Chapter 13 #2
A couple minutes later, Melusine dances up, handing around the sandwiches, and silence falls for a few minutes as we all eat hungrily. The cold sea air is bracing, and I huddle into my coat. Sigurd pulls me closer with one arm, and I nestle into his heat.
When I look up, Melusine’s eyes are soft. “Yes, you know what I’m talking about,” she says. She turns to Sigurd. “What should I do?”
He considers the ocean, his eyes busy, and then turns to her. “I will intercede with King Llyl for you.”
“Oh, thank you. Thank you,” she says, throwing herself into his arms. I just manage to rescue his sandwich as he hugs her back. Then he sets her away gently.
“But you will have to speak for yourself, Melusine. You are not a child, no matter how young you seem to me. If you are committed to this adult act, then you must stand your own ground.”
“But you’ll be there?”
He nods and groans as she kisses him again. “Peace, child. I need my food.”
She laughs gaily and settles back.
I hand him his sandwich and take a bite of my own. “So, what happens now?” I ask with a full mouth.
He looks over at me. “I will speak to the court, and Melusine must bring her man there.”
She looks suddenly anxious. “Can you not talk for him instead of him going there?”
“Nay,” he says sternly. “He must choose for himself, and you know this. No attempt can be made to sway his mind.”
“Over what?” I ask curiously.
He smiles at me. “He must choose whether it is the sea or the land for him.”
“You mean he’d have to live at sea?”
“They are what you’d call a package deal. Together, or not at all. She must make her choice, and he must make his own.”
“Can’t they have both land and sea?”
“Sometimes, but that is not foretold. I have known it happen once in the past, but that mermaid was very powerful.”
He smiles and I know he’s talking about Morveren.
“I do have a very powerful will,” Melusine muses.
He chuckles. “Well do I know it. Go now, child. I will send word when you are to appear at court.”
“And you won’t tell my parents?” she checks.
He hesitates. “I do not like keeping secrets, but I will keep your location to myself for now. I will tell them that you are safe, though. I shall have to give my word that you will appear. Do not make me a liar, child.”
“Thank you.” She turns, and I gasp as she hugs me. “Thank you,” she shouts exuberantly.
I pat her shoulder. “I’m not sure what for.”
She gets to her feet. “You are here with Sigurd. He has always been so alone, and now he isn’t. Goodbye.”
She rushes off, her coat kicking up and her hair dancing in the strong sea breeze. Within seconds, she’s disappeared down a little path between two cottages.
We watch her go, and I ball up our rubbish and toss it into a nearby bin. Then Sigurd pulls me close, and we sit in silence for a while. Finally, he stirs. “Good grief, Cary. The Mer are tiring.”
I smile up at him, feeling tiredness tug at my bones. “That was a good job done, though,” I say, the satisfaction in my voice slightly marred by my huge yawn.
He chuckles. “For shame, Cary. The Mer do not need to conjure up a vortex when you are at hand.”
I nudge him, laughing, and then fall willingly into his arms. He turns me so my back is to him, his arms cradling me and his chin resting on my head.
We sit for a moment watching the morning sky over the harbour.
Lemon and red streak the horizon, and one by one the Christmas lights blink out, leaving us in the cold light.
His cheekbones are tinged with a hint of red, and his face is shadowed.
“Let us go home. I would sleep for an age,” Sigurd says, nudging me with his nose and dropping a kiss on my cheek.
Home?
Yes. That sounds right. His home is my home. More so than anywhere I have ever lived.
The thought is so sudden and shocking that I stiffen. How can that be? I’ve known this man for only a few days. How is it that his home is mine?
“Cary?” he says, yawning. “Are you well?”
I reach up and squeeze his hand. “I am the best I have ever been,” I say, and he’s quiet for a second.
“You have always been the best,” he says simply, and I feel tears in my eyes at the conviction in his lovely voice. And that’s when I realise it.
His house isn’t my home. He is.
I haven’t got far into the house when Sigurd tackles me. He shoves me into the door, putting up his hand, so I don’t hurt my face, and I feel his hot breath on my neck before he starts to lay a string of stinging kisses on my skin, sucking and biting.
