PART 2 OF THE DOUBLE UPDATE IS FINALLY HERE! 

IF YOU DIDN’T READ CHAPTER 47 YESTERDAY, MAKE SURE YOU GET TO IT BEFORE CHECKING THIS ONE OUT! 

And I sincerely hope you enjoy the fun to come…

—————–

Aiasthlyn

°

The missive came in the night, and laced with incubi magic.

We’re all done. We’ll be back in the morning.

Malcolm’s missed you.

The slip of paper had found itself in my palm whilst Kalem was deep asleep, and so he and no other witnessed what it did to me. If any had, my weakness would forever be known.

By the time Kalem roused and read it for himself, I’d managed to smoothen the gnarled edges of my glamour and realign myself to reveal nothing more than a pleased smile while he ran about the manor, screaming in delight.

Now I stood at the threshold of Malcolm’s abode, awaiting its owner’s return with an eagerness I could not deny.

I had been without my pisen for four earthly days, and I was finally, finally, getting him back.

It was a miracle I hadn’t already derailed his journey and dragged him back to my side.

“When will they be here, Aias?” Kalem whines beside me when he can bear the silence no longer. He has done well, managing to stay in one spot, even if he’s been shifting restlessly within it and making all sorts of anxious sounds.

“I do not know, young one. They did not give us a specific time,” much to my chagrin. It was as though Wequie wanted to torture us. Knowing the incubus, I could picture that was precisely his intention. “That is why I suggested waiting inside.” For my sanity as much as yours.

Kalem pouts before he shifts about again, suffering half of my restlessness, but at least allowing it to show. I keep mine within, bottled and subdued, as I intend to do when my pisen arrives.

Only time would tell how Malcolm would be, or how he had coped with our distance since I had not allowed myself even a glimpse of him since the first night, but it would not do for him to return composed only to be besieged by his pyro.

No. After how bloodlust and punishment had separated us, I would receive him with nothing other than a steady hand. The madness rampaging inside of me would not glimpse the surface.

It is a while still before I feel the cold shift of magic in the air that immediately puts me on alert. It is like the press of a hand from the other side of an invisible wall— a distant force that soon pushes through time and deposits, to us, a gift in the form of Malcolm’s vehicle dropping from the sky.

Kalem screams, popping onto my back by instinct as the vehicle jostles from side to side, the aftereffects of teleportation, by the look of things. My mind should take note of it, as my magic should be tracking the source of the disappearing tendrils, but what I should be doing is quickly as lost to me as the world that surrounds me the moment my eyes find him.

I stumble forward a step, my body falling victim to the yank of the chain that lies between us. The one wrapped so tightly around my heart that it hurts. The one that tugs erratically at me now as I watch him climb out of his car.

I hear my heartbeat in my ears. Feel my ears twitch outside of my already bested glamour.

Malcolm steps into the sun, his back to me, but he is quickly turning. Looking.

His grey eyes are wide— frantic, as though he thinks that I might not be here, but then they spot me. He sees me, waiting at the door for him, and I watch those big eyes light up before his lips tear apart into the most beautiful smile.

The chain rattles. I can barely breathe, barely keep this fake skin of mine in place, and that’s before Malcolm and his speed bring him five steps beneath me.

My magic wars.

He looks wonderful— is wonderful. Gorgeous and handsome. Less frantic than when he left. His eyes focus on me, not my veins, and his posture is far more relaxed.

He is restored. No more bloodlust.

He surveys me quickly, eyes flitting about my body before he breathes in as if to scent me, or at least, the air I stand in. The thought forces a shudder from me before I watch his smile become almost sheepish.

“Hi,” he greets, climbing the first step that lies between us and then the next. “It’s, um, good to see you again. To be back, I mean.”

He scrambles for his words, struggling to make them fit right when the chain between our souls is rattling wildly, trying to yank us closer when I am yet to move.

Three more.

