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The sun had only just begun to die its fiery, colourful death when Elizabeth stilled from her pacing before the fireplace, rounding on William with a feverishness in her eyes.
“Surely it is time now.” It was half question, and all hope, and William chuckled, withdrawing his pocket watch for the fifth time within the hour on her behalf.
“Nearly, my love,” he said, and the frustrated sound she made drew out a fuller laugh. His arms opened for her, delight and surprise evident in his expression when she sighed and sank into them willingly. “You are particularly restless tonight.”
“I am particularly in need of him tonight,” she muttered, unashamed, and William couldn’t help a hum of approval from escaping at her boldness. The linen of her trousers and shirt were coarser than her usual fare, and he sat her upright on his lap, admiring the sturdiness of the clothing on her delicate frame. She was a vision; the divine feminine donning the trappings of masculinity to satisfy something between the two. Something terribly human, much like the man her body sought out when she wanted to indulge in something a little more monstrous than what he himself could provide.
“I would offer to take the edge off, but that would spoil the fun, don’t you think?” He asked, leaning in for a kiss that she granted him readily. “Or at least deprive you of your wits.”
She bit his lip, and he moaned, laying his head back for her to lavish similar attention to his neck.
“It is astonishingly audacious of you to think that you could distract me in any way from my goal. My wits are not the ones that would be addled.”
His hands framed her face, chest swelling with more love than he had ever expected he could feel for–or from…perhaps especially from–another person.
“You wound me,” he teased, though his breathlessness thoroughly gave the game away. “Surely I have some merit as a husband beyond my money, or you would not humour my attentions so easily.”
Her hands paused in their descent down his chest, and his breath caught when her eyes sought his. The seriousness in them was a stark contrast to his playful mood.
“Oh…no, Elizabeth,” he said immediately, taking her hand to place on his heart. “This is…do not…damn it all. How to put it…I do not say such things in censure. It is quite the opposite.”
He had never been good at keeping his emotions anywhere save for upon his sleeve, but Elizabeth had always inspired another level of honesty entirely. He could be only what he was, but rather than being ridiculed and thought soft for it, Elizabeth made him feel strong. Capable. She cultivated him with the same care that she tended to her insects. Reveled in him and what they shared in this strange relationship that neither of them had expected to grow in such a way.
He’d thought that…
Well.
In all honesty, he had assumed his love would remain one-sided. That he would provide her with what space and comfort he could, and that she might someday become fond enough of him that he would be permitted to orbit her happily.
“Alright. If you truly say it in jest, then I trust you.”
He was kissed again, and he put a finger between their lips before it could grow too heated for him to choose anything but selfishness. He was only a man, and Adam's disappointed doe eyes would almost certainly kill him if he succumbed to temptation. His poor angel had been a shadow of himself lately. Twitchy and prone to melancholy, hardly saying a word. Looking into the distance, now and then, at something William could not see. If anyone could sort through what he needed, it was Elizabeth.
He checked his pocketwatch again, and raised a brow at her, flipping it around to show her the time.
“Seems your hunt has begun.”
She took in a deep breath, leaning back to roll her hips once against his.
“And you’ll be alright without us for the evening?”
William snickered, gesturing to the rigid state of himself while she slung her gun and rucksack over her shoulder, looking every inch a noble gentleman about to set hounds to the fox.
“I think I can entertain myself for a while with what you’ve left me. I’ll make certain there is a bath awaiting your return.”
The appreciative look she gave him before striding out into the burgeoning darkness was the image that lingered in his mind when he moved to sit by the window, taking himself in hand, knowing that soon, Adam would be aching in the same way, the two of them connected across any distance through her touch and the incandescent madness she inspired in them both.
And perhaps, if he was incredibly fortunate, Elizabeth would not wring him out so entirely that he couldn’t save some attention for William as well.
—
Her footsteps were soft, but he picked up the sound of them long before he was in danger of being seen.
Adam moved through the trees, reveling in the warmth that lingered during the spring, far kinder to his bare skin than winter’s bite. Nights like these were sacred to him, made for heat and sweat gathered between bodies clutching tight to each other.
