Page 55 of Shadows and Flames (Twin Blades #2)

And I made for an obscene sight, bared, slick, and arched as I clambered behind Elián’s lead. Tears streaming down the side of my face as it became too much, too big, but he just licked them up, denying his own release and pushing me toward mine.

Well, until I was right there, kissing the precipice of it, mouth dropped and breath held.

Then, Elián pinched both of my nipples so hard that I screamed, writhing and sobbing because of sensation lost but swept under by the suggestion of pain, anyway.

My hips pumped uselessly, running to and away from what he’d done to me.

Not just plucking my body with a skill that rivaled any expert lute player, but burrowing even further into me.

Where my soul would decidedly never feel complete without him.

While the pulsing surges of pleasure beneath my skin weakened, Elián took liberty with my body, again . I sucked in a gasp as I sank into the edge of the bed, and the air punched out of my nose as Elián’s hips filled my vision, my world.

The ornate, frilly thing was the perfect height for him to lean forward, to use the grip on his cock and slap it against my lips. It was all the instruction he gave, but I needed less, licking my lips and opening my mouth for him to plunge inside.

A heavy, hot palm closed around the front of my throat, feeling himself there, and I stopped moving. Bracing myself with fists clenched around Pyrestan fabric, I stared up at my Shadow. My love.

And he thrusted. Mouth and throat relaxed, chin dripping, I again let Elián fuck my face.

I’d once told him that I hardly gave others the privilege of this level of submission, but with him, for him, it was liable to become a regular occurrence.

I gagged, but when he let up to give me space, I did not take it.

I turned myself over to Elián, let him use my mouth.

He braced his knee on the mattress beside my shoulder, fucking into my throat with intense, long plunges.

My mind calmed to a low buzzing, like the lazy chittering of an autumn evening, and like that change in seasons, where Elián’s and my body joined was warm.

The rest of me melted further into the bed, skin prickling but too sated to do anything about it.

And when Elián came, it was with my name on his lips and his seed shooting into my stomach, bypassing my tastebuds altogether. But in this submission, I felt powerful. Giving him such pleasure that he could not hold himself from release.

He pulled his softened cock from my mouth, and a long, translucent string stretched between us.

Elián wiped the end connecting to him, collecting that remnant of me and him, and gently shoved it all back between my lips.

A hint of salt and Elián’s natural musk, I held the taste as long as I could, making it cover every inch and crevice before swallowing it again.

I twisted slowly, righting my vision of the world, and arched my neck.

I was about to lightly snip at him for staring at my ass, or trying to suffocate me with his cock again , but his fingers running over my curls silenced me at once.

He did so as if he was in worship. As if what I meant to him transcended anything able to be spoken.

“Do you—” my voice came out ragged “—do you want me to braid your hair?” The action used to soothe me but was unavailable to me now.

He already enjoyed my fingers running through the strands. Would this be something he’d like as well?

Elián paused, fingering a curl beside my ear. No doubt I resembled a baby duck, curls no longer orderly but fluffy and askew. But, my Shadow didn’t seem to mind. The edge of his thumb made one last caress against my skin, and then he pulled away.

I propped on a hip, tracking his movements as he went to one of his packs and rifled through it with neat efficiency, reflecting the orderliness with which I knew he kept his things.

He returned with a small, dark bottle, a comb, and a few leather ties. Elián dropped them beside me, laying out everything I would need, and then he lowered himself. For me. He sat against the bed, facing the night and ever-present waterfalls that swallowed the sounds of our pleasure earlier.

Now, I ran a hand over Elián’s hair supplies, a far simpler regimen than mine, and selected the comb first. He waited patiently, chest rising and falling in a calm, steady rhythm.

Where I came from, one’s hair was a… deeply personal thing.

Something to express yourself, to display your status and vitality, but also something truly shared with only those you were close with.

How often had I sat like he was now, listening to my mother’s stories of her childhood, crying to her about what worried my innocent mind, or laughing with her about whatever we fancied that day?

Or when I was able to get Tana to sit still long enough to tame her buttercream curls, caring for my younger cousin in a way that seemed outside of time itself?

I started at the bottom of Elián’s hair, where it reached just past the middle of his back. About as long as mine used to be. The comb was wooden, plain, and I wielded it deftly as I slowly worked out the tangles and knots.

“What did you see for your future when you were a child?” Elián’s question wasn’t in contrast with the hypnotic task of combing his hair. It was natural, complementary.

There was a larger snag against the comb, and I set it aside to tease it loose with my fingernails.

I used the tactile sense to work my way through it.

“I suppose…something akin to what my mother did. Not High Priestess, but the responsibilities of the kingdom. The traveling. The throne was never supposed to be mine, but I expected to always be in its proximity.” Did Versillia still stand, now?

Had the Lylithan Council dismantled upon my brother and uncle’s deaths? “What about you?”

A few strands gave me purchase, and I focused on Elián’s answer. “A Shadow like my father. I did not see a life without my family, but other than this, I am doing what I thought I would.”

“Fucking rival assassins in a different realm, you mean?”