“I made it,” he whispers after taking another breath, and he says it with so much hope. My heart beats faster, fingers twitching.

He takes another step. Two more.

“It’s been four days.” And they have been hell.

Malcolm swallows, eyes wild this close, but not because of bloodlust. His lip quivers before he bites down, but it’s only a second later he frees it to blurt, “I’ve missed you, Aias.”

I am the one moving suddenly. The one taking the last two steps before my mouth is on his and there is only pleasure, and room for nothing else but instincts.

Hands. His hands on me, and mine on him. On his cheek. In his hair. Down his back and over his ass. My lips and his, kissing, sucking, licking, and his whimpers and moans as I haul him to me and do not let go.

We stumble. Bodies wanting more— needing more— but it is not enough. None of it is enough, and it will not be until I am inside of him.

I try to take it anyway, and Malcolm tries to give it to me.

He opens himself for me, offering me his mouth, body and soul, and—

“Fuck,” I groan into his mouth when my back meets a wall, and he falls atop of me. Weak. Mine.

I turn us so that he is against it, knocking the wind from him as I do, but my pisen does not mind. He adores it, melting instead as he lets anything that is not yielding bleed out of him.

It is an attack on my mind.

My hand finds his neck before my mouth falls over his again, and Malcolm’s moan vibrates against my tongue as his defiant body bows against mine. I press him harder against the post, by his neck and the fingers gripping his hair, and my sweet pisen begins to shake.

I pull back to watch it, to look at him, and my chest immediately tightens.

Flushed from head to toe, my pisen’s pupils pulse in his blown eyes while little breaths puff out of his swollen lips. I lean in to nip at them.

“Pyro,” he whines between each bruising kiss. Already at the edge.

By Ythene…

I stare at him, lips parting to give him permission before movement in my periphery stalls me.

My gaze snaps to the left, and I immediately stiffen when I spot two pairs of wide eyes fastened to us. The other’s, Lincoln’s, is pointedly fixed on the ground he heaves over.

My glamour slams over me like a screen, hiding my agitation and desire just as it does the way my heart sinks.

Neither Kalem nor Wequie speaks. They just stare.

“I assumed you left,” I hear myself say, and it sounds impressively sane.

Kalem looks to Lincoln, who only just risks looking upwards. He has turned slightly green while Wequie appears in better health than I have ever witnessed.

“Thank the fucking Gods I didn’t,” he purrs while his hungry eyes devour what they can of us. “I feel re-energized, that shit was hot.”

They had seen it all then. So much for composure.

“Let’s head inside,” the dullard pipes up, his discomfort ever-present as he looks beyond me. “The quicker we talk, the quicker we can leave.”

Talk? They wanted to talk now about their affairs and ours? Had he not missed Kalem?

Did he not want to be in his company first as I did my pisen?

I nod, playing my role before I return my gaze to my Malcolm. He stares right at me. I do not believe he has looked away once since he came to me.

My fingers tighten around his neck, and his heavy eyes droop lower. Realms.

“After,” I promise in a gritted whisper. After, I will see to you, pisen.

I force my hand from his neck and pry myself away from him, using every bit of strength I can muster to step back and then walk inside.

I only have to walk two steps by myself before my pisen is next to me. The stuffiness in my chest fades.

Steps follow at our back, but I do not care for them or their whisperings. I care only for Malcolm. He walks closely. Closer than ever before, and yet it is not close enough.

I look to him as he does me, and my heart plays a tempestuous tune beneath the folds of my glamour.

I have missed you.

Never leave my side again.

If I punish you with distance, correct me.

I can not wait to be with you once more.

Malcolm’s lips tilt at their corners, and the warmth of him burns brighter. I stare at him while our knuckles brush until I have grown a hatred for the company of others.

“I guess staying the night is out of the question?” Wequie goads as he skips into the space behind us until we are forced to part. He looks between us, eyes sparkling even as he pouts. “Unless…”

“Yes,” I answer.

