Chapter Eight

I wake slowly, warm and comfortable. Eugen is still asleep across the room, curled on his side, the blankets pooled around his waist and showing a expanse of smooth, pale skin.

Memory returns, and I blush, remembering the gods' claiming. Remembering the heat and the need, and the satisfaction I felt when Arun's cock stretched me and claimed me, the pleasure when his seed filled me.

I shift, and the movement sends a twinge through me. My body is sore, stretched and used, but the need which possessed me before still lingers in my memory.

I may not worship the Wolf Gods, or understand their use for me, but my body craves their touch.

Eugen stirs, coughs, and I push thoughts of the gods from my mind. "Eugen," I call softly. "Are you well?"

Eugen turns his head, blue eyes blinking sleepily, and gives a faint smile. "Well enough." His voice is still thin, hoarse, but his breathing lacks the rasp I've grown used to. Perhaps, away from the stink and filth of the town, he'll find the strength to endure the gods' service.

Looking on him, clean and rested, with the memory of the gods' claiming so fresh in my mind, I find myself hoping he will. I can't help but eye the expanse of pale skin revealed by his restless movements. Eugen catches me, and a flush chases away his usual pallor.

"Jaro," he breathes. The hunger rises in me again, and I move toward him, sliding onto his bed. He trembles, his gaze fixing on the outline of my shaft beneath the sheer drape.

I'm not sure which of us leans forward first, only that our lips meet, his hands tangling in my hair as we kiss, pulling me down atop him.

Eugen's bones are too prominent beneath his skin, his well-formed body too thin. His cock, though, is thick and long, the tip flushed red and leaking, and I can't resist the urge to trail a finger down its length, explore his balls and the sensitive skin behind.

It's not just his body I yearn for, though. The divine virility of the Wolf Gods is more than enough to satisfy my lust. No, I crave Eugen's humanity, the gentleness and compassion I can't imagine the Wolf Gods offering.

Our cocks brush, and Eugen gasps, his hips rising. Our mouths meet again, and I grind against him, the silk drape between us no barrier to our pleasure. Eugen's kisses are eager, hungry, his hands exploring my shoulders, my back, and I drink him in, the warmth of his slender body beneath mine, the taste of his mouth, the press of our cocks as we rut against each other.

"Please," Eugen moans. "Jaro, please."

I kiss him again, and reach between us, grasping his cock. He moans into my mouth, hands clutching my shoulders, hips undulating as I begin to stroke him, firm and slow.

His head falls back, his eyes closed, lips parted. I kiss his throat, taste his pulse, speed the motion of my hand. Eugen keens, his whole body trembling beneath me, and I can't resist the urge to rut against him.

His breath wheezes in his throat, and he clutches my shoulders tighter, still rocking against me even as he struggles for air.

"Eugen?" I pause, worried, but he shakes his head.

"Don't stop, Jaro." His eyes meet mine, and the desire I see there leaves me breathless. "Don't... stop."

I return to stroking him, a little slower, but a cough wracks his body, and I stop, drawing back. "I'm sorry. We shouldn't..."

"No." His voice is thin, but his hands grip my shoulders again. "Please. I need this." He rocks against me. "I want this, Jaro. I want...you."

I swallow hard. "You're sure?" I ask, even as my cock throbs with need.

Eugen nods, and I kiss him, returning to stroking his cock, slowly, firmly. His arms twine around my neck, and he moans into my mouth, a soft, sweet sound.

It isn't long before he tenses, his back arching, and comes with a low cry, his spend spilling over my hand. His arms tighten around me, and he pulls me down for another kiss.

I let him go, and his eyes flutter open. The dazed look they hold makes my cock ache, and he reaches for my shaft, his fingers curling gently around me.

He's shy, his touch hesitant as he takes me in hand. I thrust into his grip, encouraging him to stroke me faster, harder. He follows my lead, eyes bright with hunger as I buck against him.

I don't last long under his touch. The memory of the gods' claiming is fresh and overwhelming, but somehow, Eugen's touch, this time between us, is what pushes me over the edge. I come with a groan, spending myself on his belly.

He holds me as I sag down beside him, and we kiss again, slow and gentle, without the desperation that possessed us before.

After, we curl together in his bed, and he rests his head on my chest, his breathing rough and shallow, the sound too loud in the quiet. Then the coughing takes him again, and I wince at the sound, at the way he struggles to breathe.

It seems an eternity before he grows still, his breath steadying, his expression bitter as he turns his face away from me. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"Eugen," I say softly. "You've nothing to be sorry for."

Slowly, he relaxes, and I gather him against me and press a kiss to his fair hair.

"I wasn't always like this," he murmurs, curling into my embrace. "When I was younger, I was healthy. But then my Da died, and my Ma couldn't take on more work to make up for Da's pay. So I took a job in the mines."

He sighs. "I was young, strong, able to pull a full shift and take extra on top of it. I had dreams of supporting Ma and my sisters without them needing to work."

He falls quiet, and I grow acutely aware of how the air rasps slightly in his lungs with every breath. "It came on slow. I didn't notice at first how I was tired all the time. Mining's hard work, and I thought I should be tired after twelve, fourteen hours. Then I started having trouble making it to the end of a single shift. I'd fall asleep on my breaks, have to rest halfway on the walk home."

He takes a breath, coughs, and shakes his head. "I told myself I needed to just push through. Be a man about it. But the harder I pushed, the weaker I got. Then the cough started, but there are lots of men in the mines with a cough. No one pays them any mind."

Eugen laughs, a bitter, hoarse sound. "Ma told me to stop working the mine, to find another job, but I was only eighteen, only three years underground. It couldn't be that bad, could it? Besides, nothing but the mine pays decently. I told her to stop fussing over me and started pulling extra shifts again, no matter how bad I felt."

He falls silent, and I find myself holding him close. I don't want him to finish the story, as if by not letting him speak it will somehow change the outcome. I don't want to remember watching my Da cough his life away, growing weaker and weaker until he couldn't leave his bed.

I don't want to imagine the same thing happening to Eugen.

He starts speaking again, slowly, and I don't silence him, sensing it's a story he needs me to hear. "One day, I went to work like normal, and woke up in my bed, with Ma crying beside me. My lungs were on fire, and it felt like there was a boulder sitting on my chest. I'd taken in too much dust and rot in the mines, the healer said. He didn't think I'd see my twentieth summer, and when I did, there was no way for me to make the pilgrimage to the Temple."

He swallows hard, a shiver running through him. "And yet, here I am, and the gods expect me to be strong enough to bear their young and...you're here," he whispers. "Jaro, I want to be strong enough. For the gods. For you."

I feel tears sting my eyes, burning down my cheeks, and I hold Eugen tight against me. I don't know what to say, don't fully understand the ache blooming in my own chest. I've only known Eugen for a matter of days, but already, the thought of losing him is unbearable.

Eugen's hand cups my cheek, draws my mouth back to his. We kiss, slow and gentle, and I find we don't need words after all.