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LYSANDER

I can’t get enough of Ezra — I sleep with his cock inside me, beg him for more, rub on him shamelessly.

I’ve even gathered the courage to tease his hole with my tongue when we’re in the shower, which makes him growl and pin me to the shower wall every time.

I live for the way he holds me firm and pushes inside relentlessly afterward.

My only solace is that he’s just as insatiable.

He ties my legs open one morning and leaves me alone for thirty terrible minutes while he showers and brushes his teeth.

Then he fucks me until I’m wailing, and I take heart that he’s almost as loud as I am.

I love feeling him come, seeing his face twist up in pleasure and knowing I brought him there.

I love holding him close after and listening to his heartbeat slow.

But although sex is a lot of what we do, it’s not everything.

We also talk, more than I’ve ever talked to anyone.

At night when I’m nearly asleep Ezra will murmur his innermost thoughts into the still air.

Things I know he’s still afraid to say in the daylight. I reward him with soft kisses all over.

The freedom is exhilarating. I can finally move forward — grief and fear no longer have me in their claws.

I see Elsabeth whenever I want at The Sanctum. I help Syril with their community projects because I enjoy it, not because I feel a duty to. I go into the city without Ezra sometimes.

I’ve even visited some of the wildlings. The pair of fauns, Calliope and Swift, were eager to introduce me to their brand new litter.

For Ezra, though, he carries one more weight he hasn’t put down yet.

“Do you think I should see them again?” he asks suddenly into the dark one night.

It takes me a moment to understand, and when I do, it shakes me like a bolt of lightning. His parents.

“Do you want to?” I whisper.

He hesitates. “I feel so guilty. You’ve lost your parents, and mine are just on the other side of town.”

I roll over and put a hand on his bare chest, needing to be connected to him face to face. The hairs crinkle under my palm and his heartbeat nudges my fingertips. “Look beyond the guilt, because I won’t stand for that. Do you want it for yourself?”

He gives a deep, worried sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”

I wake to an empty bed. Ezra is already sitting at the counter, a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. He’s staring at it, his brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” I rest my chin on his shoulder. The number on the screen is nameless. His finger hovers over the ‘call’ icon.

“I’m scared,” he admits. “What if they don’t want to see me?”

I slide my arms around him, full of love for his bravery. “Then I’ll be here for you.”

He swallows and nods. “Alright.”