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Pulling his scarf over his nose and mouth, Narsus balanced onto his knees and toes.

Hovering over Lune’s prone form. Being this close to someone—not just someone, but his fated mate—sent a joyous sense of awkward and eager terror through his very bones.

That stress found promise in his hands and legs, and he fought to control the trembling.

He…was trembling because he suddenly knew exactly what he wanted. But was it something Lune would want, too?

“You cheated again,” Lune said with a lazy languidness, his arms raised above his head. “Using your magic to dress yourself.”

Lune was so close, yet Narsus didn’t know how to begin. This was all so foreign to him, no matter how much he secretly desired such comfort and intimacy. He had to clear his throat. “Next time, I’ll try to remember not to use spells.”

That put a delighted smile on his Intended’s full lips. “I look forward to it.”

Narsus couldn’t stop staring at that mouth. Pale, as if bleached from the sun. Not too sun-baked, but not overly hydrated either. That mouth was the threshold of their future together. “What would you like me to do? ”

“I want you to get used to touching me,” Lune said. “I don’t mind what you do. Bring us off, if that’s what you desire.”

Narsus wanted so much more than that. He didn’t know why he had to work to pull the words out of his mouth. No. That was a lie. It was because no matter how far they’d come, he still couldn’t get over the fear of his poison.

The truth was his deepest, truest desire. He wanted to be with this loving, caring siren for the rest of his days. It renewed his courage to ask the question. “Lune? May…may I kiss you? It would have to be through the scarf, though. For your own safety.”

Lune’s eyes went wide. That mouth wiggled with candid, elated glee. Fascinated, Narsus watched those plump lips flex and purse. But it was several seconds before he got an answer.

“Are you ready for that intimate a pledge and commitment?” Lune asked with hushed affection. “Are you sure?”

“Wholeheartedly, my songbird.”

Lune tilted his chin up and his beautiful brown eyes sparkled. “Oh, I do favor that endearment.”

Narsus caressed that jaw, savoring the touch through his gloves. “A normal marriage and a Compass-match are the same. The only difference is the fated mate match helps fuel the gestalt magic used by priests and Elementals.

“Lune, I want us to be us. A something wonderful that exists in concert alongside our Compass-bond. And outside it—most especially outside it. I wish for a union that is just us. Not one created just because of fated mate magic.”

Narsus closed his eyes, leaning into the caress Lune gifted to him through the linen scarf mask .

“Your marriage proposal brings me so much pleasure, and I accept. Eagerly.” Lune ran fingertips down the heavy wool of his tunic. “Have you ever kissed before, my Narsus?”

He shook his head.

Lune took a gentle inhale. “May I lead the kiss that weds us?”

Narsus let the small laugh rumble from the depths of his chest. “You sound so sure of yourself, orchestrating our kiss. Have you been wed before?”

Lune’s guffaw vibrated through Narsus to the very core. “No, my phoenix. But we’d all sneak behind the schoolhouse when the adults weren’t watching. It was intercourse mostly. Sometimes we dared to practice kissing. We were more scared of getting caught kissing than having our pants down.”

“What schoolboys didn’t panic about that?” Narsus said faintly.

Lune’s expression morphed to melancholy. “I’m sorry. I can’t even begin to fathom how lonely you were.”

It took a moment before Narsus could find his voice. He traced a gloved finger slowly along Lune’s jaw, intoxicated by the intimacy when Lune turned into his touch. “Lonely no longer. Were you ever caught?”

Embarrassment highlighted the curve of Lune’s cheeks.

“Cal figured it out at some point. He looked the other way as long as our, er, uh, extended fun didn’t include anyone who was equipped to conceive.

He actually had that very frank conversation with me.

He also told me to tell the others we better stop kissing or else he’d report that behavior to our parents. ”

It was Narsus’s turn to snort, adding a hearty laugh to the fun. “I can’t even picture Cal telling you and everyone else to keep your lips to yourselves! ”

It was right in the middle of that mirth Lune reared up and their mouths met. Narsus froze and stopped breathing at that point, causing Lune to withdraw.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t want to exhale my poison into you,” Narsus rushed to cut him off, readjusting the layers of fabric. “The scarf doesn’t work like that—at least not in that type of contact. I’d dearly love to try again.”

