15. Fifteen

Soft snaps of a fire rilled the narrow room. Ryurikov sat in the tub, wine-red rose petals clinging to his knees, one to the centre of his chest. Their scent curled up to tangle into his hair, seep into his skin.

This would not have been his first choice, but like before, the tub had been there, filled and waiting for him. Steam made his face feel hot and clammy, but after the cursed nightmares—several of them—he’d endured, he needed to relax. A moment away from Awimak. The demon hadn’t jested, saying he was starved.

Good fucking grief.

Ryurikov peeled a petal off his leg and rubbed it between thumb and pointer finger. Waking drenched in cold sweat by the other tree had been about as enjoyable as a fuck on a bed made of briar. A startling contrast to how he’d felt coming away from being held by Awimak, and that on its own was unsettling. Ryurikov did not embrace others. That was for lovers, or siblings.

With equal inattention, he flicked the furled petal away, then hoisted himself out of the tub. When he strolled down the stairs, it was in only one of the stolen tunics Awimak had graciously returned to him. Scarlet, of the finest linen, and it covered his cock just enough not to be offensive around Jezibaba.

The aroma of cooked mushrooms and freshly baked bread greeted him at the bottom of the stairs, and his eyebrows rose at the two plates set out on the table. Jezibaba pushed a wooden tankard across to the second plate and glowered.

“Expecting guests?” Ryurikov asked, eyeing the mushrooms and boiled eggs.

Jezibaba’s look soured so much he thought her face might turn inward. “It’s for you.”

“Hah! Not falling for that again.”

He made to walk past, but she growled at him. An actual, animalistic growl. Ryurikov’s look turned incredulous.

“I meant it.” She said it like it was physically harming her. “I won’t kill you again.”

“And you’ll help me find Valka,” Ryurikov added, gleefully.

Jezibaba looked more agonised still, and ground out each word, “And that. Consider this meal a peace offering.”

Ryurikov hummed. “Alright, but I’ll be taking this outside.”

To Awimak, specifically.

GOOD MORNING.

“Fuck you,” said Ryurikov walking down the steps. His lips twitched up just enough to let the demon know he wasn’t being serious.

YOU HAVE ADEQUATELY RECOVERED, THEN?

He sat across from Awimak, folding his legs and setting the tankard down into the grass. “I have. No thanks to you. Now tell me, is this poisoned?”

Awimak leaned forward from where he rested against his favourite apple tree. NO.

“Alright, if it is and I die again, I’ll be cross with you.”

YOU ALREADY ARE.

Ryurikov tilted his head from side to side. “I’m not cross. A deal is a deal. You didn’t have to hit me so hard, though.”

I APOLOGISE. I WAS… HUNGRY.

“You don’t say?” He softened his expression. “Given that you spared me a painful descent, however, I’m inclined to forgive you.”

Seeing as he had no knife on him, Ryurikov ate using his fingers. The mushrooms were large, earthy and spiced with something he couldn’t place—not poison, he hoped—and the drink was a surprisingly refreshing ale. Where the fuck did Jezibaba get her hands on these things?

ARE YOU WELL?

“Yes,” Ryurikov murmured around a mouthful of bread. “Why?”

YOU SMELL DIFFERENT TODAY.Awimak inhaled, deeply. ROSES AND CEDARWOOD.

Ryurikov crammed the last egg into his mouth and tossed the wooden bowl away from him before he stretched out his legs, dragging his hand over fine grass to wipe it. “I had no control over that.”

Another one of Awimak’s hums, yet this one sounded more approving. Ryurikov flicked his gaze up at the demon, whose eyes were most certainly not meeting his, trained on another part of him. He buried his face into the tankard and drained the sweet ale in several gulps. He tossed that into the bushes too, and now woefully lacked things to occupy himself with.

“Do you fuck, Awimak?”

Sunset eyes became a firestorm at the words, and Ryurikov’s heart saltated in ways that became uncomfortable. His mouth went dry. He licked his lower lip.

YES, said Awimak, and he thought his heart might give out.

Ryurikov wanted to ask, “Who?” and, “When?” and, “Why haven’t we, yet?” but discovered himself speechless, paralysed in a way he didn’t want to fight. Not when the demon moved forward, not when his extraordinary form inclined over him, and not when Ryurikov was eased onto his back by the careful press of claws, bit by tantalising bit.

