On Wings of Thunder (On Wings Saga 1)

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On Wings of Thunder (On Wings Saga 1) Page 13

by M. D. Grimm


  Trystan blinked. “You can hear my thoughts?”

  Roland rolled his eyes.

  Trystan gave a nervous laugh. “Right, of course you can. We’re each other. By the Light Bringer, I am crazy. I’m talking to myself.”

  Roland laughed.

  Trystan looked at Asagoroth again. “Do you think I should have your memories? I sometimes wonder if I’m robbing him of something. He has fond memories of the both of you together. He can’t reminisce with me.”

  “True.” Roland cupped Trystan’s face, lifted it. “But perhaps you should make your own memories. I can give you my own, but you are different in this form, in this life. I made it so. I wanted to be unchosen. The only way to do that was to have no memories of being an artist, or of being chosen. Nothing from my previous life.” Roland looked at Asagoroth. “But I knew my spirit would remember him, would know him. I knew we could try again.” Roland looked back at Trystan. “Can’t we?”

  Trystan nodded slowly.

  Roland smiled. “I wanted to be different so that I might be unchosen, and here you are. You are exactly who I wanted to be, but still who he needs.”

  It was absurd to feel so touched. He was essentially talking to himself in a dream, but the sentiment warmed his heart, and he felt something he’d never felt before: pride.

  “Love him, Trystan,” Roland said. “Love him and let him love you.”

  Trystan curled his fingers around Roland’s wrists. “Is it really that simple?”

  “It can be.”

  Trystan swallowed hard. “I was jealous of you. Stupid, really. But I was also scared… am scared. I don’t want to disappoint him, and I don’t want him to reject me. I love him. I love him to the point of almost pain. I don’t want to lose him.”

  Roland continued to smile kindly. He bent and kissed Trystan on the forehead. The touch was a whisper and full of warmth.

  “Does he make you happy?” Roland asked.

  Trystan closed his eyes. “Yes.”

  “Do you make him happy?”

  “I think I do.” Roland raised an eyebrow. Trystan sighed. “Yes.”

  “Then continue to make each other happy and there will never be a reason to doubt. There will never be a reason for you to question your place at his side. He once gave up everything for the love of one, tiny angel. He did so once again, with you. He pushed aside his wrath and gave himself to love. Do the same: push aside your doubt and your insecurities. He needs you to.”

  Trystan took a deep, slow breath. Nodded. “I will. I promise.”

  Roland’s eyes sparkled. “Good. Then I suppose this is good-bye. I doubt we’ll speak again.”

  Trystan’s eyes widened. He was suddenly sad to lose him. It was foolish. Roland was an angel he’d once been jealous of and now he considered him a friend.

  “But wait—”

  Roland stepped back, still smiling. “This is your last chance, Trystan. Do you want my memories or not?”

  Trystan looked at Asagoroth and was silent for a long moment. He weighed his choices, his mind still amazed he was speaking with his past self. He twisted his hands together as he looked back and forth between Roland and Asagoroth.

  On one hand Asagoroth deserved to have Roland back in some way. Memories would do that. They’d shared many years of love and intimacy together, and with Trystan, he only got part of that back. Asagoroth was essentially alone with his memories of his time with Roland. That had to be a sad thing.

  But on the other hand, Trystan wasn’t Roland. Well, not him entirely. Same essence but a different body, with different life experiences and upbringing. Asagoroth knew that and accepted it. Roland was right. They would create new memories. They would live in the here and now, not the then. Trystan wanted to be his own being and form his own love and intimacy.

  Trystan eyed Roland. Choosing to gain Roland’s memories would almost be like announcing defeat. He would be saying he doubted he’d be able to form that intimacy, that bond with Asagoroth as his past self once did. And he’d promised not to doubt himself or Asagoroth again.

  “Thank you, Roland,” he said. “But no. My dragon and I will make our own memories. But thank you for loving him then so that I can love him now.”

  Roland grinned, his face suddenly shining like a star. “Well said, Trystan. May your happiness be boundless.”

  He faded away. Trystan’s vision blackened, then was no more.