At another juncture, I would not mind Wequie being in the same vicinity while I had my pisen, but not tonight.

I had gone without him for four earthly feens. I would not share him for another.

“Did not think so,” he sighs before skipping ahead. “Don’t forget your promise for my birthday, Malcolm.”

“I did not—” my pisen begins, but Wequie is dashing into the study before he can finish. He sighs and glances at me with a soft smile. “It’s nothing.”

I hum. I did care to hear all I could about our time apart, every minute detail, but I had already exposed too much of myself with others present, and I could not trust myself to mask anymore if I indulged again.

I needed them gone first, and then I would have my pisen. In every way.

Malcolm looks away as I have the thought and ducks quietly after Wequie into his study as if that will allow him to escape me. I stalk after him, and while Wequie has already found a nook in the window to curl himself into, I claim the nearest chair. Malcolm does not hesitate to sink into the space at my feet, and when his eyes meet mine, I do not shutter my glare.

“It’s better,” he whispers as he tucks himself against me. “If I have to wait, I’d rather wait down here.”

Ythene, be merciful.

I feel myself nod, clinging to the edges of my sanity while my fingers slide over his head. Malcolm leans into the touch, relaxing already as though this is all he will ever need, and it is… better.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Lincoln’s grating voice groans, and when I glance up, he is seated too now, with Kalem fixed in his lap. “I’ve been stuck with these two for far too long.”

“Please, as if you didn’t enjoy the ride. You smiled more than twenty times— I counted,” Wequie reports enthusiastically from the windowsill.

“Twenty times,” I repeat, drawing the wooden block’s gaze to me. “Congratulations on acquiring double digits.”

He scowls, and it is a meagre recompense for having to entertain his presence.

I pet Malcolm while he simply breathes, gathering himself before he finally asks, “What did you find out about Kalem?”

Kalem’s heart immediately leaps, battering against his poor ribs as though it means to escape. It has done so every time we have spoken about his breed since that night, but it is worse now with his lover’s eyes on him.

“Kalem,” Lincoln nudges gently, and in this, he means well, but it only makes Kalem shrink further into himself.

“I think it would be best for me to explain,” I interject, though no part of me wishes to.

In the last feen, I had come to terms with the fact that this very conversation was one I could not avoid. I had looked for any excuse to or a possible alternative, but there were none. Not if I wanted to protect Kalem, and I did, but that did not make it any easier.

I was about to divulge secrets about my realm and my people’s history— our weaknesses— all to protect our biggest threat. I was betraying my people, but Ythene had sent me to this realm and led me straight to Kalem and Lincoln, and while she had made much clear, never once was it made clear that she wanted them dead.

In fact, the one time I tried to muster up the resolve for it, she had sent my pisen to stop me.

Eyes still fixed on Kalem, Lincoln nods his assent, but it is not until Malcolm’s palm slides over my knee and squeezes that I allow my magic to fall over us all, sealing the truths I am to share.

“Under normal circumstances, I would not divulge this information as it involves details of my realm,” I begin very carefully, “but Kalem’s situation is not a normal one. For his safety, it is best to give you all the details, but what I am about to tell you is not permitted to leave this room or be repeated in the company of anyone else.” I pause to look at them each in turn. “It must remain amongst us.”

In this room, I only trusted two implicitly, but I trusted Lincoln to do everything to protect Kalem, which included keeping his secret, and I trusted Wequie to stay as loyal to his friends as he had proved himself to be on several occasions already.

“Okay,” the latter agrees first, his long tail wrapping about his ankle before he sits up with clear interest.

I look to Lincoln, who nods, and then to my pisen. He nods as well, gaze imploring, begging me to believe him when he is the one who needs it the least. I run my fingers through his hair before I glance at Kalem finally.

I do not require his silent vow but his permission, because only we had spoken about this.

It could stay between just us, the truth of him. I had offered him that grace, but he had only considered it for a moment before saying that all he’d learned to be was because of me and Lincoln, and that he could not hide from the vampire, all he could be.