He sunk to his knees, waiting for her to gain ground on him once more, tiding himself over with a hand braced against a tree and his cock teased with a loose fist.
What sort of mood would she be in when their game of chase ended? The possibilities were endless, all of them mouth watering in nature.
Perhaps she would be feeling playful; a nymph in her element. Mist and dew in his hands, slipping away only to return with the force of the tides at sea to overwhelm him. Or she might be wrathful from having been made to wait so long. Would seek her own pleasure alone, with him as a mere witness to her bliss. A trophy, silent and adoring at her feet. Or even–
A twig snapped, closer than he'd expected, and he darted off once more, more rabbit than wolf, holding an arm to his mouth to quiet the bubbling laughter that threatened to give him away too early.
They moved through the night together, giving and taking ground, and Adam’s mind slowly went quiet, blurred into the softness of his deer friends, or the birds that would keep his shoulders company on his walks.
He could turn in circles for all the ages, and yet he would never be lost in this forest. He came upon a denser copse near the glen and stream, and its grasses were too sweet to leave behind.
Here, yes. This is where he would fall.
Sometimes, he fought. Would struggle against the inevitable. Would justify the gun that was meant for wolves and bears that could not understand that Elizabeth was not the prey. Never putting her in harm's way, for no state of his mind could fail to recognize her, but there was nothing quite like the barrel of it at his throat when she was the one wielding it, her voice commanding his obedience without waver. A praying mantis, ready and eager to bite his head from his shoulders when she was finished with him. He would not mind perishing by her hand–though he knew she would never be convinced to try–to awaken once more in her arms. That first gasp of merciless life could be made sweet by her breath drawn into his lungs.
Tonight, however, was not made for such things.
He ran his fingers through the foliage, reclining upon his back, shivering at the prickle of the grass. The subtle give of loam cradling him eased the ever present pains of existence. He had been named as the Spirit of the Forest, once, but he hadn’t yet had the words to explain that he was the one indebted to such a being. The forest had been gentle with him. Sheltered him in his infancy and developed his mind and body as a womb of protection. It took so many others to their deaths, and yet whatever spirit dwelled here had seen fit to keep him when all others cast him aside. It had delivered him to his first friend and then taken him back when he was left bereft. It had guided him across the world in his anger, his grief, his vengeance without judgement. Had aided his penance and his quest to keep Victor alive long enough to bring them home to the miracle that awaited them.
One of those miracles crouched at the edge of the clearing, her eyes taking him in. Assessing what kind of night it would be, and he pretended not to notice her, looking towards the stars instead. They were lesser than her radiant light, but they were still pleasant to look upon, distant and eternal.
She made him wait, as she had been made to wait, circling closer and closer, only to retreat again to see if he might take flight once more with room to do so.
He did not.
Could not.
Not when he ached like this, his bones and sinew full of undiverted lightning but so very empty of her. Why would an unfulfilled vessel flee from the very thing that could make it whole?
She knew his desperation, he was sure. Could see his hands clenching and releasing the plants beneath him, trying to stave off their wandering, and still she kept herself back.
Waiting to see if he would break first, as though she wasn’t certain that, for her, he would be unmade entirely if it brought her pleasure.
He shoved his trousers down and off, casting them aside, only his coat and furs remaining to preserve any modesty he had left. Turned onto to his stomach, just for a moment. Just to give himself some pressure, some friction, anything, and the sharp, sudden breath she took in gave him pause.
He waited, frozen, as her steps grew nearer before stopping once more. Oh god, he could smell her, heady and wanting, and he whimpered quietly, canting his leg to the side to spread himself out, hips rutting against the ground for a moment. He sighed in relief, caressing the earth in gratitude for its accommodation, but stilled again when he heard her approach.
Elizabeth’s hands smoothed along his back, under the coat, and he choked down the sound threatening to emerge, letting her decide his fate without interruption.
