Chapter Twenty-Two #3
They had tried so hard to be better, to ascend. To be more than monsters. They had died of it. And Zyr, stubborn, obsessive Zyr who questioned everything, even the very premise of the convergence that built him, had lived.
And lived.
And lived.
Tucked away in his hoard, his heart, watching his realm devour itself by inches. The young no longer knew what had passed before, all of it a story. But the babies still died in their cradles, because their parents saw monsters. Or, worse, themselves.
“In my experience, monsters are cruel to be cruel. They hurt because they can, and they make it slow.” Robin continued to work as he spoke, hands as steady as his voice.
“You were right to point out that it was her generation that did those things, Dhanra. It wasn’t a build up since the dawn of time.
Chaos and death aren’t evil. Intent matters.
” Another tug, then Robin’s fingers slid up higher, held on just above the tie.
“I saved an unseelie who is capable of monstrous things, like most people are. You’re a lot of things, beithir, but you’re not a monster.
I don’t deal with those, and I’m very good at spotting them. ”
Burn the records. She was the record he wanted to watch burn. Like any unseelie, Zyr was capable of monstrous things. As the seelie were. Humans, too.
Anyone could rebuild the world, change the borders, define it anew.
Zyr would let Robin define his.
“I trust your judgement, Raven-Robin.” He tested the bindings at his wrists then.
Secure, and just rough enough to not fade from his awareness.
The world was dark and still, with even Faerie quiet.
“I’m unsure whether this is steadying or heightening.
It’s oddly pleasant. Like everything’s fallen away. ”
“It could be both. I’ve been told it’s freeing for some.
” Robin brushed against Zyr’s shoulder, then pulled.
A drag at his arms, that mild, pleasant burn of muscles and joints stretching.
Robin’s lips close and his hand guiding Zyr to tilt his head.
Arch his back. Nothing rough about it, every movement exact.
“Knowing they’re subject to the will of someone else.
And for you, Dhanra, you’ve the knowledge that you’re mine, and that I’m a demanding, prickly man that’s got a decent handle on some of your buttons. ”
“You are that, handsome bird.” Zyr sighed, as the tension began to bleed from him. “I think I could kneel like this for some time, without losing track of the dark.”
“Maybe we’ll try it some time. Your hands would be bound in the front for that.” Robin sounded pleased, though Zyr wasn’t quite sure why. Didn’t understand what this was for him, other than a considerable amount of effort. “You’re doing well, my Dhanra.”
A question for another time.
Dhanra, and it’d been centuries, longer, since Zyr last heard his true name. Never like this, from someone who knew him as Robin did.
And how strange to feel valued, desired, by another for no reason other than who he was. Dhanra. He’d told Robin that he sought not to please, but to be a source of Robin’s pleasure. He was no longer certain whether that’d been truth or habit.
“Yours,” he agreed, the anger nearly gone from his voice. Something else there, rough at the edges.
“That’s right, Dhanra. Mine. My unseelie scholar.” Robin’s fingers were at his throat, the beat of his pulse, his jawline. Then lower, toward Zyr’s chest.
“I fear you’ve limited what I might do for you,” Zyr said, tilting his head to chase the touch.
“Stay where you are,” Robin commanded, lips to Zyr’s temple, fingers flicking open the first button of his shirt.
“I’m not going to stop touching you, and you’re to stay in place until I tell you otherwise or you use one of the words.
Because there are three things you’re going to do for me, beithir.
And you can do them with bound hands and blindfolded, just like this. ”
Zyr answered with not-quite growling rumble, and the flick of his tail against Robin’s spine. He also stayed where he was, no longer attempting to follow Robin’s fingers.
Because, yes, he was Robin’s. And if Robin gave an instruction, he would follow it. But he would also growl and flick his tail, because Robin was a bastard and Zyr intended to remind him of that fact.
“I appreciate your faith in me,” he said. “I shall endeavor to prove it well placed.”
A joke. Or the truest thing he’d ever said.
Robin shifted closer, guiding Zyr’s head to the side, then pressing his lips to the line of scales and skin.
Here, like this, the sensation filled the whole of Zyr’s world.
All that existed was the contrast, heat and warmth, sharp and muted, and with it, a line of electricity that had nothing to do with his aspect. All Robin.
Zyr drew in a breath, trying to be still and not entirely succeeding, back arching further and muscles gone tense for reasons that had nothing at all to do with anger.
He’d not have said he could slide this far into desire so quickly.
Not after what had been said. But Robin knew better, guiding him down and down, further into the sacred dark.
In the dark, he could want. Need. Cock hard, pressing up against his slacks. Teeth gritted against a groan. Robin seemingly everywhere.
“It’s well placed,” Robin murmured. “You’ve earned it. Shown it. Again and again, Dhanra. You always please me, whether you’re talking books and theories, testing me so I’ll push back, or moaning against my thigh.”
“And what would please you now?” he asked, when he could form the words. “If it’s a discussion of theory, your approach may require adjusting. This is very … intense. Overwhelming.”
Robin continued to play at Zyr’s throat, working his way down, leaning in closer with the trace of his tongue. His nails scraped, careful, precise, along Zyr’s chest, finding the line of scales there, as well.
“So glad you asked,” he replied, with a bite to Zyr’s collarbone. “Not quieting yourself would please me. Those are my moans you’re biting back, Dhanra.”
Every time before, Zyr had been focused on control. Eyes closed. Hands to himself. Submitting to Robin willingly, but not easily, because giving way wasn’t easy. It had kept him present.
Now, Robin’s blindfold covered his eyes. Robin’s bindings held his wrists. And Robin himself kept Zyr present, tying him to the moment with words and touch and the searing, electric sensation of his mouth on scales and skin.
Robin’s hands on his chest, at his tail.
Robin’s demands.
Robin’s darkness.
“Even overwhelmed, you’re doing well. I can feel every sound you try not to make. I want to hear them.”
Words that ended with a press of teeth, a fresh jolt of pleasure.
Zyr’s lips parted on a snarling growl that gave way to a low, needy groan.
Because Robin required what was his, and Zyr wouldn’t deny him.
The surrender drew him deeper, left him shuddering, shifting in place for the barest friction of his thigh against his cock.
“Raven-Robin,” he gasped, pleading. “Cruel bird. Sacred dark. I–”
But he didn’t know what he was, except for Robin’s Dhanra, and he lost the words to another unfettered groan.
“There you go, Dhanra, just like that. It’s better when you let it take you. I know.”
Murmured words and nails and teeth, then Robin’s hands on his jaw, guiding him to turn his head.
Robin’s mouth on his, and Zyr desperate from it. That slightest leave to seek, tongue chasing the taste of Robin’s kiss, then licking it from his lips after.
“You’re doing so well,” Robin murmured, steady still, while Zyr hissed with need.
“I’m changing our position, Dhanra. My beithir.
I’ll take you with me, further into the dark, for pleasing me.
You won’t be away from me. I won’t stop touching you.
If you understand that I’ll be moving us both, say ‘yes, Raven-Robin.’”
Zyr’s skin burned with unshed energy, electricity that failed to manifest. His panting did nothing to ease it. He was a sky gone green-black from a storm that threatened but could not break. The air sticky with wet heat that begged for the relief of rain.
“Yes,” he growled, like distant thunder. “Yes, Raven-Robin. I understand.”