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“Let me down,” Nur mutters. Arsene lowers Nur to his feet, and the hollow grumbles and disentangles himself. “I’m fine. It’s not a human matter.”
As Nur straightens, Rhys’s gaze clears and his cheeks redden noticeably. Nur is visibly aroused—and musk pours off him in such quantities that even a human could smell it. Arsene nearly growls at him.
“I’m worried about leaving you behind,” Rhys says.
“Don’t be,” Arsene snaps, aware he’s bristling and unable to stop himself.
Nur throws him a dark look before turning back to Rhys. “We’ll find our way back. Arsene is an experienced tracker.”
Arsene’s pheromone-addled mind latches onto the praise and ignores the look. He puffs up. Even Rhys’s frown can’t dampen his smug satisfaction. His primus has all but claimed Nur already.
“I don’t get it, but I trust that you know what you’re doing,” Rhys says reluctantly. He gets to his feet and draws Nur into an embrace before Arsene can step between them—not that he would. Of course.
“Stay safe,” Rhys says under his breath. He presses something into Nur’s hand, a rolled up bit of leather. “Take the map. It might help you.”
Nur returns Rhys’s hug cautiously. “The big idiot will take care of me.”
He meets Arsene’s eyes over Rhys’s shoulder. Arsene tries to convey his devotion to doing exactly that, but from Nur’s raised eyebrow he only succeeds at looking menacing. Hewilltake care of Nur. If he’s going to leave everything behind for this one prickly, imperfect, beautiful creature…he’ll do it right.
Wondering what in Hell he’s doing is for another day. Right now, he has nothing but conviction.
Slowly, the caravan moves around them. Nur grows more antsy with every passing minute, and Arsene reaches for him as soon as the caravan is out of sight. “I wish we had time to find proper shelter and do this right. You belong in a real nest.”
Nur slumps into his arms with a whine. “I don’t care. I would fuck in the middle of the sand if it meant relief—everything hurts so much.”
“Why didn’t you say?” Arsene growls, falling to his knees.
Chapter 33
NUR
Arsene tearsopen Nur’s clothes without hesitation. His cock is stiff and dark already, kicking eagerly into Arsene’s hand. Need crawls through his veins like poison. Arsene’s brusque touch tears a gasp out of him. He can smell his own musk and the collection of fluids that gather and drip from all his most tender places. It makes his pulse tremble. Though he fears what lies ahead—after his heat, when Arsene’s mind clears—his vergis is more than ready for this.
Arsene’s hot mouth is unexpected. He swallows Nur’s cock to the root with ease, not even pretending it’s a challenge. He milks it with his throat, fingers working at the same time to gently stroke and squeeze Nur’s balls, and any coherent thought melts into desire as orgasm overtakes him in a hot rush. It’s not a sharp peak, but a long, low swell that leaves him gasping and shaking. Arsene pulls back to lap up the impotent seed that drips from his tip, his brilliant eyes fixed on Nur’s face as he massages Nur’s his tender balls with a look of utter satisfaction.
“That’s it. Let go,” he murmurs.
“Greedy.” Nur fights the urge to hide from that piercing gaze. Arsene is kneeling before him, but he’s also in his head. In his soul.
He lets go. His second release rushes hotly down his shaft as his hole squeezes, readying for Arsene. His mind floats away to a different plane. The heat of the day bears down on him like a weight and his knees tremble.
Arsene tucks him away and fastens his pants. The touch makes him shiver even though he’s just come twice. “Inside.”
He doesn’t want to move. Hands nudge him, urging him inside. He burns with need. With pain. As his high fades, his scars begin to ache like they’re newly made. He hisses, digging his claws into his own flesh. He wants more pain to distract from the emptiness within him.
“You’re hurting yourself.” Arsene tugs at his hands.
“It’s good,” he slurs, gazing up at Arsene. The angel is bright as a star. Is he going into the aether? “The pain is good.”
“Let me make you feel better.” Arsene puts his mouth to the stinging spots and Nur groans. The bond glows white hot. He writhes, suddenly constricted by his clothing.
Arsene tears open his shirt and wrestles his own clothes off. Then they’re skin to skin, friction making sparks. Arsene’s cock is already swollen with arousal, heavy against his stomach and pulsing shamelessly. Nur’s hole twitches in time to its pulse. Half out of his mind with need, he rolls onto his front instinctually and lifts his hips, burying his face into Arsene’s bedroll.
Arsene lets out a string of curses.
“Please,” Nur gasps, his hole squeezing on nothing. His insides feel wrong, emptiness rising in a wave.
Hands come to his hips and something hot and blunt presses at his entrance. With a single thrust he’s full. He chokes on his cry and convulses around Arsene’s primus cock, so punishingly huge that it seems to stretch him more than ever. Is it bigger, or does Nur just need it more?