He went without hesitation when she pulled at his shoulders slightly, urging him to lean against her on his knees. The glance over his shoulder confirmed that she had undressed in part as well, the soft swell of her breasts on display for him, green iridescent scarabs dripping in a line of beads around her throat.
And further down…
His mouth watered at the sight of her cock, held loosely in her hand, the straps slung around her hips fetchingly.
The white crystal of it was shot through with veins of jade here are there, the form of it curved and made to slide down his throat until breathing became a luxury. It was his favourite instrument of hers, crafted to suit her better than any living flesh could.
He allowed his gaze to travel over her, drinking her in. Hungry, hallowed, reverent. Language was beyond him in this state, trapped beneath stone and the rubble of a tower in his mind, but he did not need it here. He would not be beaten for the lack of speech, but instead cherished for the way he hummed wordlessly at the sight of her beauty.
She smiled, something sharp and wicked in it, and he laughed softly, his arousal forgotten momentarily in favour of turning around to nudge his face against hers for a kiss, shedding his coat, only the furs around his shoulders remaining.
“I ought to be terribly angry with you,” she murmured. “Making me give chase this many hours only to show your belly the moment you found a pretty enough spot. I thought with such a hunt, I was going to find a fell beast awaiting me.”
He nodded in acceptance of her admonishment, lapping the corner of her mouth in apology. He did not need to plead his case with her. It did not matter if these games were all her idea in the first place, or that he was destined to ‘displease’ her with his choices when they played. That was the point. It settled something in his chest each time he was everything the world had condemned and emerged from it loved. Cared for. Still belonging at her and William’s sides. He would never have enough of it.
“But you were hoping to be caught and mated, weren’t you?” She mused, kissing him more fully for a while, the warmth of her tongue against his a balm on whatever skeletal tatters of a soul were left in him. He lowered himself, nosing along her cock, encouraged when she scratched at his scalp, fingers sifting through his hair to guide him closer. He licked at the root of where it was nestled within her. Where it would bring her pleasure while she drove him out of his senses. Moved upwards to nibble along its cold length, not yet warmed by his attentions, but he would remedy that.
Yes, he wanted a mate. In the winter, he longed to encircle his lovers. Keep them warm, keep them full, keep them his. He stood between them and the elements when they dared venture out of safe walls, providing for them when the wind shrieked and the snow fell to be cruel rather than cleanse. But spring was something else entirely. Something in him called for rain and the spark of new life.
Elizabeth had once laughed and said she deeply appreciated that he tried to satisfy those needs the old fashioned way, rather than with silver rods, wires, and open graves.
The feeling of stone in his throat was unrelenting, powerful, and he savoured it, suckling at the head each time he came up for air.
“I suppose I can forgive you for that,” she said, tracing the shell of his ear, pressing him back down in the cadence she favoured. Pulling him up and off now and again to redirect his attention to her clit. “Sweet one, you’ve been hurting, have you not? I’ve seen you pacing when it storms, ready to run. To fly above it all. We needn’t limit our outings to fair weather, you know.”
He moaned around her length, clutching at her hand when it found his, squeezing.
“A notion for another time. For now, there’s no need to fret,” she assured him, reaching into the pockets of her discarded coat to produce a vial of oil. She let it drip along her fingers, fluttering them before him to show how they glistened. “Keep at it, my love, and I’ll see to the rest, hm?”
He nearly choked when she ran the pads of her fingers over his cleft, leaning and resting along his back just enough to reach where she would bury herself to the hilt when she deemed him ready.
He relaxed for her, one sensation blurring into another, the rhythm of it taking him under. She was a skilled musician, her ability with the piano entrancing him when she would play at the estate. By comparison, he was a simpler thing to wring sound from, but she still took care to work him open all the same.
“Good, Adam,” she said, voice low and graveled. He jolted, wriggling back against her fingers, mouth agape and panting harshly when she curled two in as deep as she could.
Good, good, good, it echoed in his head, settling at the base of his skull to travel in a liquid drip through the rest of him.
“You are doing well, but I cannot reach deeply enough to ensure…”
Her meaning was clear. He dragged himself away from her cock, shaking his head to rid himself of the urge to cough, and went to his forearms, resting his cheek upon them, awaiting her touch.
