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“Phae,” I whisper as I crawl over him.
He moans in response. When I press my lips to his neck, his pulse flutters against my mouth. My breasts press against his chest, sweat slicking both our bodies, and I want him so badly it’s a kind of pain, this longing. This emptiness.
His cock is so close to my sex I can feel its hungry heat, but Phaedron doesn’t move. His legs tremble under mine, and still, he waits for me. I lean back, watching him, our eyes locked as I guide him into me.
My breath catches as he enters me, and stars above, he’s big! My hips roll against his, pleasure rippling through my body as I take him in, all of him into all of me. And then he’s inside of me, completely, and I try to force my body to stop moving against his and just stare at him, this beautiful man between my legs. The man who burst into my life, like a hero, to bring me to a better place. His hand clutches my quilt so hard his knuckles are white, and his breath comes in short, shallow little gasps. His entire body is wound tight and trembling. Holding back. Waiting for me.
“Oh, Phae,” I moan. “You— You’re so beautiful.”
And with that, the wave crashes. My hips dig into his, seeking more, more, more of him, and I bend down to taste his mouth, to tangle my fingers with his. It’s fast and frantic, a chaotic explosion of bodies pressed together, and by all the stars, he feels good, with his hips rolling against mine, his arm around my waist, and his cock driving harder and harder, plunging into me, and some part of me thinks I’ll never recover from this, I’ll never be the same person again.
I try to catch my breath, to slow this down, to savor the first time I’ve had a lover in my own bed. But it’s like trying to stop the dawn spilling across the valley below, and besides, my body is done listening to me. Phaedron’s hips roll like waves, pulling at me, bringing me higher and higher until I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but—
Stars! Phaedron’s name comes out of me like a whisper, or a prayer, and then everything else is washed away. The world collapses as I crest, and crest, and sweet stars above, it’s never been like this before. It’s never—
Phaedron’s fingers close around my hip as he growls against my neck like an animal, then thrusts into me so hard he lifts me off the bed. His cock pulses inside of me as he moans, his hips spasming, both of us dying together.
Slowly, the world pulls itself back. Birds sing. The breeze rustles the heavy canvas walls of my tent. My chest rises and falls against Phaedron’s. His fingers trail lazily through my hair as it spreads over my back. Through the warmth of his chest, his heart beats against my ear, and I could almost believe this is another one of my perfect, impossible dreams.
Perfect? Yes. But impossible?
Well, maybe not.
I shift onto my side, our bodies coming apart with a sound like a sigh, and then turn to meet Phaedron’s eyes. My cheeks feel hot, and some part of me wonders why I could possibly feel embarrassed after what we just did together.
“Phaedron,” I whisper. “Yes.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”
I glance down at my own fingers resting on his chest, then back up to meet his eyes.
“I would love it if you stayed with me,” I say, and my voice feels thick and strange. “Because, um. I love you.”
I turn away again, but Phaedron catches my lips in a soft, sweet kiss. When he pulls back, I’m staring into those sky-colored eyes again, and somewhere in the distance, horns begin to sing across the valley.
“I would love that,” he replies. “Because I love you too.”
And then we’re kissing again, sinking into another sweet embrace that goes deeper, and deeper, until my hands are tangled in his hair and he’s turned to press his chest to mine, and the spark between my legs is pulsing again, hot and hungry and almost painful, as the call of horns echoes once more across the mountains ringing the valley.
Horns. I pull away from our kiss, panting. That high clarion call booms through the valley, silencing the birds who have been chattering outside my tent since the day I moved in.
“Oh!” I gasp. “Oh, no!”
I sit up in bed, suddenly very aware of the tangled mess of my hair, and the tangled mess of the bed, and how very high the sun must be to cast so few shadows inside my tent.
“The envoy!” I say, turning to Phaedron. “From the Kingdom of the Summer. I’m supposed to be there! I told Lytheinne I’d help get them through the portal!”
Phaedron makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like he’s trying not to laugh. Then the sweet, rich scent of his illusions swells in the air, and suddenly he’s gone from gloriously naked to wearing an illusion that looks exactly like the Royal Guard uniform currently crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the bed.
“Let’s go then,” Phaedron says. “I’ll escort you. On one condition.”
I stumble out of bed, yank on the dress I’d just pulled off, and run a trembling hand through my hair.
“Would you like—” Phaedron asks, waving his hand at his own illusion-perfect hair.
“Yes,” I say. “Please.”
His magic flutters in the air around me, then settles over my shoulders like a cloak. When I glance in the little mirror hanging by my door, I see he’s given me an illusion of long, loose hair held in place with a crown of tiny braids. And he’s covered up the wrinkles in my dress.