Kalem nods, and so I share his truth.

“Kalem is a Nyphilim of Ythene’s Realm,” I say without allowing myself to pause or hesitate. “He is elven, and he is both an angel and demon.”

Silence predictably follows the declaration, and it is respectably long as the three ancient beings in the room try their best to make sense of the words they do not know, or understand together. When they break, they do it at once.

“Elven,” Lincoln says first, his frown deep, and in the same breath, and with the same confusion, Malcolm asks, “Angel and Demon?”

“Answer the elf part first,” Wequie says as he slips from the windowsill to climb atop one of the bookshelves he can squeeze between. “Kalem doesn’t have pointed ears or sharpened teeth as you do. His eyes are hazel, not gold, and his ears aren’t pointed. Plus, he smells entirely human.”

I take a moment to breathe my pisen in, to siphon the calm and strength of him as he, too, waits for answers I still struggle to give.

“Elves have the ability to take on different forms,” I say before pushing my gaze upwards once more. “With practice, one can nurture a new appearance as a second form, but it requires a great deal of energy, so it is not widely practised.”

I do not mention the fact that I am doing so now, and I do not look at Malcolm.

“So, you’re saying this isn’t what Kalem really looks like?” Lincoln asks, taking care of how he speaks it while he minds Kalem’s growing anxiousness.

“It is, to an extent,” I say, relaying exactly what I had told Kalem when he had asked. “I believe this is his second form, and that he is bound to it by elven magic that isn’t his own.” I pause for a moment before sharing the rest of my latest theory. “I believe whoever hid him in this realm went through great measures to keep him hidden.”

My knowledge of the Nyphilims was not nearly vast enough, and it still wasn’t. This Charge was enough to prove that, but I had always heard that no Nyphilim was alone, and after spending the entirety of the feen before trying to peel away Kalem’s skin with his permission, I had discovered a second strain of magic. Colder, ancient, and far more abrasive than Kalem’s light when he popped.

“I suspected for some time that Kalem was a Nyphilim,” I say into the open silence. “I did not say it immediately because I wanted to know if there were other Nyphilim in realms that were not my own, or creatures similar to them. I—… wanted to be sure before declaring him something that would put him in danger.”

My grip on Malcolm tightens, and he is quick to return it, holding me while I cling to him. It helps me to continue. Still, I pause, giving Ythene the chance to stop me or steer me elsewhere, but the room remains still without her winds, my path apparent.

“Throughout my realm, there was a great push by all elven kind to eradicate the Nyphilim species entirely,” I slip my fingers through Malcolm’s and trace the seams of his knuckles without looking away from the others. “We believed that it was successful across all margins, but when Kalem began to exhibit traits of the Nyphilim breed, I began to think that perhaps we did not.”

“Eradicate,” Lincoln repeats as he straightens, growing taut as I knew he soon would.

How would he react if he learned of himself, I wonder. But today is meant to share only certain truths.

“To all elven creatures, Kalem is a threat,” I say, even as I look to that ‘threat’. He is curled up in Lincoln’s lap, and he is nothing of the sort. “It is known by all that if a Nyphilim has been identified, a legion must be gathered, and the Nyphilim killed immediately.”

“But Aias doesn’t want to kill me,” Kalem clarifies when all others tense, Malcolm included. “He isn’t going to do any of that.”

“I am not, young one,” I promise with a small smile, a reflection of the very one I first gave through the bars of our cages.

“Wait, I must not be understanding something,” the wretch says, and his frown is back and etched even more deeply into his pasty face. “It is not that I want you to do any of that, but why aren’t you? And why is Kalem’s kind such a threat if he’s elven? Why is his species hated so much?”

Of course he would ask me all the questions that required me to reveal more. Of course.

Malcolm shifts beneath me, and when my eyes catch his, they are pensive but patient. I can not help but pet him until he melts for me. My sweet pisen.

