by Megan Derr
When he was finally able to tear himself away, he murmured, "Why in the Moons did you permit that stupid medal?"
Perdith burst into laughter. "They finally mustered the nerve to speak with you?"
"Mustered the nerve? They said they were going to bully me into it and practically did!" Vellem gave Perdith a playful shake and let him go.
"I signed that paperwork nearly a week ago. Trust me, they've been nervous about approaching you."
Vellem shook his head. "Why on earth would they be nervous?"
Perdith gave him a fond, amused look. "Because they look up to you just as much as everyone else around this place, and they were deathly afraid you'd be angry and refuse to do it. That medal means everything to them, it's become their Project. Are you truly that unhappy about it?"
"Just flustered like always," Vellem replied. "I'm not even half as remarkable as everyone insists I am. You know that better than anyone."
"I know no such thing," Perdith said, wrapping around him again, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth, and then his throat. "Nobody in the world loves and admires you more than me." He drew back slightly, eyes sparkling with mirth and promise. "If you'll come along to inspect the new coat room with me, I'll demonstrate my admiration."
Vellem went easily as Perdith dragged him along, anticipation pooling low and hot in his gut. "As my king wishes."
Man of the Hour
GORGON BOY
"Stop feeding my hair!" Siri hissed.
Miranda just gigged and gave one of the little bastards another piece of her club sandwich. Siri hated it when people treated his hair like pets; it was weird as hell feeling the food they ate creep down the back of his head into his throat.
"Come on, quit it, they don't need it and I don't like it," Siri said when she did it yet again.
"Fine, fine, sorry. They're just so cute."
Siri sighed and tried to go back to reading over the papers she'd brought him to look over.
Though he was trying to remain all cool and collected, act like the functional adult he theoretically was, inside he wanted to jump around in excitement. After years of school and gaining experience and getting everything in order, he was finally going to open his private tutoring school for all the overlooked paranormal kids in town.
All around him, his snakes wriggled and squirmed, sharing his excitement. They'd grown long over the years, halfway down his chest at this point, but even though they'd be perfectly fine with a chop-chop, it was still too gruesome and messy an undertaking for him to bring himself to do it.
"I don't think I've ever seen you look so excited," Miranda said. "You're so self-contained, except for your hair. It's cute."
"I'm not cute," Siri replied automatically as he finished reading over the papers and started signing. Most of them were for the building he was leasing, a negotiation that had taken months because the landlord was a stubborn, greedy asshole trying to commit fricking highway robbery, but it was done. The rest of the papers were to get the ball rolling on making the building suitable: classrooms, study rooms, a cafeteria, offices, and more.
"Seriously, you're cute."
"Shut up," Siri mumbled.
Miranda just giggled some more, making him smile. He wouldn't have come as far as he had without her, the best damn lawyer in town. "So are you going to have—" She broke off and whistled. "Wow, check out that hottie gargoyle."
Surprise and delight ran through Siri, and he turned in his seat to see that his husband was in fact coming straight toward them. He leapt out of his seat. "Hal!"
Hal broke into an absolutely beautiful smile and hastened his step, catching Siri up into a hug and spinning him around like the giant goober he was.
Siri threw arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. "You're home early!"
"Couple of students had to come back early for a family emergency, so we just wrapped up early and all came home. We'll go back in the spring, probably. I hear congratulations are in order." He slowly let go of Siri, and reached up to stroke and pet the snakes that immediately started fussing over him. After a moment, his attention shifted. "You must be the marvelous Miranda I've heard so much about."
"It's a pleasure to meet you!" Miranda said, leaping to her feet and smoothing out her smart skirt and blazer before offering a hand to shake. "Your goofball never mentioned you were a gargoyle."
Siri grinned unrepentantly. "A hottie gargoyle."
"Shut up." Miranda elbowed him out of the way. "So you're a professor, right? History, if I recall, though I don't remember your specialty."
