Chapter 47 #2
Jassyn reached for the painted pot Lykor had dismissed as another useless decoration and dragged it closer to the edge of the nightstand, its squat cactus swollen with sap.
Jassyn squeezed one fleshy crown until clear liquid beaded along the green skin.
Lykor watched those fingers—the same ones that had unclasped his armor, traced his scars, held him steady while he came apart—and his mouth went dry. “What is…”
A flush climbed Jassyn’s throat. “It’s…” His thumb coaxed another bead from the plant. “You can thank Fenn and Koln later.”
Lykor’s head dropped back against the mattress. “I should’ve known they’d be involved.”
Jassyn eased lower between Lykor’s thighs. One hand skimmed the inside of his hip and guided his leg wider. The other hovered slick between them, the destination becoming abundantly clear.
Then Jassyn stopped.
Waiting.
His breathing had gone too even, each inhale measured the way it was when he forced costly magic through his body and refused to show the strain. The healer’s calm still governed his hands, though his pulse battered the side of his throat.
Lykor realized then what he’d asked for. What it meant for Jassyn to choose this after others had forced his body to endure what he’d never offered.
“Is this…” His voice came rougher than he meant it to. “Are you all right with this?”
Surprise loosened the careful set of Jassyn’s face. His hand tightened against Lykor’s thigh, warm and sure as he met his stare.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m choosing you.”
Jassyn’s slick fingers brushed the sensitive rim between his thighs.
Every muscle in Lykor locked. His body met the touch like an ambush, bracing against the very thing he’d chosen.
Jassyn paused at once.
Lykor inhaled, but the breath left him shaking. “Keep going.”
Jassyn eased one finger inside him, igniting Essence to spread warmth ahead of his touch, convincing muscle to stand down. The stretch burned strange, deep pressure edged with heat. Lykor’s body couldn’t decide whether to fight it or chase it, so it did everything at once.
His fingers twisted in the sheets, jaw locking until his fangs lengthened. His cock throbbed against his stomach, eager while the rest of him stayed taut around Jassyn’s touch.
“Still with me?” Jassyn murmured.
A strangled huff was all Lykor managed, and he refused to be the only one losing ground. His hand reached between them and closed around Jassyn’s hard length.
A sharp exhale broke from Jassyn. Lykor tightened his fist around him and stroked from base to tip, rough enough to catch Jassyn’s breath and make his hips jerk.
But he recovered enough control to return to Lykor. By the time Jassyn eased a second finger inside him, Lykor had stopped mistaking surrender for defeat.
Lykor kept his fist moving over Jassyn’s cock while Jassyn’s fingers worked steadily inside him. A tremor shuddered through the arm Jassyn braced over him, his stomach tightening with each roughening breath as his hips began to chase every stroke.
Lykor reached past him with his free hand and snapped a bulbous crown from the cactus. Sap spilled thick over his fingers, and Lykor filed away the knowledge that this particular desert weed was about to become the most important botanical in his life.
“You—” Jassyn’s fingers stalled inside him as Lykor slicked his fist and drew it slowly over the pierced length of him. His mouth opened on a gasp before he choked out, “You killed it.”
“It died in service.”
Lykor’s thumb passed over the ring at his crown, then slowed over the laddered studs against his palm. He traced one deliberately. The sound Jassyn made dissolved whatever protest remained, rewriting everything those piercings had ever meant.
When Jassyn worked a third finger in, Lykor’s fist faltered. The added stretch drew a groan from somewhere low in his chest. Jassyn held still until the resistance eased. Lykor’s hips lifted toward his hand, seeking more.
Jassyn curled his fingers, and the pressure changed. Pleasure tore through Lykor with enough force to bow his spine from the mattress, his hand going slack around Jassyn.
Jassyn did it again.
Lykor’s talons ripped the sheets.
“Jassyn.”
His voice came out wrecked, plea and threat grinding into the same sound.
Jassyn’s fingers slid from him.
The loss dragged out a snarl, but Jassyn moved forward, one hand braced beside his shoulder, the other closing around himself. The crown of his cock settled against Lykor, slick heat edged by the cooler touch of the piercing.
Jassyn held there, waiting.
Lykor met his eyes, amber shining against the silver light of the moons.
“If you stop now,” Lykor said, rough enough to scrape the words raw, “I’ll never forgive you.”
Jassyn’s mouth curved.
Then he pressed in.
A broken groan tore from Lykor as the first hard stretch dragged through him. Heat from Jassyn’s magic lingered in the clench of muscle, loosening what instinct still held tight while Lykor shook.
His palms flew to Jassyn’s waist when the first ridge of metal slid through. Talons dug into skin before he caught himself and forced his palms flat.
Jassyn exhaled through his teeth, his arm trembling beside Lykor’s head as he sank deeper, each slow advance bringing another change in pressure. Somewhere in the last few inches, Lykor was forced to concede that taking all of him at once might’ve been an ambitious attempt.
A muscle jumped along Jassyn’s jaw. Still, he kept the same agonizing pace, giving Lykor time to adjust until hips finally met thighs and the last distance between them vanished.
They stayed there, joined and motionless. Starlight shimmered across Jassyn’s shoulders while Lykor took stock of the sheer fullness inside him, unfamiliar enough that he scarcely dared move around it.
Jassyn lowered his forehead to Lykor’s. “Do you need more time?”
Lykor’s fingers tightened at his waist. “If you’re trying to make me beg, at least have the decency to admit it.”
Jassyn’s mouth brushed Lykor’s, the kiss unsteady with all the restraint still wound through him.
Jassyn eased back slowly. Heat receded first, then the cooler passage of metal, and a sound tore from Lykor’s chest that belonged on a battlefield.
When Jassyn sank into him again, Lykor’s hips rose from the mattress.
Metal shifted through that smallest movement, and Lykor discovered how little distance Jassyn needed to make sensation change entirely.