Page 74 of Outside the Veil
Do pookas get the flu?Diego tried an experimental tug at the top of the blankets and sighed when Finn pulled them tighter over his head. “Cariño, this has to stop…”
He put the plate down on the bedside table to try a new angle of attack. One of Finn’s long, elegant feet, among his most sensitive body parts, peeked out of the nest. Before he could mount a retreat, Diego flipped the covers up to Finn’s knees and pulled the resisting foot into his lap. Diego massaged Finn’s instep with his thumb while his fingers caressed the ball of his foot. Long toes curled, the foot stretched and flexed, and a soft moan vibrated under the blankets.
Diego slid his hand up under the covers, over the back of one smooth, lean thigh, to stroke the perfect globes of Finn’s muscular butt. “I miss you,” Diego whispered. “Come out and tell me what’s wrong.”
A soft whimper answered, but Finn stayed stubbornly submerged. Diego slid his hand around the curve of hip, a smile tugging at his lips as Finn’s cool skin shivered under his palm. He found a swiftly stiffening cock waiting for him, and his smile faded as he caressed the shaft with his fingertips. The chill extended even there, and though Finn’s body temperature was a few degrees cooler than human by nature, he always exuded heat when excited.
Something’s very wrong here.He wrapped Finn’s cock in his fist and pumped slowly from base to crown until Finn unwound enough to roll on his back and spread his legs. When his hips pushed up in entreaty, Diego abruptly withdrew his hand.
The covers flew back, Finn’s black eyes tinged in red as he glared at Diego. “You stopped,” he whispered.
“Yes. If I bring you to climax you’re sure to fall back to sleep. Get up,mi vida. We need to get you presentable before she gets here.”
Moving as if his bones ached, Finn sat up against the headboard. His eyes immediately slid shut again.
“Finn!” Diego took him by the upper arms and shook him hard. “What the hell’s wrong with you? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”
“Perhaps…some of your swamp mud…” Finn mumbled, his head falling forward with a thump onto Diego’s shoulder.
“You want coffee? I don’t know if that’s a good idea on an empty stomach.”
“Miriam.”
The word whispered against Diego’s throat, sending a sharp frisson of need through him. Damn it, it had been over a week since they’d made love. “All right, I guess we better try something.”
He hauled Finn up to his feet, wrapped a blanket around his long, lean frame and half-supported, half-carried him down the stairs.
“Dios. I don’t suppose you could shift to something smaller?” Diego asked. Six and a half feet of stumbling pooka was a lot to manage. Finn made no attempt to answer or change his form, so Diego struggled on in silence.
In the kitchen, he tried three times to prop Finn up on one of the chairs and finally gave up, letting him curl into a ball on the floor while the coffee brewed.
How strong do you make coffee for one of the fae?Diego scrubbed his hands over his face and hoped they could avoid any nasty reactions like Finn had to chlorine and certain types of glue.
Plenty of cream and sugar joined the coffee in Finn’s favorite mug with the picture of Van Gogh’sIriseson it, and Diego crouched down to shake him. Deep, even breathing told him Finn was out again.
“Damn.” Diego put the coffee on the counter, slid down onto the floor and unwrapped the blanket from around Finn’s hips. His shaft lay on his stomach, half-erect still, beautiful in its uncut perfection. Diego lowered his head and licked up the underside. Finn stirred and moaned. Gently, he took the hardening shaft into his mouth and sucked until Finn’s hands gripped his hair.
Finn let out a tortured groan when he pulled back. “Sadist,” he muttered, a word he had learned recently.
“No, if I were a sadist, I would have all sorts of interesting and painful toys lying around to try on you. Sit up. Drink your coffee.” Diego pushed and tugged until Finn sat with his back against the cabinets.
Finn hunched over the steam, the mug nearly disappearing in his long fingers. He sipped, made a face, sipped again and shuddered. “Dreadful.”
“Okay, so coffee goes on the short list of things you’d rather not put in your stomach. Normally. Now tell me what’s happening,cariño.What in the world is wrong with you?” Diego stroked a lock of tangled blue-black hair from Finn’s eyes.
“Winter.”
“Winter?”
“Yes.”
“Are you saying you always get like this during midwinter?” Diego struggled to puzzle out what he meant.
“Not…always.” Finn took a long pull at the coffee and seemed better able to hold his head up. “Sometimes. A few days or weeks of sleep.”
“You…hibernate?” Diego blinked. He had never considered that. “What do you… I mean, isn’t it dangerous? Sleeping for weeks? What if something comes along that wants to hurt you?” He rose from the floor and padded to the microwave to reheat the enchiladas.
“I burrow.” Finn’s answer came back oddly muffled.
