Chapter 29 #2
He tugs on my hand and pulls me across the small mounds that are difficult to walk on, but become easier the wetter they are. The ground isn’t very hard, and my claws sink in deep, and when a sudden surge of water rushes toward me, I panic and try to flee.
“Wait!” Dante calls, laughing. “It’s okay.” He flops to the ground and peels his boots off, then his socks, and rises, holding his hand out toward me. “It’s fine. It’s just cold.”
It takes me a moment to snag his fingers with mine. I have to be careful because I can’t seem to retract my claws, but touching him is calming. I let him pull me toward the water again, and this time, when the wave rushes up against my feet, I do not run.
“Oh my god!” Dante all but screams. “It’s freezing.”
He clings to me, and I lift him up into my arms, holding him steady with my tail as the frigid water rushes around my ankles. It is not unbearable for me. It is also nothing like a shower, which also seems like such a waste of precious water.
I only like those because I am able to touch my Dante all over.
But this is freeing. Healing.
Dante looks down at me for a moment, then he leans in for a soft kiss. I let my thrymm pulse from my chest to his as he wraps his legs around me, and eventually, as the kiss breaks, he slides down to the sand, and we back away so his toes do not freeze.
The sun setting across the water is growing orange, and it lights my Dante up with a soft halo. He looks so beautiful. More beautiful than the water that has no end. Just like my love for him.
My VySytheh.
He is mine, and I am his.
Our eyes meet, and he reaches out, his hand caressing my cheek.
“I’m so glad we met, that I found you, Cielo. You are my heart…I—” he wets his lips and his cheeks flush pink. He releases an unsteady breath. “I’ve never said this to anyone else…but…I love you.”
My eyes widen, and I trill loudly, my hands reaching out and pulling him into me. I lift him up, his ankles hooking behind my back.
“Love me?” I ask, and he nods.
“Yes. I love you. You’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else. Is that okay?”
I press my forehead against his and let my hand rest above his fragile heart.
“Yes. I love you, too,” I whisper, my voice a hum.
I make sure to send the feeling I have for him through our connection, and he shudders in my arms. His head tilts, and he arches his mouth over mine, our tongues tangling as we kiss.
In front of the water, in front of this wild, untamed force.
Just like my love for him, it cannot be contained. Cannot be controlled. It is impossible, and yet it is mine.
No. It is ours.
When we pull away, I cradle him in my arms, and we stand there on the shore, watching the water, the waves lapping at the sand, until the sun begins to set. The colors the sky makes are glorious. Purples, pinks, and oranges, just like the Eretharian sky.
It makes my eyes fill with water and my hearts beat in uneven rhythms. It is peaceful here. I would like to live near this lake for the rest of my days, to sit outside and watch the waves as I drink my lattes.
With my Dante.
The same Dante who is now dozing in my arms. I cradle him gently as I carry him back to the car, waking him only when he must stop his slumber. I cannot drive and would not fit behind that odd wheel even if I tried.
I touch his cheek tenderly.
His eyes blink open lazily, and he yawns. “Oh shit. I fell asleep. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
I shake my head and set him in the driver’s seat. “I did not wish to wake you, but I cannot operate the machine.”
Dante’s eyes sparkle as he rubs at them. “No worries. I can totally do that. I just nodded off from the sound of the waves and being all warm against you.” I crouch down and help him buckle in.
His fingers touch my cheek and move up to my ear, touching the broken skin there. “I love you. I said that, right? It wasn’t a dream?”
I hum. “No dreeem. It’s reeeal.”
He sighs happily, his fingers rubbing that tender spot softly. “Do these hurt?”
I shake my head, feeling an ache in my chest, then I take a breath and send to him in our minds, “I would have them again, if you would give them to me.”
His eyes meet mine. “You…want me to pierce them? You know I’ve never done that, right?”
I don’t quite know how to explain to a human how important the adornments are, and what they mean to us, but I try.
I send him the feeling of when mine were first done—of the affection I felt for my brothers, and the pride I felt in my commander when I was promoted.
I show him images of myself looking at my reflection—and then I show him a fantasy I have held.
Of him holding the bone needle to my ear, of him piercing my flesh and leaving his mark behind for everyone to know that I was chosen. That I am his.
He swallows heavily. “And I won’t hurt you?”
“No, my Dante.”