Heat roars through me like a wildfire, or more appropriately, like dragon fire, and I push back against him, panting and struggling to feel his cock press against me.
In return, he pulls at my shirt with open frustration.
Something tears and buttons pop off, pinging along the stone floor.
I don’t know where this sudden, intense need has come from, but something in me echoes and embraces his wildness.
“What happened to magically taking my… Oh my god, do that again… Taking my clothes off? Umm, that's so good.”
“Where is the fun in that?” he says in a wicked voice, and then we’re a mess of arms and hands, groans and grunts as clothes fall away, some of them in tatters, which is definitely down to him.
Then I’m spun around, and our naked bodies come together.
“Yes,” I chant over and over again. The passion is so intense that it discombobulates me a little.
I thought we were headed for a nap, not sex against a door when we’re barely inside his house.
I’m entirely on board with the plan now, though, and we struggle to get closer and closer still.
All the time, he’s kissing me, and I can feel his desperation in the occasional clash of teeth and the way his breath hitches as he bites my lip.
“Sig,” I breathe, cupping his cheek and kissing him back just as hard. I want to get so close nothing could ever tear us apart, and he lets me, shoving his body into mine until I’m pinned.
Then I’m in motion, and I give a squawk of alarm. “What are you doing?”
“Is it not obvious?” he pants, peppering kisses along my face and biting my chin. His hands are full of my arse, and he’s hoisted me up so only my back is against the door. I obligingly wrap my legs around him and pull him close.
“It feels like you’re about to fuck me against the door,” I moan, throwing my head back as he sucks on my neck.
“Careful,” he chides and then negates the warning by doing it again. I’m going to be covered in hickeys by the time we’re done. I love that thought and press closer, tilting my head invitingly.
“You’re so perfect,” he mutters. “So sweet.”
I push my hand down, searching for his dick. My breathing comes in pants that make the air between us sticky and humid. It feels like he’s burning up, his skin hot to the touch, and he cries out when I contort and grab his cock. I try to push him against my hole, but grumble when I can’t reach.
“Wait,” he says. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“No.” I grab his shoulders, my nails making streaks of red along his golden skin. “I want you now.” I rut furiously against him, rubbing my cock in the grooves of his abs and leaving a sticky trail.
He runs his finger over one and sucks it in, his eyes closing in ecstasy.
“My hot little human,” he whispers fervently.
We kiss again, our teeth drawing blood. He lodges his cock against me, the head slippery with precome, his scent strong, and I screw my eyes shut and try to bear down on him.
“I haven’t opened you up,” he says in alarm.
“It doesn’t matter,” I insist. “It won’t hurt.” Somehow I know this for a fact. My body was made in some way for him—the glove to his hand—and I push down, crying out as I feel him slide easily into me.
“Cary,” he cries out. “Wait. Oh, my gods.”
He bottoms out, and we stare at each other, our gazes caught. His eyes are molten gold. Last time, we waited for me to adjust and catch my breath. That doesn’t happen this time. Instead, something snaps, and we go at each other as if the world is going to end before we can come.
His strength is unbelievable. He hoists me effortlessly, holding my backside in his big hands and shuttling me up and down on his cock while he thrusts. Like I’m a sleeve for him. I cry out at the thought, my head falling back limply.
He immediately latches on, biting my throat. His breaths are coming in panting gasps, and I’m no better. Sweat pours off me, stinging my eyes and splattering on him, and this time I know I don’t imagine the sizzle as the drops hit him.
I hang on to his neck, limp, allowing him to fuck me with his big cock pistoning into me, sending goosebumps all over my body.
I realise I’m screaming when I feel the scrape in my throat, but I can’t stop.
All the while, his cock rubs my prostate.
The nub is swollen, and I feel my teeth start to chatter. The pleasure is almost alarming.
“I can’t,” I mutter, and he grunts as his wet hair slides over my skin.
“You can, elskling. You are my match in everything. The other part of me.”
