"And you're in love with me, too?" I asked.
"Yes, Iris, my heart. You are the moon in my sky, your spirit hung my every star. I never thought my life would lead me to someone like you, and I plan to make the most of every day we share."
I started crying again, but for a good reason this time.
Epilogue
In the three monthssince Benedict had started his sabbatical, our relationship had deepened and grown into one of the most fulfilling aspects of my life. He had spent his days researching and finally taking the time to write the book he'd always wanted to write, and I continued my classes. I'd moved into his townhouse after a month—I ended up there most nights, anyway, so it seemed efficient.
During our days off, he took me out to explore the Dead City. I loved every moment of it; every new place was strange and beautiful, and as time went on, the less I could imagine leaving. He'd told me he would follow me wherever I wanted to go after I earned mycertificate, but I hoped that I could get a position at the Academy.
One evening, Benedict arranged for us to take a trip out to the very edge of the city to see the Royal Daosan Cemetery—the largest in all of Daosbor. We took a carriage drawn by two massive skeletal horses he'd raised, Daisy and Penny.
When we arrived, he helped me out of the carriage, and I gasped at the sight before me.
As far as the eye could see, set amongst jagged ledges and ravines, beautifully carved headstones and sculptures dotted the landscape. Ancient willows sprung up here and there, and a small stream ran through the lowest area, its peaceful waters reflecting the deep gray of the surrounding stone. The sun was setting, and it was early enough in the spring to still be quite cold, so a heavy mist clung to the higher ledges of the cemetery. It was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen.
Benedict studied my reaction, and I smiled at him.
"This is beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here," I said, nuzzling into his shoulder.
"Walk with me, my darling?" He took my hand, and we made our way down the path and into the maze of graves.
We enjoyed the scenery in silence until we happened upon a grave with a particularly fascinating sculpture atop it. It took me a moment to understand what I was looking at, but when I did, I couldn't contain my exclamation.
"Oh! They're.."
Benedict laughed, and answered, "Yes, they certainly are."
The two skeletons were in a position rather similar to the one I'd been in with Benedict on our first night together. One laid on their back, legs spread wide, with the other's hips between them.
"What an interesting choice for a gravestone," I said, now laughing too.
"This is the tomb of one of our great poets of old. Their work was…focused on intimacy, ifyou will. Lovers often come here to honor their memory in an unorthodox manner."
"I'm assuming you mean something other than leaving flowers," I said dryly.
"I do mean something other than leaving flowers," he answered, his voice now heated. He put his hands on my hips, and I let him guide me backward until I felt the headstone pressing against my back. As I looked up at him, he let his mortal features fall away, and he stood before me, all lich—deathly and ethereal.
"Turn around and put your hands on the gravestone," he said, and as always, I immediately obeyed.
I stood, bent at the waist, my forearms resting on the cool stone. I gazed up at the lurid sculpture above us, and smiled—I hoped we'd make them proud.
Benedicts hands were on my hips, and his fingers easily found the waistband of my leggings. He pulled them down to my thighsand groaned softly at the sight of me bare for him.
"Old gods, Iris, I will never tire of this," he said quietly.
He began rubbing my clit, applying pressure widely in just the way I liked. I moaned, rocking back into him. He continued until I was breathless and throbbing for him, and then he removed his hand and dropped to his knees behind me.
His tongue picked up where his fingers had been, and his consistent movements had me orgasming soon enough. He didn't let up, though, as my pleasure rolled through my body. He kept stroking me with his tongue, though gentler now that I was more sensitive, and I felt a finger pushing into the tight ring of muscle behind my cunt. I let out a cry at the sensation, and he slowly worked his finger into me. I couldn't hold out for long—a few minutes later I was gasping out another orgasm.
"Benedict, it's…I'm so sensitive," I rasped, hoping he might give me a reprieve.
"You'll give me another, darling, won't you?" he coaxed, shifting to stand behind me again.
I felt his hard cock brushing against my entrance. When he let his lich features show fully, his cock changed, too, I'd learned. Smooth ridges of bone ran down its length, and a rounded knot formed at its base. It was strange and beautiful and felt so, so good inside me.
He pressed his hips forward, and I moaned at the feeling of each ridge entering me. Inch by inch, he filled me, until the smooth knot pressed into me, stretching me so completely I forgot my own name.
