Page 78 of Smut Lovers
Chapter Two
Caga
C aganasti checked his appearance one final time in the full-length mirror, raising an eyebrow as he turned to check the lines of his black robe.
He had chosen the dark color because he knew Lira liked it, the small silver threads woven into the arms her particular favorite as he would slide the sleeves halfway up his forearms, the metal bars glinting up his arms and blending with the pattern on the material.
“Oh, get on with it,” he told his reflection, knowing he was just stalling. “Either she’ll accept you or she won’t.” Caga tilted his head back and forth, loosening his body for the spell, and then he was casting before he could talk himself out of it.
The magic surged, and he was standing just outside the attic room at the Matterhorn’s Nest. Pulling the key from his pocket, he studied it, thinking of the other times he had stood here.
He’d occasionally used the room when he wanted to get away, always using magic to arrive so no one could see him.
He kept the room reserved, and while the manager knew a wizard rented it, the man didn’t know which one, and Firene had dozens of wizards.
None of them were like Caganasti Firenze, though—not in terms of power or appearance.
He knew stories of his wild youth still circulated among the people here, and he’d rather keep his current reputation of hermit shopkeeper and honorable Royal Advisor intact.
If people knew he had a room here, they’d soon start pestering him with all manner of questions—just like they did at his shop.
Give me a spell to make her love me.
Enchant this amulet to keep me safe during my quest.
I need an artifact to protect me from the goblins.
How do I capture a djinn?
Where can I find wild red dragon scale?
The questions and demands went on and on. Some days he could barely hear himself think over the constant noise of adventurers seeking his aid or counsel or goods. Being a wizard of some skill and renown definitely had its downsides when he wanted his privacy.
Not for the first time, he wondered why he had decided to open a shop if he didn’t enjoy talking to customers.
Well , he reminded himself, it wasn’t my choice to open the store .
It just sort of … happened that way. And if no one else remembered the specific circumstances that forced him into his current sedentary lifestyle, Caga preferred it that way.
He had learned to never deal with dragons again, nor with sharp-tongued halflings.
Now, he was a curiosity, a dispenser of wisdom, and well-respected advisor to the crown, but the people of Firene never let him forget his wild roots.
He did not want to tarnish the lady Lira’s reputation by being associated with him, should she plan to return to the temple after everything settled back down.
Armies , he thought, vampires, and exiled princes…
Eventually, though, life would return to its regular rhythm, and he wondered if Lira would be part of that routine or if she would leave again, finding her own path away from this place.
He sighed. Even if she did leave, he decided, it didn’t matter. Even if it was just one night, it would be worthwhile.
If she’s even here, he told himself, hand reaching out to slowly insert the key in the lock. She may have taken one look at your letter and burned it in the fireplace.
Caga knew he could use his magic to find out if she was inside, knew the answer was a breath away, but he didn’t reach out with his senses, preferring to linger in the agony of uncertainty. If she wasn’t there, if his intuition was wrong, he didn’t want to know—not yet.
He also knew he was being ridiculous. He had bedded many women over the years, and here he was standing outside a door like some besotted virgin, a young man nervous about kissing his first crush.
“By Horn’s fetlock,” he cursed softly, twisting the key, “just do it.” He pushed the door open, slipping inside with a swish of his robes.
The room was lit with the golden glow of the fireplace and two candles on the small table near the closed window.
Lira Dinuviel sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on her thighs in what seemed like a casual pose, but Caga knew how swiftly she could move to react should she need to defend herself.
Lira had always been quick and able, but the years abroad had sharpened her edges, sculpted her into a fierce woman that he wanted all the more.
How foolish I was, he thought, to want the girl she was when this is the woman she has become. How foolish we both were, he amended, knowing she probably felt the same about her own crush—now confirmed by her presence on his bed.
“You came,” he said, his voice quiet in the space between them.
“Did you doubt me?” she asked, her voice stronger, certain in a way he appreciated. This was not the shy creature he had once known.
“Never,” he told her. “Just my own appeal.”
Lira got to her feet, abandoning her coat on the bed. “Your appeal,” she said, taking a slow step in his direction, “has only increased over the years.”
Caga waited where he was, enjoying this slow approach, eyes drinking in the curves of hip and thigh as she moved.
She still wore the same dark form-fitting pants and white shirt tucked in, a wide belt accenting her waist—what he thought of as her traveling outfit.
Her hair was tied back in a braid, and Caga couldn’t wait to run his fingers through it, to see it wild around her face as she found her pleasure in his arms.
“You’ve grown bold, my lady,” he said.
Lira shrugged, continuing her slow teasing approach. “I’m no lady,” she assured him. “Not here.” She glanced around. “This is a nice room, but it’s still a tavern, and no proper lady would be here.”
“You are always a lady,” he argued, “for a proper lady knows what she wants and is unapologetic in achieving her goals.” He paused, cocking his head. “May I ask what those might be for the evening?”
It was her turn to pause, looking up at him with hungry eyes. “You sent me the letter,” she reminded him. “What did you have in mind?”
He glanced down at his arms, and she followed the look, her gaze scanning the line of bars up from his wrist to the crook of his elbow. “I thought you had questions,” he said, voice taking on the same teasing tone she had adopted. “I am eager to satisfy all curiosities, madam.”
“Madam,” Lira echoed with a chuckle. “I suppose I’ll take that.” She shook her head. “For someone who routinely shoots at visitors to his shop for wasting his time, you are oddly formal when courting a partner, Caga.”
“You expected the crossbow then?” he asked, part of him thrilling to hear her refer to their meeting as courting. Perhaps she was open to the idea of more then. Perhaps it didn’t have to be just one night.
