“I gather it worked,” Ciaran noted quietly.
“It worked,” Skye agreed as she approached.
With predatory intensity, Ciaran’s pale blue eyes followed her every move as she made her way across the room. He set his guitar down on the floor and slowly stood from his chair.
She took one look at his red-rimmed, glassy eyes and asked in amusement, “Are you high?”
“Well, I ain’t low,” he answered with a sly smile. “So… did ya miss me then?” he asked in a strange tone.
She frowned as she struggled to identify it. Slightly snide, a bit wounded, and carrying a sharp edge. This tone was wholly unfamiliar. He had never spoken to her like this. It sent chills across her flesh for some reason. It sent her heart racing. His words, however, distracted her. Fear gripped her that he might truly doubt how deeply his absence affected her.
“Ciaran, of course, I missed you,” she insisted. Try as she might, she was unable to keep the heartache from her voice. “I never want to be apart from you. I– Whoa! What–?” she cried out in surprise when he rushed her unexpectedly.
Before she knew what was happening, her back was against the wall. She moaned into Ciaran’s passionate, cigarette / weed / whiskey / rum / vodka / tequila flavored kiss.
Evidently, it had been a busy night.
Questions attempted to fall from her lips, but they were devoured by Ciaran before they could be heard. He opened his link to her further in reply instead, flooding her senses with his feelings and needs. Skye’s eyes rolled closed and she whimpered into his mouth. It was overwhelming. It made it difficult to tell where he ended, and she began. She could feel how raw his emotions were. Feel how utterly inebriated and turned on he was by her touch. Feel the terrible ache in his chest over their brief time apart. How deeply it had wounded him to walk away from her. And how desperately he needed to fuck right that very instant to reassure himself that she still loved him.
His hand slipped swiftly down her stomach and beneath her shirt. She gasped against his lips as he abruptly slid his fingers inside of her. Using the heel of his palm, he massaged her instantly-intrigued clit. He set a hard, fast rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers and matched it with his tongue in her mouth. Ever-able to read the cues of her body like an open book, he stopped the very second before she could get off. She sagged in defeat at the loss but did not have long to wallow in the disappointment.
Without warning, he roughly spun her to face the wall, gripping a handful of her hair and pressing her harder against the cold masonry. “I don’t believe ya,” he whispered before nipping at her earlobe.
She groaned involuntarily when she heard and felt him hastily unfastening his belt with his free hand.
“I don’t believe ya missed me at all. Ya ‘ll have to show me, a stóirín,” he breathed heavily and wetly into her ear. “Show me just how much ya missed me, girl.”
“Fuck,” she ground out through clenched teeth as she arched back against him, impossibly turned on by his unexpected dominance.
He unzipped his pants before hiking her shirt up. With an appreciative groan, he gripped a handful of her bare ass cheek. “So fuckin’ sexy, girl. D’ya know tha? So fuckin’ sexy for me like this,” he growled. “D’ya know what ya do to me? Can’t think straight for wantin’ ya. Wantin’ to feel ya so tight and hot around me.” He punctuated that sentence by sliding inside of her, leaving her to cry out and claw at the wall seeking purchase.
“Ciaran!” she whimpered as her body trembled.
“Tha’s it, darlin’,” he gasped against her ear. “Tell me what ya want.”
“You. God, I want you,” she somehow managed.
“Ya have me,” he assured breathlessly. “Always have. Always will.” He gripped her ass hard enough to bruise before he began snapping his hips forward. His movements were punishing, and she was lost to a place somewhere between pain and uninhibited pleasure.
The sound of sex filled the air – his body slamming against hers in a merciless rhythm. It grew louder, wetter, sharper as sweat covered them both. It somehow turned her on even more. Wordless noises and cries fell from her lips. Every muscle in her body tensed and locked, torn between the conflicting needs to make him stop and beg him for more. She lost touch with her surroundings, with the volume of her shouts. He gripped her hair again, roughly turning her face to the side so that he could reach her mouth with his own. She returned his ravenous kiss with just as much desperation.
“Tell me ya love me, a stóirín. Tell me…” he pleaded in her ear.
