34. Tacita
Tacita
Wyatt’s breathing deepens and evens out. He’s out like a light. His arm is heavy across my abdomen with his hand wrapped around Milo’s hip, keeping us all connected.
Feelings are swirling in a whirlpool in my chest, a vortex of happiness and anxiety fighting for dominance.
It’s still a mind fuck to me how I don’t immediately want to leave as soon as I’ve gotten off.
I want the post sex cuddling, I want to continue touching them in any capacity I can, I want to stay and sleep next to them.
Bringing my fingers up to run them through Milo’s curls, he snuggles further into my body.
His head is nestled into my shoulder, his exhales blowing across my breasts, cooling and heating my skin all at once.
“How are you feeling?” I ask him, still half distracted by the cascade of my own thoughts.
“I’m good.” Milo’s voice brings my self-reflection to a screeching halt. I was expecting to feel him nod in answer to my question, or to lift the hand that’s currently resting on the bottom half of my ribcage to sign. “Sticky,” he adds, making me laugh.
We are indeed covered in the evidence of what we just did. I can feel his cum leaking out and making my thighs tacky.
“Do you want to go shower?” I offer.
This time he does nod before gently moving Wyatt’s arm and detangling himself to stand. He looks across at the blonde tattooed man completely passed out.
“We’ll leave him to sleep. I think he’s finally crashed from shifting for the first time.” Indeed, his soft snores don’t change as I move him to a comfortable position and get off the bed.
Taking Milo’s hand, I tug him into the adjoining bathroom.
Dropping his fingers to lean into the shower and turn on the water, and turning the dial to make sure it heats to nearly the max temperature, I straighten to find Milo staring at the new pink line marring his unblemished skin.
It's raised and looks a little raw still, but I’ll take a scar over the alternative.
His eyes drop to my thigh, the one where my dagger is tattooed onto my skin. His fingers come to the garter of Belladonna, tracing the lines. “How?” he asks so softly I almost don’t hear it over the running shower.
“It’s a powerful type of magic. There’s only a few in the realm who can do it. I paid a lot of coin for it.” I run my own hand up the inked blade and feel it pull away from my skin. Palming the handle, I hold it up between our chests.
“You saved me with this.” He runs a finger down the centre of the sharp metal.
“I’m kind of a badass with knives, if you hadn’t noticed.” I chuckle. “But I’d have saved you with or without it.”
“I don’t–” His voice cuts off like his throat has suddenly closed over.
He steps back and signs instead. “I don’t deserve to be saved.”
Putting the knife back to my thigh and feeling the magic return it to ink, I grab Milo’s wrists with both hands. “Yes, you do.”
He tries to sign something else but I cut him off.
“Milo, listen to me. I love you. Watching that blade sinking into your chest is the first time I’ve ever been truly terrified.
If I hadn’t been able to save you, I was planning to fly straight to Charon and demand your soul back.
You’re my opposite in every way but the thought of losing you made me realise how much our opposites have melded together.
How much I want you in my life, how deep I’d already fallen for you.
So don’t tell me you don’t deserve to be saved, because I’ll save you every damn time. ”
He swallows as tears swell in his eyes, making the emerald irises glitter under the harsh lighting.
Without saying anything more, I pull him into the shower and grab the loofah. Where Wyatt got a loofah from, let alone the luxury one this feels like, I have no clue. Although, if asked to place a bet, I reckon one of the Officers is taking slightly less enjoyable showers.
Lathering it up the shower gel, I wash Milo as he stands under the spray, keeping those crystal eyes on my every movement.
Steam builds up around us, cocooning us into this little private bubble.
He reanimates after a few minutes, having sunk somewhere deep inside himself after my declaration.
I’d have been worried if this wasn’t what he does.
I process things differently, I’m more likely to shove it in a box and go do something physical.
He sits with his thoughts until he understands them.
I meant it when I said we’re opposites. Both Wyatt and I are brash, act on instinct types. Milo internalises so hard he checks out.
But he reaches for me as I finish cleaning him off and start on myself. He takes the soapy loofah and runs it in gentle circles over my skin. Lowering to his knees when he’s finished with my torso ,he runs it down my legs. On the way back up, his piercing gaze finds mine once more.