And waited some more, the strangeness of her absence managing to break through the haze.
He gave a sound of query, looking back imploringly, only to find her wide eyed and her lip bloody from how hard she was biting it. He took stock of himself, the way he was presented to her, heat curling low in his belly at the submissive position, his body beckoning her to simply–
“Oh, God…” she whispered and yes, yes, those were her fingers tightening around his hips, rather than slipping back into him. “Adam.”
Just that. Just his name, spoken like it was her world as much as hers encompassed everything to him.
She mounted him slowly, giving him time to throw her off, adjusting him by the back of his neck until he was supplicant beneath her. He went willingly, sighing with pleasure when her cock nestled between his legs, rubbing the underside of his own.
She didn’t ask if he was certain. Elizabeth could hear him with or without words, always listening to what he did and did not say. She could rend him apart and he would heal, forming around her, more perfectly suited to her than in the minute before. It was that thought–being reshaped for her–and every agonizing inch as she began to push in, that had him coming helplessly, whimpering and baring his teeth as she continued without pause.
Her hands stroked his chest soothingly, dipping down to run her fingers through the mess beneath him, gathering his spend up to coat her length with it when she withdrew slightly. He rutted back against her, begging silently for her to keep going, to give him no recourse or respite. Every sound carried affirmation of his love for her, his gratitude for her love returned to him. She answered in kind, starting steadily, only to set a punishing pace when his cries emboldened her.
Mating, he recalled blearily, that had been the word she’d used. Not making love, not even fucking or any of the coarser words for what they shared between them and with William. Something far more primal, endlessly instinctual and beyond anything he could describe in human language. More akin to the monstrousness that lived behind his ribcage and between each knob of his spine than the gentility he’d been slowly coming to accept as his to inhabit more and more.
He tested the thought without consideration, shifting slightly as though to scrabble out from her hold, just to know what she might do, and the reaction was instant and all-consuming.
His hair was gripped, and pulled. Not hard enough to tear, but enough to sting pleasantly, and he let the motion lead him up, bending back to accept her grasp at his neck, keeping him in place.
His eyes rolled back, going lax in her hold.
An honest, guttural snarl tore through Elizabeth, and he keened in delight, answering his mate with a deep rumble of his own, tilting his head further to let her fingers squeeze his throat, that she might feel the way it rattled there, under his tongue.
The sun had long since vanished, but the moonlight was strong, illuminating the glen; a judgeless witness to their ancient revelation. He felt mindless, speared open upon her and forced back again and again until the edges of his vision threatened with little starbursts of colour. They were of a kind; the same; made to endure the limits of time together like this. Undying and reckless with it. He reached blindly, finding purchase in his grip upon the back of her thigh to draw her closer still, leaving no room between where she ended and he began.
She pushed him down, using her knees to hold his open, her hand between his shoulder blades, and he gasped for air, forehead to the dirt, his cock dripping into empty space with every thrust into him. He could do this forever, until she lived permanently beneath his skin, dancing along each nerve and drop of blood where nothing could ever tear them apart.
The shape and sound of her name came easily to him, formative and essential to his existence, and he whined happily when his stilted calling for her yielded a hand slipping under his hips to fist his length. Her moans broke against him, pushing her face into the furs that felt nearly like his own pelt. A hand pressed to the fevered skin of his stomach, and he knew she was imagining feeling herself there, making him hers in the manner of all beasts. Of monsters, crafting life from the death and decay of him with no lightning from the sky, but the kind that resided in her touch.
Her hips ground in, stuttering once more before they stilled, thighs quivering against his own while she bit down near his spine, hard enough to break flesh and muffle the noise of her ecstasy. Slick dripped down from the base of her cock to wet where they were joined, and he growled, rolling his neck, near feral at the passing thought of her seed coming to bear. She would be so pleased with him, taking the burden of childbirth from her to give her and William little ones to raise. Safer, that way, when he could withstand anything that went wrong. It went no further, the notion slipping away with how tightly wound he was.