“Fuck… I love you, Ciaran,” she gasped as she squeezed her eyes shut tight and came with mind-blowing intensity. “I fucking love you… God, so fucking much…”
His body tensed and thrusts became erratic as he chased his release. “Say it, please,” he begged mindlessly against her shoulder. “Please. Say it. Say it. Say it…”
She reached behind her and gripped a handful of his hair, pulling back on it roughly until he let out a broken sound of ecstasy. Her voice dripped with power and took on the breathy quality that always shook him to his core as she answered, “You belong to me, my dark one.”
He came hard for her, his body going rigid as he clung to her and moaned ‘mo bhan-dia’ on repeat – the title that fell from his lips for her every single time he got off.
Skye’s senses gradually returned as Ciaran pressed his forehead to her sweat-slicked back and slowed his breathing. After a moment, the pair slowly slid to the floor together in a tangled heap of disheveled, half-removed clothing, messy hair, and sweat drenched skin.
“I really did,” she finally whispered a few minutes later. “Miss you, I mean.”
She tilted her head back to look at him over her shoulder. Ciaran caressed her cheek with his hand.
“I know, a stóirín,” he whispered back. His eyes grew remorseful as he studied her face lovingly. “I’m sorry I took off. Just needed to clear me head.”
Skye gave him an incredulous look in reply.
“What? What’s tha smirk for?” he asked, but a goofy grin slowly spread across his face. In his easily distracted, inebriated state, he could not help but laugh to himself as he declared, “Tha’s a funny word, idn’t it? We don’t use it enough, if ya ask me. ‘Sssssmirk.’ ‘Smirks.’ ‘Smirking.’ ‘Smirked.’”
She cracked and patted his arm. “Ah, my little drunk-aholic. You ‘cleared your head’ by getting stoned like a biblical whore and drinking a bar-worth of booze?”
“More or less,” he answered with a shrug. “Had quite a bit of pharmaceutical assistance, as well. Nah an easy task, gettin’ me self quite so thoroughly ossified, I’ll have ya know. And, to be fair, it was several bars-worth of booze.”
He held up his hands and shook them to show off his impressive collection. She laughed at the multitude of colorful stamps and wristbands he was sporting from the numerous clubs and bars he had visited that night.
His features suddenly twisted in concern. “Hey, wait – how are ya feelin’?” he asked worriedly.
She frowned. “Fine,” she answered before tilting her head to the side and arching a brow in amusement. “A bit like someone just tried to fuck me through a concrete wall, but otherwise normal. Why?”
“Ya looked so drained when I left…” he recalled fretfully. “Shite, I can’t believe I didn’t even bother to ask before…!” He motioned to their current sexed-out state.
“No worries. I’m good, sweets. Taran brought me home and put me straight to bed…” Skye trailed off in realization. In her glee to have Ciaran back home, safe and sound, she had nearly forgotten the confession she made in his absence.
“What’s the matter?” Ciaran asked, peering down at her as he sensed her sudden tension.
“I was talking to Taran and Miko earlier and…” She sighed, shaking her head at the situation. “These nightmares and hallucinations I’ve been having… I think they’re deliberate. I think someone’s doing this to me.”
Ciaran frowned and
held her a little tighter. “Like Brandubh? Ya think he’s comin’ after ya again?”
Skye winced hearing that name leaving Ciaran’s perfect lips. It was just another stab in the heart that she was keeping the truth from him. She took a steadying breath. “Seems likely. Taran said you’d mentioned feeling a darkness in my mind through our link,” she waited for Ciaran to nod in agreement. “Well, I think that’s it – whatever it is. A spell or a hex or whatever. Something cast over me, something inside of me, preying on my fears and using them to sap my strength. I need to return to Sorcha to see if she can get rid of it.”
Ciaran nodded. “We can leave as soon as you’re ready. Just say the word, a stóirín.”
“I’m not sure when we’re leaving yet. We’ve got the war to worry about and I still have to charge up the sigils and Miko is about to go through his first change… But we’re going to make the plans later this morning. I just need to stay sane until then,” she said with a bitter laugh.
