Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
Jack
As our flat materialises around us I let out a groan of relief. I stride over to the sofa and collapse onto it, every muscle in my body finally releasing the tension I didn’t even realise I’d been carrying.
“I have never been so bloody grateful to be home in all my life. That was bloody exhausting.”
“Exhausting?” Dyfri’s smile is a little wry as he follows me into the living room, moving with that fluid grace that somehow makes my clumsy collapse onto the furniture look even more undignified.
I lean my head back against the cushions and let out a long breath.
“We portaled to an underground cathedral full of mythological beings. A necromancer nearly slit your throat. And then we were under a Welsh mountain and I met a dragon! And Cai’s two husbands!
And if that wasn’t enough, we finished in a house in London with Jamie’s mother, who was bloody terrifying when she thought we might be putting Ninian at risk. ”
The memory of our whirlwind tour through the supernatural Resistance makes my head spin all over again.
Each location had been more overwhelming than the last, each conversation more fraught with political complexity and barely contained tensions.
The underground chambers with their impossible architecture and casual magic.
The mountain stronghold where Cai had introduced us to his husbands with the sort of fierce pride that made it clear exactly how much they all meant to each other.
And finally, the modest London house where a perfectly ordinary-looking woman had interrogated us with the intensity of a trained operative.
Dyfri laughs, the sound warm and genuinely amused. “She was just being protective of Ninian.”
“Protective is one word for it!” I say emphatically. “She looked like she wanted to feed me to something with very sharp teeth when I mentioned MI5.”
“Ninian’s safety is important to her. She’s dealt with the aftermath of what the court did to him.” Dyfri’s expression grows more serious. “And she rescued him from it. Of course she’s going to be suspicious of people wanting things from him.”
I think about the pale, nervous young man we spoke with briefly, the way he flinched whenever anyone moved too quickly, the protective way Jamie’s mother had positioned herself between him and potential threats.
Another survivor of the fey court, like Dyfri.
Another person whose trust needs to be earned rather than assumed.
“But she agreed to let him work with us in the end,” I point out.
“Only because we convinced her that MI5 could actually protect him rather than study him like a lab specimen.” Dyfri steps closer, settling onto the arm of the sofa beside me. “And because Ninian himself said he still wants to help.”
“He always looks so terrified.”
“He is. But he is also determined. There’s strength there, beneath the fear.” Dyfri’s voice carries a note of recognition, of an understanding that I wish he didn’t have. “Survivors often have more courage than people realise.”
My chest tightens enough to make the pain in my heart physical. Dyfri is stupendously courageous. I hate that people underestimate him, even though I can see how useful it is.
“The whole day was a lot,” Dyfri acknowledges, and I can see the exhaustion in his posture now that we’re safely home. All that careful diplomatic manoeuvring, managing personalities and egos and centuries-old grudges, while negotiating the most delicate alliance any of us have ever attempted.
“Well, when you put it like that,” I say, reaching up to touch his hand where it rests on the sofa arm.
“I’m right?”
“Usually.”
“High praise.”
“The highest.”
Dyfri turns his hand to interlock our fingers. His skin is warm, reassuring after hours of navigating conversations where one wrong word could have destroyed everything we’re trying to build.
We stare at each other, and I can feel the intensity building between us like a physical force. After everything we’ve been through today, after watching him navigate impossible conversations and dangerous personalities with such skill and grace, I’m struck again by how remarkable he is.
This brilliant, beautiful man who somehow chose to trust me with his most vulnerable moments.
Who let me stand beside him while he convinced a necromancer, a dragon rider, and a terrified portal mage to work with the same government agency that’s been hunting supernatural beings for decades.
Who managed to broker an alliance that shouldn’t be possible between groups that have every reason to mistrust each other.
The way Silas had looked at him with grudging respect by the end of their conversation.
The careful nods of agreement from Cai and his husbands when Dyfri outlined his plan.
Even Jamie’s mother had softened slightly when she saw how gently he’d spoken to Ninian, how he’d understood exactly what reassurances the young man needed to hear.
“You were incredible today,” I say quietly. “The way you handled everyone, found exactly the right approach for each person. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
A faint flush colours Dyfri’s cheeks. “It’s just politics.”
