Chapter 18 #2
Ciaran hated that Fray was dealing with everything. Unrequited love, pining from afar.... It had to fucking suck. “I’ll talk to him,” he offered.
Fray shot him a look. “If you spend one minute of the next two days thinking about anything but each other, I’ll be disappointed.” Then he shot Sawyer a toothy grin. “Almost as much as he will be.”
“I’ll be what?” Sawyer said loudly, obviously not hearing over the motor, the wind.
Ciaran went to him, blocking him from the wind, at least. He fixed Sawyer’s beanie, getting lost in his sky-blue eyes, flushed cheeks, and timid smile. He brushed his fingers along his cheek, his jaw. “You okay?” Ciaran murmured.
Sawyer nodded. “About to be a whole lot better.”
Ciaran chuckled, because damn. But doubt simply wouldn’t leave him alone.
“Just so we’re clear,” he began. “We should probably set some guidelines. Expectations, perhaps. When we first arrive, I should get a fire started for you. The hut will be cold, and I want you to be comfortable. And should you wish to talk first, if you have any other questions—”
“Talk? If you wanted to talk, we could have stayed at my place.”
Ciaran heard Fray snort-laugh behind them, but he didn’t turn around.
“Are you sure you’re certain you want to do this?” Sawyer asked.
Ciaran laughed but it lacked much humour, because damn, if Sawyer only knew. He stepped in closer, pressing Sawyer up against the table with his body. He crowded him in, moaning at the contact, letting him feel how certain he was.
“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life,” Ciaran murmured. Sawyer tried to kiss him then, but Ciaran put a finger to his lips. “But your informed consent is my priority. This cannot be undone.”
Sawyer’s eyes narrowed as if he was pissed off.
“I know that. I’m very well aware of the situation because I’m not an idiot.
” He stared at him for a good long while, then he sighed.
“Sorry. I know you... I know you want me to make the right decision. The decision that’s right for me.
But I know what I’m doing. And it’s not just me anymore, is it?
I want to make the right decision for you too. ”
Ciaran opened his mouth to contradict that, but Sawyer wasn’t having it.
“I’m not finished,” he said. “I need to make the right decision for you too. I need it in ways I can’t explain.
It’s not only sexual. I feel it here,” he said, his hand to his chest. “I need to do this. I want to do this. Whatever this bond is between a cephamorph and a human, no matter how weird it might seem to some, it’s real to me.
It’s not pheromones or whatever. It’s fucking real.
Fuck, like there’s a string right here, pulling me towards you.
” His eyes scanned Ciaran’s, searching, imploring.
“I appreciate your concern, that you want to be certain I know what I’m signing up for.
Ciaran, I know. I know what I want, what I need.
And I do appreciate you wanting to talk, to lay out some expectations and communication, blah blah blah.
But you need to know something too. When we get to this hut, or whatever it is, you can fix the fire, if you insist, but you are going to rail me. Are we clear?”
Fray laughed so loud, Ciaran couldn’t help but turn around and glare at him.
“Oh, he’s freaking perfect for you,” Fray said, shit-eating grin in full effect.
Ciaran tried to sneer at him, but he was trying too hard not to smile to pull it off. Instead, he turned back to Sawyer. “Your wish, my command.”
Sawyer’s smile was smug and victorious. He slid his hand along Ciaran’s waist and pulled him in close. “You should probably try getting used to being wrong a lot,” he said.
Ciaran’s eyebrows rose. “Is that right?”
He nodded, eyes darkening as he ran his hand down to Ciaran’s arse and gave it a squeeze. Ciaran’s dick twitched making Sawyer grunt. “Or maybe we can compromise.”
“I can compromise,” Ciaran murmured, eyes drawn to Sawyer’s mouth. He leaned in, just about to press his lips to Sawyer’s. He needed to kiss him, taste him.
Devour him.
Fray cleared his throat. “Jesus. Not even the fresh air is helping. Can you two wait, like, thirty seconds?”
Ciaran turned to growl at him, but Fray nodded up ahead.
The hut.
He pulled the boat up at the jetty, expecting to see the small wooden structure shrouded in darkness, but there was a light on inside, and before he could wonder what the hell was going on, a huge man filled the doorway.
Otis.
He came out toward them, grinning, meeting them on the jetty. “Thought you might like the turndown service,” he said. “Fire, and food for the human.”
Oh man.
Ciaran helped Sawyer step off the boat first, then fist bumped the big guy. “Thank you.”
Sawyer, duffle bag in hand, seemed preoccupied by the hut, the surrounding forest, the river. “This place is awesome. I should have brought my fishing rod,” he mumbled. Only when he looked back at Ciaran did he notice them both staring at him. “Oh, thank you, Otis. The human appreciates it.”
