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It hadn’t taken long after they uncursed themselves for them to find their way to a spell that would let Briar take all of him. And increase her lifespan, of course. Briar was the proud owner of a lifespan spanning several millennia, and a body that could take every gorgeous inch of Wick’s cock.

Wick’s tail curled around her waist, holding her in place as he thrust harder. “Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels—” Briar panted into the fur, her eyelids fluttering. Every thrust made her light up inside, her body stretching impossibly to fill him. The first time he finally fit that fourth ridge inside her, she had actually cried with relief. Sometimes she still felt like that, all the relief and triumph andloveoverflowing until he wiped it away with a gentle claw.

“Feels like I’m going to die if you don’t come in me,” she managed. “Feels like it all the time, every gods-damned day. Ineedit.”

“I know,” Wick soothed. “I will give it to you, my lovely thief.”

It took barely two passes of his huge finger over her clit before Briar was coming, crying out against the furs as she spasmed around him. He fucked her through it, turning each wave of bliss so overwhelming that Briar was hardly aware of what she was saying. But it must have been sappy, because when she pried her eyes open again, his big, black, fiery eyes were softer than ever.

“So tight,” he panted. “So perfect. Made for me.”

“All for you,” Briar slurred. She pulled his finger up and sucked it into her mouth, feeling his hips stutter against her. She closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy those ridges slamming into her oversensitive hole, then pulled his finger out of her mouth.

“Come on, big boy,” she said. “Mate me.”

Wick shuddered and came, his remaining wing flaring out with such majesty it took Briar’s breath away. He pulsed inside her, his tail tightening around her waist so tightly that Briar knew it would cause marks.

Then he went boneless, slumping next to her in the nest. He reached out blindly, and Briar let herself get tucked into his side.

For a time, they just lay there, the afternoon light coating their naked bodies. But after a while, Briar yawned.

“The Emmett brothers are coming around soon,” she announced. “I think I should put on some clothes.”

Wick rumbled a disagreement against her ribs. But he made no move to stop her as she sat up, stretching.

“We turned down their last two contracts,” he pointed out.

“So? Maybe this time they’ll have something exciting.” Briar flashed him a smile and stroked his wing stub, which stretched fondly toward her. It had taken her many years to be able to touch it without guilt, but she had gotten there eventually. With a lot of assurance from Wick, who always insisted that she could cut off his remaining wing if she ever needed to.

“Never know what the day will hold,” Briar told him, getting up in search of clothes.

Not long after, the two of them sat on the porch they had built and looked at the waterfall.

They had taken over Marigold’s cottage after they removed their curses. They had trashed most of the clutter and rebuilt several walls until the cottage could fit Wick comfortably, then settled in for some well-earned peace and quiet.

But the quiet life, it turned out, was only fun for so long. While Briar did love her peace, she did need the occasional adventure every once in a while. And Wick was more than happy to indulge her.

He raised his head, sniffing the forest air.

“The Emmett brothers are close,” he announced.

Briar hummed. She held out a bottle of elderberry cider, and Wick popped it open with one easy claw.

“Speaking of brothers,” Briar said once she had taken a sip of the cool, clear cider. “Let’s go see your brother Slate soon.”

Wick huffed a laugh. “You are only asking because you want to do that job in the Crystal Wastes with Ruby.”

“I can’t help it if your brother’s wife is fun,” Briar argued joyously. “And you have to admit, having a half-god along on the jobdoesmake it easier.”

Wick snorted. Then he sat up, his fiery eyes fixed on the trees.

Briar waited. Sure enough, the Emmett brothers emerged. The oldest one, William, waved. The younger one, Emery, slunk behind him with a bag over his shoulder, as cautious as ever. Emery was young, perhaps five and twenty, and still hadn’t completely shaken off his fear of the ageless, monstrous couple who lived at the edge of the forest.

But at least he hadn’t come with torches and pitchforks. Those bloodthirsty groups had been popular for a year or two, and Briar didn’t like it. Wick was always so sad while she washed their blood off of him.

“Lady Thief,” William called. “You look well.”