At the reminder of his earlier fear for her sanity, Ciaran kissed her temple and closed his eyes. “I’ll do me best to keep ya calm and distracted, love. Anything ya need, ya have but to ask.”
Skye smiled. “I knew you’d help me out there.” She looked at their current position and sighed. “I don’t feel like moving.”
“Could stay here if ya like,” he offered. “Or I could carry ya.”
“I like plan A, at least for a little bit,” she said and snuggled back into his arms.
Ciaran sighed contentedly and – similarly to when Taran had been alone with her earlier that evening – reveled in the rare opportunity to enjoy a private moment with his Goddess. Not that he ever minded Taran’s presence, either, but it was definitely nice to have Skye all to himself occasionally. He kissed the top of her head and shifted to make her more comfortable.
“I love ya, a stóirín,” he whispered honestly into her ear. “More than anything. More than me life. Ya know tha, yeah?”
He smiled when he received a mumbled, half-asleep reply of, “Mm-hmm... Love you, too, Ciaran.”
“Sleep well, darlin’,” he whispered.
8: Do Tell
Ciaran and Skye remained where they had collapsed until the sun started to rise and the den began to come alive with the sounds of their waking pack members. They crept back to their temporary bedroom like teenagers after a night of sneaking out – half-clothed and sexed-out, giggling conspiratorially while narrowly avoiding being seen.
Miko, having just risen for the day, grimaced when his new faol senses alerted him to their presence down the hall. (As if they had not made enough of a racket already.)
“Ugh, we can still smell and hear you pervs!” he called and heard Ciaran snort in amusement. He rolled his eyes and shouted, “You’re giving ‘Mickey D’s’ a whole new meaning, you horny, little, Irish bastard!”
Ciaran grinned and called back over his shoulder, “I’ve served up far more meat than they have, boy-o!”
Miko groaned, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath, “Freaks!”
“Killjoy!” Ciaran answered. He closed their bedroom door behind them and declared, “We have GOT to get tha lad laid.”
Skye stripped off the shirt she was only sort of wearing and eagerly climbed back into bed. She slid directly into Taran’s warm arms and held on tight. Taran chuckled and peered down at her with one eye open. He knew that she was soaking up the last few minutes before he inevitably was called away.
Ciaran yawned as he crossed the room, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in his wake. He flopped down onto the bed face first, drew his knees up under himself, and with his ass up to the world, was well on his way to sleep in a matter of seconds.
Taran laughed at the pitiful sight of his brother and commented, “Long night, by the look of it.”
Skye had just opened her mouth to answer when Taran’s (still greatly disliked) cell phone chimed with a text message. All three of them groaned disapprovingly at the sound.
“Tell’em to sod off,” Ciaran whined and pulled a pillow over his head.
“I second that,” Skye agreed. She nuzzled her nose against Taran’s chest before pressing a kiss to his blessedly-beating heart. “Let’s stay in bed today. Everything else can wait.”
“Mmm,” Taran purred with a smile. “Sounds perfect.”
A comfortable silence settled over the three as they all began to drift off to sleep. Then Taran’s phone began ringing. The sound was quickly drowned out by the trio’s chorus of disapproval.
Taran groused in Gaelic and, despite her irritation that they were being interrupted, Skye fought to suppress a smile. She wondered whether he realized just how often he and Ciaran used those exact same words – in very different contexts – while they were having sex with her. For someone so opposed to ‘swearing,’ Taran sure did an awful lot of it in his own language. She was totally going to call him out on it at the first opportunity, too.
“What does a man have to do around here to get a moment’s peace?” Taran complained.
“From now on, when you come to bed, silence your ringer,” Skye suggested.
The phone continued to ring.
“Don’t ya go answerin’ it, brother,” Ciaran protested. “Leave it to voicemail. Unless someone’s under attack, it can nah possibly be tha important.”
Taran grumbled another ancient Gaelic obscenity under his breath as he threw back the covers. Skye and Ciaran both moaned in objection when he climbed from the bed, but he was evidently unwilling to risk the possibility of it being just that – another attack.
