Chapter Fourteen #2
Robin leaned in closer, arms pressing against Zyr’s horns as he took him. Surrounded him, flooding his senses. The touch and taste and scent and sound of him. Heat and salt and skin and voice.
“You're going to come first.” Robin’s rasp felt so close.
“Hand around your cock, mouth and throat full of mine.
I'm going to finish while you moan around me, Zyr.
Because you're doing so goddamn well. Sucking my cock, letting me feel and hear how much you want to do right by me. How much you are. I can fucking tell.”
In the sacred dark, Robin was anchor and treasure and guide.
Zyr was need. Was an open mouth for Robin to take. Was coiled heat burning under his busy hand. Was muffled groans and gasps cut off by Robin’s deep thrusts.
All of this, meant for Robin. For his pleasure.
The electric desperation built, like a charge in a storm, until it had to break. Until Zyr had to break.
Did.
Tremors ran through him, as he moaned around Robin’s cock, all gasping, shattered sounds. Came, spilling hot over his hand and his torn slacks, as Robin required.
Kept sucking, swallowing, begging with his tongue and his wrecked breaths, even as his own trembling continued. Shattered and still shattering.
“Yes, fuck, that, that, beithir. Good.” Robin’s praise came with a hard tug at Zyr’s horns, giving Zyr all he could take and then more, throat working in helpless swallows. “God, that, just that, so good, perfect, fuck, Zyr. Came for me. For me.”
Perfect for him, held and touched and praised by him. And no one ever had, and he’d never needed it.
Now, he would have broken without it.
Robin came with a ragged hiss of “Swallow it. Fuck, everything, all of it, take what you worked for, what I give you.”
Zyr accepted his reward with a moan, drank Robin’s release in ready obedience, basking in the warmth of Robin’s approval.
“Perfect. So fucking good, Zyr.” Robin tugged Zyr back as he spoke, but gently, voice rough with sated need. “No one ever so good. Keep your eyes closed. We're gonna breathe. You were perfect.”
Didn’t resist, as Robin took his cock away, only whimpered softly at the loss of him, sounds swallowed and soothed by the slow kiss that followed. Didn’t open his eyes, didn’t bite or play. Shivered and didn’t quite try to chase Robin’s lips, though his tail went tense when Robin pulled back.
“Beautiful beithir.”
Close. Robin was close. He hadn’t gone. Hadn’t left. Still, Zyr’s heart raced with a fear he didn’t understand. Robin had made himself the world. And if he pulled away, the world would go with him.
Three signs for stop. But none for stay.
“I want you closer, Zyr. It would mean moving, just back to the couch. We’ll be able to touch more.” Another kiss, brushed at the line of Zyr’s beard. “If you don't want that, shake your head. We can stay just like this if you'd rather. There's no wrong answer. Not for this.”
“Closer,” Zyr managed, in an unsteady whisper. Ask. “Please?”
“Closer,” Robin promised, his hands sliding down Zyr’s horns and playing through his hair. “I want you to straddle me. Leg on either side of mine. I’m going to touch you, and your tail may go anywhere you want, except for my cock. Start to move when you're ready. I'll guide you.”
For once, Zyr had no interest in thinking. No desire to find patterns or extract meaning. All that mattered was feeling. Robin’s hands on his horns and in his hair, holding onto him, not going away.
(Ribs cracked and heart exposed, beating in Robin’s hands. And when he left– One more thing not to think about.)
No interest in thinking and no need to. Robin was in control. He made the rules. Zyr only had to follow them.
“Yes, Raven-Robin.” Still no more than a murmur, spoken against Robin’s lips.
A flicker of magic to clean himself up. Wouldn’t make a mess of Robin.
Follow the line of his leg. Find the couch.
Drag the other hand from Robin’s thigh, and climb–crawl, really–up onto Robin’s lap from there.
Weight on his knees, his heels. His tail, he wound back around Robin’s leg. Face to Robin’s shoulder.
No wings. Beithir didn’t fly. And maybe that was why there was a worm of fear, beneath it all. Settled by Robin’s nearness, quiescent but not slain. Too high. And only Robin to keep him from crashing.
But Robin was clearly aware of the height. His touch remained, sure and soothing, and he nuzzled closer as Zyr sighed against him.
“Beautifully done. And now we get to cuddle. I’m going to count to nine, and we're going to breathe in between the numbers. You don’t need to do anything but that. Just breathe. One.”
Shallow breaths forced aside for a shaky inhale, filling his lungs.
By five, Zyr’s breathing lost its edge, and he no longer shivered so violently.
By seven, the tension in his muscles eased, and he settled more firmly against Robin.
Nine and he was purring, a low rumble, deep in his chest, while his fingers played through Robin’s hair and a faerie-weave blanket settled over his shoulders.
“Proud. Thankful,” Robin said, words spoken near enough to feel. “Intimate.”
Robin with his wheel, pleased by him, and in that safe, quiet space even the wheel felt challenging. It required thought. But Robin liked it when he answered.
“Free,” he murmured, as he had once before, even truer now. “Valued. Trusting. Also,” and he pressed closer against Robin’s shoulder, breathing him in, “exposed. Fragile.”
“You did something that terrifies the bejesus out of me,” Robin replied. He nuzzled back, kissing Zyr’s hair. “Submitting. I absolutely could not be that strong or brave. Do you want to talk about it? I'm open to cuddling in silence, too.”
Did he wish to talk about it?
There was so little he could say that wouldn’t border on the coercive. One couldn’t say to a man ‘I suspect I quite literally can’t live without you’ in a manner that didn’t attempt to compel.
Foolish dragon. But it was no great thing. The matter decided before Robin woke Zyr to himself. Only, perhaps, a little more regrettable now.
“I have never willingly placed myself in another’s hands, Raven-Robin,” he said at last. “Not in this or any other way. I’ve survived as long as I have by being entirely self reliant. The feeling of ceding that was transcendent. But I am somewhat unsettled by the depth of the effect it had on me.”
“Transcendence tends to do that. I don't mean that in a flippant way,” Robin answered, a hint of concern in his tone. “Too much? There's no wrong answer. I won't get mad.”
“I don’t believe an experience can be too transcendent.
Only, I’m a bit reluctant to leave the feeling behind.
Beauty casts the mundane in an unflattering light.
” His fingers in Robin’s hair curled, claws running lightly over skin.
“I’d like to open my eyes, and then I’d like to kiss you.
Ideally for some time. Would that be permissible, handsome bird? ”
“I like how you ask for things, beithir.” Robin kissed his neck, then his shoulder. “Yeah. It's more than permissible. Unglamour your teeth and kiss me.”
Zyr banished the glamour from his teeth and sat back, slow. Enough to see Robin, handsome, transcendent bird. To study him with a beithir’s intensity as he ran his fingers through the lovely curls of his dark hair.
“Thank you, Raven-Robin.”
For the comfort. For the attention. For awakening him to himself, that cruelest of kindnesses, tempting him back to life with the one treasure he couldn’t keep.
But in that moment, mostly for the leave to cover Robin’s lips with his own. To kiss him like a memory he hadn’t yet made.