“I don’t know what I expected,” she replied honestly, a hand reaching out to touch his chest. “I certainly didn’t expect a letter from you.” She frowned, glancing around at the room. “Is this how you arrange all your meetings? It’s very traditional.”
“I don’t meet people here,” he assured her, reaching down to place his hand over hers. “This is my room when I want to get away from everything. It’s where I come to be alone, and myself, with no one banging on the door of the famous Caganasti Firenze, whose family founded this city.”
Lira smirked. “You should try traveling,” she suggested. “Get away from all this. It works wonders on those expectations you seem to be hiding from.”
Caga smiled. “Are you offering to be my guide?” he teased. “Show me all the places you’ve been?”
“Maybe,” Lira said, raising an eyebrow. “Depends on what kind of companion you’d be.”
“I’m sure we can come to an agreement that suits us both,” he said. “I can be the kind of companion whose presence you enjoy.”
Lira frowned. “I don’t want you to pretend,” she said suddenly.
“I just want you…” Caga waited for her to finish, wondering if she was done or if there was more to the thought.
He reached out to hold her other hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss.
Her lips spread into a smile. “I spent far too much time pretending to be someone I’m not,” she told him.
“I will not play that game any longer. I’m here because I want you, whoever you are underneath all of this. ”
Caga’s smile matched her own, and he released her hand, reaching up to undo the top lace of his robe.
The collar loosened at his neck, revealing more of the marks across the skin of his chest. Instead of loosening the next tie, opening the robe at his chest, he took her hand and slid it over his other arm.
Starting with the top of his hand, he dragged her fingers over the horizontal bars threaded through his forearm, letting her feel their progress up to his elbow.
He let go of her, allowing her to touch as she would, and the wide sleeve of his robe gave her easy access to the crook of his elbow.
She traced the smooth skin up until she found the start of the bars again, these lining the outside of his biceps up to his shoulder.
They stopped there, but he had many more piercings in other places, ones she would discover tonight.
“Why?” she whispered, fingers still dancing over his arm.
He shrugged, the motion causing her hand to slide deliciously over the bars. “Why not?” The reply was automatic, his default response whenever a lover asked about them.
“Are they just for fun then?” she asked.
Caga tilted his head, feeling her energy seeping through the bars, her power draining into him through the metal.
He wasn’t using the magic they gave him tonight, but it never fully went away.
Anyone who touched him poured a little of themselves into him—not enough to notice or hurt them—not unless he concentrated.
“Not quite,” he admitted, wondering if he would someday share the truth with her, “though they are a good time.”
Lira looked up at him, a challenge in her eyes. “Where else are you pierced?”
He reached up and untied the remaining three laces that held the robe together in front. “Feel free to explore to your heart’s content, madam.”
She didn’t hesitate, sliding the robe free of both of his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor behind him.
She stood for a long moment, studying him, eyes and then fingers tracing the lines of his markings.
She gently touched the hoops through his nipples. “Those must have hurt,” she commented.
Caga bit his lip as her touch moved the metal, causing shivers to run through him. “They did,” he admitted, “but the pain is worthwhile.”
Lira’s gaze drifted down the smooth planes of his chest and belly, settling on the line of his shorts and the small line of dark hair that disappeared beneath.
Her hands slid down his body, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and she traced the line of his shorts.
She glanced at him, obviously seeking permission.
At his nod, she slid her hands beneath his shorts, eyes widening as she found the two metal bars just beneath the skin along the top and bottom of his shaft, fingers lingering on the small balls on either side of the bars.
“I don’t know anything that would make this kind of pain worthwhile,” she said, stroking his length and feeling the bars stretch apart as he hardened in her hand.
Caga smirked, a hand reaching out to slide up her other arm.
“Soon,” he promised, “you will.” Lira’s smile broadened, and as his hand reached out to cup her hair, she leaned her head back, and he kissed her.
Her lips were warm and inviting, and he immediately deepened the kiss, ravaging her mouth as he had longed to do for so long.
Lira moaned, hand still moving steadily along his length, teasing him, and he slid his hands down her sides, finding the edge of her shirt.
He paused long enough to meet her eyes and see her eagerness, then jerked the shirt up and over her head, pulling her hand away from his length, needing to see her as she saw him.
Her skin was smooth and unblemished, her body taut and athletic, her breasts the perfect size to cup and fondle. He bent to take a nipple in his mouth, and she gasped, hands sliding over his smooth scalp and grabbing at his topknot.
“Will you,” she managed as his mouth moved to suck the other nipple, “take your hair down?”
Caga moved back up her body, standing again.
He reached up to the topknot, sliding the fabric free and pulling it away in a long twirl.
His hair fell free, small braids raining down on either side of his face and down his back.
He looked down at her, hand reaching out to pull her braid forward over her shoulder. “And you?” he prompted. “May I?”
Lira nodded, and Caga pulled the tie at the end free, fingers slowly unthreading the braid, letting her long blonde hair slide over his skin. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered, taking in the goddess before him. “Let me worship you.”
Lira raised an eyebrow but nodded. Caga stepped forward, scooting her back to the bed, then gently pushed her down on the edge.
Lira sat, breasts bouncing, and Caga slid forward, pushing her to lay flat on her back.
He slid his hands along her legs, up to her waist, then met her eyes again.
She nodded, and he pulled her pants down, revealing more of that gorgeous skin.
He tossed the clothing aside, hearing it land somewhere near his robe and her shirt on the floor, then bent forward, eager to taste her for the first time.