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The nightmare was finally over.
But there was one loose end Sorin needed to be sure was tied up before he could celebrate.
“They’ll get to choose?” he asked, looking Bertram in the eyes. “The Disgraces—they’ll get to choose their partners for themselves, right? Out of love or lust, and not obligation? And they’ll get to keep their eggs?”
“They’ll get to keep them,” Bertram promised, smiling. He pulled Sorin gently, bringing him to stand in the space between his knees, and with his free hand, he reached up to run his fingers through Sorin’s hair. “And they’ll get to keep their dragons if that’s what they want, too. No one will ever have to go through what you did—not ever again.”
The fluttering feeling in Sorin’s stomach became a full-bodied high. It felt like he was floating—like everything was a dream—but not even his best dreams had ever been this good.
“And what about my magic?” Sorin asked. “You said you knew something about it. What did you find out? Is there a way to get rid of it?”
“Get rid of it?” Bertram chuckled. “Sorin, it’s in your blood. The fact that you have laid eggs proves that your resemblance to Rustaham is no coincidence—you are his son, and therefore, you are a dragon. Your magic is no different from mine and is every bit as tamable. It means we won’t have to be apart anymore, as I can teach you how to use your powers… and how to keep them in check.”
It was the truth, and Sorin knew it as clearly as he knew his own name. It would be an easy thing to refute—it seemed as impossible as the council having so abruptly come to their senses—but it made so much sense Sorin couldn’t deny it even though part of him wanted to.
His resemblance to Rustaham.
His fertility.
His magic.
He might never grow a scale, but he was a dragon, and that meant his magic really could be contained.
Laughing, he grabbed fistfuls of Bertram’s hair and crushed their lips together. He didn’t object when Bertram grabbed him by the hips and pulled him closer, nor did he when Bertram dragged him down onto the bed. They kissed until they were breathless. Until color finally rose in Bertram’s cheeks. Only then did Sorin do what he’d wanted to do since the beginning, tugging his belt open while his dragon—his mate—did the same.
Their robes opened.
Bertram shucked his off and cast it to the side while Sorin’s remained pinned beneath him, and there it stayed while Bertram climbed on top of him and parted his legs.
18
Sorin
Sorin spread his thighs willingly and locked them around Bertram’s waist, joyfully surrendering himself to his lover—and like the dragon he was, Bertram took his proffered treasure, and took it greedily. With the kind of familiarity that came from a love forged over hundreds of years, he aligned their bodies, flexed his hips, and pushed his cock inside. The intrusion had been expected, but it came with a shock of pain. It had been years since they’d last seen each other, and Sorin’s body had forgotten what it was like to be stretched like this—but the discomfort didn’t last for long. They’d had centuries together. Shared a bed. Had countless trysts. Relearning Bertram’s body came as easily to him as language did—the rules, the tricks, the musicality of it all…
And how best to use his tongue.
As it all came back to him, Sorin’s pain morphed into pleasure. His hips, once still, began to move and fell into sync with Bertram’s to better meet his thrusts. Warmth filled a low place inside of him, pulsing, ballooning, until the discomfort he’d been in was nothing more than a distant memory.
Pleasure took its place.
Lost in it, Sorin threaded his fingers in Bertram’s hair and pulled his head down, crushing their lips together in one hot, stolen kiss after another. Their tongues met. Sorin licked into Bertram’s mouth and moaned when Bertram returned the gesture, both of them eager for each other. Insatiable and wanting to make up for lost time.
“Come in me,” Sorin gasped as their lips parted, his voice thin with pleasure. They were only just getting started, but the words sprang out of him all the same. He wanted Bertram’s cum in him. Wanted that comforting heat deep inside. And to make sure Bertram knew it, he rocked his hips, taking Bertram’s cock down to the very base before clenching around it.
Milking him.
Begging.
“Put it deep inside of me. Make me remember what it feels like when you make me yours.”
Bertram sucked in a rattling breath and thrust hard, and the pleasure ballooning inside of Sorin popped. He threw his head back in a silent scream and bucked down to meet Bertram’s thrust.
“Come in me,” Sorin repeated, more urgently this time. He let go of Bertram’s hair and grabbed his ass. “Come in me.” It was a command. A mantra. Pleasure was curling in Sorin’s stomach, but he needed the hot rush of Bertram’s cum inside of him to push him over the edge. “Come in me. I need you. Please.”
It wasn’t enough.
He needed more.
