Page 73 of A Siren Song for Christmas

“Malachi! Malachi, I l—” Then suddenly Trent’s whole body tightened. His arms and legs spasmed around Malachi. He yelled, and warm cum spilled between them.

Trent’s inner muscles squeezed impossibly tight around Malachi’s dick. With a cry, Malachi pistoned his hips, shoving as deep as he could into Trent’s channel, which clenched around his shaft. He shuddered and spilled inside Trent.

He sagged forward. Trent caught his lips in a slow kiss. Malachi ran a hand through Trent’s hair. Trent sank into the sheets.

Malachi pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll go clean us up.” He rose.

With a damp cloth, he first wiped at Trent’s skin, washing every inch of him. Then he dried him with another cloth. Trent’s eyes drifted shut at the gentle ministrations, his limbs limp and sated. Malachi tucked a sheet over Trent and then cleaned himself.

Perhaps Trent just needed a good fuck after a rough day.

He smiled down at Trent. “How about some tea?”

Trent gave a lazy nod.

Malachi moved around the small room. He lit the fire and put the kettle on. He checked on Kelby. He glanced at Trent, whose eyes remained closed. As Malachi waited for the kettle to boil, he glanced around his home, admiring the decorations that brightened the drab space.

As he made the tea, he started to hum. He stood, carrying the cups.

He stopped humming and froze. Tea sloshed over the sides of the cups.

Malachi’s mouth fell open. He’d not hummed since Forathia’s death. He’d not hummed, nor whistled, nor sung since Forathia had died years ago.

And what had he been humming? He’d not recognised the tune.

He stared at the spilled tea on the floor, heart pounding.

He’d lost his siren’s songs and his voice the moment he’d lost Forathia.

So what does this mean? What does it mean if I am humming again?

Swallowing, he collected himself. He placed the cups down and went to get a cloth to clean up the spilled tea, for now pushing aside the question.

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Trent lay in bed, eyes closed, body warm and soft. He wriggled in the blankets.

“Are you hungry?” Malachi asked.

“Not at the moment.” Although, truthfully, Trent just didn’t want to rise from the bed. So tea would do for now.

Trent opened his eyes. Malachi held two cups of steaming tea. He remained completely naked, gorgeous blue skin on display. The orange and gold from the flames danced on Malachi’s long and lean body. His tentacles hung at his back.

Trent snuggled deeper beneath the sheet. He wanted a lifetime of nights just like this.

Did Malachi?

A shiver ran down his spine. The pestering thoughts that had been kept at bay for a few blissful moments trickled back in, filling his head until no other thoughts remained. The warmth in his limbs seeped from his body, leaving him cold.

Earlier, whilst Malachi had been fucking him, Trent had almost blurted out that he loved Malachi. What would Malachi have said to that?

Malachi walked towards him. He perched on the edge of the bed. “Here you are.” He handed Trent a cup.

Trent sat up. The sheet slid down his shoulder, and goosebumps broke out on his skin. He sipped his tea. But the warmth of the liquid did little to chase away his sudden chill. And the herbal blend didn’t do anything to soothe the knot that had tangled in his chest.

Trent stared at the steam rising from his cup. Hope warred with defeat inside him. He closed his eyes, trying to get a handle on himself.