He gaped at me.
I waggled my eyebrows at him.
And then I was up and over his shoulder, arms hanging down his back as he carted me toward his room. I laughed at him and spanked his ass, because it was there and deserved to be spanked. He growled at me and I smacked him again, my palm burning. It sent a zing through me, the feel of it, and I knew that’d be something we’d have to explore later, especially when he gasped the second time, clutching me tighter against him.
He wasn’t gentle when he threw me down on the bed, but I wasn’t expecting him to be. Everything was too ramped up after finally coming to a head, and I didn’t care who fucked who, just as long as one of us was eventually inside the other.
I got an idea of how things were going to go almost immediately. He towered above me, knees pressed against the edge of the bed. I smiled lazily at him, watching and waiting. He slid his tunic up and over his head, and there were miles of skin for me to gaze upon for the first time since I’d returned. He was thinner, yes, the muscles in his chest and stomach lean and pulled tight. There were scars across his chest too, ones that hadn’t been there when I left. I’d only glimpsed them briefly the day he’d returned to Camp HaveHeart. There were stories on his skin that I hadn’t been there for, and later, when all was done and we were happy, I’d demand an explanation for each and every single one of them. Of course, the one that needed no explanation was the scar I zeroed in on. The one right below his rib cage.
So I ignored him for the moment, the way he stood in front of me, posing and flexing (because no matter what happened, Ryan Foxheart would always be a bit of a douchebag), and pushed myself up. I crawled to the edge of the bed and sat back on my heels. I reached out and traced the scar with a finger. It was thick and ragged but white, the color of something long since healed. It wasn’t very large, and I was struck by the fact that something so insignificant could have led to something so devastating.
I could feel him staring at me, but I still leaned forward and pressed my lips against the scar where a man named Ruv had thrust Ryan’s own sword into his chest, pinning him against a wall. The muscles in his stomach jumped, and he brought one of his big hands to the back of my head, not pushing me closer or pulling me away, but just… holding.
I kissed the scar again and again and again.
He allowed it, but a moment later, the hand on the back of my head moved until he cupped my jaw, forcing me to look up at him. His bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth, and his pupils were blown out. Through his trousers, I could feel his dick in a hard line against my chest.
We watched each other for a beat or two before he leaned down, kissing me fiercely, still gripping my jaw, his beard scraping wonderfully against my face. It was still such a novelty, and I was delighted by it and him. He licked into my mouth, hot and wet, and I was already scrabbling for the ties on his trousers, trying to get as much skin exposed as possible. I was about to break the knots when they came loose, and I shoved my hand inside, grabbed his cock, and squeezed. He groaned against my mouth. I shoved his face away as I pulled his trousers down to his knees, his cock hard, the head flushed. Before he could say a word, I leaned forward and swallowed him down.
He gasped as he stood ramrod straight, hips twitching like he wanted to fuck my face. Spit was already leaking down my chin as I got him as wet as possible. I gagged when I tried to take him farther, out of practice after having been gone for so long. I pulled off and took a breath.
“Sam—”
“Shut up. I’m going to gag on your dick all I want.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, fingers tightening in my hair. “I have no argument against this.”
“Good.” I licked a line up his fat cock, tracing the vein underneath. I reached up and tugged on his balls, his pubic hair wiry to the touch. I sucked his cockhead back into my mouth, tongue pressing into his piss slit. His grip on my hair was harder now, almost to the point of pain, but I reveled in it, because it was sharp and bright and crystal clear. It wasn’t like one of the hazy dreams I’d had in the forest, my body trembling with magic, lightning crawling along my skin as dragons whispered in my ear. It was real, and almost shockingly so.
He said my name from somewhere above me, and I reached my free hand up his stomach and into his chest hair until I found a nipple. I twisted it gently as I bobbed my head on his dick, pushing myself farther and faster.
His hips started to move then, either by his own volition or an involuntary action. It took a few thrusts, but then my nose was pressed against his pubes, my eyes watering. He smelled of clean sweat and something so distinctly Ryan that an onslaught of memories washed over me, from the very first time we’d been together in Castle Lockes to the last time in Meridian City before everything went to hell. I was a little delirious at the thoughts of him, having spent so long pushing him from my mind.
He was muttering under his breath, saying, “That’s good, Sam, oh, that’s so good, look at you, look how well you’re taking it, you’re doing so good,” and I groaned at the praise, what felt like lightning arcing down my spine. Used to be we didn’t play this way. It was always Ryan doing the good job, Ryan doing so well, because that’s how we were. I didn’t need it, not before, and he did.
But now, hearing him whisper filthy things above me as he pulled his dick out of my mouth and smacked it wetly against my lips, telling me he was going to eat me out before he fucked me, because he needed to taste me on his tongue, I couldn’t help but feel grateful that he was taking charge. It was like he knew I was tired of keeping my shoulders squared and my head high. I was tired of being strong and doing what was right. I didn’t want that now. I wanted to be told what to do by someone who loved me, who only cared about making me feel good.
The sound I made when he said, “Open back up for me, okay?” was one I would probably be em
barrassed about later, but I couldn’t find reason to care right then. I opened my mouth, and his cock was hot and heavy on my tongue. My face was a mess of saliva, and there was the bitter tang of precome on my lips, but I took as much as he gave me.
He stood above me, almost fully nude, strong and scarred and alive, and I was clothed before him, taking what he gave me. There was nowhere else I wanted to be. Everything else could wait. Verania could wait. I’d earned this.
My throat and jaw were sore when he grunted and pulled out, panting above me. His eyes were glassy as he looked down at me, tracing his thumb over my bottom lip. “Gods,” he whispered. “Look at you. Just look at you.”
I sucked his thumb into my mouth, and he hissed before he pulled it away and reached down to the bottom of my tunic. “Raise your arms.”
I did.
He pulled it off, and the air was slightly chilly against my heated skin. I’d long gotten over being self-conscious about the lightning-struck scars from when Myrin had tried to consume my magic. They were a part of me and marked me as a survivor.
Ryan stepped out of his trousers and kicked them away. He leaned down and kissed me, my lips swollen and sore. His rough hands traced down the scars on my chest, gentle and sweet. He reached the ties on my own trousers and tugged at them, my dick aching against the fabric. I reached up and cupped his face while he worked, sighing into his mouth, his beard scratching my cheeks and chin.
“Lift up,” he muttered, and I did. He pulled my trousers down, my dick slapping against my stomach. Once he got them past my hips, he pressed a hand against my chest, forcing me back against the bed. He stood upright again and pulled the trousers off my legs before he dropped them out of sight. He let my left leg fall off the edge of the bed but kept the right in his hand, pulling it up against his chest, turning his head and kissing the bone of my ankle.
“I gotta admit,” I said, sounding rather giddy, “the beard is doing it for me. Like, you have no idea.”
He grinned against my calf, sweat dripping from his brow. “Yeah?”