Chapter 13 Garrik
GARRIK
Idon’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed.
The water laps gently at the rim of the tub, steaming with the herbal salts I mixed in while Iris dozed in the bed.
She’s not dozing now, though. She’s curled against my chest, nestled between my thighs, her back to me and her body bare.
I’ve got one arm wrapped loosely around her waist and the other resting along the lip of the tub, fingers just barely grazing the edge of the book she’s holding.
Her glasses are perched low on her nose, slightly fogged with heat, her blonde curls bound into a tumble high on her head.
Every few seconds, she shifts her weight and sighs in satisfaction.
I’ve been here before—back on Earth, watching her read, listening while she would huff when a character said something ridiculous or frown when something bad happened.
I got so good at reading her that I could almost tell what was happening in the book based on her expressions.
She has that same stubborn focus now, even with my cock pressed against the small of her back beneath the water…spent but still aware of her. Always aware of her.
I press a kiss to her shoulder and Iris lifts one hand to tangle in my hair. She doesn’t look at me as she scratches lightly at my scalp, making my whole body hum.
Gods, she’s here.
She’s actually here.
The silence stretches on, but it’s comfortable.
Familiar. Like so many evenings before this, back on Earth—huddled under blankets in makeshift shelters, reading to pass the hours, trying not to freeze or panic or think too far ahead.
The only difference now is that I get to hold her while she reads.
I get to feel her weight against my chest. I get to soak in the quiet joy of having her like this—safe, warm, mine.
Her thumb slides between the pages, marking her spot, and she closes the book slowly.
I wait.
“You’re staring,” she murmurs, voice low and fond.
“Can you blame me?”
Her smile tilts sideways. “You used to stare like this on Earth, too. You thought I didn’t notice.”
I chuckle, letting my fingers trail absently along her side. “I knew you noticed. I just told myself I was subtle.”
“You weren’t.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Didn’t think so.”
She leans back into me, head resting against my shoulder now, voice quieter. “You used to look at me like you’d already made peace with it never happening.”
My throat tightens. “Because I had.”
She’s quiet.
“Iris,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her temple, “back then…I couldn’t even imagine this. Not really. We were so different, and you…you were brilliant. I was just an enlisted soldier, but you were saving your world one book at a time. I was nothing more than muscle.”
The water laps at us both as Iris turns in my arms, moving to straddle me. She puts the book down on a little table beside the tub, then she places her hands on my shoulders and looks into my eyes.
“You’re so much more than that,” she says, then smirks slightly. “...even if the muscles are really nice, they’re not your best feature.”
I laugh, trying to shake off how much it makes my heart ache when she compliments me. “And what is my best feature, then?” I ask, dragging my fingers down her spine.
She tilts her head, a stray curl falling into her eyes. She blows it away before responding. “Your shoulders.”
I snort. “And here I thought you were getting sentimental.”
She trails her fingers down my arm, twining them with mine. “...or maybe your hands.”
I laugh, averting my eyes, but her free hand grasps my cheek to meet her gaze again.
“No…it’s that you always treated me with respect, even though I was small and a little stupid,” she says.
She blushes—and it’s shocking that she’s the one blushing for once.
“Even that first day when you showed up at the Infernal Legion camp before we we went to the New York Public Library…you respected me. And you were interested in me and no one else ever really had been before.”
“Because that was the day I fell in love with you,” I say, as if it should be obvious.
She goes still. I think I’ve surprised her—and maybe I’ve even surprised myself a little, but it’s true. The first time I saw her, dirt-smudged and exhausted and reading a romance novel that was singed at the edges, was when I fell in love with her.
“My people…” I start, frowning. “It’s an old concept, but I think I knew even then. My fated one, my fenvarra. That’s what we call it on Kanin. Not a lot of people find theirs, but I always thought you were mine.”
She bites her lip. “Ten years, and you never said anything?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think I had a shot. And…I didn’t want to destroy our friendship. Because you were so, so special to me, Iris. You always will be.”
Her hand strokes down my chest, fingers dancing over old scars. “And now?”
“Now I get to bathe with you in my lap and call you mine,” I whisper. “It’s more than I could have dreamed.”
She leans in to kiss me, and I savor the taste of her, the pure sweetness, the Iris of it all. My tongue flicks out to drag across the seam of her lips, teasing, and she lets me in.
I can sense her arousal, her scent mingling with the team, her cunt wet as it drags against my cock through the kiss. I come to attention right away, ready for her again, but I still her with my hands on her hips.
“Iris…” I murmur. “It’s too much. You need to rest.”
She bites her lip, grinding against me despite my grip on her. “I want to, though.”
“You could hurt yourself—”
“If this is fate, would the gods have really made me unable to take you?”
I scowl at her, already seeing the smirk on her face. “Don’t turn the fenvarra thing against me,” I grumble. “I was trying to be romantic.”
