“Thank you, Loska,” Sei says, trying not to pout when Marek releases him. “We’re going to Rainbow River, wherever that is.”
That’s my favorite place. Except for my other favorite places.
Marek makes quick work of checking the harness and fastening their picnic basket to the rig. Then he looks down and says, “You should put the jacket on.”
Sei unfolds the buttery-soft wyrmskin, and a tendril of greed snakes through his heart. “Can you help me put it on?”
Marek’s attention sharpens. He hops down from Loska’s rigging and takes the jacket from Sei’s hands.
“Turn around,” Marek says, soft like a suggestion. Or a plea.
Sei’s heart beats too fast to reply. He turns around, and somehow Marek feels even closer now than when Loska landed. Entire inches of space shiver between them. Marek touches Sei’s wrist through his sleeve, his fingertips like wine in Sei’s veins. The silk lining slides up Sei’s left arm, enclosing him in Marek’s gift. Friction whispers along his skin. The acrid dye is sweeter when combined with Marek’s scent.
Every touch makes Sei hunger for more.
Marek smooths the jacket over Sei’s shoulders, then spins him around. Sei nearly stops breathing as Marek buckles the jacket up his torso, his huge hands gentle and certain. Reaching Sei’s chest, Marek’s fingertips pause above Sei’s heart. His dark violet eyes anything but gentle, Marek doesn’t pull away. But he doesn’t draw closer.
Until Sei hooks Marek by the shirt and drags him down for a kiss.
Sei has never kissed anyone before. He used to worry he would be terrible at it. His worry vanishes with his first taste of Marek’s lips. Dry, soft, gentler than Sei expected. Marek’s short beard rasps against Sei’s chin. Marek barely moves, except for his hand falling to Sei’s hip, holding him in place.
They barely move, except the entire world flips over and settles into place, brighter than before. When Sei finally drops down on his heels, he already yearns to kiss Marek again.
“I hope that was all right,” Sei breathes.
“I haven’t earned that yet,” Marek says roughly. “I need to apologize for being a boulder.”
“You can earn a kiss for yourself, boulder.” Sei takes a step back, smile widening. “That one was for me.”
Marek extends his hand. “Let’s start with a picnic. I have a few more apologies planned.”
Sei places his hand in Marek’s. “I look forward to them.”
The process of mounting up is unexpectedly relaxing. Fastening helmets and testing straps becomes a ritual. Marek’s touch is professional. Reassuring. Until Marek slides into the harness behind Sei, and they both inhale with the sudden proximity.
The harness holds them together, from Marek’s chest firm against Sei’s back to the hard line of his cock trapped against Sei’s ass. Sei’s thoughts scatter. Surely he’s imagining the sheer size of Marek.
New rule,Loska says, gathering himself for takeoff.No fornicating on the dragon.
***
“Here we are,” Marek says not long after, over the rushing wind. As Loska banks around, Sei looks past the dragon’s dark-scaled shoulder and gasps.
Rainbow River isn’t really a river. It’s a crookedly shaped lake, and its waters gleam iridescent in the faint autumn sunlight. Stones of every color sparkle beneath the clear water, along with swaying, translucent beds of kelp.
The colors shine all the brighter in contrast to the darkness around them. Black-earth fields crumble into white sand at the banks, and a gloomy forest stretches south.
Loska leaves Sei and Marek on the high northern shore, which drops off in a short cliff to the lakeside. They’re far from the water but have a good view of the lake and the forest beyond it.
Have fun.Loska’s tail swishes with poorly restrained mirth.If you need an extra hour, set the picnic blanket up as a flag, and I’ll stay away.
Sei hides his flush by removing his helmet and fixing his hair. Marek just flings a pebble at Loska’s tail. Loska bats the pebble back, then takes off with a telepathic cackle.
Leaving his helmet next to their pack, Sei walks to the edge of the cliff. Schools of sleek fish dart through the shallows, their white scales reflecting the many colors of the water.
When people in Fellrin talk about Draskora, they talk about the magic-warped forests. The harsh mountains. The unchecked blood magic. The scalestone, always the scalestone. Nobody ever talks about places like Rainbow River.
“It’s beautiful,” Sei says quietly.
