The CrossRealm Circular Railway

Two years later

Claude

The entire ceiling was a domed skylight, stretching from one wall to the other, the glass crystal clear. Not a smudge in sight. If we’d been sitting up, we would have seen the tips of the mountains from the East Winterlands region of the Eight and a Half Kingdoms. But since neither of us had the energy to sit, all we saw was the aurora borealis as it decorated the night sky above our heads with pinks and purples and greens.

It reminded me of Sonny’s hair. So incredibly beautiful.

Which is how we ended up on our backs, with each other’s dicks in our hands, so we could continue to stare at the glowing, undulating, resplendence of nature.

But even with the perfect light show above my head, I did not tear my sights away from the majesty that was Sonny falling to pieces under my touch.

Nothing was more mesmerising than Sonny’s O face.

He panted, his back arched, eyes rolled up into his skull. His cry echoed around the cosy room, bounced off the glass, and his orgasm erupted over his bare stomach. I slowed my motions, eased the rhythm of my strokes, and walked him through the last of his climax.

He opened his eyes and blinked up at me. Impossibly long lashes fluttered, making my heartbeat trip over itself. “Fuck, Claude. I love you,” he said.

“I know you do,” I replied.

He picked up his pace on my cock, having been briefly thwarted by his own ecstasy. He knew how to touch me, how quickly he made me dissolve.

I let my head drop towards him and pillowed my forehead against his shoulder. I whined, as the building swell from his strokes pulled me under. My release splashed across my chest in silky white ribbons.

Sonny watched me, as I had watched him. “You’re perfect,” he whispered.

I fetched a towel from the en-suite bathroom and wiped us both clean. Then we lay on our backs, gazing out of the domed ceiling once again.

“I will never get bored of this,” he said.

It occurred to me that we were sharing yet another beautiful sky.

As a surprise, for our two-year arriving-at-Stinkhorn-Manor anniversary, Sonny had booked us a sleeper coach on the CrossRealm Circular Railway. The seventeen-day trip cost him an actual fortune. It began in Agaricus—or at least, that was where we boarded—travelled down through Borderlands, through the City of the Undead, passing through nearby St Clouds, and then continued down through the Human Realms before heading up to Remy, then into the Mythic Realms, and back to the Kingdom of the Fae and Agaricus.

The train would stop at each station, and we would get anywhere from a couple of hours to a full day at each new destination. I had seen the mountains of the Mythic Realms, the beach towns of the Human Realms, and the cities of Borderlands. Gambled in St Clouds, sunbathed in Dinlow, and drank proper Elvish chai latte made by actual elves in Raun.

When we alighted in Remy, we met up with Sonny’s devastatingly handsome werewolf colleague, Mash, and Mash’s very disinterested friend, Cian. We had lunch in the botanical gardens, rode the U-Rail for hours, and afterwards Sonny gave me a tour of his uni.

He never did get his paper published in the EHK’s journal. But things had worked out in other ways. The dean of Remy University offered Sonny a sabbatical of three years to conduct further research into ancient shroom fae magic. He’d explained enough to clue his peers and his students in to the notion of the glamour, without actually saying what it was.

He had a year left. But after that he had plans to open a research facility and education centre on Stinkhorn grounds, specialising in everyday ways to improve soil health. He wanted to create a mini university of sorts. With dorms, and labs, and workshops, and even a small auditorium for lectures and guest lectures. Jenny was more than willing to provide him with the resources to create and run it, and was super excited by the prospect of hosting dozens of fornicating students. Though we agreed the students would need to sign a document stating they understood everything they did or said on Stinkhorn grounds would be observed by the house. It would feel like a breach of privacy if we didn’t warn them.

Sonny was also publishing another book. He’d done countless studies on my particular brand of magic—ahem, my cum—and had eventually concluded it was effective only on Stinkhorn land, and only during the solstices. Though it did give the plants a little boost at other times of the year.

Oggy and Willow commented that the kitchen gardens had never been so productive. To which Sonny snorted and badly disguised it as a sneeze.

So, instead of the grand, planet-altering glamour Sonny had been hoping for, he focused his efforts on smaller, more localised, more accessible changes that accumulated to one big change.

His new book was called Everyday Soil Magic. The cover featured his hands. In one, he gripped a wand. In the other, he held a little pile of soil with a green, two-leafed plant sprouting from the centre. Golden sparkles of glamour twisted around the seedling and connected to the end of the wand in a swirling trail.

But the best part was his dirty fingers. Filthy, over-bitten fingernails, with chipped green polish.

I kept a copy on my nightstand, and had jerked off to that image more times than I could count.

A soft triple-knock on the door reverberated around the snug sleeper carriage. Sonny had booked the honeymoon suite, so we had a queen-sized bed to share, an en-suite bathroom, two little armchairs and a coffee table, and a little desk and chair for applying makeup or writing home. Everything was plush velvet or mahogany, and there were cosy, fringed lamps dotted about the space.

Not expecting the knock, Sonny frowned at me, but I pushed up from the bed and wrapped a complimentary CrossRealm robe around myself. Sonny pulled the sheets up to his hips, hiding his nakedness, though it would be obvious to anyone who entered the room. I could still see the indecent line of his soft dick under the flimsy white fabric. It looked so tactile and nuzzleable.

I opened the door to a besuited CrossRealm employee. Her name tag read “Amy,” and she wore a very smart navy and gold hat. In front of her was a trolley, laden with domed platters that jangled rhythmically with the track vibrations.

“Did you order food?” Sonny asked.

“I thought you might be hungry, after, you know.”

He smirked. Amy was the picture of professionalism, and pretended not to have heard anything.

“Thank you,” I said, as I accepted the trays and placed them on my side of the bed. I took a bucket of ice, a bottle of fizzy fae wine, and two crystal flutes, and popped them on the desk.

Amy gracefully bowed out of the room, taking with her a few dirty glasses that had been accumulating throughout our day.

“This smells amazing. What is it?” Sonny asked, sitting up and letting the sheets fall away, exposing all of himself again.

I lifted the silver lid on the first tray. “Tah-dah!”

Part of the honeymoon package—and probably one of the main reasons for the cosmic price tag—was the ability to order whatever one fancied from the dining cart, whenever one fancied it. Even if it wasn’t on the menu. If the kitchen had the supplies, the chefs would do everything in their power to accommodate the request.

“Sprouts seven ways!” Sonny said, laughing. “Are you sure that’s wise? The windows are rather small.” But he was already reaching forward and pulling a dish towards himself.

I unlidded the dessert. “And white chocolate tiramisu.”

Sonny licked his lips theatrically.

“But first I have something I need to ask you.”

“Oh?” Sonny said, almost upending his plate full of sprouts all over the bedsheets.

I narrowed my eyes at him. Did he somehow know what I had planned?

Next to the bed, I got down on one knee. Sonny squeaked like an Earth Bell when presented with a shell. I dug around in the pockets of my robe for something I’d placed there earlier. But... it wasn’t in either pocket. It must have fallen out. I began searching the floor.

Sonny gave a gentle cough. “Um, are you looking for this?” In his palm, he held a small black-velvet box.

“You sneaky little magpie fae. When did you steal that from me?”

“First night we got here. Two weeks ago.” His flush extended to his ears.

I sat on the foot of the bed next to him, gently took the box from his hand and opened it, checking its contents to make sure the ring was still inside. It was.

“Professor Sonny Daye, I love you. Stupid amounts. