5. Milo
CHAPTER FIVE
milo
Grievance went into a sort of trance after his knot locked them together. Milo supposed he did, too. They just sat there, connected in both mind and body. Just… breathing. Listening to the fire slowly die, the pops of wood growing quieter and less frequent.
Milo wasn’t sure if they fell asleep like that, or maybe it was just the incredibly soothing way Grievance’s hands seemed to unconsciously roam up and down Milo’s body.
Save for the occasional whimper or twitch, Grievance was like a hulking statue.
Or maybe more like a bear—deep in hibernation.
Whatever the spell of calm was that descended over the Chimera, Milo was glad for it.
He’d always thought he’d like to be fucked to near unconsciousness, but now that he’d experienced it—well, yeah. He still wanted it. But fuck.
That was intense.
Almost too much.
Almost.
Milo was roused when Grievance finally softened. The Kava cock slipped free of him, slapping wetly onto the Chimera’s thigh. Milo couldn’t help but cringe at the feeling of being suddenly so… empty. It was almost as painful as being penetrated in the beginning.
And it was as though he sensed Milo through some invisible connection between them—one Milo couldn’t understand, but Grievance felt instinctively, recognizing his pain and seeking to soothe it.
Grievance worked three fingers back inside Milo, easing him down slowly as his body readjusted to the empty sensation.
Milo let out a relieved sigh, relaxing into his mate’s touch. Grievance massaged Milo’s hole gently, coaxing him down. Caring for him in the afterglow of their mating. Milo smiled, placing a kiss on his mate’s hairy chest.
Slowly, Milo felt his mate shrink under him. His tricolored coat receded, and soon he was regular Grievance once more.
“Are you feeling better?” Milo asked, hoping the effects of the drug were over.
His mate didn’t respond. Just sniffed Milo’s hair, then purred.
“Grievance?”
Milo leaned back, looking into those familiar peridot-flecked eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Grievance just… blinked at him. Like he was content to sit there and stare at Milo, as though he were the center of the world.
“My love, you’re making me nervous. Say something.”
Still, Grievance didn’t speak, but a concerned expression twisted his face, and he nuzzled into Milo’s neck, offering a gentle, reassuring growl.
“Oh, my poor monster,” Milo said with a sigh, running his hand down his mate’s long, thick hair.
The drug in that muffin had obviously returned Grievance to his more primal state of being. He would likely stay that way until the effects wore off.
“When I get my hands on Rowen, I’m going to beat him senseless.”
Grievance stiffened under him, and a threatening growl rose from his chest. Milo couldn’t help but grin. Even as a beast, he didn’t like the baker.
“Shshsh,” Milo said, soothing his monster. “Nobody is here. It’s just you and me.”
And without prompting, Grievance lifted Milo in his arms, standing easily as though Milo weighed no more than a feather.
Silently, he laid Milo onto the bed before sliding onto him like a living blanket, using Milo’s chest as a pillow.
Milo smiled and began playing with his mate’s hair until the Chimera’s breath grew slow and even.
“Good night, my love,” Milo said, the pain from their mating mark still pulsing.
He found he didn’t really mind.
Milo woke to the sensation of something heavy being dragged across his body. It slid smoothly over the blankets, as though it had no texture to catch on the fabric.
Then came the sound of something moving, no—gliding?—across the wooden floor.
“Nng?” Milo groaned, blinking awake and rubbing sleep from his eyes. He felt like he’d only slept for a couple of hours.
And Lanterns, his body knew it.
Every muscle felt heavy and thoroughly used, but the soreness between his thighs was considerably harder to ignore.
Their last session had left him aching in places Milo didn’t know could ache.
Apparently there were limits to what even an enthusiastic witch could withstand in one night, and Milo was beginning to suspect he’d found several of his.
Something moved across him again. Milo froze. That was not Grievance’s leg. It was too heavy. Too long. And it was still moving.
Slowly, Milo lowered his gaze.
The blankets rose over something enormous stretched across his lap. It shifted with a slow, heavy glide.
Like a snake.
But that was way too small a word for what this was. Like, not even close. A garter snake was a snake. A viper was a snake. This was the sort of thing ancient civilizations carved into temple walls as a warning to future generations.
And it was currently in his bed.
On his lap.