Fray laughed. “Now he can rail you without any fire-making delay.”
Ciaran shot him a dirty glare, but Sawyer simply grinned. “Fuck yes, he can,” he said, clapping Otis on the arm as he walked past him toward the hut. “Don’t wait up, guys.”
Both Fray and Otis laughed, and something warm and lovely burned inside Ciaran. Fondness. Happiness. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t care. He wanted it to consume him. “Thank you,” he said to them. “I should go. I’m on a schedule, apparently.”
Fray snorted. “Yes, you are. I’ll be back in two days.”
“Make it three,” Ciaran said, and hell, he wasn’t even sure if three days would be long enough. “Unless you need me. Come get me if you do. Don’t put it off. If something happens, if anything happens, come straight out. Please.”
“It’s not you I’m scared to interrupt,” Fray said, nodding to where Sawyer was disappearing into the hut. “He’s feisty.”
Ciaran sighed. “I mean it. I’ll be more pissed if you don’t interrupt me if shit goes down than if you do. Okay?”
Fray’s eyes met Ciaran’s, and he gave a nod. He spent a lot of his life joking, as was his way, but he knew when to be serious. “Okay.”
But then he took out his phone and snapped a photo of Ciaran standing on the jetty. “Just getting the last pic ever of you as a single man.”
Ciaran rolled his eyes, and Otis laughed.
“I would say have fun,” Otis said. “But I think we all know it’s a given.”
Ciaran reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out his middle finger. They both cracked up laughing, so Ciaran turned on his heel and headed toward the hut. He did give Fray and Otis a wave over his shoulder but didn’t look back to see if they saw.
He adored his brothers, but he had something else on his mind: Sawyer inside the hut, waiting, wanting.
And Ciaran couldn’t fucking wait.
He stepped in through the door to find Sawyer pulling the mattress off one of the beds and dropping it next to the first, which he’d obviously already pulled off the other bed.
“What are you doing?”
He grinned, a little breathless. “Single beds? I don’t think so.
” He pushed the mattresses together with his foot.
“This is much better. Bigger, more room. The fire was a nice touch. Remind me to thank Otis again when we get back.” Then he pulled off his sweater and T-shirt in one go, and, now half-dressed and half-smiling at Ciaran, he dropped them to the floor.
He scanned Ciaran from head to foot, and he hummed. “You’re awfully far away.”
Ciaran stood there for a beat, as if his feet were stuck to the floor, his hearts thrumming. The urge to morph into freeform was so fucking intense, an itch under his skin. He barely held onto restraint, onto his human form, and he knew he shimmered because he saw it in Sawyer’s eyes.
Pure heat.
“Oh fuck,” Sawyer breathed. “Ciaran.”
Hearing his name, hearing Sawyer whisper it like an ode to the gods, had Ciaran moving. He crossed the room and collected Sawyer in his arms, and holy fuck—his body, his warmth, his smell, his everything—was the only thing Ciaran would ever need for the rest of his life.
Fingers dug into skin, rough and demanding, tongues collided, cocks straining. Ciaran needed him so freaking bad, he could barely contain it.
He couldn’t contain it. Not anymore.
He pulled away and squinted his eyes shut, trying to stay in this form.
“What is it?” Sawyer asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I... I need...”
“Name it.”
Ciaran’s eyes met his, baring his vulnerability for Sawyer to see. “Trying to stay human.” He barked out a tortured laugh, but then he shimmered, and his form buckled as his control barely held. “Fuck.”
He thought Sawyer might back off, or be repulsed, but no.
He slid his hand along Ciaran’s jaw. “Look at me.”
Ciaran did, seeing nothing but stark blue honesty.
“I want you,” he whispered. “The real you.”
Ciaran’s hearts skidded to a stop. “What?”
Sawyer’s smile was rueful, shy. “I’ve dreamed of this.
Fantasised about too many arms holding me down, splaying me out while you fucked me.
I didn’t understand it at first. But when we were in the water, and all your arms wound around me, around my legs, around my waist, my arms. I knew.
It was you, half human, half freeform. It was so fucking hot.
” He licked the corner of his mouth, his smile wicked.
“Don’t ever feel you need to hide any part of yourself or be something you’re not.
When I said I’m in this, I meant it. I want the real you. ”
The sound Ciaran made certainly wasn’t human.
Neither was the way he captured Sawyer’s body with too many arms and took him to the mattress on the floor. If he’d had any doubts about Sawyer and his acceptance of his true self, they were gone.
He wanted this. He accepted him. All of him.
He wanted Ciaran in any way, shape or form—human or not.
Then that was exactly what Ciaran would give him.