He could feel the bite already healing, and he mourned its impermanence until Elizabeth carefully pulled out and suddenly that was a far more unbearable wound.
“Shh,” she gentled him, turning him over to lie on his back. She seemed to try to speak, brows knitted with the effort of finding words once more, shaking her head when she could not speak past the animal instincts still vying for attention. He reached up, fingers unsteady, to hold her face.
It’s alright. I understand.
She pushed back in, the intensity of her gaze pinning him, her mouth dropping open from overstimulation and arms trembling with the effort of bracing herself against his chest. She was exquisite over him, knowing that she could rely on him to catch her should her strength give out, but unwilling to give up just yet.
She fucked him with purpose. With intent, and he could feel himself falling apart beneath her, sounds spilling from him without regard for anything but her knowing that everything of him was hers. His mate, his beloved, his hymn over the trees and fields, his, his, his–
He clutched at her, unable to keep from holding her to him as he shook apart, and he could feel her lips under his jaw, kissing with a reverence he could not fathom ever deserving. He tucked himself tightly to her, spilling between them, her name sweet on his tongue and the scent of her hair filling his head.
—
“Ah! There you are, I was beginning to worry. Did you both have a nice–”
William took in the state of them, muddy and barely clothed with matching, giddy smiles, and rolled his eyes heavenwards with a sigh.
“I don’t know why I bother asking, of course you did,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Alright, then. Up we go to the baths. Adam, my angel, please do not take a single step further until everything is off, I had this rug cleaned not two days ago. Just set it to the side and–”
Elizabeth’s grin was smug when he paused to stare at the formidable stone phallus she drew from her bag.
“It will need cleaning as well,” she said placidly, and William swallowed, eyes darting to reassess Adam’s languid demeanor and quiet humming as he divested himself of his boots and…
Right.
Everything else. He ought to have thought his instructions through, or simply sacrificed the rug.
At least everyone sensible was abed at this hour, and he could hurriedly usher his wayward and very naked lovers to the bath unobserved.
They elected to share despite the snug fit, and William watched them untangle and wash the other’s hair with his heart fit to burst, able to settle now that they had returned to him intact.
The warmth turned to a simmering heat when Elizabeth drew Adam’s hand to her sex, hips shifting in the water as he kissed her neck and finished her within minutes, still on edge as she’d clearly been, wearing out what remained of her energy.
Adam carried her to the bed, and the two of them braided her hair together, the ritual of it putting her to sleep against William’s chest.
Calm, peaceful, understated, simple.
He wondered, as he donned a nightshirt and his sensible slippers to put out the lamps, whether or not he ought to be more adventurous. If he might enjoy going with them into the wilds and doing…whatever they got up to that left them exhausted and a mess and…
And looking like they had found something holy in each other’s eyes.
Adam sank onto the bed, eyes closing, rubbing his face against the softness of the sheets and careful not to disturb Elizabeth’s rest. William climbed in after him, tangling their limbs, chest to chest. He was too tired for anything terribly elaborate, but the gentle rocking that started up naturally, holding each other, that was…so lovely.
But might it also be disappointing, when they had clearly experienced such heights together?
William traced the scars along Adam’s shoulder, noting that he seemed more present. More settled within his body than the previous week. Perhaps he had it backwards. His beloved angels, with their strange wheels and eyes and winged limbs, had left with frenetic demeanor. Their existence too vast for their skin. They’d had it out in the world beyond his ken, and returned to him, where they could safely regain their humanity without fear.
“I love you,” Adam whispered, dipping his head to kiss just over William’s heart, the first fully formed words William had heard from him in nearly two days.
Yes, yes that was precisely it, wasn’t it? He was not meant to go with them, untethered and seeking something. He was meant to be here to bring them home.
They shuddered through their shared climax, those words an echo back and forth between them; uncontested, illuminated truth.
And when Adam pulled the covers over their heads–just the three of them in all the earth and heavens–to gather them close, William drifted off to the sound of his lovers finding rest, and the fascinating thought of red feathers floating past the window.