thoughts of a tail curved around his leg never sent a spike of lust through him, that thrill of not-quite sensation.
(Not that he would yuck someone’s yum. Consenting adults, all that. Wasn’t into big dicked multi-colored aliens with a mission to repopulate the galaxy either, and still owned the audiobooks.)
None of that made sense, thoughts there and gone, lost under the sparkling realization that despite that, he fisted the man’s horns, without a euphemism to be seen, and took a kiss (and another, if it could be counted as multiples when it was little more than a lessening of pressure before taking again) with demanding lips and claiming tongue to find those teeth made for crushing bones, rending flesh.
Did that, and that, and leaned-pushed-pulled until the backward curve of those silver horns pressed to the back of the chair, and Robin’s knee rested on the chair between Zyr’s own. Precarious as hell.
It felt like the first pull of a rig, someone secured and held, and his effort needed to keep it level. Except those moments didn’t include a low, pleased rumble that Robin felt as much as heard.
Hot.
“Tell me where you are.” Rough at the edges, blunt teeth dragging at Zyr’s full lip to hear the draw of his sharp, needy breath. “If you’re attending.”
“I’m here,” Zyr answered, raw, his lightning-lit eyes seeking Robin’s. “Very here. But struggling to think.”
Another press of Robin’s teeth. Another thin inhale from Zyr.
Robin fucking loved the involuntary, genuine reactions. They made him want to take things apart piece by piece.
(Though less serial killer, and more I need to learn you. Let me under your skin.)
Robin nipped his lip properly this time, a reward for Zyr’s willingness to say what he thought. He liked that about him, that openness.
He liked it a lot, apparently, seeing as how it had him half-kneeling on the chair and their mouths slick from hungry kissing, Robin’s cock already hard.
He didn’t need to check to know he wasn’t alone in that.
Didn’t look away from those hurricane eyes.
Almost bit the man’s tongue, just to get his mouth back on him.
“You don’t need to think, as long as you’re here. You start to wander, beithir, grab my arm with your hand. Tail stays at my leg.”
“Pushy raven,” Zyr replied, all bow-string tension. He squeezed Robin’s calf lightly and maybe, definitely, gave a light tug. “Kiss me again. I like the way you taste.”
Robin grinned down at him—pushy raven—amused and turned on. If Robin hadn’t been interested already, he would’ve been at that testing push.
The beithir knew just what he was doing. And fuck if that wasn’t hot as hell, spurring on the slow grazing touch of his thumbs to the base of Zyr’s horns. But he didn’t move. Robin didn’t do things on demand. Not like this.
“I’m not sure which way to go with that,” Robin said, eyeing Zyr thoughtfully. “There’s a few different routes, but I don’t know you well enough to guess which might work best.”
“A few … routes?”
“Mmhm. I could slide my leg up higher until I can feel your cock against it. Give you that pressure while you struggle not to move, hold your head down just like this, and tell you I only kiss men who’ve earned it or asked nicely.
” Robin leaned in, brushing his lips against Zyr’s ear.
His voice dropped to a murmur, soft, just for them.
“And I know you would do your best to be still, because you’ve been so good at it this whole time.
Haven’t even tried to use your hands. It’s been beautiful. ”
A tremor ran through Zyr at beautiful, all the way down to his tail, enough that Robin felt it. He heard the creak of wood and upholstery, too, as the beithir dug his claws into the arms of his chair.
“I won’t move without your leave, Raven-Robin.” Stripped raw, that voice. “Will you tell me route two?”
Robin could lie. He could say it involved sitting on Zyr’s cock until he cried, because goddamn, did Robin wish it did.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t reserve the right to change his mind about the possibilities.
But it felt like cheating. And, frankly, crude in the least sexy way.
It didn’t fit the moment, not when he had Zyr shivering under him already, just from being told how good he’d been for Robin.
“I know you won’t, Zyr.” Robin kissed below his ear, acknowledgement and tease both. Raven-Robin. “Route two, that’s more handsy. Pushy. But I think you like pushy.”
Another hitched breath and hard swallow, another shiver. “Yes.”
It would be easier to do instead of say. Tempting, too. Except that would make the choice, acting it out, and Robin wanted to feel Zyr’s reactions. Wanted those to be the tiebreak, not what Robin would find easiest.
“I slide my hands back to the furthest part of your pretty horns, and force your head back. Bare your throat entirely to me. I put the outside of my knee against yours and push your thighs as far apart as the chair allows, because I can, and watch as we find out how much we like you open and vulnerable.” Another knee shift, the barest brush against Zyr’s in a sigh of pressure.
“I’ll tell you how I only kiss men who ask right or deserve a reward, but the words will be bitten into your throat and chest, instead of letting you ride my thigh. ”
The sharp crack was the arm of the chair splintering, and Zyr didn’t even look down. Kept his eyes fixed on Robin’s face while the tip of his tail traced a hungry line along the muscles of his calf. Shivering the whole time.
Open and vulnerable.
“You’re a very ruthless bird,” the beithir said, with another hard swallow. “Am I permitted to vote?”
Oh, thank god. Every god that didn’t exist, and those who might have at some point.
Usually Robin could tell if someone wanted one or the other. A lean in a direction, however slight. For Zyr, he shivered and dug his claws in, then shivered and broke the arm of the chair.
“Cutthroat,” Robin agreed, still smiling, his leg tensing and relaxing against that petting tail. “Figuratively speaking. And yes, you’re permitted. I might even go with the vote, if you ask right.”
Zyr shuddered, staring at Robin for a long moment. Robin waited, patient, smiling down at him, and not bothering to soften the expression. A flicker, there, in the beithir’s eyes. Something distant. Then the warm wrap of a large hand over Robin’s forearm.
Drifting.
There was a huge misconception about safewords.
A lot of people thought it meant someone in the party had failed, stepped over a boundary or ignored a sign.
Robin fucking hated that. They were there to guide, provide safety nets and be used as tools to prevent overstepping.
They were there if someone had signs that were difficult to see or something affected them in a way they didn’t expect.
Robin took a submissive using a slow down or stop as a sign of trust. He knew it wasn’t easy, to believe someone would stop, give you what you needed if you asked. Fuck knew he didn’t trust like that.
When Zyr grabbed his arm, no claws digging in, nothing harsh or painful, that same thrill ran down Robin’s spine as it had with that powerless and free. The bladed sides to his smile softened, the brush of his nails turned to a gentle touch. Zyr had gone tense. Wary.
“That’s perfect, Zyr,” Robin murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of the beithir’s mouth, then the other. “Thank you for letting me know. Tell me where you’re at.”
It was the right thing to say, to do. He felt Zyr start to relax, his breathing easing.
“My library,” Zyr answered, the roughness in his voice softer. “Whether there might be a text about ‘asking right’ in the human sense.” He offered Robin a brittle smile. “I dislike being incorrect.”
Ah. Yeah. That made sense.
He would rather the edges go out of Zyr’s voice than continue with the beithir’s mind in his library, reviewing books on human etiquette. Which is where they were going to go anyway. Just… differently.