Lune’s concern washed away. “Ready?”

Narsus quietly inhaled enough to sustain himself. “Ready,” he agreed in a low, eager tone.

The scarf between them was thick, and scratchy enough that Narsus winced. The material stretched tight across his nose and mouth, tasting of burnt cotton and his own sweat.

Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea after all. He’d just wrecked this pivotal, special moment. Why couldn’t he have waited until they dealt with a way to neutralize his poison?

But with Lune’s slow guidance, the gentle twists and rubs of his siren’s plump lips pressed through the fabric, and rescued the experience of their first kiss as true mates. As husbands.

Narsus’s shoulders relaxed, welcoming the sweeping caresses of Lune’s touches. He had no idea his small moan escaped; the sound of it was absorbed into the barrier between them.

Without missing a beat, Lune’s lips parted just a little wider, welcoming that moan inside.

The intimacy of it sent raging warmth into Narsus’s belly.

Lune further distracted him by collecting the tail of his scarf.

Using it as additional reassurance to cradle his cheek.

Narsus leaned into it for a moment, then slowly moved back from the kiss, drawing in deep, but gentle gasps .

“Too much?” Lune asked, also breathless.

“N-no, it was so very much enjoyable.” Narsus pulled the scarf to sit back on the bridge of his nose. “I’ll always recall our first. It has a permanent place forged into my heart. But I’m going to have to work hard to find a way for our second to be skin-to-skin.”

Lune’s fingers dug into Narsus’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t trade that kiss for anything, my husband. Thank you for trusting me, and especially yourself enough for it.”

Brows bent, Narsus glanced away, unable to steady his pounding heart. Pleased at the praise as well as Lune’s trust, but a little embarrassed by it. He adjusted the fit of his gloves for something to do. Soft rustling drew his attention back.

Lune pointed to the mask left in the sand.

The mask? Narsus leaned over to retrieve it, turning it around and around as he fidgeted with it.

Lune’s quiet suggestion caressed his ears. “An additional boost of courage plus a safeguard for you, while spicing things up between us.”

Yes. The mask would do just that. Narsus put it on.

Lune nestled back into the sand. Arms and legs splayed. “Now,” Lune coaxed gently. “Let yourself explore.”

Narsus hesitated.

Lune merely turned over and presented his back. Face resting on his folded arms. “Is this easier?”

Breath ragged, Narsus choked out a yes. He settled himself half on Lune’s butt, and half on his own knees. Loving the press of their parts.

“Mmmm,” Lune mumbled dreamily. “That feels nice. I love the weight, the heat of you. ”

Narsus was burning a little hotter than usual. In one place in particular. He leaned over, playing with the golden strands of wavy hair draped over Lune’s neck and around his shoulders.

“Like tassels of corn silk,” he said aloud. Although Narsus wished he could experience the texture first hand, and not through the thick barrier of gloves. The fit of his trousers got even more snug.

Lune responded to him by lifting that round, solid ass.

Up, down, up, and down. The slow, controlled undulations, followed by his husband’s long, panting moans, made Narsus growl.

The slight itching pressure in his mouth started up again as his fangs began to advance.

His grunt must have highlighted his panic.

“I’ve seen them,” came Lune’s throaty and soothing voice. “When you get nervous or excited. Even when you try to hide them. They excite me too. Let them come, if you want. I won’t look for now. Only when you want me to.”

Lune was telling the truth. His siren’s heart was beating fast, even as that ass rose again to push into his crotch.

Narsus’s tongue curled around his lengthening incisors.

The blood pills were working, keeping the frenzied need to bite in check.

His fangs weren’t the only thing on him expanding, but it wasn’t time for that.

Now was learning to touch. To feel. To connect with his new husband on a level other than carnal, penetrative sex—which he still wasn’t sure if they could even do.

