Love. Love and need like sunshine on a snowy day. Desire and gratitude, and Ever saying, “Come here, Bo,” without a tremor to it.
Grasping hands, gentle and insistent, catching Bo’s fingers before he could press into himself again. Tugging him up and up.
Sometimes, Bo forgot how strong Ever was. Forgot until Ever picked him up, lifted Bo and settled him into his lap. Chest flush to Bo’s back, his cock a teasing pressure against (notin,the fucking tease) Bo’s ass. Mouth and blunted teeth to Bo’s neck, fucking toying with him. Winding him up.
“Fuck, Ever.” Bo let out an unsteady breath, his hand covering Ever’s where it pressed to his chest.
“I’ve got you.” The threat of a wicked kelpie. The loving reassurance of a besotted soulbond. “Claimed and kept. My sweet Bo. I’ve got you.”
Bo made a soft sound, a whimper of agreement. Caught up in Ever’s firm hold on his hip, guiding him down, pressing in. Unhurried. Fucking held him there, shaking.
“Fuck, Ever, fuck.” Bo tried to rock his hips against Ever’s hand, to take and take. “Yeah, fuck, yours. Fucking got me. I– Ever,please.”
Ever nipped Bo’s neck hard, tightening his grip so Bo couldn’t even hope to move.Fuck, his teeth, dragging another low groan, afuck yesin there somewhere, from Bo. Magic welled between them with his shift back, in again, driving deeper, matching the thrust with another press of his teeth.
Hard enough to be felt. Unhurried and demanding. Fucking perfect, the touch of rough to push all the right buttons.
Bo could almost drown in it. Groaning soft encouragement, still trying to take more when held firm, unmoving. Drown in the song through their bond, citrus and snow, want answering want as it built and built and built on itself.
“Tell me?” Ever’s panting, rough voice as he bit down on Bo’s neck with another snap of hips. “Tell me I’m wicked. Your wicked kelpie. Tell me you want me to be.”
There wasn’t–
This–
Words. Ever needed him to makewords, Bo on a fucking wire, more noise than coherency, lost in a haze offuck, more, please.
“Fuck yeah, I want you to be. Beautiful fucking word for you, wicked. ‘Cause you are. My fierce, pretty kelpie. Just what I want.” Words hard to find, but Bo meant everyone. But fuck, he needed more. “Faster, my wicked kelpie? Please? I can take it.”
“Touch yourself for me.”
Bo’d never grabbed a cock faster in his life than he did at that order. Not as good as Ever’s, but the fucking wave of hunger and pleasure that came with his response more than made up for it.
No careful tenderness now. Sharp snaps of hips and shuddering legs, a back eagerly arched. Ever pressing in and in and in, taking with abandon and greed, while Bo fisted his cock, over-sensitive and aching, other hand buried in Ever’s hair. Heels dug into sheets, head back, and fuck, sparks of sensation, of too much and not enough andmore, fuck,more–
“Bo. Sweet. My Bo.” Ever’s words tripped together, desperate. “Summer. You’re exquisite. Drown for me, sweet. Come apart for me. I need you. My Bo.”
Bo twisted his fingers tighter in Ever’s hair; intelligible thought lost to the undertow. That first rush of winter, nurse logs and frost-tipped grass. And hands, grasping from the water, playing as they pulled him down and down and down.
Drowning.
He shattered, shaking, Ever’s name on his lips with, “fuck,Ever, fuck, my kelpie,fuck,” in there, body drawn tight and wet heat spilling onto his hand, his thigh, and Ever, who growled and dragged his teeth over Bo’s skin, fucked him through it.
Everything was want. Shining and bright, rocking through him with each thrust. Low shuddering moans. Heat and heat again, greedy clutching fingers, held tight, then tighter. Driving pleasure, reinless, ravenous, the hum of pleasure from Faerie itself in their bones, the sound of the river and the scent of old growth.
“Mine.Mine. My sweet. My soul.” Words spoken between ragged pants and low groans. “Please?”
“Yeah, yeah, fuck, yes, wicked Ever.” Bo heard himself say, wrecked, bearing down on Ever for that final rock in (and in and in), buried deep, hisplease. “Yours,yours. Fuck, want you to. So fucking good.”
“My Bo.” Just that, and Ever’s whimpering cry as he came, holding Bo, clinging. The only feeling between them love.
And still, Bo held on. Floating, breathing. Whispering, “So fucking perfect. My fucking perfect Ever. My pretty kelpie.”
For a moment, only breath existed. The world knitted together slowly, from teeth to gentle lips, tremors fading to shivers, and moans to quiet sighs, bodies slack and intertwined. Bo hissed when Ever moved them, pulling out slow while he held Bo close.
“Yours, sweet. Your wicked, insatiable Ever.” The words kissed into heated skin. Bo murmured a wordless reply, drowned out by the thrum between them. “I– Bide with me here, just for a moment? I fear I’m not ready to have you out of my arms.”
“I will be the saddest lump known to man if you try to push me away,” Bo mumbled, pressing a lazy kiss to Ever’s temple. “I want to cuddle.”