The breath he released trembled, it seemed to rattle from his chest when Awimak’s claw cupped his face. So tenderly again, it was almost annoying. He met those burning eyes as the other hand trailed down his chest, the nails digging in just enough for his breath to hitch. His cock twitched and hardened, hidden beneath his tunic—until it wasn’t. Awimak pushed the fabric up, exposing more of him, more of his scars, yet didn’t look at anything other than into his eyes.

Ryurikov belatedly remembered he too had hands, jerking out of his paralysis to run fingers down the smooth, soft skin covering the wide expanse of Awimak’s chest. And it was so smooth, and so soft, the injuries still there, still raw. He avoided them no matter how tempting it was to stick his finger in, just to see if the blood was as scalding as it looked.

Awimak’s nails skirted his bruised stomach, toying with the coppery hairs beginning at his navel and leading down. Ryurikov bodily twisted with some impatience, longing for more, but Awimak didn’t move further. He appeared to hesitate.

“Awimak,” Ryurikov ground out. “Please, feel free to proceed.”

Seemed that was what he’d been after, for the next thing Ryurikov knew, that enormous claw enveloped his cock in a firm grip. Rough, textured, fucking fantastic. He groaned, allowing himself to buck his hips up a few times to fuck that grip before he turned his attention on the fabric around Awimak’s waist. It took some fumbling, seemingly attached to the skin. And once he pushed it aside, exposed the demon’s throbbing erection, his breath had every right to catch the way it did.

“Fuck me,” Ryurikov breathed.

A rumble in Awimak’s chest. I WILL.

He could barely muster a smirk, reaching between them to wrap his fingers around the girthed length, dark grey like the rest of him, cabled with thick veins leading to a narrow tip, blushing mauve. He shifted his hand up to the leaking slit, teased it by circling it with his fingertips, and when Awimak groaned, he found the willpower to smirk in full.

Until Awimak let go of his cock, gathered Ryurikov’s ankles in great claws, then hoisted him up, ass to the clear sky. The tunic slipped past his chest to cover his face. There was no room for indignation, something hot and wet slithering against his hole.

“What the fuck?”

His neck was at an awkward angle, his top half pressed into the ground and straining the injured shoulder, but Awimak had his face buried between his thighs and that had to be a tongue. Exceptionally long and slick and exploring in all the right ways. So that’s how it was. Keeping secrets from him until the last minute.

“First the ears, now this,” Ryurikov griped, but the effect was lost entirely when he let slip a moan the second that tongue—pointed tongue—pushed into him.

He lost all desire to complain, hands useless at the side of his head, fingers flirting with blades of grass while Awimak fucked him using his mouth, salacious lapping audible over the birds in the raspberry bush. That slick, hot muscle slipped out, slithering around his balls instead. Ryurikov squinted up, sunrays streaming in through the trees particularly vivid, casting spots of light on the intricate carvings of the skull. Awimak’s eyes remained on him, long grey tongue protruding from a jutting chin. Ryurikov caught a flash of teeth, sharp and deadly, and his cock twitched with unexpected thrill.

When that tongue snaked up the shaft of his erection, pointed tip tasting the head, he tensed up, the tide of his orgasm drawing in far too quickly. He wanted to warn Awimak off, but he was good at sex, and coming too quickly was not a thing that happened to him. Ryurikov twisted out of the demon’s grasp. His bare feet connected with the grass again and he swiftly moved to straddle those massive thighs, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head at how marvellously soft the fur was against his bare skin.

Deftly, he pressed a few fingers against the nasal tip of the skull and nudged it up. That too appeared to be attached, but he wanted to take a peek at what was under there. Awimak didn’t seem to mind, elongated jaw parting to lash his face with that tongue. Ryurikov didn’t jerk back. He wasn’t one for kissing, but opening his mouth to let it dance along his own tongue could hardly be considered kissing. Could it?

Awimak’s mouth tasted piquant, of all things earthy. He sucked on the tongue, shimmying further up those muscular thighs to press his erection against Awimak’s decidedly larger cock. Warmer than the rest of him, but his terrene chill prickled Ryurikov’s skin. He thrust his hips forward to gain friction.

Then those claws edged to the cleft of his cheeks, and a saliva-slickened fingertip toyed with his opening.

“Hey, now, I’ve seen what those claws can do,” Ryurikov said, not at all eager to have his innards shredded. Besides, he preferred to be on top.

Awimak too leaned back, a chuckle quaking his abdomen when he released his ass cheeks to hold up a hand. Ryurikov watched in fascination. Those sharp, deadly nails shrunk away.

“Handy,” he lilted.

