Page 29 of The Art of Professing Love

“No, I honestly don’t think he cares about that – he knows I’ll never date him again. He simply doesn’t want me to get what I want. He hates the fact that he has to live with the consequences of his actions while I get to happily move on and live the life the two of us were supposed to have.”

“And will you let that happen? Will you let him get his way?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t control how I feel, and he’s well aware of that.”

Sylvan wrapped his arm around my back and pulled me in closer. It was nice to have someone to curl up with when I felt so alone, but when I looked over at his perfect, ethereal face, all I saw was the fae in the photos with someone else – someone who wasn’t anything like me.

“I can’t do this,” I told him, moving his arm away from me.

“But this morning we –“

“This morning we were in an entirely different world. I’m not like you, Sylvie. I can’t simply put things out of my mind and move on from them. I need time to process them.”

“You mean those pictures?” his face fell.

“Yes, I do – and Lachlan coming back. That threw me for a loop.”

“I know it did, but at least we still have each other.” He tentatively moved his arm into my lap, holding one of my hands in his.

I didn’t try to push him away this time. I couldn’t. But I couldn’t echo his sentiment of love either. Every thought in my mind screamed for me to say what I came here to say, or get up and go home, but I didn’t. I let his fingers brush against my arm, undo my shirt collar buttons, play with my hair. He reached up and took my glasses off, setting them on the coffee table. He blew out the candle next to them, covering us in a blanket of darkness. I couldn’t see anything, but I recognized his lips as they brushed against mine, their soft, velvety touch sending a shiver up my spine.

I shouldn’t have, but I reciprocated the kiss that Sylvan gave me. I sat up straight, kicking the quilt off of us, and pushed him back into the couch. He pressed something into my hand: a bottle. Quickly, each piece of clothing dropped to the floor, wrinkled and forgotten. He spread his legs, guiding my hand onto his erection. I opened the bottle with my other hand, the silky fluid covering my fingers as I let it flow out onto my skin. A few drops fell onto Sylvan’s thigh before I could close the bottle but we were too far gone for either of us to care about a little mess. We were about to get much, much messier than that.

23

SYLVAN

Irving’s finger slid into my hole, the lube that coated it cool and slippery. The arm of the couch pushed awkwardly against my neck. I should have grabbed a pillow to support my head, but I wasn’t going to move now. Irving was about to fuck me, and any wrong move could jolt some sense into him and make him cease everything that felt so good right now.

The pressure built and compounded as he pushed in another finger, then another, stretching me enough to prepare me to take his cock. I loved these moments with him: the moments before we were in the heat of copulation when our pulses quickened with excitement and Irving looked at me with eyes dark with desire. It was in moments like these when the whole world faded away and nothing mattered anymore, not even some old photos or a vindictive ex. Nothing and no one could threaten Irving and me when we were together.

He pressed the head of his cock into me. Shivers ran along my back and arms and legs. I curled my toes into the cushion as he worked himself deeper into my ass, one hand on his length and one around mine.

His hands were so smooth, like no other human’s that had touched me before. They always had callouses, but his felt like the smooth skin of a fae’s, if only because his physical labor was limited to his time with me, and that was hardly callous-inducing work.

His cock filled and stretched me. I loved many things about Irving, and I would be lying if I said his cock wasn’t one of those things. He was a lovely person too, but sometimes a fae just needed a good, hard fucking and he always delivered.

I dug my nails into the couch, worrying for a moment that I might tear the fabric. Then I remembered that I could always sew it back together and that staying present with Irving was more important. I did have a tendency to let my mind get carried away with the little things, but now was not the time for that.

He drove me back to reality, back to his hot, melting touch, with another thrust of his cock. I struggled to catch my breath now, with each gasp leaving my lungs shallow and empty.

“Oh, Irving,” I mumbled.

“What?” he asked. “Harder? Faster?”

“Yes.”

I didn’t elaborate, but he got the message. We knew each other so intimately at this point, words weren’t necessary to communicate. The only thing we needed was each other and everything else was the cherry on top.

He backed off for a second, slowing his rhythm to readjust himself on the couch. We could picked anywhere else, yet this was where we landed, and now we had to make do with what little space we were working with.

He came back harder, using up every last bit of stamina he had left to send me over the edge. I couldn’t have held back if I tried, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. Irving came as I did before collapsing on top of me in a sweaty, breathless heap. I wrapped my arms around him, gasping as he crushed my chest.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, rolling over so he wasn’t on top of me anymore.

“Don’t be sorry.” I smiled and planted a kiss on his lips, tasting the headiness of his breath. “You never need to apologize to me, especially after sex like that.”

He settled down next to me, stroking my chin with the back of his hand. His eyes roved over me, a sort of sadness settling in their dark gaze. I would have asked what was wrong, but I already knew the answer and I didn’t like it one bit, so I kept my mouth shut and enjoyed every last second that we had together in this magical, sleepy moment.

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