I tell myself that I am sharing this with him, giving him what little I can of myself and my world, and that soon has my lips parting.

“Ythene crafted the Nyphilim before any other creature,” I hear myself begin. “They helped her forge the many sectors of our realm. When the remainder of elven kind came to be, the Nyphilim were meant to maintain the balance across all species in our realm. They were the peacekeepers, and death’s reapers.

“There are many worlds in our realm, many prides and several more species, all with different ways of life,” Malcolm’s grey eyes widen as he listens, eagerly consuming it all, and I, of course, feed him more. “The realm is exceedingly old, and after centuries of witnessing it’s inhabitants grow only to fall, the Nyphilim decided amongst themselves that change needed to happen.

“Their change, in the beginning, was helpful, and deemed to be needed at the time. They nurtured our magic and helped perfect species relations. It didn’t take long for the realm, as a whole, to make leaps and bounds in all fields when we all operated under one guise— elven.

“However, it is said that the Nyphilim’s control began to infiltrate areas it shouldn’t, areas they weren’t needed and weren’t supposed to interfere with. Things like population control and cultures. They were killing the young for species they believed were too plentiful, and changing practices within certain colonies to feed their model of Ythene’s realm.

“It bled too much into their other half, their darker traits, and slowly, they forgot their foremost roles. There was no more reasoning to their killings, and the lands were plagued with nothing but bloodshed and darkness.”

As the histories told it, they had almost reached Ythene herself, but I do not share that.

“A revolution came to play— the Nyphilim against all elven creatures. We lost many to their power. Billions died at their hands, and billions more would’ve if Ythene did not step in. In every elven pride, every colony and every species, Ythene awarded the best of her warriors with a weapon forged from the same power she used to create the Nyphilims”

My Sael vibrates in its secret place, as if wanting to reveal itself, but I keep it hidden, keep my power hidden too, for Lincoln would not react well if he knew just how strong I was.

“We killed them all,” I finish, almost spitting the words. “The roles of peacekeepers and death’s reapers were reassigned to the best-suited members of each species, and peace and nourishment have been prevalent throughout the realm ever since.”

They are looking at Kalem now, eyes wide with surprise, but also searching as if they might peel back his skin and see this version of him I speak of that is nothing like the boy we all know.

He shrinks under their attention, and my heart breaks in its confines.

“I think one escaped with Kalem and ensured that he was hidden here on Earth by, what I hope was, the last of that Nyphilim’s power,” I say to them but mostly to him. I had said this before, when it was just us, but he had not wanted to hear it any more then than he does now. The thought of another Nyphilim existing seemed to upset him more than everything elset. “Kalem is very young for a Nyphilim. His age in elven years would put him as a babe during the war, but whatever magic was used to bind him in this form likely bound his growth as well.”

“So,” Malcolm pipes up, drawing my gaze instantly, “how old is he?”

“In terms of the years he’s actually lived consciously, not very old,” I answer sadly. “But the war was centuries ago, so he is actually much older. He simply wasn’t necessarily cognizant for them.”

“So what, he was asleep for centuries?” Lincoln all but scoffs, disbelieving.

“Entry to and from Ythene’s Realm is closely monitored. Our advancements as a society with the Nyphilim and post-war have been massive, and we can travel between worlds very easily,” I say with a gesture to myself. “We no longer use the type of transport that would require actual time to pass between journeys, and so that is not monitored. I would guess that during the height of the war, someone who cared deeply for Kalem escaped the realm that way.”

The question was, what happened between the time he left our realm and when I met him in that slave house.

The journey was its own quandrum, but his time in this realm? How had he gone so long on his own? How, in all the realms, had he ended up in the slave house, and without any memory of his life before? Any memory of who would’ve saved him from the war if he was taken as a babe?

There were so many questions, more now that it was confirmed that he was a Nyphilim, and once again, I had no idea where to start.

“I think that’s enough for today.”