"Gargoyle society of the mid-fourteenth century, more or less," Hal said with a smile. "It started as just interest in my personal family history, but now I get paid to research them and others. I was going to take Siri out to celebrate the lease signing. Did you want to join us?"
Miranda shook her head. "Maybe we can do lunch tomorrow, but no way would I interrupt you spoiling your ridiculous gorgon here. The snakes would never forgive me." She fed one of them a last remaining shred of bacon from her sandwich. "I'll take care of these and see you tomorrow, Siri. Take care, and congrats again!" She kissed his cheek, gathered her stuff, and sauntered off, heels clicking, figure drawing more than a few pairs of eyes.
"She seems nice," Hal said.
"She is." Siri cuddled in close, breathing in the familiar warm, summery scent that he'd missed so badly the past two months. "I can't believe you're home almost a whole month early." His snakes moved all about his head, tangling up in each other as they wrestled each other to touch Hal, who just chuckled and pet them all as best he could, unconcerned at the way they wound and wrapped around his arms.
It was a good thing Siri didn't mind being literally tangled up in Hal, because he wasn't going anywhere any time soon. Later, in bed, his stupid hair would be even more ridiculous. "I think my snakes like you better than me."
Hal chuckled and nuzzled his cheek before kissing him softly again. "That's not true. They just know you have a little bit of a thing for me."
"But only a little bit," Siri said with a smile.
"Honestly, I should have figured out sooner that you liked me back, given how often they were always trying to touch me and stuff."
"You really should have." Siri kissed him again, then started pulling snakes apart, managing to step back with minimal fuss. "So are you actually taking me to dinner, or are we just going to go home and fuck like we're still in college?"
Hal's eyes were hot with anticipation and promise. "You're the man of the hour, darling. What do you want?"
"I want my sexy husband to take me home and show me how much he's missed me, and then we'll go to dinner. Maybe. Depends on how thoroughly you wear me out."
That got him the hot little growly noise that he loved more than life, before Hal swept him up like the heroine in a movie and carried him off to the car, snakes wriggling all around them in delighted anticipation.
Forest Frolic
RASNAKE
Cecil threw aside the last of his filthy clothes and plunged into the bracing stream, nearly unbalancing at the post-storm current but holding steady at the last. Shivering, he plunged beneath the water to get the worst over with, then surfaced and raked his hair from his face.
Fetching his soap from where he'd tossed it and other items on a rock in the middle of the stream, he set to scouring away sweat, dirt, and other grime from a long day in the woods rousting out any possible dragon nests. They'd found two, but one had been overtaken by bears and the other hadn't been used in months.
Nearby, Bite and Raze had finished their own bath and were lolling indolently on the bank, tongues out, faces full of happiness and contentment as they soaked up the sunshine.
Cecil smiled faintly as he set to work on his hair, pulling it out of the simple braid he'd put it in for working, scrubbing and combing until it was as tidy as it would ever get.
That taken care of, he worked on shaving next, and when that was done started on one last, thorough s
oaping down.
He was just rinsing off when the wolves rose to attention, but with a relaxed, even excited demeanor. Just as Cecil turned, a voice said, "What have we here? A delightful dryad just waiting to be seduced by an elf?"
Cecil rolled his eyes, but laughed as he watched Tallant approach the bank of the stream. "Hardly a dryad, and I don't think it's called seducing when it's your lover. I think that's just called having a lover."
He realized his mistake the moment Tallant's eyes took on that familiar gleam. "Would you like me to have you, kel? Or would you like to have me?"
"Shut up," Cecil said, hating that even after all these months, his face still got hot at the ridiculous things Tallant said. Growing up, he'd always imagined himself as a skilled, smart, witty lover who made all the innuendo. But imagination and reality were, as ever, leagues apart. He would always be a failed scholar turned killer turned awkward in-between, in love with the most obnoxious elf ever born.
Tallant just continued smirking, and crooked a finger.
