Page 142 of Devil's Doom

“Would you like one? A hug?”

The question sounds innocent, and the way he blinks at me, with those beautiful, wide eyes, is, too. But we’re naked. A hug right now will not be just a hug. And I…

And I don’t care.

“Yes,” I say, my heart beating faster, a new, exhilarating tightness in my chest.

He nods once, as if confirming my consent, and steps closer, opening his arms awkwardly. I take a step toward him and slowly wrap my arms around his slim middle. One more step, and we press together, his fingertips tracing the shapes of my shoulder blades.

My breathing is fast and shallow, and his picks up, too. Warm water laps against us, the still surface suddenly rippling again. A small current wraps around my ankles until I fall forward, pressing tighter against his smooth skin. His breath hitches.

“The water,” I say softly, my body feeling light, careless, ecstatic.

“I’m the one doing it,” he explains. “Not on purpose. It just… happens.”

And it seems another thing happens, too. A warm, hard shape brushes the front of my hip. He releases a raw sound, not exactly of dismay, but of surprise, maybe. I shiver and don’t pull back.

“Not on purpose,” he repeats, his breath hot on the wet skin of my shoulder.

“Not on purpose,” I murmur, stepping just a bit closer, until my feet are between his.

That’s how we stand for a long time, his back heaving with fast, ragged breaths under my gently stroking hands. My body hums with warm arousal. He stays hard, pressing into my skin, but he makes no move to touch me. We hug, just as he said, and it’s the most peaceful sexual experience in my life.

“Thank you,” I murmur, when all my pain, my disappointment, fear, and regret wash away.

I don’t make a move to pull away, but Chors tenses slightly at my words before taking a step back. We study each other, the silver light making him look like something out of a dream, ethereal and glorious. I long to comb my fingers through his soft, nape-long hair.

“What would you like to do now?” I ask, my voice hushed in reverence.

He looks away, a muscle fluttering in his jaw, more silver dusting his cheeks. I’m not sure, but I think he’s embarrassed. As his throat bobs with a nervous swallow, I wait patiently, giving him time until his eyes fall on me again, his pupils so wide, the silver irises are merely thin circles around them.

“I saw you,” he confesses in a rush. “When he took your virginity in that forest. I watched it and touched myself, and for the first time, I thought… I wondered. What it feels like. But I don’t… I don’t. I was kissed a few times. It didn’t feel like anything, neither pleasant nor unpleasant, and I didn’t know what to do with it. You… If you don’t want to, we can just swim. Or hug more. Or talk.”

He looks away, cheeks so silver, they make his eyes glow bright, his lashes and brows dusted white. I swallow heavily. I know I want him, not because I want to hurt Woland. I’m not even sure Wolandwillbe hurt by it. It was probably another lie.

But Chors’ desire is such a simple, beautiful thing. I’m honored by it, but even more, I crave it. Simplicity is seductive. And I can trust this man, here, in this hidden place, because I sense deeply how vulnerable he is.

And this, I can trade. An open heart for an open heart. Wounds for wounds. Pleasure for pleasure.

“Did you like it when we hugged?” I ask, my voice low with lust, because gods, I want him. Even if he stops halfway through if it’s too much, I still want to try.

He looks up sheepishly, lips parted around small, panting breaths. He nods.

“Then we can hug some more,” I say, raising my hand out of the water until it hovers over his chest, not touching yet. Droplets fall into the lake with faint splashes. “And if there is anywhere you want to touch me, you can. Does it sound good?”

He nods, the movement jerky. He’s so eager, hot breaths falling out faster and faster in excitement. My fingers twitch.

“And may I touch you, too?”

He nods again, a raw, hoarse sound tearing free from his throat. I swallow and lay my palm over his sternum. The violent thudding of his heart travels through his bones, the vibration tickling my skin. He breathes in harshly and covers my hand with his, pushing it down with surprising force.

I feel his taut stomach, the muscles hard and trembling under my fingers. Then lower, through his coarse, wet hair. When we reach his cock, he stops, his trembling hand simply resting over my palm until I twist it slowly and wrap my fingers around him.

He is long and smooth, and he leaps into my hand with a sudden twitch. His breath rushes out, and he puts his palm over mine, squeezing hard. I don’t move my hand, instead looking at his face. His eyes are closed, beautiful features lined with tension. When he throws his head back, a drop of perspiration travels down his pale, beautiful throat. I have an urge to lick it.

Instead, I lean in and kiss it gently. His breath falls out in a ragged moan, and he squeezes my hand tighter, as if to make sure it stays right there, curled around his cock.

I hesitate a moment before kissing his collarbone this time. He shivers in reaction but doesn’t stop me, and I slowly kiss my way up his throat. They are chaste, soft kisses, just lips and no tongue, and still, he shudders with every one as if it’s the most sophisticated caress.

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