  Chapter Twelve

  Trystan wasn’t sure how long they spent on that beach, in the sun and rain, swimming in the ocean and flying in the sky. Days and nights flowed into the next, and he suspected the light, worry-free feeling he lived with most of the time was happiness and joy. What else could it be? The conversation he’d had with Roland seemed to have opened something inside him, something not even Asagoroth’s devotion could do. To see the angel he once was, to learn Roland chose to be unchosen…. It meant he truly was who he was supposed to be. And he was with who he was supposed to be with.

  It was late evening, and they were watching the sunset on the beach. Trystan wanted to see the rest of the Middle Realm, but he didn’t feel any need to rush. He was enjoying the lazy days, the passionate nights, and the simple beauty of this place too much to leave so hastily.

  He lay naked—the days and nights had become quite warm—on Asagoroth’s forearm, his arms folded behind his head. Stars were starting to appear and they always reminded him of the Upper Realm. What were they doing up there? Was Annalise all right? His mom, his other brothers and sister?

  He sighed.

  Asagoroth lifted his head from where it rested on the sand and focused one large blue eye on Trystan.

  “Nothing is wrong, Asa,” he said softly, reading him as easily as Asagoroth read him. It was truly amazing and wonderful how close they’d become. There were some days they didn’t speak at all, never needing to, communicating with looks and touches.

  Trystan had never thought something like this was possible, and even if he had, he would never have thought he’d have it. Asagoroth looked up at the sky, tilting his large head back. Then he returned his gaze to Trystan.

  “I do not like it when you lie, however small.”

  Trystan closed his eyes and shook his head. The reprimand was mild, Asagoroth’s voice a soft rumble of concern.

  “I’m only thinking of Annalise and the Upper Realm. I wonder about them sometimes.”

  A crooning sound, one of comfort, came from Asagoroth. Trystan smiled, reaching out a hand to touch the scales on Asagoroth’s face. One of them was a light green, the other golden.

  When he’d mentioned Asagoroth’s color-changing scales, the dragon had actually grumbled in annoyance. Apparently he didn’t appreciate the rainbow hues. But since Trystan did, Asagoroth didn’t complain too loudly.

  “I was also thinking about something else,” Trystan said, petting him. “Do you remember the first day we arrived here?”

  “Yes.”

  “The first time we made love on the sand, you called me Roland.”

  “Trystan, I—”

  “No.” Trystan sat up and swung his legs over the side of Asagoroth’s forearm so he could face him. He clearly saw the wariness in Asagoroth’s eye and still smiled.

  “I’m not mad, Asa. I wasn’t then either. I was scared. Scared that you might be thinking of Roland and not me as we made love. Scared that you were using me as a substitute for him, and that sooner or later, you’d realize I wasn’t the one you wanted.”

  Asagoroth lifted his head high in a haughty position, his eye latched on Trystan. “You know I love you, Trystan. You know that—”

  “Yes, I know that.” He did. He had no doubts anymore. How could he? “Calm yourself, Asa. Come here.” Trystan held out his hands, and Asagoroth pressed his head against them. Trystan looked him directly in the eye, the pupil holding his reflection. “I only wish to ask: why did you call me Roland?”

  Asagoroth watched him carefully as he spoke. “I loved Roland with all my he
art. I loved you before I knew your name was Trystan because I could see the essence of Roland inside you. Now I love you as much, or more, than I did Roland. The time we have spent here has been a precious gift. By the name of Trystan or Roland, you are mine. When we make love, I see both of you. But when we speak as we do now, I see only you, Trystan. My fair beloved.”

  Trystan’s heart sang. What Asagoroth said was similar to what Roland had told him in that bizarre dream. He laid kisses along Asagoroth’s warm scales before pressing his cheek against them. A rumble of contentment sounded from Asagoroth.

  “Something else happened that first night after we made love,” Trystan said. He couldn’t keep it from Asagoroth anymore. “I don’t know how, but… I spoke with Roland in a dream.”

  Asagoroth froze. Trystan pulled away to see Asagoroth’s pupil had dilated in shock. Trystan trembled slightly, hoping he hadn’t made a mistake. He’d been feeling so content lately. He wondered if it was making him too comfortable.

  “What did he say?” Asagoroth whispered, as much as a dragon could. His voice sounded hoarse, choked. Trystan had never heard him sound so off-center.

