The first press of his cockhead within her made her head drop back again, his lips at her throat as he seated himself fully. Those delicious ridges dragged against her, making her feel as if her lungs were tied to the back of her navel, pulling and making it impossible to breathe. When he began to move, Silva wrapped her legs around him as tightly as she could, crying out when he lifted them over his arms. Her entire body was on fire and her eyes burned with tears, but those fae ridges were once again hittingjustthe right spot. He would never be close enough and she was sotiredof being told what she could and could not do. There was no room for anything but the two of them in that moment.
She was familiar with the underwater sensation they seemed to have slipped into. The room around them was frozen, the sound of a truck backing up in the alley hazy and far away.Nothing existed but the two of them, the taste of his blood on her lips, the burn of him within her, and the slide of his teeth as they descended like knives. The pressure of this strange, liminal space pressed on her lungs, but she didn't care about that either. He met her lips roughly when she directed his head, breathing for both of them.
Silva felt slack-jawed, squeezing her thighs around him, squeezing her hand in his hair, holding on for dear life as he fucked her, deep and hard and wild. It felt like some mad fertility ritual, both their faces bloodied, her body on fire from where he had bitten her like an animal. She wanted to feel him come inside her, complete the ritual. They had argued and she had cried and they had both drawn blood from the other. The least he could do was fill her the way she'd been dreaming of.
“I wantyou,” she whimpered into his hair. “Every part. The gentlemanandthe fiend.”
She was going to come again. His cock was at just the right spot, moving at just the right tempo, giving her just what she needed, and her body was ready to sing.
"Are you going to come for me, Silva? I want to feel you squeeze me tight. Squeeze me hard enough that I'll never forget it."
It hurt. She couldn't pretend otherwise. But the white-hot pain was edged in a shimmering pleasure as she slipped over the edge once more, her pulsing contractions again sending a lightning bolt up her spine, radiating from where his teeth had sunk into her. When she clenched around him, Silva tightened her grip. Arms around his back, legs over his hips, her hand in his hair.
"You're mine, Silva. You'll always be mine."
Her eyes rolled back at the pressure when he erupted within her. She and the girls had joked once before about their ancestors, how those ancient elves had been ravaged by orcs and ogres and other large species over the centuries, taking theirhuge cocks until they took them with ease. It was because of those ancestors that the three of them were able to enjoy having Orcish lovers.
The stretch of him already made her eyes roll back, fullness and pressure of him within her delicious enough on its own that she couldn't get enough.This, though. This was completely different. Hot within her, filling her like a water balloon as he came, the pressure almost enough to send her over the edge again as she squeezed around him. Silva closed her eyes tight, imagining his cock within her, expelling rope after rope of his thick white release, spattering her cervix.
She would never be able to be with him again and not experiencethis.
When they were both boneless, Tate attempted to lift himself from her, but she refused to be dislodged.
"Silva . . . Silva, did I hurt you? Dove?" For the first time since the night they'd met, Tate's lilting voice was anguished and uncertain. "Are you—"
"I'm perfect."
It was true. She felt as if she were floating, drifting on a cloud of euphoria. She pulled him back down, their bodies still joined, forcing his head down against the bed with her as he shifted them, rolling slightly. Their faces were bloodied and she wasn't sure if her clit was ever going to stop burning, but they were fine. They were perfect. She wouldn't let them be anything else.
"My fierce and lovely Boudicca."
Her laugh was choked, and she squeezed his hair again, rubbing her nose over his blood-smeared clavicle. Tate tilted her chin and smoothed back her hair, wincing as he dabbed at her bloodied lip with the side of his knuckle.
"Fucking Mab, we're a right mess. I thought you only turned cannibal out of town."
For a long, perfect moment, they could do nothing but laugh. A choked laughter, held between their lips as their shoulders shook and their arms tightened. Sacred and secret and only for them. When it subsided and the only sound left was his thudding heartbeat beneath her cheek, Silva closed her eyes against the tears that burned once more.
"Why does it feel like something terrible is about to happen?"
For a long while, Tate said nothing. Silva focused on the feel of him within her, wishing she could hold their bodies together forever in this bloody little bubble. Secret and sacred. She wondered if he was going to say anything at all, or if he was going to give her another one of his half answers, speaking in riddles, when his voice murmured against her.
"Because the veil is growing thinner. Every day they get closer. I can't keep you safe here, Silva."
She could say nothing in response. It didn't seem real, what he was talking about.It is always night in her Majesty’s forest.
"Well, that's too bad," she said at length. "Because you belong to me."
Tate raised his head, pushing her hair back, honey eyes glinting like flames.
"Aye, dove. That I do. But right now we’re going to get up and we're going to attempt tonottrack fucking blood and cum all through the flat.”
She couldn’t help her giggle, only increasing with his glare. “Then what?”
“Then I’m putting you in the most tepid bathwater you can stand and determining if I need to give you field stitches. We need to get you cleaned up. The ultimate irony would be to have Tír na nÓg come calling and you’re here alone because I’m being held without bond for bloodying your face.”
She laughed all the way to the tub, clinging to his neck as he ran the water, just a hair warmer than room temperature, aspromised. Silva winced as he cleaned her, holding her breath at the burn, but it was worth it. She did not have the benefit of his teeth, and wondered if he would ever give her the opportunity to repay him in kind on his own delicate anatomy.Maybe with a knife. But just a tiny one.
Her head dropped back against his hands as he cleaned her hair, using her strawberry rose shampoo, the bottle she purchased specifically to keep in his bathroom. When he'd rinsed her clean, Tate leaned in, pressing his lips to her temple.
