26. Epilogue

Springtime, Morgan reflected, was the perfect time for beach sex.

Not sex in the water. It was still rather cold for their two-legged forms, the currents brisk enough that the water could carry them out to sea if they weren’t careful. Plus, Auban wasn’t a strong swimmer yet. Summer would be a fine time for him to learn that but not during the sneaking waves of a treacherous spring sea. The beach, on the other hand …

The sunshine beamed down on the black rocks by the water enough to make them warm to the touch, and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore felt like the perfect accompaniment to an act of joy. Lay down a few blankets to soften the bed beneath them, and Morgan was hard-pressed to say which he preferred more—being beneath his husband, legs tilted over his shoulders as Auban moved inside of him, or being on top of him, riding him slowly while looking down at him with perfect satisfaction.

Both were good. Excellent, in fact. The only thing Morgan didn’t really care for when making love was facing away from Auban. It reminded him too much of their first, desperate time, when he’d been unsure if they’d ever see each other again. Just thinking about it could bring tears to his eyes, so he did his best not to.

It was easy when he had such a wonderful distraction laid out before him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Morgan said with a moan as he lifted himself up, up, up to the tip of Auban’s cock before slowly gliding back down. It took a while to get used to the feeling—as often as they did this, changing shapes seemed to reset their bodies, and Morgan had to accustom himself to it all over again. He loved it every single time. “You fit me so well.”

“We fit each other,” Auban said, staring up at him like he was looking at something truly incredible. All he wore was a band around his wrist, woven from several slender, supple branches and decorated with every lustrous pearl that Morgan had been able to bring up from the deeps since their exile. “So perfect, Morgan, just like that … fuck, you’re tight around me.”

“I know,” he purred, bouncing a little. He paused, leaning back and resting against Auban’s legs as he touched his cock. He wasn’t as big as Auban, but he thought the green curls at the base of his length were especially pretty. He stroked himself, long and slow, head tilting back as he absorbed the spring sunlight into his body, then shivering when Auban’s hand, wet from the water so close to them, cupped his balls and rolled them. Morgan clenched, and now it was Auban’s turn to moan.

“Can you come if I don’t move?” Morgan asked. “If I just sit here and hold you tighter”—he clenched again—“and then relax once more. Over and over …”

“Can you?” Auban asked with a breathless smile. “Or will you break with wanting more?”

“I don’t break,” Morgan insisted.

“Mmm.” Auban leaned up and slung an arm around his waist. “You might when you realize we’re not going to be alone for long.”

“Huh?” Morgan was distracted by the feel of his husband’s hips flexing beneath his legs. “What?”

“I hear someone running toward the beach. Running quite quickly, in fact.”

Auban’s senses were sharper than Morgan’s, at least when they were out of the water. In it, he was as helpless as a newborn eel, but Morgan bowed to his expertise beyond it. “How soon?” he whined before capturing Auban’s lips in a kiss.

“A minute,” Auban said into the embrace. “Perhaps two.”

“Come in me.”

Auban laughed, a little desperately. “Right now?”

“Right now. No games.” Morgan began to move again, sliding up and down Auban’s cock with a vengeance. He adjusted his hips a little, and oh, fuck, yes, there it was. “I want to feel you spend in me. Fill me up now, and we can save the games for later.”

“You come first,” Auban growled and wrapped his hand over the top of Morgan’s where it was gripping his cock. He squeezed with calculated ruthlessness as he thrust up into Morgan, hitting him just right.

“Ah, ah, ah, fuck me, ah!” Morgan came helplessly, unable to stop the flood from his body and not really caring to either. Skies and waves, it just went on and on, and when Auban stiffened and began to come it just got better and then—

“Morgan! Morgan, I need to talk to you, it’s a matter of—ugh!”

It was Garen, thankfully. He was the last person in the clan who would make something of seeing Auban and him naked together in front of their own home.

“Why?” he moaned, and—fine, so maybe he’d make a little something of it, the dramatic man. “I’ll—all right, um, I’ll be inside? You two—” He couldn’t finish, just darted into the little house as the two of them slowly came down from the high.

“Well,” Morgan said at last. “That was wonderful. Now I need to go make sure Garen isn’t scratching his eyes right out of his face.”

“Delightful.” Auban kissed the curve of his neck, then winced as they carefully separated. “I think I’ll go on patrol. I need to stretch my wings anyhow.” Patrolling for the safety of the clan was work Auban took seriously. He hadn’t spotted any human vessels yet, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time. If he saw them far enough out, there were steps the clan could take to protect themselves. It was better than being attacked in their own village again.

Besides, his darling husband loved to fly. “Go,” Morgan said. He leaned over onto the blankets and watched Auban get up, enjoying his view of him—he always enjoyed looking at him—before Auban took two huge strides forward and launched himself into the air. He transformed midleap, his body growing longer and thicker, red wings spreading from his back like a rare bird. The band of pearls stayed, though, as his wrist became the tip of one of his glorious wings.

Morgan sighed with satisfaction as he watched Auban circle higher into the sky, then dip his body down into the waves to cleanse it. Morgan might shift later, but for now … he liked the little ache he felt.

He was fully dressed and grinning by the time he joined Garen in the house he and Auban—and half the village—had built just before the winter storms got bad. Garen was still flushed but was doing his best to contain it. “I apologize,” he said as Morgan joined him on the floor. “I should have come more cautiously, but I was too deep in my own head to be careful.”

“It’s all right,” Morgan replied, pouring fresh water for the two of them to drink and setting out some smoked fish. “You’re always a welcome guest, you know that. But what has you so concerned?”

“Well …” Garen was practically braiding his fingers together. “Brevaer proposed.”

“I knew it!” Morgan smacked the ground in his excitement, then winced. Smoothed stones for the floor or not, it was still stone. “He was acting so distracted when I saw him yesterday! When does he want to get married? Probably tomorrow, the man has no patience when it comes to getting what he wants.”

“He would like it to be soon,” Garen allowed, “but my father wants to wait for the summer, and Mother won’t hear of it until next winter. Next winter! I can’t possibly wait that long, but I can’t gainsay my own mother either.”

Ah. He was looking for help finding a middle way before the people he loved choked on their own pride. Fortunately, Morgan was an expert at middle paths.

He’d forged his own, after all.

He took the hand of his best friend, who would soon be his brother by marriage, and smiled. “Let’s work it out.” It was easy to feel happy because Morgan had no doubt that they would work it out. Everything was working as it should, and though there would be challenges ahead, as long as he had the people he loved, he knew he could face them.

With Auban, and with Garen and Brevaer, he could face anything.

~*~*~*~