by Megan Derr
Then he pulled away, leaving Haven to gasp and protest, moving to the desk to find the oil Haven had admitted to storing there. He found it easily, and turned to rejoin Haven—and swore as his elbow banged into the heavy candlestick at the corner of Haven's desk, sending it tumbling to the ground.
Ignoring it for the moment, after ascertaining it was not lit and so they were not about to go down in flames, he returned to his lover and swiftly unstoppered the vial of oil.
Haven spread his legs, and said with a soft huff of laughter, "You are lucky it was the candlestick you knocked over, and not my books."
"Believe me, my dear, I am well aware of that," Alexis said with a wink, then pushed into the tight heat of Haven's body with one finger. "So have you written other indelicate things I should know about, dragon?"
"No," Haven said, gasping and thrusting when one finger became two, tangling up his languages when it swiftly progressed to three.
Alexis smirked—he loved best that moment when Haven could no longer decide which language to use, or even really tell which one he was speaking. Withdrawing his fingers, he spread Haven's legs even further apart, settled himself between them and lined up, then pushed in with one hard, sure thrust.
Words spilled over him as hands latched onto him, five languages that may as well be one language and his beautiful lover the only one fluent.
He would have liked to continue with slow torture, but he had waited long enough and Haven made it so very difficult to move slowly or think or do anything but move and thrust and—
Alexis came with a cry, followed only a moment later by Haven, and collapsed on top of him, uncaring for the moment the mess they must be making of one another. He hoped they had not ruined the rug; the servants would skin him alive.
He rolled off Haven after a few minutes, but stayed close, unable or at least unwilling to leave his lover's side even to fetch their clothes or call for a bath to be drawn. Time enough for that later, and for now the fire was plenty warm enough.
"Have we anywhere to be today?" Haven asked through a yawn, accent heavier than usual. It often was, when it was the two of them, Haven not as fretful over how he sounded.
"No," Alexis replied. "Nowhere put our bed."
"Good," Haven murmured, and drifted off as easy as that.
Alexis chuckled, and decided he could wait a few more minutes before rousing Haven so they could actually make it to their bed.
About the Author
Megan is a long time resident of LGBTQ fiction, and keeps herself busy reading, writing, and publishing it. She is often accused of fluff and nonsense. When she's not involved in writing, she likes to cook, harass her wife and cats, or watch movies. She loves to hear from readers, and can be found all over the internet.
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