He twisted, just enough for his pupil to sear into mine. “Not rivals. And…no. I did not expect you.”

He turned back around, and I picked the comb back up to get the rest of the knot. My fang caught on the edge of my lip as I dared, “Is that a bad thing?”

“It is the best thing.”

I nearly dropped the comb as it slid smoothly through the section I was working on.

I could leave his words to trail and disappear in the air.

Not beat them into something recognizable.

But, alas. “We were together for a few days, then years apart filled with loss afterward. How can I be the best thing for you, El?” Never mind the fact he was that for me.

He’d given me more than he ever knew. My heart and soul had been ripped from my body and trampled under the heels of fate, but to be with him, I would do it all over again.

“Do not put words in my mouth. Do not use my pain to inflict more onto yourself.” I sniffed and swatted away my tears, hopefully before he could sense them.

He was right. Tana had been right. But that didn’t make it any easier to stop.

I apologized to him, and he grunted, accepting it.

“You bring life to me.” More tears erupted, and I batted those away, too.

“With you I feel as though…I can be all parts of me. You challenge me to speak but do not truly push when I need the silence. You match me with a sharpness, something I can grab onto.”

I pulled the comb through, testing the work I’d done and was met with a smooth glide, no resistance.

The bottle he’d given me was half-full, and I plucked out the stopper and carefully poured a small amount onto my palm.

I made sure the bottle was secure and used my own body heat to warm the oil.

My fingernails acted as tines, raking the liquid through his pitch-black locks.

“You do that for me. Calm me. Enliven me. I think that’s why I argue with you so much.”

I poured a few more drops of oil and got to massaging Elián’s scalp once more, this time pressing the oil in with each roll of pressure. He grumbled sleepily. “I like to spar with you. But I don’t like to fight with you.”

“I don’t like it either.” We were quiet for a while, as I ensured every part of Elián’s hair and scalp were touched by the oil. That any tension left was cracked and spilled.

When I used one of the leather ties to pull half of his hair out of the way and neatly portioned three even sections at his hairline, Elián whispered another question. “Why did you cut your hair?”

I’d not braided anyone else’s hair in a long while, but I quickly adapted and started on the plait, securing tightly without drawing too taut.

And my answer, like so many, all led to him.

“You.” He didn’t prompt me, and after completing about half of the braid, I found the words to explain further.

“I wanted something…drastic. To match the way I felt, the loss. And through the years, I got used to the ease, to cutting it once it reached a certain length. Why did you grow yours? Do you normally keep it this length?” I cast off from his scalp, finishing the rest of the plait quickly.

“No. After leaving you, I neglected myself for many months. My hair grew, and when I found the energy to cut it, I saw my father each time I looked in the mirror. I could not bear to cut it, save for trimming the ends.”

That made me sad, cold and chin quivering. I tied the end of the completed braid and started on the other. “You are very handsome, and it suits you. Did you look very much alike?”

“Leandro and I were always told we inherited more features from our mother. Her coloring, whereas my father’s skin was paler. His hair lighter. But, when I smile, which he did often, I see him. When I am sorrowful, I see him. In my anger, I see my mother.”

I did not envy anyone who crossed Roza, then. “So, you had two beautiful parents. No wonder you look like this.”

This time, Elián accepted my attempt at jest. When it was no longer self-deprecating. From where I sat, thighs bracketing his broad shoulders, I saw the valley of his dimple. The one he inherited from his father.

“And what is your favorite body part of mine, Your Highness?”

That cocksure smirk drew a chuckle from me.

“Well, it would be too easy to say your cock or your hands, though they may just make second and third on the list. But, I would say your eyes.” He rolled them.

They weren’t their usual vibrant shade, but they still held the same effect.

“You communicate far more with them than you do with your words. That I’ve irritated you.

That I’ve confounded you. That I’m safe with you.

I dreamt about them most nights when we were apart. ”

“And now? What do you dream about?”

The answer locked at the bottom of my throat. Slamming behind layers and layers of reinforcements. I wouldn’t be able to get it out if I tried. Not with the hushed tranquility between us tonight. After… after Francie. If I made it back with them, out of this world and into ours, I would tell him.

For now, I tied off the second plait and responded with, “This and that. Now, when I need your eyes, I need only to turn and find them.”

I settled the braids over his shoulders, so they could fall down his chest and he could see them. Elián ran over the bumps of the woven strands, and a gust of wind carried with it fresh dampness and crisp, evening air.

El appeared before me, my favorite part of him staring back at me, hands braced on the bed. He leaned closer, bringing our noses to brush and his breath to skate across my cheek. “El,” I whispered.

He took my jaw in hand, tilting me where he wanted. Before he eliminated the last bit of distance between our lips, he said, lower than a whisper, “Thank you, my queen.”

In a world where we couldn’t say the words, they weren’t needed and even that more special. Elián was special and too good for me. If there was any chance, any hope, for us, I would have to open myself up to him leaving me again. Hating me.

Rather than descend into the pit of the unavoidable, I kissed him, taking my ability to speak and pouring everything I could not say into him.

I love you.

For what I am hiding from you, I am so, so sorry.