  He continued to stroke Asagoroth, trying to soothe him. “We spoke of you and me, my own doubts and fears. He helped bring me to my senses, Asa. Perhaps I was talking to myself, but… have you not noticed a change in me since we arrived here?”

  Asagoroth nodded slightly.

  Trystan smiled. “That was his doing.”

  Asagoroth was silent for a moment before speaking hesitantly. That made Trystan frown. “What did he say of me?”

  Trystan tilted his head, confused at first by Asagoroth’s tone, but then he realized why. My poor love.

  “He doesn’t blame you, Asa,” Trystan whispered. “He had nothing but love in his eyes when he spoke of you, looked at you. He told me he created his own spell before he died so that he might be reborn an unchosen of the angels, so he could be chosen by you. He wanted to be me, Asa. He loved you then so that I might love you now.”

  Asagoroth closed his eyes and gave a full-body shudder. Trystan’s eyes burned at the emotions he could literally feel pumping off Asagoroth. Trystan laid a kiss on Asagoroth’s closed eye before stroking his eye ridges.

  “I’m sorry if what I said has made you sad. I will do all that I can to make you happy, and to make up for what you have lost. I can’t be Roland, but I can be Trystan, and I can love you with everything inside me.”

  Asagoroth opened his eye, and the blue seemed to have taken on a new luminescence and shone brighter than it ever had before. Trystan had to blink and look away, the light nearly blinding.

  “You have already made me happy.” Asagoroth’s voice was heavy and low. “You have already given me joy beyond what I thought possible to attain after Roland’s death. I am blessed by you.”

  Trystan grinned fiercely, his pride swelling and his love all-consuming.

  “My heart.” Asagoroth gently picked up Trystan with his clawed hand and laid him on the sand. Trystan smiled in eagerness and didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed or self-conscious. With a pulsing of the air and a sharp crack, Asagoroth was in his other form—the one more suited for this sort of activity.

  Trystan opened his arms, and Asagoroth lay on top of him, between his legs, heart to heart, mouths meeting in familiar intimacy. Trystan caressed Asagoroth’s head and horns as he opened his mouth eagerly for the thrust of Asagoroth’s tongue. Their swollen erections rubbed against each other, and Trystan shivered in response, in need to become one with this amazing, wonderful dragon again. He would never be rid of this craving, and he never wanted to be. It was a part of who and what he was. They were meant to be together. He believed that to his very core.

  They touched, stroked, caressed, heating the blood and deepening the need. Asagoroth tasted him everywhere, slipping his tongue over his skin, leaving trails of fire in its wake. Trystan stared up at the stars as Asagoroth stroked his cock, his tongue quickly descending to torment his small entrance, readying him for penetration. He moaned, riding on sensation, love and trust flooding through him.

  But when Asagoroth’s mouth left, he didn’t immediately penetrate. Instead he shimmered his wings insubstantial before rolling them, leaving Trystan sprawled, confused, on Asagoroth’s body.

  “I would like to watch you,” Asagoroth said, his words little more than growls.

  Trystan sat up, and Asagoroth caressed his chest and tweaked his nipples with his large hands, sending a bolt of pleasure to his cock. Trystan couldn’t stop the blush that rose to his cheeks.

  “Asa,” he said, nervous. “You want me to—?”

  “Ride me.” Asagoroth smiled. “I want to see your fair skin illuminated by the dying sun as you bring us both to climax.”

  Trystan bit his lip but couldn’t deny his eagerness to attempt this new form of lovemaking. He would have control this time and Asagoroth would watch him.

  He shimmered his wings visible, and they rose up behind his head, the bottoms dragging across the sand. He knew the sun would make them sparkle, and Asagoroth’s pleased rumble confirmed it. For a chief demon, Asagoroth certainly liked the look of angels. Or maybe it was only him.

  Trystan reached back and gripped Asagoroth’s thick erection. He stroked it a few times before raising his hips, Asagoroth watching his every move. Fluttering his wings, Trystan slowly lowered, allowing himself to feel every exquisite inch of the penetration. He heard and felt Asagoroth’s growl, and he pressed his hands harder against Asagoroth’s chest. Closing his eyes, Trystan sat back, his ass touching Asagoroth’s hips, and simply breathed, heart thudding in his ears. When he opened his eyes a moment later, he met Asagoroth’s bright-blue gaze. Spreading his wings wide, Trystan moved, slowly at first, trying to find his rhythm, but then with growing speed and strength. Asagoroth gripped his hips but never tried to control his movements as Trystan rocked back and forth, up and down, wings flapping uncontrollably as his pleasure mounted.