"No," Cecil retorted. "I do not exist to do your bidding. I'm trying to get clean, not get dirt in uncomfortable places again. Never mind the damn spiders."
Making a face, Tallant replied, "Now why did you have to bring that up?"
"Keeps you humble."
"Not even my mother could instill humility." Tallant stripped off his equipment and armor, then his tunics. When he was bare from the waist up, he sat to pull off his boots, casting them aside before standing once more to discard the rest of his clothes.
Any thoughts of finishing his bath and going back to the castle were washed away as easily as soap suds. It was impossible to think of anything else when Tallant was in his immediate vicinity, nevermind when Tallant was naked.
Growing up, a silly boy whose days were filled with books, ink, and fanciful daydreams, Cecil had been enamored—infatuated, even—with elves, elven culture, the way they bonded so strongly, took any and all bonds so seriously. Not that humans didn't. But no elf would leave orphans to fend for themselves. Would reject someone out of hand for their station. Would never think of turning away someone fate had dictated they should pull in close.
Reality, of course, was that elves were people, shockingly. And while some things might be more taboo in elvish culture than in human, the reverse was also true. Still, when it felt like he and Irene had had no one but each other, he hadn't been able to resist the bond tattoos. They'd always been his favorite bit of elven culture, the bold markings that told the whole world the nature of a relationship between two people without any words needing to be said. For a painfully shy boy who'd been—and still was—terrible with words, the idea had been irresistible.
Seeing Tallant for the first time had been a punch in the gut. Not the kind that left you doubled over gasping and wheezing in pain, but the kind that had you on the ground curled up in a ball, tears streaming down your face as you tried desperately to remember how to breathe.
Tallant was fanciful daydreams brought to life, but a thousand times better.
And Cecil would never, in a thousand years, even think of admitting that. His brother and Irene were already unbearable about it, since they remembered far too well how stupid he'd been as a boy, and Tallant needed no encouragement in being a smug, smirking bastard.
"Stop scowling," Tallant said as he waded into the water and right up into Cecil's space, just like he'd been doing almost right from the start. He didn't give Cecil a chance to reply, just took his mouth in one of those breathtaking kisses that had been Cecil's undoing right from the start.
What was he supposed to have done, when a beautiful elf had come appearing out of nowhere to help rescue the castle and court him ardently. Resist? He was stubborn, not stupid.
Cecil went easily when Tallant all but dragged him to the bank and pushed him down into the soft, sun-warmed grass. From his throat dangled the necklace Cecil had made him: a wooden locket carved with two wolves wrapped around each other, forming a perfect circle. Making it had taken him ages, especially since he'd had to start over more than once, his hands no longer what they'd once been after years of fighting dragons and other rough work.
It wasn't nearly as beautiful as it had been in his head, despite his best efforts, but Tallant insisted he loved it, and never took it off, so Cecil was content. Even if the nitwit had promptly gone and cut a piece of Cecil's hair to keep inside, like some maiden waiting for her sailor to return.
Tallant kissed him again, sending Cecil's thoughts scattering once and for all. He tasted like his ridiculously too-sweet tea, and also honey cakes, which meant somebody had been sneaking into the kitchens again, like the spoiled brat he was. "Stop cozening the cook into giving you treats ahead of schedule."
"Never," Tallant said breathlessly. "What's it take to cozen a treat from you?"
"Shut up," Cecil said, the words automatic, because they both knew all Tallant had to do was bat his eyes and Cecil would do whatever he asked. He took care of the matter himself by putting teeth to Tallant's throat, right where his pulse beat, which as always reduced Tallant to swearing in his native language.
"So who's having who?" Tallant asked when he had recovered slightly, though it turned into a moan as Cecil teasingly stroked his cock.
Cecil nibbled at his throat again, free hand teasing along soft skin, the occasional rope or patch of scar. "Phrasing is unclear. Does having you mean I fuck you, or does it mean you fuck me?"