“Then I want to do it. I want to mark you as mine.” He leans toward me, and I meet him halfway, the safety strap inhibiting his movement. His lips meet mine, and we kiss again.
I will never grow tired of this. Of touching him, tasting him.
We finally pull away, and I fold into the passenger seat, letting him drive us home.
As we pull out of the parking lot, I crane my neck to see the lake until it is no longer visible.
It is glorious, even in the night sky. I wish to sit beneath the earthen stars and listen to the waves hit the shore.
“We’ll come back. As often as you’d like. And one day, I’ll take you to the ocean, but that will be a trek. We could even go whale watching.”
“Wheeel?”
“Whales. Yeah, like huge creatures in the ocean. You’ll love it. Oh, and dolphins. And if we go to Florida, I can show you manatees. Talk about a spirit animal. They are like ocean potatoes.”
“Pooo-tatos.”
“Yeah, mostly.” He lets out a laugh, and I listen to him speak about our plans, about our future together. It all makes my heart so happy.
He said he loves me, and I said it back. A commitment, a promise to one another.
He is my VySytheh. I would like to mark him if he is ready for it.
If his body will accept it.
I think because he loves me, it may.
On the drive home, it is nearly impossible for me to keep my hands to myself. So I do not. I reach over and stroke Dante’s ears, his neck, his chest, over his cock, which is hard in his pants.
He groans and doesn’t stop me, but I do not allow myself to go too far while he is operating this dangerous machine.
Even if the safety strap would assist in saving him.
But I want him, and the moment we are in the parking lot of the apartment, I send those feelings to him through our bond.
It is growing stronger with each moment I am with him.
It feels deeper now that we love each other.
Something has ignited within me, an ancient, primitive spark that I do not want to be extinguished.
So, I allow him to feel exactly how I want him. How I want to breed him, to take him. As soon as we step inside, he is shucking his clothes, revealing all of his soft, glorious skin. He is even more beautiful than the lake, than the colorful sunset in the earthen sky.
He peers back at me, and his eyes drop to my hand, which is twisting away the fabric lining my waist.
“Cielo,” he says, his voice begging, needy.
I follow him to the bedroom, watching as he picks something out of a small ceramic container and places it between his lips. He does it slowly, tempting, seductive. He knows what he is doing as he swallows it.
And I smell as he exhales. It lingers on his breath, a slow coiling of need making his body arch up toward me.
Oyen.
He wants me to breed him, to make him fat with an egg.
To make him mine.
He groans, his arms reaching out for me, his cock hard and swollen between his legs. I pull him into me, grinding against his body, my cock pushing out from its sheath, wet and dripping. He is begging now, my name on his lips, tears wetting his cheeks.
It is like a prayer to the ancient gods, making that small spark swell, bursting alight.
“Cielo. Cielo. Take me. Make me yours.”
He reaches out and pulls my mouth to his neck, my fangs skimming over his tender skin.
“Fuck me,” he moans. “Fuck me. I need it.”
I lift him into my arms, easily slotting my cock at his hole and pushing inside. My body rocks up into his, the squelch of my natural lubricant meeting his soft skin. I fit perfectly inside. It is the most wonderful feeling being sheathed by him, cradled, milked.
I thrust up into him, his small cock spurting cum as he releases between us. He cannot take the pleasure. I can feel it building inside of him. The oyen is making him greedy, ravenous. And it is not over. There is more. I want more.
I want all of him.
“Take me. Fuck, Cielo,” he moans, arching his neck toward me, his pulse hammering beneath his skin. “Harder. Harder!”
It is tempting to rut into him as I mark him. We have spoken of this, and we both want it. But still I resist.
Do I do this? My body says yes, but still I worry.
Am I enough? Will he want me forever?
“Do it. Mark me,” he sends through our connection. And then comes the feeling of assuredness, of complete surrender. It makes my ears flutter and my tail whip around him, holding him tightly.
That flame is now an inferno of pleasure, lust, and love.
It is all-consuming, burning within me until I can no longer think, until all I can see his him.
And it is only then that I let my fangs sink into his skin, marking him as mine.
He cries out, his cock erupting once more, his hole clenching around my hard, pulsating length, and I feel my cock expanding, my knot forming, opening him up even more.
I suck at his bleeding wound, feeling his essence move into my mouth, the final phase of bonding. Consuming an integral part of him.