“You are being romantic,” she says, “which is why I want you inside me again.”
I laugh and take her lips with mine, but I still don’t let her sink down on me. Her pussy clenches against the head of my cock, making me want her more and more…but I resist.
“Please, Garrik.”
“You’re insatiable.”
She stops moving, her expression serious when she cups my cheek in her hand and runs her thumb along my lower lip.
“I waited ten years for this, Garrik,” she breathes. “I don’t want to waste another second.”
And because I agree…I let her do as she wishes.
I shift in the water, letting her rise and guide herself into my lap, her knees bracketing my hips. Her hands slide up my shoulders for balance, and I grip her waist, still torn between desire and concern.
But when she looks at me—really looks at me, eyes wide behind fogged glasses, cheeks flushed, mouth parted like she’s trying not to beg—I can’t say no. I wouldn’t, even if I should.
She lifts her hips, just enough to angle herself, and I feel the soft brush of her against the head of my cock. Her breath hitches. My grip tightens.
Slowly, so slowly, she sinks down.
And gods, the heat of her is like nothing I’ve ever felt. The water surrounds us, but she’s fire—soft and wet and tight, her body stretching to take me again. I watch her face, every flicker of sensation. Her lips part around a sigh, and she presses her forehead to mine as she moves.
She takes her time. There’s no rush in it, only reverence. A mutual awe.
My hands roam her back, her hips, guiding and steadying without forcing. She’s in control now, and I let her be. Her rhythm is slow, lazy, teasing—like she wants to savor it as much as I do.
Water sloshes gently with every motion. Her breath is the only other sound, quickening each time she rocks her hips forward, each time I slide deeper into her. She wraps her arms around my shoulders, her fingers sliding into my hair again. My antennae twitch at the sensation.
“You feel…incredible,” I murmur into her neck.
She hums, breathless. “So do you.”
I kiss the curve of her jaw. Her temple. Her lips. She moans softly into my mouth, her hips moving faster now, chasing the friction. My body sings with it, overwhelmed in the best way, every inch of me attuned to her—every sigh, every shift, every flutter of her lashes.
I could live in this moment.
Not just for the pleasure, though gods, that’s exquisite—but for the intimacy of it. The closeness. The way she clings to me like she was always meant to. Like I’ve always been hers.
And maybe I have.
She gasps my name, brow furrowed in concentrated pleasure as her body somehow takes every inch, her pace growing fervored. Water splashes onto the stone floor, her nails pressing half-moons into my back.
“Come for me, honeybee,” I moan, feeling how my hasp latches to her clit. “Come for me now—”
She shudders and sobs as she clenches tight, and I don’t know how…I don’t know how I haven’t broken her, but she loves it. The idea of her taking all of me like this, over and over…it undoes me.
I come right along with her.
And I’m filling her again, gushing into her, emptying myself into her womb, claiming her.
Iris collapses against me with a whimper, her forehead pressed to mine, arms trembling as she clings to my shoulders. My hands stay on her hips, holding her steady as we ride the aftershocks together—bodies locked, breath tangled, hearts racing in time.
Her breath stutters out in a laugh. “I…really love your technicolor dream cock.”
I cough on the shocked laugh I let out in response. “My what?”
“Your…your thingy,” she says. “I forgot what it’s called.”
“The hasp?”
She nods dreamily, resting her head against my shoulder, and she lets out a little whine when my hasp reacts to her praise, vibrating slightly. “Do you like…control it? Or does it have a mind of its own?”
“It isn’t sentient, Iris,” I chuckle. “Well…no more than any other man’s cock.”
She giggles—delighted, exhausted—and I feel her smile against my neck. “Good to know. I was starting to feel like I owed it a thank-you note.”
“Pretty sure you already wrote one with your body,” I mutter, running my hands down her back.
She hums and shifts in my lap, settling deeper, and I hiss through my teeth at the tight squeeze of her sweet cunt.
“Iris…”
“I know,” she says, voice drowsy and content. “Too much. I just wanted to feel you for another second.”
Gods. Every second with her feels like a lifetime I never thought I’d get.
We stay like that until the water cools and our skin puckers, and even then, I can’t bring myself to let her go.
Eventually, I scoop her up again—because she’s gone limp with satisfaction and refuses to move—and carry her back to bed.
Her glasses are tucked onto the nightstand, her curls damp and sticking to her cheeks, her limbs boneless and warm against me.
“Don’t you dare leave me here,” she warns me, eyes already drifting shut as I settle her into the blankets.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say.
She grumbles something unintelligible and promptly passes out, a little smile still playing at the corners of her mouth.
And as I pull the covers over her, tuck myself in behind her, and rest my hand on her hip, I realize something with absolute certainty.
I’ve waited ten years for this, too.
And I’d wait ten more, if it meant ending up right here—with her.