Chapter Thirteen #4
“Not your sides,” he murmured, and slid his hand up the center of Robin’s chest, until his palm rested just above Robin’s heart, the rapid beat of it.
“Not your cock.” And his thumb, pressing into the muscle at the very top of Robin’s thigh.
Down, from there, large hands allowing him to curve around the back of his leg.
The “problem” with clever subs was that they could always find a way to skirt the edges of orders.
Letter of the law. Brats with an air of well you said.
And those like Zyr– Robin wouldn’t call him a brat–who colored inside the lines, on the lines, but never let the color peek through the outside of them.
“Clever beithir,” Robin murmured, watching Zyr’s hand move over his leg with rapt attention, his fitted jeans all the more uncomfortable.
“I think I like your denials almost as much as your generosity, handsome bird. Is that odd?”
“No,” and this time, Robin was the one to shiver. “It just means I need to be specific. Lucky me. I’ve thought about fucking you since we were in the kitchen, after we talked about the wheels. All kinds of specifics.”
He hadn’t imagined the little things that were purely Zyr then, though.
The way Zyr’s breath came quick and hungry when being told, his muscles tense under Robin, or how intense his attention would be.
Like, shit, Robin had pictured the curious look from the kitchen, when he’d asked about Robin’s history with psychiatry.
His imagination didn’t hold a candle to how Zyr actually watched him, the fervent, blazing stare that had little to do with the crackle of his magic, how those taut muscles tensed further as his hands traveled exactly as far as Robin allowed, over and down, brushing his thumb over a nipple, tightened his grip on Robin’s thigh to make his goddamn jeans pull against his cock.
“I would hear more,” he growled, actually growled, there at the end, the demand tempered only by the way more shook a little.
Robin let him have that pause, didn’t scold for the lack of question mark.
Waited, and his patience rewarded. “Please, Raven-Robin. Will you tell me of your further imaginings? I find them— I wish to be tested more.”
I wish to be tested more.
Well, that was one way to get Robin hard, if he hadn’t already been aching in his jeans, nearly fucking painful with the way Zyr’s words hit.
“I thought of you bent over a table, surrounded by your books, your hands gripping the other side to stay still as I fucked you. Riding you in an armchair I correctly assumed a dragon with a library would have. Using your horns,” and damn right he tugged there, for his own pleasure, and that stifled groan, “to keep you in all sorts of positions. Trying to figure out what your tail does when you fuck. If you’d be willing to glamour your teeth so I could fuck your throat, feel you moan around me.
I knew fae don’t like asking the way I need,” because he needed, didn’t think he would find that same soul-deep satisfaction without it, “but still thought about how you’d do it. “
Wondered if he’d like hearing about it all. What he’d be into. Easy to see, now, at least a few things that did it for Zyr. Competence, confidence, pulling and being pulled, Robin, skirting the lines like a shit.
From the way his breathing changed, Robin talking about all the way he imagined fucking Zyr did it, too. (Always Robin fucking Zyr. It didn’t matter what body part went where. Even if Zyr was both on top and inside of Robin, the beithir wouldn’t be the one in charge.)
“No debts, here, between us.” Us half swallowed with a buried hiss. “Safe for me to ask. Safe for you to give. Or deny.”
“No debts,” Robin agreed, ignored the way his breathing stuttered and his cock twitched under Zyr’s attention.
Released a horn to stroke Zyr’s cheek, tracing the line of his cheekbone, his jaw, the dip of his lower lip, careful to keep out of any tasting range.
“You were great on the chair, my mouth on you. I was impressed only the arms broke. Genuinely.”
Zyr ran his tongue over his lower lip, the greedy beithir. “I’ve thought of little else but how it felt, your mouth on my neck. And how difficult it was to be still, not touching or tasting you in turn. Would you undress for me, handsome bird? Allow my mouth on your skin?”
Fingers dropped down to Zyr’s beard, one hooked at his collar to toy with the top button. Tension there, but only just. Enough for Zyr’s already tight breaths to grow moreso, his hands flexing without curving in. Didn’t tear Robin’s clothes or, more importantly, his skin.
“I didn’t explain why I stopped that first time.” Robin tugged open that first button, touched the first glimpse of Zyr’s chest with a gentle fingertip. “No debts between us, but that’s going to be free of charge. Telling you.”
Another shudder.
“I am listening.”
“You said asking for a kiss was an exception. And you asked, and I knew that if we went further, it’d be without that.
Just stillness, and me doing as I pleased.