I look up just as it is said, frowning. “We have barely scratched the surface.”

I did not want to speak of this any more than they likely wanted to hear it, but I did not know if I could start delving into my people again if I stopped. This was hard enough, taxing enough. It was better to finish it at once and then be done with it.

“As that may be, I think that’s enough for Kalem today,” the vampire replies icily, the warning more than clear.

“N-No, it’s okay, Master,” Kalem murmurs, even as his shoulders hunch and his hands shake. “I’m okay.”

He is not. Nowhere close to it.

Lincoln draws closer to him, whispering, and while I could listen, I choose not to when I spot moisture welling in Kalem’s eyes. He soon buries his face in the vampire’s neck, hiding while the man stands and faces the rest of us.

“When he’s ready, we’ll come back to continue,” he says while he strokes Kalem’s back to ease the tremors. “Malcolm, tell Aias about how things went on our side, and if you wish,” he says to me, “you can carry on telling them without us.”

There is no time or chance to respond, for Lincoln disappears without another word, taking Kalem with him so that he can tend to the wounds of his heart, and I can not fault him. Not when mine have already begun to bleed.

“Aias?”

I look down, meeting Malcolm’s waiting stare. I thought I’d find questions within them, or a new sharpness, but they’re more open than they’ve ever been as he squeezes my palm.

“You can take your room, Wequie,” he says to his friend without letting his gaze stray. “I’ll find you in the morning, but Aias and I are going to turn in.”

I frown while he pushes up from his knees and stands, wanting to argue. I did not recognise the phrase ‘turn in’, but the invitation meant that he was swaying from our earlier plans to reacquaint ourselves, and to do so privately and thoroughly. But even as I try, I can not muster the strength for discourse, and not in the face of my Malcolm’s soft smile.

“Come on,” he whispers as he tugs me up. “You are tired. I have been tired without you. Let us rest.”

I am tired.

It had been so much. The distance from him, the time with Kalem, the searching and pondering, the Charge, and with my pisen at least returned, my body relaxes in a way it has not since I watched him depart.

I stand and follow him blindly, sparing a glance at Wequie while Malcolm waves him goodbye, and he returns it with a kind smile. He appears tired too, as if all he had just learned had drained some part of him as well.

The walk back to our room is long, but easily made with my pisen’s fingers intertwined in mine. “So, elven?”

I laugh loosely as I glance at him. “You knew.”

“No,” he dismisses despite his own smile. “Suspected? Maybe. I knew you knew something, but not that he was elven, and definitely not the ‘half demon-angel’ part of it all.”

“I would hope not,” I retort, and he laughs as well. I treasure the sound as I do the sight of him, full and in the flesh, and so close that I can taste him in the air. “Was all well with you and your mission?”

“In the end, yes,” he supplies. “Hundreds of vampires will be arriving at Lincoln’s doors in the coming days, so there is that.”

“Hundreds?” I repeat as we enter the room I’d claimed when I first arrived here, and the one I had barely avoided while he was gone. I close the door firmly behind us, and Malcolm’s eyes slip from the knob to me, slightly heavier.

He nods. “Lincoln said Kalem could manage it, but if you disagree…?”

I shake my head. “He is strong enough.”

It might scare him at the start, and set him off kilter, but he was growing in laudable strides. Meeting others, and living with them too, would only add to that progression. It would also add to his security.

“What else?” I ask while Malcolm begins to undress me, hands nimble and sure as if this is common practice between us.

“That is mostly it,” he answers while my silks fall and his gaze drops to follow. “There was a witch to get us there and back, a game of tag, and me wandering around a mountain missing you.”

My heart skitters and Malcolm’s lips tilt up with pride. I pinch his side as my trousers fall and he laughs prettily. I kiss him softly, claiming the sound for myself before I brush his hands away so that I can return his efforts.

“The bloodlust is gone,” I note while I undo the buttons of his shirt. He hums. “How long did that take?”

