Page 38 of Ryld's Shadows
The tumbling thoughts in his head evaporated, nothing left but the hyperfocus on the feel of Hank’s lips and hands where they touched him. Ryld settled his hands on Hank’s hips and closed his eyes, letting Hank anchor him. His soft kisses trailed from his brow to his temple and brushed close to the edge of his ear.
Ryld shivered, and when Hank turned his head he kissed him, not quite as carefully as he had done before. He thought he understood now what Hank meant about devouring kisses.
With a strangled gasp, Hank pulled back. “Hey. Hi.” He was panting, but his smile was warm and maybe a little amused. “Wow. Ryld, I want to touch more of you. All of you. With fewer clothes involved. But I won’t rush you. What would you like?”
Words were sometimes a less convenient method of communication. Ryld deftly undid the toggles fastening his shirt closed and shrugged it off his shoulders. He let it fall and unbuttoned Hank’s shirt just as efficiently.
“I want fewer clothes, too,” he murmured.
“Oh, thank goddesses.” Hank winced a bit as he tried to slide out of the shirt and didn’t complain when Ryld helped. His shoulder was much better, the scar a puckered line against his gray-green skin, but it was obviously still sore sometimes.
Hank let the shirt fall and sank to his knees to undo Ryld’s shoes and remove them, one and then the other, with such great care that Ryld wondered if he liked feet best. But he didn’t linger, rising back up on his knees to undo the front of Ryld’s trousers, sliding the zipper down carefully and tugging the material down to his ankles.
Ryld didn’t think much about his body. It was…functional. He had never minded being small compared to most other drow, except for the occasional wish for greater strength. He liked Hank’s body though, the smoothness of his skin, the shape of his muscles under it. Looking at Hank definitely stirred his arousal but having Hank touch and kiss and nuzzle him was infinitely more so. When Hank looked up at him, Ryld took his face between his hands and leaned down to kiss him. “You are perfect. Everything is perfect, Hank. I want this, want you, want…everything.”
“I do too.” The gold in Hank’s eyes was darker, something fierce and bright shining there. “You’re so beautiful. Sometimes, just thinking about you makes me want.” Hank rose, undoing his jeans as he did and letting them fall to the floor under the weight of wallet and keys. He kicked them aside and took Ryld back in his arms. “Bed?”
Ryld drew him over to the fold down bed and slid over, making room. As soon as Hank joined him he ran his hand down his chest, over his taut abdomen. “I like your shape.”
“Mmm.” Hank’s head fell back, his breathing careful and slow. “I like your hands on my shape. A lot.”
Hank slid his hand down Ryld’s side to rest on his hip, then leaned in to kiss him. Where Hank’s fingers touched, it felt as if tiny bits of lightning were running over his skin. He wanted more of that and pressed closer. He knew where Hank would be most sensitive and slid his hand lower. He kept his touch feather light. If Hank thought he was warm before, nothing compared to the heat that flushed through Ryld now.
A sharp hitch in Hank’s breaths made him still, but the gasp turned into a soft moan as Hank rocked his hips into Ryld’s touch. Hank slid his hand lower to grip Ryld’s backside, nothing hard or painful, but enough to pull Ryld closer still.
Ryld rolled his own hips, craving the sensation of their bodies sliding and pressing together. Touch was a tricky thing. For most of his life touch had been startling, painful, unwanted, yet at the same time, he was starved for touch. To have so much of Hank touching so much of him felt like drowning, like he was a parched patch of ground trying to absorb a sudden summer rain. All his senses were engaged, turned up so high his head hummed. He wanted to stop and examine every new thing but couldn’t wait for the next. Hank’s scent made him dizzy. He knew Hank’s scent, and yet he smelled different now… Like spices, as if Ryld might burn his tongue if he licked him. He had to try it and see. He licked a wet line over the smooth skin of his chest and the hard little pebble of his nipple. Hank gasped again, and Ryld decided he liked that sound almost as much as he liked his taste. He curled his fingers around the stiffening flesh of his penis, stroking the silky skin back and forth.
“I should’ve unbraided your hair before we started,” Hank whispered. “Have it draped all over me—maybe next time.”
He leaned in to claim Ryld’s lips again, sliding his hand between Ryld’s thighs to cup his sac. Part of Ryld was grateful that Hank went slowly. The other part wanted everything, now, faster.
“Hank…” Ryld’s own voice sounded strange in his ears. Thicker, husky. There were things he wanted to say, to ask, and only a smattering of nonsense in drow came out. He gave up on talking. They were so close it was easy to maneuver Hank so that on the next roll of his hips, his penis slid between Ryld’s thighs. He pressed his legs together, and moved, stroking him with the muscles of his inner thighs.
Against his ear, Hank murmured words Ryld didn’t understand, probably in an unfamiliar goblin dialect, before he nipped gently at the point of Ryld’s ear with one of his tusks. Hank’s tongue followed the spark of almost-pain with his tongue, tracing the outer edge of Ryld’s ear while his strong hand closed about Ryld’s erection, matching the rhythm of his hips.
That felt so amazingly good every other thing left Ryld’s head. A thrill of pleasure that felt scorching hot and left his skin tingling raced through him. He gripped Hank’s biceps with one hand and the back of his neck with the other as they moved together in a building rhythm.
“Ryld.” Hank’s whisper had taken on a note of desperation. “Goddesses…”
The rhythm of Hank’s hips changed, jerking and bucking instead of moving in a slow roll and Hank’s lips fastened around the tip of Ryld’s ear, sucking hard.
“Oohh…” Ryld exhaled a soft moan. The rain of sensation became a downpour, a flood, and he was sinking, until bright sparks burst inside him and slicked Hank’s stroking hand with a different sort of flood. Ryld gasped, his breathing ragged, the pleasure shuddering through him for a few moments before ebbing and leaving him feeling like he could float right down to sleep. He fought the urge, wanting to savor the pleasant lassitude.
Hank let out a sharp cry, his hips jerking once more before he melted against Ryld, panting. He slid an arm around Ryld’s waist and just held him, his heavy breaths evening out a bit more with each inhale.
“Thank you. That was wonderful.” Hank lifted one of Ryld’s hands to kiss the tips of his fingers.
“Mm…” Ryld felt too sleepy to do anything, but after a little while he said, “Hank?”
“Hm?”
“I think we are very good at snuggling now. But I still want to practice. A lot.”
“Can never get enough practice.” Hank pulled the covers over both of them and fidgeted around until he had Ryld fitted against his side, head on his shoulder. Not too many breaths later, Hank’s breathing had evened out into sleep.
Ryld yawned, listening to all the little unfamiliar sounds. Hank felt solid next to him, and the small compartment, dark with night, was almost like their own little cave. He too was soon asleep.
