Chapter 21 #5
One of Araxis's pale hands – the one that had been controlling my head so easily – hauled up the hem of his shirt, exposing his long expanse of torso, before it drifted down to his glistening pink cock.
"And would you –" He came up short as his fingers wrapped around his length, and fuck I couldn't blame him: watching those lovely white fingers wrap around the tapered length of his dick, pink with fuchsia ridges, already slick in his palm, was enough to make me stop breathing.
"You know I'll do anything you ask," I said. "Anything. I'm yours." I watched him start to stroke himself, tentative, and matched the pace, loosening my grip so that I didn't come immediately before I'd had a chance to take in the show.
"Would you – You could – If you like, you can…
come on me." He was already flushed pink, but that offer brought two high spots of red to his cheekbones, his skin gleaming with iridescence, and at once he averted his gaze, wrenching it across the room, like he couldn't look at me now that he'd said it.
His hand stilled on his cock, and he ducked his head, as if embarrassed.
"Of course I can do that," I said. Then, because I hated seeing him uncertain, "Araxis, look at me. And keep up. We're on a timeline here."
A surprised trill broke free from his throat, his black stare darting back to me before it dropped to watch me twisting my own cock.
Slowly, he started stroking himself again, glistening and slick; I could hear my own pulse against my eardrums, my own ragged breath coming from my mouth.
"Did you – fuck," I smothered the little moan that tore from my mouth as Araxis's fist grew wetter, the sounds sloppier, "Did you learn about that in your – educational materials? "
His cheekbones were gleaming as he nodded, a tiny jerk of his chin.
"It's like – tisqen." The movement of his hand was uneven, stuttering along his gleaming length.
"Like being marked. Oh, my treasure – please, I'm close.
" And I knew he was because he'd lapsed into abayan, his voice sharp and pleading, the subvocal bright beneath his words.
It's like being marked. Fuck. Fuck. I pushed myself up, planting a knee on one side of his thigh as I leaned over that perfect expanse of torso, tightening my grip as his hand stuttered below me, wet and frantic – and then his hand was on my cock as well, slippery with his own slick, and a groan choked out of me as I came in a crashing wave of electric pleasure.
Ribbons of come landed across the white skin of his stomach, and Araxis surged up to catch my mouth with his, biting at my lower lip with his sharp teeth.
I dropped my hand down, fisting his dick.
I stroked once, twice, and then he cried out against me, coming in a gush of liquid that dripped through my fingers and coated my palm.
"Holy fucking god," I muttered against his mouth. "Just – how. What –"
He made a soft, pleased sound against me, kissing me again and again. Lifting his hands to catch my face, licking into my mouth and humming with pleasure. "Very efficient," he murmured. "Or so I thought."
I laughed then and shoved myself off of him.
I glanced at my wristband and winced. "That depends," I said, eyeing him as he laid before me, debauched, on the table in a puddle of his own come, with mine rapidly cooling on his skin.
"How quickly do you think we can get cleaned up and get, uh, this cleaned up? "
Araxis, pleased, only shrugged and insisted he was confident we could manage.
Thankfully, by the time we'd hastily wiped down the table and ourselves and just as we were hauling on fresh clothes before making a mad dash to the school – could we do the whole distance in two minutes?
I was skeptical – there was a message waiting on Araxis's wristband from Thodin who said he had gone with Celravi to fetch the children so that we could have some more time alone.
I wheezed with laughter at the look on Araxis's face, which sat somewhere between horror and gratification, and then convinced him to shower with me before we headed out for some sword-dancing.
And by the time we dropped into bed that evening, we'd forgotten all about the shit Xitera was about to throw at us.
Elethenn had said, just that morning, that Xitera always exacted its price.
I hadn't understood then, still believing that, if Araxis and I were together, if we worked together, we could solve any problem that came our way.
Surely, I could charm my way out of most situations.
If that failed, we could strategize; if that failed, we had Araxis's blades and his deadly competence, and whatever the fuck happened with me when I snapped. We'd be okay, I was sure of it.
That night, though, my nightmares found me, although I didn't dream of Seraphim or Andiri or Grigor.
Instead, I dreamt of Tamcer Temahura in a pool of blood, half of his face obliterated in a bloody concave hole; I dreamt of standing above him with blood dripping down from my split knuckles while Nizanin stood at one side, touching my elbow with ice-cold fingers as they murmured, You see?
You, too, are enamoured of violence. What a wretched and glorious thing you are.
What horrors will you yet create, we all wonder.