And yet you plan to keep leaving me here until the Winter Solstice. Maybe that wand will get the action I promised you instead.I don’t know what makes me write it, but the pen doesn’t even reach the table before he’s replying.
Are you truly going to torment me like this?
P.S. it’d likely split you in half.
Coyly I reply,At least something would …
There’s a lengthy pause then,Damn you, Rune.
As the pause elongates I wonder if he’s sitting there, likely in his private room, perhaps sliding his hand down his open pants, gripping himself, waiting agonizingly for a reply. I let the pause turn lengthy, then pick up the pen again and write,The things I could be doing to you right now … but you’re trapped in a palace instead. It’s too bad. We could’ve destroyed some sheets. Maybe broken a bed frame.
The pen seems to jut into the paper when he writes back,We won’t be truly even until you’re on your knees for me. Mouth open like a good girl.
“Prick,” I say aloud, hating that this has backfired, riling me. I detest that he isn’t here, and for a moment wonder if he might not just find some relief with someone else. Before I can stop myself, I write:
I hope you’re not tempted to break our bet first—but the pen moves while it’s still in my hand, and I nearly feel his grip ghosting over mine.
I only want your lips wrapped around all of me.
I blush, embarrassed but grateful.
He continues,I’m more worried about you fucking that wand. Or worse that guy from Judgment who can’t keep his eyes off you.
I’m surprised, realizing he’s jealous of Wynter still, who has been nothing but polite to me since our return.
Draven continues,I’m glad you have friends. Tell me I have nothing to worry about and I’ll stop daydreaming about shoving him off a cliff.
I laugh. Wynter is a beautiful man, druid, whatever, but perhaps too pure, like fresh snow. Draven’s like fire, a chaotic mess that burns a path wherever it pleases. My hands are too dirty for the first.
I don’t want anybody else. Just your cock in—but I stop writing as ink spills over the page from his side. The words I’d planned to write dissolve under the mess, and I burst into laughter at the hasty scribble on the only clean corner of the sheet.
My brother just walked in and scared the ever-loving shit out of me. To be continued?
I shove the paper to the side and write on a fresh page,Sure Draven, sure. Tomorrow? (Also, hi Ansel, if you are really there)
He says he can’t wait to see you at Solstice. Also, Ansel is making you a gift and it’s hideous. For his sake, please pretend to love it. Let’s continue this discussion tomorrow after your classes.
I take the destroyed page to the fireplace as per usual, smiling and laughing a bit to myself as I let it catch, curling to nothing, only ink remaining on my hands.
SEVERAL MORE WEEKSpass and before I know it, the end of the semester has arrived. Draven and I have been passing increasingly thirstier notes, some downright outrageous, getting bolder with each pen stroke. Finally, the day before finals I write,So, are you planning to return for my soul-day, or do I have to wait till Solstice to see you?
I’ve never mentioned its arrival to him, but some part of me has squirmed the closer it’s gotten. My soul-day is often overlooked by the Winter Solstice, and it hasn’t been something I’vecelebrated since my family’s separation. I’ll be twenty-one this year, and a large part of me is surprised I survived this long.
Draven writes back,Wait … when is your soul-day?
The 15th of Twelfth Month. Some fated mate.We’ve never used the term on our own, just when convincing everyone else. I let the words hang there, heart pounding.
Had I known your soul-day was this soon I could’ve showered you with gifts leading up to the day,Draven writes.Or spent it worshipping you in private. I guess I’ll just have to redouble the effort in what I was putting together for you for Solstice. Unfortunately, it’ll be late. I won’t be allowed to leave in time for your soul-day. But I cannot wait to see your face again. I think I’ve mildly annoyed every person I know with my inability to think of anything else.
You can thank these notes for making me fail all my private classes tomorrow.
Better smarten up,I write back.I won’t suffer a partner with failing grades.
Good luck on your finals Rune. I bet my grades are still higher.
That’s the asshole I love … I … no. Wait. No. Fuck. My elation sours, mind slipping on the truth. I put my face in my hands and groan. I’m too fucking happy he’ll be returning to me.
I’ve known how I’ve really felt since that day in the drake cavern, when I nearly lost him. These ridiculous feelings flooding my veins were so much stronger than my fear.
