Chapter 26 #2
Scáthach smiled, the curve of her mouth sharp like a knife.
“She would if it would keep her children safe. I heard rumors an incursion into a witch’s territory was imminent, and when I learned the location was here, I came to warn the Mórrígan, only I couldn’t find her.
So I warned the witch, and she remembered me.
She gave me the grimoire of her own free will to keep it safe. ”
“But not Aisling?”
“Your mother would give up her magic, but she would never give up her daughter.”
Bran made a wounded sound that had Cillian wrapping his arm around Bran’s waist and pulling him close.
He looked at his mother, exhaustion tugging at his limbs.
“What now? Ainmire and Etain know I’m alive, which means the Dagda has to know.
They might not know where I am, but Cernunnos does.
And I don’t—I’m not who everyone thinks I am. ”
The Mórrígan smiled sadly at him, but there was love in her eyes, and that wasn’t a lie. “I know. Chaos bound your body and your mind. But you’re older now than you were. You can fight.”
The problem was Cillian didn’t know if he wanted to.
“I think it’s been a long day. A long week,” Cillian said after a moment, reluctantly pulling away from Bran. “I think we all need some sleep.”
His mother nodded and got to her feet. “I’ll take Niamh and Seamus home with me. We can talk more in the morning.”
“Seamus needs to return to Verlin.”
“I wish I did not have to return alone,” Seamus said quietly.
Cillian said nothing to that, and Seamus didn’t press the issue about staying.
He’d already promised he would return to the Otherworld, and so he left with the others.
The Mórrígan was the last out the door, but not before she paused by Cillian to tuck some of his hair behind his ear and press a kiss to his cheek.
“My ravens will guard the Shoppe,” she promised. “Get some rest.”
Then she was gone, and Cillian and Bran were alone in the living room while Aisling slept in her room under Jupiter’s watchful eye. Cillian reached for Bran’s hand. “Let’s clean up.”
The shower wasn’t big enough for two people, so they took turns scrubbing off the remnants of the wyrding in the glow of candles Bran found in the hall closet.
More candles burned in the bedroom where Bran waited for him after Cillian finished cleaning up, casting a soft glow over Bran’s bare skin and damp hair, making him look almost ethereal.
“I’ve never hated you,” Bran said into the quiet. “Even when I left, I could never hate you.”
“I know,” Cillian said, clutching at the towel wrapped around his waist.
Bran slid off the bed and padded over to Cillian. He raised a hand, resting his fingertips over Cillian’s heart. The way Bran looked up at Cillian through his lashes made heat shoot through every nerve in his body. “I love you.”
Bran kissed his way down Cillian’s body, licking after water droplets, whispering those same words into his skin.
The heat of his mouth was like a brand that Cillian wanted all over him, a burn like iron he’d gladly suffer.
When Bran settled onto his knees, dragging the towel free and tossing it aside, Cillian could only think that he’d grown up with no religion in his home, but when Bran took his cock into his mouth, it felt like a prayer to some deity he couldn’t name.
Bran sucked him down with more skill than Cillian had in that area, deep-throating him with an ease that made him moan.
He dragged his hands through Bran’s dark hair, grabbing a fistful and swearing when Bran swallowed around his cock.
The constriction made his hips thrust forward, intentionally pushing his cock deeper into Bran’s mouth, down his throat, Bran’s nose pressed against his stomach.
“Fuck,” Cillian swore, hastily pulling back, Bran’s whine making his cock throb. “You’re all I ever wanted.”
Bran pushed at his thighs, against his hand, and Cillian slid his cock out of that tempting mouth, watching as Bran kissed the tip. “You don’t need a collar to keep me. You always had me.”
Cillian couldn’t help the way his grip tightened in Bran’s hair, the way his eyes went to Bran’s bare throat.
He swallowed, want carving its way into his body, the desire to claim rooted deep.
The only thing he could do was push his cock back into Bran’s mouth, watch those plush lips wrap around it greedily.
Cillian touched Bran’s jaw, fingers trailing up his hollowed-out cheek as he slowly thrust in and out, cock sliding over Bran’s tongue, going a little deeper each time.
Bran’s fingers curled around the back of Cillian’s thighs, biting into his skin, urging him on, and Cillian could only take what was his gladly.
He thrust in all the way, cock sliding down Bran’s throat, choking him, watching as Bran’s eyes fluttered shut, something like bliss settling in his face as he kept his mouth open for Cillian to fuck.
Drool slicked his chin, his reddened lips, breath coming ragged as Cillian fucked his mouth, cock hard and aching in that wet, willing heat.
Bran’s hips hitched in small circles, his own cock hard and dripping precum, abandoned in the face of Cillian’s pleasure.
And wasn’t that a revelation, to know that Bran wanted to give Cillian this—his mouth, his body, his heart—and always would.
Cillian groaned, loosening his hold on Bran’s hair, palming the back of his head to hold him steady.
He chased his pleasure in Bran’s mouth, cock hard and aching, a tension at the base of his spine winding tighter and tighter until it snapped.
Cillian came with a bitten-off shout, grinding his cock deep in Bran’s mouth, spilling so far down his throat Cillian knew he wouldn’t be able to taste it.
He held Bran there for a moment, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he caught his breath, Bran still mouthing at his cock.
When he finally pulled out, Bran’s ragged breathing was something Cillian would apologize for if Bran didn’t look so debauched on his knees, lips swollen and looking up at Cillian like he wanted to be nowhere else.
Groaning, Cillian pulled Bran to his feet and spun them around, shoving him up against the wall by the door.
He hooked an arm under one of Bran’s knees, hiking his leg up, then got a hand between them to grasp Bran’s cock.
“Look at me,” Cillian rasped, staring down at the witch who loved him, fingers sliding through precum over Bran’s cock. It wasn’t enough to ease the friction, but the way Bran arched into his touch told him the other man didn’t mind.
Bran tipped his head back, panting loudly as he clawed at Cillian’s shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
“What do you see?” Cillian kept stroking him, keeping him pinned to the wall as he gave Bran what he wanted, what he needed. “When you look at me, what do you see?”
Bran tongued at his swollen bottom lip, never looking away. “I only see you.”
Cillian shuddered at the truth in those words, a groan tearing free of his mouth.
It was easy to kiss Bran, to claim him, to hold him and make him come, relishing the way Bran had to bite down on his shoulder to muffle his cry as he spilled over Cillian’s hand.
He shivered through his orgasm, arching into Cillian’s touch like he couldn’t help himself.
Cillian carefully lowered his leg, waiting for Bran to get his feet back under him, before he curved his hand over the side of Bran’s face and kissed him, slow and deep and wanting.
In that moment, Bran was the beginning and the end and everything in between for Cillian—nothing more, nothing less.
Just everything.
“I love you,” Cillian whispered fiercely against Bran’s lips. “No matter what, I will always love you.”
Bran kissed him back, holding on. “I know. I love you, too.”
Witch and Fae.
They should have been enemies, not mates—not everything they’d grown into being—but whatever happened from here on out, Cillian knew wherever he stood, he would always have Bran by his side.