“Barely a day,” he grumbles with a soft pout.

“How did it come about?”

“I missed you more than I missed your blood.”

My eyes flick up, meeting his, and there is nothing in this world or the next that I will ever adore more than him.

As the remainder of Malcolm’s clothes fall to join mine on the floor, I take his chin in hand and kiss him softly. It is a gentle caress, a confession of feelings I keep unspoken, but refuse to leave unexpressed.

“Can I take care of you?” My pisen offers as his fingers trace my cock, drawing a hiss from me. “Please,” he begs, licking at his lips and mine.

I shake my head. “I want your other hole to keep my cock warm.”

Malcolm whimpers and becomes weak for me once more as I gather him in my arms. I walk him back to the bed between kisses, each dripping in more devotion than the last until we fall together and stay close.

“We were supposed to rest first,” he admonishes, even as he claws at me, dragging me closer as though we are not already one.

“Yes, we were,” I agree, because I am tired, but I yearn for my pisen more.

Our kisses turn languid and eternal, mixing in with our breaths while we rock atop one another. I am as hard as he is, leaking too, but it is a shadowed sensation until Malcolm curls on his side and drags me behind him.

“Aias,” he whispers while he clutches my arm to his chest and wiggles back.

I bury my face in his neck, breathing in deeply before I kiss him there as well. “How am I to think with my pisen so eager for me?”

He laughs again, the sound like falling petals, and I soak it in just as I do him. Realms, I really did miss him.

I shift against him, rubbing my cock against the swell of his ass. “Do you want to keep me warm, pisen?” I murmur, and Malcolm’s breaths quickly turn sharper. “Keep it inside of you while I sleep so that when I wake, you are already where you should be”

Malcolm moans, grinding back before he starts nodding with a quickness. “Yes, please. Aias— pyro, please.”

That is all I need.

I dip my fingers between us, reaching for my cock to slick them before I push his cheeks apart for his hole, but I do not find the soft opening. I find a hard ridge instead.

I still, and Malcolm does too, though he is quick to peek over his shoulder. I frown at him before pushing back enough so that I can see with my own eyes, and sure enough, a black plastic disk sits inside of his hole.

My gasp is an audible thing.

When I look to my pisen again, he lies as he is on his side, his eyes heavy with desire and bashfulness that somehow co-exist. “I did not expect them to stay either,” he rasps quietly. “I thought you’d want me ready.”

I am speechless.

I stare at my pisen for a long moment before finally letting myself look at the toy again. I press against it, and Malcolm sucks in a sharp breath, but does not move. He lets me inspect where it stretches him until I understand it enough to risk pulling it free.

Malcolm’s tight hole clenches but soon gives me the stretcher until I can glimpse the wide base and pointed tip that leave him gaping once free, the one that had been nestled inside of him this entire time.

When he arrived, while we spoke, while he’d fallen to his knees and remained there…

It is glistening, slick with that substance, lube, he so favoured, and as his hole clenches in, a dribble escapes him.

“Malcolm,” I whisper, reverent but also terrified, for how had I found a pisen this perfect?

How was he all mine…

I am against him again, heart racing, cock bucking as I bring it to his opening and press in until—

“Fuck,” Malcolm moans as I sink inside without resistance or strain. He takes all of me, ruins my mind with the heat and tightness inside him, and then we are pressed together again, and he is clawing to have my arm around him once more.

I give it to him, give it all to him as I slip the other under his head and curl it around his neck. I squeeze just as he does around my cock, and Malcolm trembles all the way to his toes.

“Pyro,” he whimpers, already on the edge. Already breaking for me.

I bury my curses in his nape, breathing hard while I kiss and lick the salt from his skin. And all plans of simply leaving him to warm my cock are forgotten as we begin to move together. It is lazy, lost in kisses as he cranes for me and moans my name, but frantic in the way we rock together, chasing the pleasure that vibrates through our bodies like a current.