“No, it’s not. It’s empathy. Understanding what people need to feel safe enough to trust.” I squeeze his fingers. “You gave them all exactly what they needed to believe this could work.”
“We gave them what they needed, together,“ he corrects. “Having you there, seeing that I wasn’t alone in this, that a human was willing to stand with me and vouch for the partnership. That mattered more than you know.”
The warmth in his voice makes something flutter in my chest. “Even when I nearly put my foot in it with that comment about government oversight?”
“Especially then. Your genuine confusion about why they might not trust authority figures was actually quite reassuring. It showed them you weren’t trying to manipulate anyone.”
I think back to the moment when I’d bluntly suggested they let Dad’s parliament oversee everything, and the way everyone had gone very still until Dyfri had quietly explained about all the awful things human governments have done to the paranormal community over the years.
“I had no idea,” I admit. “About any of it. I didn’t even know paranormal beings existed. Let alone all the atrocities governments have committed.”
“Most humans don’t. That’s rather the point.” Dyfri’s thumb strokes across my knuckles. “But now you do. And that knowledge makes you dangerous to the people who prefer the status quo.”
“Good,” I say firmly. “The status quo is bollocks.”
His smile is indulgent and teasing. “There’s my revolutionary.”
A silence falls. We are gazing into each other’s eyes. Time is slowing. Gravity is thickening. Heat is growing.
“I need to bathe,” Dyfri says quietly, his dark eyes never leaving mine. There’s something different in his expression now, something smouldering and expectant that makes my pulse quicken.
I nod, not quite trusting my voice.
He stands, moves toward the door, then pauses at the threshold. “Do you wish to join me?”
I’ve never moved so fast in my life. I practically sprint to join him, nearly tripping over my own feet in my eagerness.
Dyfri leads me through the doorway in our flat that I’ve never explored, to a bathroom that takes my breath away.
It’s nothing like the practical shower room I’ve been using.
This is something from a palace or a luxury spa, all gleaming tiles in shades of green and brown and gold that seem to shift and shimmer in the soft lighting.
The centrepiece is a sunken bath that’s more like a small swimming pool, with marble steps leading down into steaming water that smells faintly of something exotic and wonderful. Jasmine, maybe, or some flower that doesn’t exist in the human world.
Dyfri reaches for the laces of his robes with elegant, practiced movements. One pull, and all the silk tumbles down his body, pooling at his feet in a cascade of midnight fabric.
I’m left staring at the fall of his raven-dark hair, shot through with the wedding braid, and other delicate twists woven with my Christmas present. My gaze lowers and drinks in the sight of his perfect ass and exquisite long legs.
He glides forward and gracefully walks down the steps. Sinking into the water with the sort of effortless poise that makes everything he does look like choreographed poetry.
I hurry to remove my own clothes, fumbling with buttons and zippers like a teenager on his first date. My legs get caught in my trousers and I nearly fall face-first onto the marble steps, but somehow I manage to make it into the warm water without completely embarrassing myself.
The bath is heavenly, warm and deep enough to nearly reach my pecs while I’m standing. But all my attention is focused on Dyfri as he moves through the water toward me, droplets catching the golden light like jewels on his pale skin.
“Come here,” he says softly as he guides me to a seat under the water.
He gestures for me to sit and turn around.
I comply. He scoops up water with a copper bowl and carefully tips warm water over me.
And then his hands are in my hair, working some sort of exotic soap through the strands with gentle, thorough movements.
The intimacy of it hits me like a physical blow.
No one has ever washed my hair before, never touched me with such tender care.
“I wish your hair was long enough for me to give you a braid,” Dyfri murmurs, his fingers massaging my scalp in ways that make me want to melt.
“I’ll grow it!” I blurt out immediately, then flush at my eagerness.
Dyfri’s laugh is soft and delighted. “I’d like that very much. Something to mark you as mine.”
The possessive note in his voice sends heat shooting straight through me. He moves around to face me, those dark eyes warm with affection and something much hotter. His hands trail down to my chest, fingers threading through the hair there with obvious fascination.
“Does this fur require special treatment?” he asks with a seriousness that’s deeply endearing.
I laugh, the sound echoing off the tiled walls.
His dark eyes flash at me in warning. Displeased that I’m laughing at him.
“You’re the only special treatment I require,” I croon.
