He gave in and let Deyvid carry him. They had a private bath, one of the few luxuries Deyvid allowed himself in the barracks, and when they got there, the water was cool and refreshinglyclean. Petur slipped from Deyvid’s arms into the tub and turned some lazy circles, then surfaced and began grooming himself again. He kept his eyes on Deyvid, though, and when it looked like his lover was just going to stand there and watch, he splashed a paw full of water at him, sending spatters all over his jerkin.
“Thank you so much,” Deyvid said with an eyeroll. “Just what I needed. I’m fine here.”
Splash.
“Petur!”
Splash.
“You absolute menace,” Deyvid muttered, but at least he was getting undressed now. A moment later, he joined Petur in the tub, shivering just a bit. The shivers went away as he adapted to the temperature, and then he was reaching out and rubbing his fingertips over Petur’s belly, messing up all his careful grooming work and doing so delightfully. Petur rolled and preened, lifting his arms to encourage more pets, and Deyvid hissed in sympathy.
“What happened here, sweetheart?”
Ha, like Petur was going to tell him. It was already mostly healed anyway. He’d be without fur there for a day, but the damage to his skin was repairing itself quickly, the benefit of shifting magic.
A benefit Deyvid didn’t have. Magic couldn’t touch him; he’d built his entire life around that fact, honed his skills to reflect it. But as unique and exceptional as those skills were, they meant that Deyvid was uniquely vulnerable as well. He could be hurt, just like any man, and die of those wounds instead of healing them magically. He could be poisoned, and no spell would be able to save him. He could get a fuckingsplinter, which could fester into something terrible, and Petur would only be able towatch as Deyvid suffered and died. Maybe he wouldn’t even be able towatch, maybe he’d be married and sent away and—
“Sweetheart.” Deyvid gathered Petur in close, and only then did he realize he was whining squeakily, little otter noises of distress. Deyvid pulled him against his chest, and before he knew he was going to, Petur shifted back into his human form.
“Oof.”
“Sorry,” Petur breathed, wrapping his arms around Deyvid’s neck. “I’m sorry, that was too fast, I just … I need to hold you.”
Deyvid, to his credit, just nodded and hugged Petur tight around the waist. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Whatever it is, we’ll be all right.”
No we won’t.Because Tania was going to find some way to ruin everything as soon as she found the right candidate. It might not happen soon, perhaps not even this year, but …
Now it was Petur’s turn to shiver. “Take me to bed.”
He wasn’t flighty enough to try and get Deyvid to carry him—Petur had forty pounds on the other man—but he didn’t let go of him either, not even so that Deyvid could get dressed. Not that it mattered when they were just across the hall from Deyvid’s sparse little room, but it was a level of neediness he rarely let himself express.
Even rarer was getting to their bed, lying down on his back, and pulling Deyvid in between his legs. “Will you?”
Deyvid’s eyebrows rose. “You want me like this?”Inside of you?They rarely had sex that way, Petur vastly preferring to be the one on top, and Deyvid happy to accommodate him, but whenever they did, it was because Petur needed it like he needed air. He needed the reassurance, the closeness, the feeling of possession that only came from taking Deyvid into his body.
“Yes.”
That was all Deyvid needed. He leaned over Petur and kissed him, lips cool but slowly warming against Petur’s as he beganto gently rock against him. Not penetrating, just touching, skin on skin and rising heat that melded their scents together. It was comforting, soothing, and just what Petur needed. They kissed until he was fully relaxed, settled in a way he almost never was and as hard as a hammer, waiting for Deyvid to get inside of him.
Deyvid never stopped kissing him, not even when he slicked his fingers and began to slowly, methodically open Petur up. He kissed down the line of Petur’s neck, nipping sharply at the tendons there and making Petur whine with pleasure. He kissed his chest, suckled for a moment at his nipple before doing the same on the other side, then dipped down and kissed the tip of Petur’s cock as he curled his fingers and brushed Petur’s prostate.
Petur made a sound that would have embarrassed him any other time. Right now, though … “In me,” he mumbled, almost incoherent with need. “Deyvid …”
“Mmm, you’re ready,” Deyvid agreed. He removed his fingers and slicked himself, lips pressed against Petur’s sweat-slicked skin the whole time, then sat up and pushed Petur’s thighs farther apart as he slowly, steadily pressed into Petur’s body.
It stung, but Petur didn’t care. As soon as Deyvid was fully inside him, he wrapped his arms around him, holding him so close he couldn’t even thrust, just grind deep in a slow, pulsing rhythm. His stomach was tight against Petur’s cock, giving him just enough friction to make him wet, and their mouths might as well have been fused together for all the distance between their lips.
So close, so intimate … Petur couldn’t imagine having this with anyone else. He would fight Tania on this, fight her hard because this tenderness, this vulnerability, it was just for Deyvid. He was the only one Petur could trust, the only one who wouldn’t hurt him; hecouldn’tdo this with anyone else.
“Sweetheart,” Deyvid murmured as his breathing began to get thready. “Are you close? Please, talk to me.”
Petur could have come ten minutes before. “Yes,” he said, “yes, now, Deyvid, now, now …”
Deyvid ground up again and again, and on the third deep press, he began to come, loosing himself inside of Petur and triggering Petur’s own orgasm. It started as slow as a tidal wave and was just as inexorable, dragging him out of his conscious control and into a place where he almost never went—a place that was nothing but calmness, sweetness, absolute assurance of safety and care.
Petur lay there in quiet bliss as Deyvid pulled away long enough to clean them both up, then dragged a blanket over them as he settled in by Petur’s side. Because he knew Petur—knew him like no one else did—he tugged Petur into his arms so his head rested on Deyvid’s chest instead of the other way around. It was so comforting, so perfect that Petur almost wanted to cry.
As the bliss slipped away, Petur realized that he owed Deyvid an explanation. His lover would never demand it, but he had to be curious. “Tania wants me to marry,” he said at last.
