Yarrow tries to forget his all-consuming want as he binds Folly’s crossed wrists together. He wants all his concentration for the firm, comfortable cuffs. The knot that will release quickly if he tugs one end of the rope.
“Tell me if this gets uncomfortable,” Yarrow says. “I can untie it instantly.”
Folly tests the rope, flushing. “That’s good. Um. Can you tie it a little tighter?”
Yarrow kisses him, deep and slow, and tightens the binding. Then he loops the other tail of rope around a headboard bar, and tugs.
Folly stretches into a beautiful, giving arch.
“Comfortable?” Yarrow asks.
Folly licks his lips. “Yeah.”
Yarrow rubs his knuckles across Folly’s chest. The soft rope wrapped around them changes the texture of the touch. Folly’s eyes roll back as Yarrow brushes over a nipple.
He’s a vision of debauchery, nipples peaked, stomach trembling. his trousers riding down his hips. Yarrow’s already mussed those rich, dark curls, and wet bruises decorate his throat.
And his eyes, brown and gold, shine with equal lust.
Yarrow doesn’t intend to take his time. His cock aches for release. and Folly looks just as desperate. But before Yarrow goes further, he has to say, “I know you’ll return to your home. I know we won’t be bound together. But fleeting as this is—tonight is important to me.” He leans in for a kiss. “You’re important to me.”
Folly tests the rope, breath hitching. “Maybe I could stay. Just for a while. Until you get tired of me.”
It’s a terrible idea. Elladar is too dangerous, and so is the rest of Summer. Realm-sickness isn’t predictable. Outside his home realm, Folly’s spirit would wither and fade—unless Yarrow chose another way to bind him. That decision is far too serious. They still haven’t broken their first binding yet.
But Yarrow likes pretending tonight isn’t just one night. It’s the beginning of a season. “We’ll talk about that later.” Yarrow begins unlacing Folly’s boots. “Let’s start with an hour.”
Removing Folly’s boots and trousers is a delightful challenge. The clothes are easy enough to remove, but Yarrow makes things more difficult by keeping hold of the rope. And by stopping to kiss each exposed inch. Which makes Folly squirm, which further hinders the process.
Not least because Folly squirms so enticingly. Yarrow only wants to kiss him more.
At last, Folly’s completely bare. Shucking his own boots and trousers with far less ceremony, Yarrow admires his unwrapped gift.
Folly’s small and human, without any gleam to his skin in the lamplight. He’s tougher than Yarrow first assumed, with sleeky, wiry muscles. His gorgeous little cock leaks, ruddy with need, in a nest of dark curls.
Folly’s gaze drops to Yarrow’s cock. He blinks, assessing, then licks his lips. “Do you have oil?”
“Never leave home without it,” Yarrow says, reaching out. The round glass bottle drops from his carryhold into his palm.
Folly flops back on the bed. “I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore.”
Yarrow pours oil over his fingers, heedless of spills. “The only thing you should be surprised by is how fucking incredible you’re about to feel.”
“Aren’t you worried about setting my expectations too high?” Folly asks, tracking Yarrow’s every movement.
“Not at all,” Yarrow declares confidently. Then secures his grip under Folly’s knee, and pushes his thigh up and aside.
Two fingers later, Folly is writhing in the ropes. Yarrow crooks his fingertips upward, entranced by each responsive moan.
He’s almost angry at how easy it is to drive Folly wild. Sure, Yarrow’s fucking great at this, and Folly’s only twenty-four. He’sbarely had time to explore anything. But clearly nobody’s ever fucked him as well as he deserves.
Yarrow is determined to fix that.
“Meeting the queen’s changeling told me one thing,” Yarrow says. Folly makes a discontented noise, but Yarrow continues. “I thought I was fascinated with you because you’re a human. But that’s not true. I’m fascinated because you’reyou. I don’t care that you’re human, or what your gorgeous eyes look like. You’re brilliant and brave, and you admit when you’re afraid. Sometimes I wish I could do that.”
“What are you afraid of?” Folly whispers.
“Right now?” Yarrow hitches Folly’s legs over his elbows. “Nothing.” And he pushes in.