He moves, folding me up until my arse is open to him, ramming into me harder and harder. I can feel the slap as his cock tunnels in. My hole is sore, but I wouldn’t stop if the room were on fire. As if hearing me, I see flickers, and when I look around, I cry out in shock.
The room is full of flames. They dance around us, pink, gold, and midnight blue, bathing us in heat. They run across my hands and arms, leaving a tickling warmth rather than a burn.
Sigurd jerks and tries to pull back. “What—?”
I clench down on him. He shouts and rams into me faster, and still the flames burn.
I grab my cock with one hand, fisting it and feeling the tingles run over me like I’m soaked in Sigurd’s magic the way I am with his slick.
I’m panting too hard to get my words out. “G-Going to come.”
His eyes widen suddenly, astonishment and fear running over his face. He goes to pull out, but then he gives a tortured shout, arches his back, and starts to come inside me, spurting wet and hot, bathing my insides. I feel the swelling pressure against my hole that I felt last time.
“What’s that?” I slur.
“’Tis my knot,” he manages to get out between his groans. “Cary.” He arches again, and the knot locks in, and ecstasy finds me.
The feeling of fullness is incredible. I holler hoarsely, and his hand clutches my arse, pushing me farther onto his knot. I feel a sharp pain as he bites into my shoulder.
Pleasure shoots down my spine, my balls draw up, and come explodes over his flat belly. And it goes on and on. I shudder and shake, my brain numb. His come spills out of my hole around his knot and runs down my legs. And still we come.
I must have blacked out because in my next moment of awareness I’m being carried down the stairs. “Where are we going?” I mumble.
He stops, no sign of effort at carrying my weight after that mammoth bout of sex. “Cary, you are alright?”
I smile at him woozily and stretch. “Feels amazing,” I slur.
“You are not hurt? I am so sorry.” The words tumble out of him. “I lost control. I couldn’t stop it even if I’d wanted to. Have I hurt you?”
“Nope,” I say smugly. “We have got to do that again. And again, and again.” I punctuate the words with kisses on any bit of his spare skin that I can find, and I feel him relax so suddenly it’s startling. He sighs and squeezes me, kissing my head and muttering something in his own language.
Then he starts to walk again.
“Where are we going?”
“To sleep.” He drops a smacking kiss on my cheek. “You have worn me out.”
“Not for long if I know you.” I stir in his arms. “I can walk.”
“Would you humour me and let me carry you?”
I nod with a rather regal tilt to my head. “Can we stay in bed?”
“Eh?”
“We have this one day left together.” I rest my hand against his cheek. “I want to spend it in bed with you.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “Do you not want to see more magic?”
“No. I have all the magic I need right here.”
His arms tighten, and he buries his face in my hair, inhaling deeply as though he’ll fix me in his memory, and then we’re in his bedroom, and he throws me onto the bed.
I bounce, laughing as he follows me down.
He wraps himself around me and covers us with the sheets.
They smell of cotton and him, and I nestle in.
“Sleep, my Cary,” he whispers. “And then we shall make love again.”
And we do. We make love all afternoon, rolling around in the soft sheets on his big bed, but even we can’t stop the night from falling.
I lie in his arms in the room lit by stars and guttering candlelight. Their sweet scent fills the room, and I feel my heart squeeze with dismay.
“I go home tomorrow,” I whisper.
His arms tighten and he buries his face in my hair, inhaling deeply as though he’ll fix me in his memory.
“I would that this night lasts forever,” he whispers.
“But it can’t.”
“Nay. Even my magic cannot stay the sun.”
I lie for a while, listening to his soft breaths, and even when I fall asleep, he follows me into my dreams—his golden eyes and red-blond hair, and his warm hand guiding me through the mist. I think we're back in that strange corridor halfway between the Mer court and freedom, and I hold on tighter, but then he’s gone, and I’m cold.
I cry out for him, but all I hear is the roar of the sea and the beating of his wings.
When I awake, the desolation is still in my heart. Warm light floods the room, and I’m alone in his big bed.