“I love you too,” he says. The words are soft, almost hesitant, but they hit me with the force of a gale. He still has a sadness etched into his features that I don’t understand, but I smile down at him, cupping his face, feeling my heart skip a beat.
“Every. Damn. Time.” I repeat, pulling him to his feet.
Our lips meet in a release of pent-up pain.
From me it’s about almost losing him. From him, I’m sure it's wrapped up in his past. He’s not opened up about that side of himself yet but maybe one day he will; the stuff I learnt from his file is traumatic.
On some level, I hate that I know his history because of our situation.
I want to learn it from his perspective, to see how it affected him and then, hopefully, I can slay the ghosts that clearly haunt him.
His hands play at my waist, turning me to put my back against the tiles.
He pushes his body flush to mine like he needs the closeness, needs to feel the skin-on-skin pressure with another being.
His cock hardens between us and I grind my hips up into him, getting turned on from the way his lips and tongue mould with mine again, and again.
My hands map his face, his shoulders, and his biceps. He’s all strength, not stacked like Wyatt or Garrett, but his lithe muscles are pure power.
His hands don’t stop their exploration of my hips, waist, and slipping lower.
I do, however, gasp when one grips the back of my thigh and hoists, bringing my knee up to wrap it around his middle.
I have to shift my weight to find my balance on one foot but then his cock is sliding through the folds at my core and falling is the last thing on my mind.
Our similar heights make our pelvises perfectly align and on the next thrust of his hips he’s pushing into me. I cry out at being stretched so soon after the last time, but I want it, need it, and would probably actually cry if he stopped.
Eyes locking, our faces are so close our noses rub each time he enters my body.
I don’t drop his gaze as he repeatedly pushes deep and pulls out slow, creating a delicious friction between his cock and my pussy.
I suck in lungfuls of heated steam as my breathing accelerates and I cling on to his hot, wet skin.
A hundred words fly between us, a thousand, and yet not a single one is said. Our bodies and our facial expressions tell us the only thing that matters. That we belong together and that the bond forming between us is becoming unbreakable.
I crash into a cascading wave of ecstasy as the orgasm hits.
Milo joins me simultaneously, and we still don’t let our eyes drop from each other until well after we come back into our bodies.
He breaks it first to place a kiss on the end of my nose before tilting his head to place his forehead to mine.
He releases my leg as he eases out of me.
Despite the hot water still raining down on us, I feel the temperature drop as he pulls back.
He doesn’t go far though–not that space is really an option in this shower–but he rinses himself off before grabbing a cloth and gently rinsing between my legs as well.
We return to the bedroom some time later, once we’re both dry, to find Wyatt still sleeping.
“He’s going to be insufferable when he finds out what he missed out on,” I remark as we work out how to both fit back on the bed.
Milo huffs a small laugh and signs, “Sometimes I want you to myself. He will deal.”
This time I’m laughing. It’s the most possessive thing Milo has ever said.
I note his comment and will absolutely be dragging more of that side out in the future.
“Don’t worry, I want that too. We can play together and separately.
I’m sure we can find ways to make him insanely jealous though, in a teasing way. Just imagine how feral it’ll make him.”
Milo’s cheeks flush that beautiful crimson telling me he is indeed thinking of some hopefully very dirty ideas to carry out my plan. Which means he is hopefully on board with it.
Life becomes pretty fucking fantastic is you ignore the proverbial grey cloud hanging over our head. The Angel shaped, double crossing, kind of proverbial cloud.
There are no more dead contestants and the games become kind of fun when no one is looking over their shoulder expecting to get stabbed as they sleep.
Maybe I’ve had rose tinted glasses put over my view. It could certainly be a side effect from the amount of orgasms I’m currently getting daily. But as the sun beats down on my wings, I can’t help but let the happiness outshine the threat we’re still facing.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still working my ass off trying to find the second spy who still resides amongst us.
Although, I should be working right now but instead I’m perched on the roof of the dormitories, as one of the shifter lessons takes place below.
I’m cloaked in my hood and mask, swinging my legs as I desperately try to hold in my laughter.
I wish I had popcorn for the show happening below in the courtyard.