52. Consumed #2
"That’s it," Xül murmured, his thrusts becoming more measured, more controlled despite the obvious tension in his body. "So obedient for me."
Just when I thought I couldn't possibly last another second, his hand reached out, taking my hair from the ghostly one, pulling me up until my back was flush against his chest, his mouth at my ear.
"Now," he commanded with another maddening thrust, his teeth grazing my earlobe. "Come for me now, Thais."
His permission broke the dam, pleasure crashing through me in waves so intense I screamed his name, my body convulsing around him as he continued to drive into me, prolonging the sensation .
His own release followed soon after, his rhythm faltering as he buried himself deep with a guttural groan that sounded almost like my name. For several heartbeats, we remained locked together, his arms around me the only thing keeping me upright as aftershocks shuddered through both of us.
When he finally withdrew, I collapsed forward onto the bed, my legs unable to support me any longer.
The hands dissolved into wisps of darkness, melting back into the corners of the room as if they had never existed. For several moments, the only sound was our ragged breathing, my body still trembling as I lay face-down on the bed, utterly spent.
I felt the mattress shift as Xül moved, and then his hands were on me again—but different now, gentle where they had been demanding, soothing where they had been bruising. He gathered me against him, cradling me to his chest as he settled back against the headboard.
"Are you alright?" he murmured, his voice entirely transformed from the commanding growl of moments before. His fingers brushed the hair from my face.
I managed a breathless laugh. "I think you broke me."
His brow furrowed immediately, concern replacing the satisfied gleam in his eyes. "Did I hurt you? I?—"
I pressed my fingers to his lips, silencing him. "It was perfect," I assured him. "More than perfect."
The tension eased from his shoulders, and he pulled me closer, one hand tracing idle patterns along my spine. The other reached towards the bedside table, grabbing a small vial.
"Turn," he instructed, his voice soft now, almost shy.
I complied, letting him position me so that my back was to his chest. With a flick of his wrist, he uncorked it, pouring a small amount of iridescent liquid into his palm.
His hands, slick with the fragrant oil, began to work along my shoulders, finding knots of tension I hadn't even realized were there.
"What is that?" I asked, melting beneath his touch. The oil seemed to radiate gentle warmth wherever it touched my skin.
"Healing balm," he explained, his thumbs working methodically down either side of my spine. "It helps with... soreness."
I couldn't help but smile at the hint of embarrassment in his voice. This was a side of him I'd rarely glimpsed—uncertain, almost boyish.
"How many women have you used this on?" I teased, though part of me didn't want to know the answer.
"None," he said quietly.
As his hands continued their gentle work, I felt myself sinking into a pleasant haze, the combination of physical release and his careful touch lulling me toward sleep. Just as my eyes began to drift closed, his voice pulled me back.
"I was worried," he admitted, so softly I almost didn't hear it.
I turned my head to look at him. "About what?"
"That I went too far. That I was too rough." A muscle ticked in his jaw. "That I revealed too much of me."
"And what are you, truly?" I asked.
Now his eyes did meet mine, vulnerability laid bare in their depths. "Selfish. Possessive."
I considered his words. "I'm not afraid of that," I told him. "I'm afraid of your walls."
His hands stilled on my back, and for a moment he seemed at a loss for words.
Then, to my astonishment, he laughed. Bright and startlingly young.
"Only you," he said, shaking his head in wonderment. "Only you would face down a god of death at his most unhinged and complain about his emotional unavailability."
I grinned. "I contain multitudes."
"That you do, starling. That you absolutely do."
We fell into comfortable silence then, his hands resuming their gentle work. When he finished with the balm, he didn't stop touching me—his fingers continued to trace lines across my skin, as if memorizing every curve and plane.
"Are you hungry?" he asked eventually. "I could have something brought up."
I shook my head, burrowing deeper against his chest. "Just tired."
His arms wrapped around me, secure and warm. This was a different kind of possession than before.
I twisted in his arms to face him, taking in the relaxed set of his features, so different from his usual guarded expression.
"There you are," I murmured, reaching up to touch his face.
His brow furrowed slightly. "What do you mean?"
"This is you," I said simply. "Not the Prince. Not the Warden. Just... Xül."
Uncertainty flickered in his eyes. Then he took my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm.
"I've spent so long being what others needed me to be," he said quietly. "What my father needed. What the domain needed. Sometimes I forget who I am without all of that."
"You contain multitudes too," I told him with a soft smile.
He stared at me for a long moment, wonder flickering across his eyes.
As I reached up to touch his face, my fingers brushed against his neck, finding the thin silver scar I knew was there—the one he'd mentioned during our conversation in the garden.
My fingertip traced the mark, but as I followed its path, I realized it didn't end at his neck. It continued downward.
"May I?" I asked, my hand hovering on his bare shoulder.
After a moment's hesitation, he nodded once.
I sat up, allowing him to turn over. My eyes followed the silvery line as it traced a jagged path across his shoulder blade and down his back.
The scar was far more extensive than I'd imagined—not just a thin line but slash that had been cruelly carved.
I'd heard the story from his own lips, but seeing the physical evidence of what Nyvora had done to him as a child made it horrifyingly real.
“You told me she hurt you," I said quietly, my fingers following the raised ridge of tissue. "But I never realized..."
His silence was heavy.
"Why hasn't it healed?" I asked as my fingers continued to trace the mark. "You're a god now."
"Some wounds follow us, even into immortality," he said quietly. "Especially those inflicted when we were young.”
I nodded, kissing his shoulder.
Then a thought struck me with such force that I bolted upright, my heart suddenly hammering in my chest.
"What is it?" Xul was immediately alert, his body tensing beside mine.
I turned to face him, eyes wide. "We didn't—I didn't think about—" I pressed a hand to my lower abdomen, the implications hitting me all at once.
He sat up beside me, his expression softening.
"Thais," he said, reaching for my hand. "You don't need to worry about that."
"How can you be so certain?" I demanded.
"Because it's not possible," he interrupted gently, his thumb stroking over my knuckles. "Not with me."
I stared at him, confusion replacing panic. "What do you mean?"
Xul sighed. "When I took my place among the Aesymar, certain... choices were made. Precautions."
"What kind of precautions?" I asked, still not fully understanding.
"A ritual," he explained. "It ensures that I cannot father children unless it is reversed."
Relief washed through me. "That's... good, then. One less thing to worry about."
He nodded and drew me back down beside him. "Then sleep, starling. ”
He shifted us both until we were lying properly on the bed, my back to his chest, his arm draped protectively over my waist.
I lay there trembling. I’d always equated control with safety, surrender with weakness.
But this—giving him everything, letting him orchestrate my pleasure, my pain, my very breath…
It was a strength I didn’t know existed within me.
Perhaps it took more courage to let go than to hold on.
And I knew, with bone-deep certainty, that I would never want anything else.
Never want anyone else to have this power over me. Only him.
And that was a problem for tomorrow.
As sleep began to claim me, I felt him whisper something else against my skin—words too soft to catch, perhaps not meant for me to hear. But the sentiment wrapped around me like a blanket, warm and safe and perfect.