He wails, writhing in my arms as I swallow more of it, my release so powerful, I cover his ears and bellow.
It shakes the walls and rattles the windows of his home.
And in that moment, I feel my body trying to breed him, to plant my seed deep within his womb.
I know it’s not possible, but still I want it.
It goes on and on, my body shaking and trembling, curled up around him, shielding him from the violent tremors that wrack my body. But he is moaning, clawing at my skin, his cock in a constant state of release, pulsing out so much cum that it will take hours for me to lick it from his body.
And then he goes limp in my arms as I suckle on his tender skin, lapping at the mating mark, our bodies still connected. We will be like this for a while.
My knot feels as if it never wants to return to normal. My cock would like to stay within my Dante for the rest of time.
Dante snuffles as I hold him close. I feel he is at peace. He is only in a short slumber as his body adjusts to the feeling of being mine, of being knotted to me. I hold on to this moment, memorizing each movement he makes, staring at the mark I made on his skin.
It looks good there, just as he does in my arms.
When he finally wakes, his eyes are hooded, his words slightly slurred.
“Cielo.”
“Dante,” I reply, kissing his lips gently, walking us to the bed, and setting us gently onto it. We are still connected, my knot still pulsing inside of him.
Perhaps we will have to live like this until the end of our days. Me buried inside of him.
I am sure he would not like that, but it seems my mind and body would not mind being tied to him like this.
He winces as I shift above him, and then he sighs happily, wriggling beneath me as I hold myself over him. He looks perfect, his skin shining, his eyes drooping from exhaustion. And I can smell the cum lingering on his skin. It makes my mouth water and my tongue ache to lick.
His fingers brush the mark I left on his neck, another sigh leaving his pretty lips.
“So, um, does this mean we’re bonded?”
I nod, meeting his stare, wanting to make sure he does not regret this. For I shall never regret a single thing about my Dante. Never in a thousand moons.
And what I see in those depths is nothing like regret, not even close. It is love.
“Good. You’re mine, baby.”
“Baybeee,” I repeat and then kiss him again. “Mine.”
We sleep soundly, my dreams full of lakes lapping the shore and the taste of Dante on my tongue. He is fully mine, the bond winding its way around my chest and tightening the longer we are together. It is now more than mind-reading.
It is our essences woven together.
I wake before my Dante does, leaving him behind in the dream as I roll over and stroke a finger through his hair. It is soft and clean, and smells like him.
He murmurs quietly, his body turning toward mine, and I trace a touch over his marks. My marks on his skin. Marks that may heal with his zitha, but I will always know they are there.
It will always be beneath his skin, thrumming a steady pulse, beating my name.
“Love you,” I murmur. I like those human words very much. I like the way they feel on my lips. Dante smiles, but I can tell he is sleeping. He is drifting in and out of the memories of the lake, and the bed. He is dreaming of the oyen, of being filled and bred.
Of me licking his cum off his skin when my knot finally went down and I was able to leave him.
He liked that very much, and so did I.
It was a moment of complete surrender and has almost made me feel stronger.
For a long minute, I drift with him, closing my eyes, letting the ghost of what we have done and the bond between us wrap around me. It is like a hug, but better.
I am happy, and that feels like a dangerous thing to think.
Happy was never allowed before. Happy was not part of the plan. It was almost forbidden.
But here I am, with my Dante, knowing he is my forever. When he ceases to breathe, so shall I.
Just as I start to drift back to sleep, Dante sits up with a huge gasp. His eyes are wide, his heart thundering in his chest. I can feel his distress and cannot help but curl around him, wanting to offer him comfort.
It takes me a moment to realize his phone is ringing, and he fumbles for it, dragging it off the nightstand. “Eissa,” he says.
For some reason, that makes my heart sink in my chest. Why would Eissa be calling him? It must be of great importance.
Dante bows his head as he answers, his breath trembling. “Hello?”
And with my Vyastil ears, I can hear Eissa speaking in rapid English.
Something happened with Luca. He is injured.
He is alive, but hurt.
“Okay. Okay, yeah. Send me the address. We’ll be right there. Yeah, alright. No, you go ahead and call Rath and Everest. Thanks again. See you in a few.”
With trembling hands, Dante hangs up, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s Luca…” he begins, his voice cracking. “He’s hurt—shit. We have to go. Right now.”