That got him a hard, bitey kiss, and then Tallant put him on his hands and knees, folding over him, skin hot and slick with sweat already. "I've decided I'm fucking you."
"Oh, no, woe is me," Cecil said, but further remarks were forgotten as Tallant grinded against him. Anticipation sent shivers running through him, prickling his skin and making the back of neck tangle.
Slick fingers pushed inside him, two of them, twisting and crooking in that way guaranteed to make Cecil moan. Sometimes it took his breath away how quickly he'd gone from too shy to even take a kiss without prompting, to being overwhelmed by a single blowjob, to begging loudly to be fucked right there in the middle of the woods where anyone could chance upon them. "Get to it, you useless elf."
Tallant chuckled, low and smug. "You're moaning far too much for me to be useless." But he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock, sending Cecil into all new levels of moaning and whimpering. When he was fully seated, he plastered himself to Cecil's back again and bit the back of his neck, leaving Cecil swearing. "I do like when you're desperate for me, kel."
Lover. But it also carried softer meanings, along the lines of 'darling' and 'sweetheart'. Cecil had never thought himself much for ridiculous endearments, but there was little point in denying he melted every time Tallant called him that. He'd seemed to know all of Cecil's weaknesses right from the start, when even Cecil hadn't known them. "Tallant. Damn it."
Chuckling again, Tallant rose back up and finally started to fuck him properly, pulling out and slamming back in, setting up a fast, hard pace that whited out the world around them, reduced it to just the two of them, the feel of Tallant's hands at his hips, his cock sinking deep, the sweat dripping into his eyes and the grass that would leave stains on his palms and knees.
Tallant eventually reached around and grabbed his cock, and a couple of rough, slick strokes was all it took to send Cecil screaming over the edge. He was still recovering when Tallant sank in deep one last time and wrapped tightly around him as he came.
They collapsed in a sweaty, stick pile, panting heavily for several minutes before finally disentangling. "So did you come out here for some other purpose?"
"Nope," Tallant said. "I was just hoping to catch you bathing, and enjoy myself without interruption."
"Shameless." Cecil dragged himself to a sitting position, and slapped Tallant playfully on the stomach. "Now I have to bathe all over again."
"What if I'm not done with you?" Tallant asked with a pout.
"You had me this morning and just now. I t
hink you're done with me for a bit," Cecil said with a laugh, and waded back into the stream—and bellowing in outrage when he was tackled from behind, dragged into the icy water while Bite and Raze continued to watch indolently from the bank.
At My Side
THE ROYAL INQUISITOR
Esmour yawned as he walked through the rapidly descending dark, people around him hastening their steps to get back to their warm homes before night took over and all the trouble came out. By day, the royal capital was usually a marvelous place to be, but by night even the royal guards, and Teigh's dedicated shadow workings via their inquisitors, could only do so much.
He yawned a second time barely before finishing the first one, so hard his eyes watered and he ran out of breath for a moment—and then went careening to the ground as someone's shoulder slammed into him. "Damn it," he muttered, picking himself up and checking that he hadn't just landed in a puddle of piss or worse.
"You'll watch your language," said a frigid voice.
Esmour stilled, then slowly dragged his eyes up, starring at the finely dressed man before him. A noble, but not one Esmour knew. There were so many titled, and he spent so much time on his duties, that he doubted he'd ever learn them all. Teigh assured him he didn't need to, but given all Esmour did have memorized, it seemed silly he couldn't keep up with all the fops and baubles of court. On the other hand, if he didn't need to know their name, that was all to the good, because nobody wanted the Deputy Chief Inquisitor to know them.
"Well?" the man said. "What have you to say for yourself?"
For a moment, Esmour considered the mature route: tell the man who he was, who his lover was, and why it would probably be unwise to piss him off. But he'd spent most of his life being trod upon by arrogant, mean-hearted bastards like this. Kicked, shoved aside, literally stepped on. Spit on, backhanded. He'd had friends beaten, raped, and left to bleed out in the gutters.