I stroke my hands across his smooth cheeks and undo his hair from the two buns at the back of his neck. His eyelids flutter, and when my fingers rake across his scalp, he stops breathing.
I meet his gaze, feeling him tremble beneath me before I bring his lips to mine and slowly push my tongue into his mouth. He tastes like earth and rain, and it’s almost overwhelming. I groan against him as I kiss him deeper, and he holds me tighter against his body.
A low trill in his chest grows into a soft growl as I swirl my tongue around the ring pierced in the middle of his. His grip on me tightens as I feel him tentatively push his way deeper inside of me. Our teeth clash for a brief moment before he pulls away, his breathing labored.
I press a palm to his chest and feel two uneven beats. “Two hearts?”
He nods, and my fingers curl against him. He stares down at where my hand is, and then lifts his own and presses it against my chest.
He must feel the way my singular heart is thundering because his ears flutter.
A moment passes, then two. It’s thick and tense, like neither of us is sure what comes next, and then our mouths meet in a rush of endorphins and yearning.
His soft growl is back, and I feel it vibrate up my spine as our tongues slide against each other. His is far longer and thinner than mine, forked at the tip, but he doesn’t shove it down my throat like I thought he might. Instead, he twines it around my own and tugs.
I wonder what his piercing would feel like around my cock. How his long tongue could curl around me and stroke me to completion.
Fuck, it makes me even harder.
I shift on his lap, tugging on his thick strands of violet hair as I grind against him, desperate for friction. His growl grows stronger, his entire body shaking, and I feel his claws poking into my skin.
The sensations make me moan, the sound rough and stuttered as it escapes my throat.
I want to bleed for him. I want him to bite me.
To suck me.
To taste me.
But before I can beg for any of that, he lurches back, his eyes wide, breath heaving in his chest. He looks…almost afraid, and my heart sinks for a second, but he doesn’t let me go.
He stares at my swollen lips, then down to where his claws have pierced my skin. Pricks of blood sit on my hips where my shirt has been rucked up, and I swipe them away.
He tries to snatch his hands away, but I grip one of his wrists, bringing his palm back to my skin. “It’s fine,” I say, then point to my hard cock. “This means I liked it. I promise.”
Cielo nods, but he still looks horrified, his teal skin paling to a light blue. His fangs dig into his lower lip, and after a moment, he shakes his head and takes his free hand to his chest to sign, ‘Sorry.’
“No. I mean it, Cielo,” I say, and stroke a tender touch along his jaw. He purrs just a little, leaning into me. “It’s fine. I’m nothurt. In fact, I think…” I point to the already healed wounds. “Look, the zitha is still working. I’m okay.”
He doesn’t seem to believe me, however, because he doesn’t go back in for the next kiss I desperately want. He gently lifts me instead and places me on the bed before standing up with a grace I could never possess.
‘I need….walk…’ His signs are slightly off, and I frown when I see his ears slightly bent down, his tail coiled tightly around his waist.
“Cielo,” I beg, but he’s already stalking from the room, his head down-turned, his claws clacking on the wood floors.
I want to chase him. I want to order him back to my bed so we can pick up where we left off. But clearly, this is too much for him, and if anyone knows what it feels like to need a moment with things that are overwhelming, it’s me.
So I let him go, feeling his absence the moment I hear the front door open and close. And fuck, I feel very alone.
seven
CIELO
Idon’t know that I’ve committed another crime, but it feels like I have. I’ve hurt him. My Dante. The little droplets of red splattered across his skin before the zitha healed him are proof that I am exactly what other humans believe about the Vyastil.
I can feel his pain, even when he doesn’t express it in words or sign. I hear it in the way he sucks in a breath when he moves too fast. I see it in the way he trembles, or in the way he’s careful as he sits, or lifts things. Or when he has to excuse himself, then whimpers quietly behind the door of his bedroom.
I hate it with every fiber of my being.