  Asagoroth grunted. “Trystan, Trystan.”

  He vaguely wondered if Asagoroth was making up for calling him Roland. No matter. He loved his name on Asagoroth’s lips.

  “Beautiful, so beautiful.”

  Trystan grinned at Asagoroth’s words, realizing the sun was just about to dip under the horizon, sending its last rays to illuminate his body and wings.

  Asagoroth began to thrust his strong hips up, and the added friction made Trystan cry out. They quickly found a rhythm, and Trystan felt Asagoroth teeter on the edge of climax, and he wasn’t far behind. His cock was heavy, near painful, but he wanted this moment to last as long as possible.

  He felt Asagoroth come, a geyser of heat flowing into his body. Then Asagoroth suddenly gripped Trystan’s erection and tugged hard, sending him spiraling into his own release.

  When next Trystan was aware of anything, he lay upon Asagoroth’s warm body, his wings spread wide and lying mostly in the sand. Asagoroth was stroking his wings, gently touching the feathers. Trystan shivered.

  “Your beauty is beyond what words can describe,” Asagoroth whispered, and Trystan felt the rumble of Asagoroth’s voice vibrate against his cheek.

  Trystan sighed happily, pleased and proud. “Your beauty is beyond what words can describe.”

  “I am darkness.”

  Trystan opened his eyes, frowning. He lifted his head and scooted up Asagoroth’s body, staring down directly into his eyes. He did not like Asagoroth’s tone. Stroking one of Asagoroth’s horns, Trystan shook his head.

  “I find your darkness beautiful. I always have.” Trystan knew Asagoroth recognized that statement for what it was: him speaking for Roland as well as himself. “Darkness and light. You must have both to create balance. That I know for sure.”

  Asagoroth stared at him for a long moment with a blank expression before it suddenly softened and a small smile graced his mouth. Rubbing his knuckles against Trystan’s cheek, he continued his caresses on Trystan’s wings. Then Trystan noticed Asagoroth
quickly harden, as he was still partly inside him.

  Asagoroth’s smile turned suggestive. Trystan turned his head and nipped one of Asagoroth’s knuckles.

  “Your light is mine,” he said.

  Trystan smiled. “Your darkness is mine.”

  Growling, Asagoroth sat up with arms wrapped tightly around him, and kissed him so thoroughly Trystan thought the top of his head would blow off. Of course, sitting up meant Trystan was fully penetrated once more, and he gasped at the sensation against his well-used entrance.

  “Once more, then, my light,” Asagoroth said fiercely. “Once more for light and darkness to become one.”

  Trystan grinned widely and squeezed his inner muscles. Asagoroth hissed.

  “Is your darkness stronger than my light, I wonder?” Trystan teased boldly.

  Asagoroth bared his teeth and attacked.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Asagoroth was reluctant to leave Trystan to hunt, but Trystan managed to convince him to go. While Asagoroth didn’t have to eat every day as Trystan did, when he did eat, he gorged himself. Trystan promised to stay by the beach and be there when he returned. At first Trystan had insisted on going with him but Asagoroth had forbidden him. Dragons were violent with their prey and descended into pure, primal instinct. Asagoroth didn’t want to harm Trystan, whom he might see as a threat—or a meal—while he was in such a state. Trystan could hardly argue with that.

  “Go.” Trystan nudged Asagoroth’s leg. “Go and feed yourself, silly. I’ll be right here.”

  With one last long look, Asagoroth launched into the sky, and Trystan staggered away from the immense force of the wing flaps. He watched Asagoroth fly high into the sky before disappearing behind the high tops of the trees. Taking a deep breath, he looked around, wondering how he would occupy himself until Asagoroth returned. The hunt could take all day, and from the lack of feeding Asagoroth had allowed himself, it might last into the night. They also wouldn’t be able to communicate mentally during this time, given the frenzy that would overpower Asagoroth, so Trystan was well and truly alone.

 

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