Page 49 of Zel
Zel had done that before too, sucking his fingers or Rudy’s to tease out a promise that would never come. This promise would.
He brought his fingers to his mouth and started to wet them with obscene precision. He knew to keep eye contact. To keep his mouth open just enough for Ulrich to see his tongue, and for the excess of spittle to pool at the corners of his mouth while a little dribbled free. When Zel judged them wet enough, he stopped, and Ulrich brought the hand down, down,downto between Zel’s legs.
“Now… will you open yourself for me, little cabbage?”
Zel imagined Ulrich’s tongue there again as he pushed his fingertips in first, then up past his knuckles, two fingers at once. His hands were small enough that he could easily take three. Four. His whole fist when he wanted to.
“You have done this before.” Ulrich grinned.
Zel coyly bit his lip.
“Don’t stop. But now… wet mine.” Ulrich brought his own hand up toward Zel’s mouth and offered his fingers to be sucked.
It was his right hand, which usually would have been black. Even without claws, Ulrich’s nails were sharp, and Zel had to take them into his mouth more carefully. With special attention around the points, he otherwise sucked and wetted them as obscenely as he had his own, while slowly twisting his fingers inside himself, with hips rolled back to reach.
The fullness of fingers did not match what Zel wanted, but that satisfying pressure still made his mouth salivate. Ulrich’s fingers were sopping when Zel finally deemed them ready.
“You should be open enough now to avoid unnecessary pricks.” Ulrich brought his hand down and waited for Zel to remove his.
Zel’s vision went fuzzy at the first slide of Ulrich’s larger fingers inside him, and he arched his neck back with a moan. He was open enough to handle Ulrich’s slow scissoring. No actual scissors-like points pricked him, and he could have laid like that, folded and fingered, until his vision failed him completely.
But Zel’s need to be taken matched Ulrich’s need to be in him.
“P-please… Ulrich…”
“Will you permit me, Zel?”
“Yes!”
Ulrich’s fingers were replaced by the warm press of his cockhead, and as he pushed in, widening Zel to the point of bursting, he thrust up and surged down in one motion to distractZel with a kiss. The pressure within was great, but Ulrich’s claim on Zel was greater.
They rocked, and even while their lips were sealed, mewling whimpers left Zel’s throat like a love song’s refrain. He had never felt so heated. So full. So unable to control the noises emanating from him with each new thrust. The noises spilled from him as if Ulrich drew them out the way a bard drew music from the plucking of their lute strings.
Ulrich slid his arms beneath Zel to heft him closer, lifting him partway off the bed, which drove his thrusts deeper. His hair always seemed to float, swaying ethereally around him. But Zel’s, unbound from his braids, started to float with it, like sunlight streaking across storm clouds. Zel’s magic could manifest in the strands even when he didn’t will it, as if each lock was an entity all its own.
He would swear their bodies started to float eventually too, like gods ascending. With the star-speckled sky above, they might as well have been, communing with the heavens in the safety of Ulrich’s bedchamber.
“You aremarvelous,” Ulrich rumbled.
For the first time in Zel’s orchestrated life, he believed that.
Heat flooded him, and again Zel was surrounded by moonflowers and sage, leaving him to wonder what he smelled like to Ulrich.
ULRICH
Sunshine.
That was Zel’s scent. Sunshine piercing through the dark, like lemon, vanilla, and a field of flowers that could only bloom when closest to the sun’s rays.
Zel’s walls—uninitiated until tonight—clenched around Ulrich as he finished, wringing out more of his seed to fill Zel, like he hadn’t inside another in literal ages. To have filled such a radiant and worthy receptacle was to touch the heavens more than the feeling of any magic or soul devoured. More than looking up and seeing the sky above them through the enchanted ceiling.
More than Ulrich had ever known of real peace.
“I could almost believe in the gods while inside you,” Ulrich whispered.
“With you… I no longer need any,” Zel whispered back.
Ulrich tilted his head down to meet Zel’s stare.