I couldn’t do that.” Another button, and touch, and shiver, and hiss.
“But you’d sounded so good, so into it, when I first told you I wanted to see your library.
I could give you that. Showing me your collection for the sake of seeing it, because I could appreciate it and wanted to. ”
Zyr gave his head the smallest shake possible, unwavering gaze on Robin’s face instead of where either of their hands roamed.
“I don’t like people in my library,” he said, ragged. “Under my skin. Pawing at my heart. But you, I invited. You, I’ll ask.”
“As an exception.”
“Because I am ‘into it,’” Zyr countered. Insisted. “Having you here. Treasure among treasures. I enjoy this, asking you. Even when you deny me or don’t answer.”
In all fairness, Robin would have to be blind and deaf with zero nerve endings to not know how into it he was. Hard and breathing harder, Zyr’s hands, clawed and probably made of some kind of fae steel, careful where they touched Robin.
Treasure among treasures. Invited to paw at his heart, wander under his skin. Fuck in his library. Maybe next to the vintage porn.
“Not as a one-time ask, then? Because I’m pushy, and I like it.”
“That is a part of the appeal. But, as I said, not the most elevating portion of the experience.”
The third button allowed Robin to slip his fingers under enough to brush the skin beneath his collarbone. Zyr tried to lean toward the touch. Robin’s scrawny legs over his, horn held, and he tried anyway, yearning toward Robin’s taunting strokes.
“It’s probably a good thing I misunderstood.
” Robin’s lips twitched, voice still sure and level, for all it was serrated at the edges, ragged with want and the pressure of Zyr’s hand.
“Otherwise Aisling’s messenger would have interrupted a blowjob.
You were pissed off enough at them breaking into an awkward private moment. ”
Blowjob, and Zyr’s breath caught, lips peeling back to show teeth.
“There would not have been a door.”
(So hot.)
Robin smiled instead, sharp and pleased, touch idling. “Would you like me to answer your earlier questions, beithir? Is that what you want?”
A rhetorical question, it turned out. The constant electric hum that surrounded the beithir increased, as his hands fell still, all but fucking vibrating out of his skin. How handy, that electricity tell, as long as it stopped at the hum and didn’t veer into zapping.
Beithir hit a chord that Robin wasn’t going to forget.
“I want you, cruel raven. The answer is a means to that end.” Not an answer, and Zyr, clever man, appeared to realize it. If one could be said to snarl and plead at once, then he did so. “And so, I would like answers. Please?”
Robin shifted under his touch, the lack of it, scraping a nail over a smattering of scales. The hum of Zyr’s magic shivered up the length of his arm.
“Since you said please, I will.” He tugged open the fourth (and fifth, and sixth) button, pushing the shirt open as he went. “Eventually, I’ll undress for you. No promises that it’ll be today.”
“And the other?”
Robin tsked. Zyr wanted to be pushed, he said. And Robin, being a little bit of a bastard, was happy to oblige. He dropped his hand to his own lap, long fingers flicking open the fly of his jeans. His beithir made a gorgeous fucking sound, closer to a whine than a hiss.
Made it again, at the gradual click click click of Robin’s zipper, as he took his damn time with it.
“What was the second question, again? I forgot,” Robin said, not even bothering to try and sound genuine.
He slid his hand into his jeans, under his briefs to press over his aching cock.
Breath gone unsteady under Zyr’s eyes and his own touch, hidden from view, and he had to bite back his own groan when Zyr whined again.
“I asked to taste you,” Zyr replied, his eyes never leaving what he couldn’t see. His hand slid back down Robin’s stomach, and his fingertips rested at the very top of Robin’s thigh. “To put my mouth to your skin.”
No question in that. No ask. Zyr didn’t look at his face, only his hand, hidden under layers of clothing as Robin started to move, fingers moving over his cock in slow strokes. Poor dragon. Too far gone to remember his question marks.
Luckily for him, Robin was a patient teacher.
“That’s right. You wanted to taste me.” Robin pressed up into his own touch, let himself groan softly, watching Zyr watch him, that glimpse of the man’s eager tongue. “I remember now.”
“Allow me that? You needn’t undress. Your neck. Your wrist. Your cock. Whatever pleases you. Tell me what I must do, Raven-Robin? What do you require so I might have this?”
That was it, raw and unfiltered, a kick to the gut in the best way. Robin’s hips twitched up again, into his and his touch, there on Robin’s thigh, Robin’s hand not yet dragging his head down to see how far a beithir could bend.