The finger returned to press into him, and he was all out of complaints again. The digit was long, tormentingly slow, gentle. Ryurikov pushed himself downward, hoping to get the message across. His hands fisted against Awimak’s chest, the message received, that finger landing a direct hit against his prostate with startling competence. He uttered a swear, and then another once a second finger slipped into him, followed by a third. Ryurikov’s hands found the silky mane cascading down Awimak’s neck as pain made itself known, and he ran his fingers through the strands to distract himself. The side of his face pressed against the skull, head trapped between it and the large, coiled horn. He still had his old cloak wrapped around them.

Fucker.

Awimak’s fingers pulled out and wiggled back in, flicking away the lingering resentment. Ryurikov fisted his own cock, ensuring the tip connected with Awimak’s while rugged fingers stretched him. The demon’s breaths went heavier and, pressing their chests together, Ryurikov realised there was a heartbeat. It pulsated more than thumped, intense and overwhelming, like the very life of Vale undulated inside him.

Sturdy digits slipped out, that same claw coming up between them. Awimak ran his tongue all over it. Ryurikov’s back connected with the grass again, damp and chilly beneath him. His mouth watered at the sight of Awimak running the slicked claw along his own cock, the other pushing Ryurikov’s legs apart.

His heart continued its frantic dance while Awimak got to his knees and positioned himself, looming as an ancient tree, casting him in shadow. The tip of his cock slid against the whorl of Ryurikov’s asshole, yet didn’t push in.

YES?Awimak asked.

Ryurikov grunted with impatience. “Yes, Awimak, I’m into it.”

And he was. By gods he was, previous disinclination gone entirely. He clenched his eyes shut and tensed his jaw as Awimak’s cock eased in, slowly. So fucking achingly, torturously slow, Ryurikov shoved his hips down to get it over with.

Much to his own chagrin, it hurt. Worse still, his gasp was one of shock. He grit his teeth in affront.

Awimak smoothed a claw down the scarred side of his face. Those fiery eyes held a look of concern. Ryurikov still didn’t know how he could tell.

“Just fuck me.” Something told him that this was a command Awimak wouldn’t take offence to.

Strong, thick arms hooked his legs over them, and Awimak thrust his hips forward, pushing the entire length into Ryurikov’s body in one swift movement, wrenching free a jagged cry. No time to recover when that cock pulled out again, nearly to the tip, the cabled veins ticking past his opening as if in a countdown, then thrust in again.

The momentum built into something hungry, gluttonous even, coaxing noises out of him that Ryurikov hadn’t thought himself capable of. Awimak took to slamming into him with rasped groans of delight, the slap of skin meeting skin richly vulgar, promptly shoving him to the precipice of utter bliss.

Ryurikov hugged the demon’s torso with both legs, driving his hips downward to meet every frantic drive straight into the nub of nerves within. He fisted the grass, pulling it up in chunks, stars dancing before his eyes and mind spinning. Awimak fell on him, heated bursts of breath crowding, turning his skin near incandescent.

Awimak was the first to drop off the edge, his final thrust brutal, his howl loud, sending birds out into the sky. Sweltering climax filled, and Ryurikov happily launched himself off that cliff into delirium after the demon. He went rigid, his cock gave an avid twitch and toes curled. He came with a guttural groan and startling force, draping his own stomach with pleasure.

Panting hard, he collapsed. Awimak gently slipped out to give him breathing room. Heat decanted from his opening as Ryurikov lay there, legs parted wide, whole body limp and refusing to cooperate as he shuddered with aftershock. He remained that way for a while, unable to muster even the smallest quip.

Awimak settled down beside him and, had Ryurikov not been so useless, would have had something to say about the way he stroked his face. It was very gentle. He couldn’t even be bothered to fix his tunic, bunched up around his ribcage.

“So, you fuck,” Ryurikov breathed at length.

YES.Awimak sounded amused.

He turned to look at the demon, tongue pressed up against the inside of his cheek. He was trying to hide the smile taking control of his mouth, but damn it, he couldn’t.

YOU SEEM SATISFIED.

Ryurikov snorted. “Something to that effect.”

“When you two are done,” warbled Jezibaba, voice shrill with something akin to panic. A thunk nearby followed. “It’s time you do your part!”

He glared at the bucket rolling across the ground toward him and Awimak. “What do you mean?”

“Chores!”

Ryurikov sat up, wincing at the throb in his ass. “I beg your pardon?” But Jezibaba wasn’t anywhere in sight.

Probably a good thing. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know how much of that she saw.