Skye watched Taran as he retrieved his phone. She smiled lovingly at the image of him in that moment – standing in all his naked, heavily-muscled glory, rubbing sleep from his eyes and blinking to focus on the screen. He managed to answer the call just before it went to voicemail.
“What is it?” Taran asked quietly with the phone pressed to his ear and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Skye bit her bottom lip in appreciation of the view the action had granted of his fantastic arse. She just wanted to fucking bite it sometimes. Sitting up, she scooted over behind him to kiss his shoulder blade. She sighed and left her mouth to linger, loving the scent of him and the feeling of his warm, soft skin beneath her lips. The muscles of his back flexed deliciously as he leaned into the contact. She continued kissing her way up his spine to the back of his neck as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. She got up onto her knees and leaned forward, resting her hands on his shoulders and sliding her bare breasts and stomach against his back. Taran arched an intrigued brow and gave her a smoldering look over his shoulder in reply.
“Ooh, tha’s dirty pool, Skye,” Ciaran chuckled from the other side of the bed before adding, “Atta girl.”
“Fair point,” Taran said into his phone in a strained voice as Skye sucked on his earlobe and let her hand wander around his side to tease his nipple and explore his abs.
Taran cleared his throat in an effort to disguise a moan before reflexively raising his arm. Skye grinned at the invitation and promptly curled herself around his side. She rested her head on his thigh and smiled up at him. Taran suppressed a laugh at the naughty glint in her eye as he stroked her hair.
A minute later, his hand abruptly paused in its ministrations. “Well, how long would tha take? She’s lookin’ to do this tonight,” Taran said with a scowl and looked out the window. His brows drew together as he listened intently to the caller’s reply.
Skye frowned petulantly that his attention was elsewhere. She leaned forward and brought her mouth to his chest, kissing her way over to his nipple. She lathed over it with her tongue before wrapping her lips around it and sucking hard. He inhaled sharply through his suddenly gritted teeth in response. He fisted his hand in her hair, gently urging her to continue the torture. She smiled victoriously and swirled the tip of her tongue around the pebbled flesh until his entire body shuddered.
Ciaran made no effort whatsoever to muff
le his laughter.
“Right… Sounds like it will provide a good distraction…” Taran ground out into his phone. His eyes closed tightly, and features twisted in pleasure as Skye began leaving a trail of wet kisses down the center of his chest and over the contours of his abs. “Still here,” he somehow managed as he sat up straighter and leaned back to aid her descent. He bit his bottom lip and fought to keep his breathing steady. He was gradually losing the effort to follow along with the phone conversation. “Aye… tha does seem the best way…”
Skye rolled over onto her side and ducked her head once she reached her destination. When she wrapped her lips around his shaft and drew the length of him into her mouth, Taran groaned, “Nnggg… talk later…” into the phone, dropped it on the floor, and fell back onto the bed in surrender to grant her full access.
“Skye: 24. Taran: 0.” Ciaran announced in amusement as he rolled over. His brother had yet to win a single battle of wills against her wandering mouth.
It was over an hour later by the time Taran managed to get out of bed. He informed Skye that Ciaran’s shameless, carnal, mischievous behavior was rubbing off on her. The fact that he said it with a satisfied smile while catching his breath made it clear this was not necessarily a bad thing.
Ruarachan knocked with conspicuously good timing after Skye and Taran were clothed. As he relayed a few messages to Taran, Skye tried not to think about just how much he heard from the other side of their bedroom door on a daily and nightly basis. Soundproofing could not hope to drown all of that out from such a short distance to a faol’s ears. Thankfully, the wolf in her flat-out did not give a single, flying fuck who heard what while she was getting her rocks off and worked overtime to alleviate most of her lingering mortal reservations on the matter.
Ruarachan took up his post beside the door, inside the room this time, as a few of their clansmen entered to discuss the day’s plans. Skye sat in bed beside Ciaran, stroking his hair and waiting patiently for Taran to finish. Ciaran smiled up at her drowsily. She knew he was going to stay in bed most of the day to sleep off his night of partying.
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