One thing at a time. Just breathe.

Narsus exhaled and relaxed. Stroking his gloved hands along the length of Lune’s clothed back.

Firm flesh and solid muscle from his siren’s years at the ocean-side.

The narrow angles of Lune’s waist. The flat of his back that dipped before gently sloping upwards to meet the roundness of his ass.

He knew the skin to be kissed by the sun.

Narsus was suddenly so very envious of the sun.

Inch by inch, Narsus’s gloved hands made their way back up, lingering upon the bowed, quivering shoulders. Sweeping a lover’s caress along that arched neck. Stroking, exploring. Cupping that cheek when Lune turned his face against his hand.

It was so tempting, so erotic to want to shove his fingers in that questing, yearning mouth, but Narsus dare not with the cloth gloves he currently wore.

He filed that hope and desire away for another day.

Even as he watched Lune’s tongue chase his fingers after a stroke, a pat, or a lingering grope that had withdrawn to seek another conquest.

Lune’s ass rose again, nestling into Narsus’s pelvis. Narsus found himself offering the same pressure in return.

His phoenix body heat was beginning to take its toll on Lune as well.

His siren’s hair clumped in damp tendrils, plastered against that sun-tanned neck.

As was the perspiration starting to dot in patches around his siren’s clothing.

The longer they played, the more dangerous sweat sodden linens might transmit his poisons. He had to finish this.

“Lune?” His words were strangled. “You’re sweating too much. We should stop.”

“I want to finish this.” Lune’s voice was heavy, panting. “Please.”

“Then.. may…may I grind against you? May I come?”

Lune turned his head. “May I watch, and participate? I really want to wrap my legs around you.”

Narsus moved so Lune could rearrange himself on his back.

They settled against each other with such ease, Narsus felt the urgent stress to rub and rock pour into every inch of his being.

The pressing weight of Lune’s thighs wrapped around his ass, those heels pressing into his buttocks. This was meant to be.

Hands clasped against Lune’s and squeezing, they now faced each other.

Narsus bent forward. Lune’s sweaty, moaning face was side-by-side with his stoic leather mask, barely touching.

Inside his mask, Narsus too, was sweaty, moaning.

He wanted to be close, so he put his trust in the mask.

To keep his husband safe from his poisonous breath.

Intermittent huffs in the confined space of his mask fogged the lenses. But with each inhale, the lenses cleared. Giving him precious seconds to absorb the peaking joy beaming across Lune’s flushed features, watching, silently begging for more.

“NnnnNar? Are you okay with this? Being this close to me?”

The heat and static swimming in Narsus’s brain made hiding within the mask more intimate. “I like touching you. The mask doesn’t put you off?”

Lune shook his head, candidly showing his joy at the weight atop him. Purring, groaning, savoring the heat of their wiggles and grinds. Lune let his fingers glide along the smooth black leather. Tracing the grooves of the tiny filigree designs.

“The mask lends you a sense of safety,” Lune managed between moans and huffs for breath. “Enough to keep being close to me. Why should I fear that? It provides you the freedom of expression—your touch against me is gentle but eager.”

When Lune nuzzled the mask, Narsus was lost. Moreso when Lune’s tongue flicked out along the tip of the leather beak.

He came, and Lune came with him.

Narsus lost all strength in his shaking limbs.

He braced his arms flush against the sand, and bent his head as he tried to catch his breath.

His masked face resting briefly against Lune’s shoulder.

He did his best to keep most of his weight off Lune’s body, and thus keeping their sweat from further mingling.

As their heaving slowed, Narsus realized Lune was reaching for the cloak. Narsus pulled it close. Unsure why he wanted it, but giving it to him. Lune tucked the excess between their bodies as a barrier, flipping the remainder over Narsus’s back.

Narsus understood and assisted in the task. When it was done, his siren hugged him. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the welcomed sensation by leaning into it. Another hug. Lune’s hug.

His heart soared as if it had wings of its own.