The enormous serpentine body glided effortlessly across his legs. Smooth, dark scales caught what little firelight remained in the hearth, flashing almost black before revealing warmer shades beneath—deep charcoal and smoky brown broken by strange patches of ivory and muted gold.
It kept going.
And going.
Milo stared as coil after muscular coil passed over him, the body gradually narrowing until it tapered into a long, pointed tail. The tip slipped silently over the edge of the mattress. A moment later, something heavy dragged across the floor.
Milo stopped breathing. His fingers tightened around the blanket, pulling it to his chest.
“G-Grievance?”
No answer.
The sliding continued. A slow, dry whisper against the floorboards. Milo hugged the blankets closer to himself, suddenly far too afraid to lean forward and look over the edge of the bed.
“Grievance?”
Still nothing. Then the mattress shifted. Something was rising on the other side. Milo scrambled backward until his shoulders struck the headboard.
A hand appeared first. Or something shaped vaguely enough like a hand that Milo’s frightened brain was willing to call it one.
Long, powerful fingers curled over the edge of the mattress. They were too large, the joints too pronounced, giving them an almost spidery appearance. Glossy scales covered every inch, and from the tip of each finger curved a wicked black claw.
“Oh shit,” Milo gasped.
Grievance rose. And kept rising.
And Milo finally had a name for the creature rising before him.
A Naga.
His upper body held the shape of a man, but that was where the resemblance ended. Broad shoulders flowed into a powerful chest and thick arms, every inch of him covered in the same beautiful scales as the serpent body below. They gleamed in the low light of the dying fire.
More scales climbed his throat and swept across his face. Smaller ones patterned his cheeks, catching the light beneath his eyes, while a striking row spread over his forehead and disappeared into his hairline like a natural crown.
Milo stared.
Well.
Apparently, handsome was no longer challenging enough, and his mate had moved directly on to terrifying.
Grievance smiled, and Milo immediately reconsidered the word smile, as his mouth contorted, revealing way too many pointed teeth.
“Oh, Lanterns.”
A long, forked tongue slid free, flicking and tasting the air. Grievance continued to rise, pulling more and more of himself onto the bed. His serpent body was heavy and—
Fuck! There is so much of it.
His enormous lower body filled the space beside the bed before looping across the floor in heavy coils. He had to be several times longer than Milo was tall. Perhaps longer still.
Milo wanted to touch it despite every primitive instinct currently screaming that this creature could swallow him without chewing.
Another muscular ripple traveled through the coils. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight.
Grievance’s tongue flicked out again. Milo stared, and a thought occurred to him. All this time, he’d been calling that ridiculous tongue a basilisk’s tongue.
Had it been a Naga all along?
Grievance’s eyes fixed on him.
Wanting.
Waiting.
Asking.
Milo swallowed. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how this would play out. His body answered with an immediate protest of absolutely not.
“I need… one moment. I’ll be right back.”
Grievance tilted his head, but didn’t move to stop him.
Milo slipped from the opposite side of the bed and immediately regretted every decision he had made in the last several hours.
“Ow. Ow—Lanterns—ow.”
He shuffled toward the apothecary while attempting to retain what remained of his dignity, clutching his lower back like a man triple his age.
There was only one option. One extremely expensive option. Milo stopped in front of the locked cabinet behind his worktable and stared through the glass.
A few tiny silver bottles sat inside.
Marrowdew Elixir.
One of the most difficult potions Milo knew how to brew. It was the combined skill of potion-making and spellwork, something Milo still had trouble with.
The full name of the potion was Unicorn Marrowdew Elixir, and despite the alarming name, Marrowdew was a substance unicorns naturally shed from their horns during a full moon.
Very rare and extremely restorative. A single bottle took an entire lunar cycle to make. Certain ingredients had to be added beneath specific phases of the moon. Miss one step, mistime one ingredient, and the entire batch was ruined.
Which was why Milo kept them for emergencies. Real emergencies.
Milo glanced toward the bedroom. Something enormous thumped against the wall. His jaw tightened.
“This counts.”
He unlocked the cabinet, snatched one of the precious bottles, popped the stopper, and drank. The potion burned cold going down.
Milo shuddered as magic spread outward from his stomach, racing through exhausted muscles and sinking warmth into every aching joint. Fatigue peeled away by degrees. The soreness dulled. His limbs stopped feeling as though someone had replaced his bones with wet noodles.
He stared mournfully at the empty bottle.
I won’t use another. This was an exception.