He rolls his eyes but he allows me to pull him close until he is straddling my lap. I like this new position. His naked ass on my thighs feels divine.
Dyfri stares at me. His arms rest on my shoulders. Something heated flickers in his expression. Then he slides forward. Pressing himself closer to me. And causing our cocks to touch.
I grunt as the sensation sparks through me. This is the most marvellous idea he has ever had, and he has many marvellous ideas.
I keep my eyes on his as I wrap my hand around both of our cocks. Dyfri hisses in pleasure. His lips parting. Colour blooming on his pale cheeks.
He is always gorgeous, but in this moment, like this, his beauty is going to destroy me. His image is burning into my retinas, and if I survive, it’s going to be the only thing I see for the rest of my life. Permanently imprinted onto my vision. I don’t want it to be any other way.
His cock is perfect against mine. Smaller, paler, more silken. Just as hard and hot.
I move my hand, stroking both of us. He moves his hips, a graceful movement that rubs us together. Flesh against flesh. Fire against flame. So hot I don’t understand why the water hasn’t turned to steam.
One of Dyfri’s hands leaves my shoulder to cover my hand that’s resting on his hip. He moves me and I obey. He slides my hand behind him and down until I get the idea. I continue the journey under my own steam, and run a finger around his hole.
He moans softly, a barely there exhale. And he rocks his hips faster.
Every part of me lights up. My soul is on fire and my thoughts have been whited out by blazing joy. Dyfri is in my arms and enjoying my touch.
Time fragments. Pleasure, heat and sensation overwhelm me, scattered with images of reality.
Dyfri passing me a bottle of oil, reassuring me that it will work under water. Me coating my fingers with it. Returning to the satin heat of his hole. Easing a finger inside him. Then two. Increasing my grip on our cocks. Working us faster. Fragrant water sloshing around us.
“Give me your cock!” Dyfri says suddenly. His words and tone deeply imperious. Loud after an unknown time of only soft moans and lapping water.
It’s enough to startle my eyes open. And stern enough to make time behave itself again.
Dyfri blushes. “Sorry.”
I grin. Wider than I knew I could. Skin stretching to new limits.
“Of course. Right away, Your Highness!”
Dyfri’s eyebrows draw together. Before he can berate me, I move us. Removing my fingers from his incredible ass, and lifting myself out of the water, to sit on the edge of the pool while carrying him with me, still on my lap, cocks still pressed together.
He inhales sharply, but refrains from yelping in surprise. My grin widens even more. One day, one day I’ll have him completely uninhibited with me.
I release our cocks and quickly slather oil over mine. Then I look into his dark eyes.
“All yours, Your Highness,” I whisper.
Something flashes deep in his eyes. Concern swirls through me. Do I need to say he doesn’t have to? That he can change his mind? Or does he already know?
He nods decisively. He lifts up on his knees. His long, elegant fingers gently hold the base of my cock. He stares into my eyes, into my very soul, and slowly, slowly, sinks onto me.
Tight silken heat caresses me. Pressure and delight. Dyfri and euphoria.
Fireworks are exploding in my mind. My blood has turned molten. Arousal, desire, lust and ecstasy are real, solid things filling my insides. Making me both heavier and lighter.
This isn’t sex, this is a religious experience.
I have found my deity. His name is Dyfri and he is my husband. And I am going to worship him forever.
“Dyfri,” I cry out in reverence.
His eyes roll back. He shudders. He tightens around my cock.
I watch spellbound as he cums. The sight is too glorious. Too wonderful. Far too holy.
I grunt as I tumble and fall, following him over the edge into my own orgasm. Deep inside him, my cock pulses, emptying where he can keep it, and that gives me a deep sense of pride.
Dyfri pants and shudders with aftershocks, his head down, tangled hair covering his face. “That was quick.”
A helpless chuckle bubbles out of me. I’ve never made such a happy sound. I didn’t know I could.
His cock is still hard. Standing proud between our bellies. The most magnificent thing I have ever seen. My softening cock is still nestled inside him.
“I may not be fey, but trust me, if you want it, I’m going to be hard again in no time at all.”
Dyfri lifts his head. His eyes are gleaming with something that looks like delight. A light that is a little feral.
My heart skips several beats. This is rapidly turning into the best day of my life.