“You are perfect,” I rasp against his parted lips. “Making yourself ready for me, wanting to keep me warm,” I groan while I grind into him until he cries out. “You were ready at the door, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” he moans, pushing back as he claws at the arm at his chest. “Yes. Yes. Yess.”

I tighten the one around his throat until he begins to twitch.

“Close already,” I murmur with a soft chuckle. “You never wait for me.” Malcolm tries to shake his head, and my smile grows wider. “It’s okay, pisen. You can not control it.”

“Aias,” Malcolm whines, twitching, clenching. He’s close, but he tries his best to wait for me because he is so sweet.

Unfortunately for him, I do not give him a choice. “Pisen,” I whisper as I bring his lips back to mine. “I missed you too.”

Malcolm’s lips fall open, and then he is spilling for me, crying out louder than I have ever heard him, even with the hold I have on his throat. His hole spasms around me, and it is not long before I am spilling inside of him with my own laboured groan, as pleasure whites out all of the world that is not him.

When I come to again, Malcolm lies limp against me, desperately seeking air while his hole quivers around me. He seems sated, if not boneless, but he rouses the second he feels me slip from him.

I shush him softly. “I just need you again,” I promise as I pivot him onto his back and nudge his legs aside so that I can sink back inside. My own release greets me this time, warm, and it drags a moan from me.

Malcolm softens beneath me, flushing tellingly as he struggles to hold my gaze while I lay myself over him, pressing my head to his. “Do you like me needing you, pisen?”

He flushes again, but nods.

I smile while I rock my hips, pressing my cock drunkenly into his tight, wet heat. “Good, because I seem to need you very much.” He moans for me, nails clawing down my back, and I kiss him each time. I can not stop.

“We… ugh… we were supposed to rest,” he scrapes out, and I can not help the way that I laugh. He smiles in the face of it, fingers sinking into my hair to haul me back to him.

“I was supposed to have you bent over at the door,” I correct while I wrap a hand around his thigh and push it aside so that I can thrust deeper. My pisen bows for me, and as he offers me his throat, I drag my tongue up its length and drive inside of him.

“Have me now,” he begs mindlessly. “And don’t stop.”

I do not. Not anytime soon at least.

The rest of our coupling is nothing nearly as crazed as it should be, because I truly am tired, but it does not make it any less fulfilling as we grasp at one another, bodies held close, pleasure always nearby.

Malcolm spills twice more before I flood his insides again, calming that compulsion in my mind that always wanted my pisen claimed. I roll us over so that he lies atop me, but keep my cock where it is buried inside of him.

“You will be ready for me when I wake, won’t you, pisen?” I ask, dragging my knuckles up and down his back, eyes already falling shut.

“Yes, pyro,” he murmurs with a content sigh. “I really did miss you, Aias.”

My heart beats faster under his cheek, and while I am fading already, brain shutting off, I do not let myself fall asleep without making sure that he knows—

“I missed you, more.”

———————————————-

Them being so soft 😭 I actually can’t deal with thissssss

Thoughts??????

Thoughts on Aias’ POV of the return??? Of that door kiss that sent us crazy all those years ago in Master???? Of all the followed after????

Honestly, I’ve been planning this crazy smut chapter with them fucking all over the place and it being really intense and wild, but when I came to writing this chapter and Aias’ POV of sharing all his people’s history after avoiding spilling a single detail since he left home, it was all too heavy to just fall into crazy smut with.

The soft smut felt better suited and I’m glad I went down that road cause these two are in loveeeee oh my God. like we knew it, but Aias is really showing it now

Also, lucky Wequieeeee loool

The next chapter will have more of that promised ‘after’ plus a fun surprise, so I’m excited to get to it, but if you want more Aias and Malcolm in the meantime, they have loadssss of extras about tthem in the future on my Patreon and website!

All my links are at hopp.bio/tippy446

That’s all for now though!

Until next time,
Byeeeeeeee Humanssssssssss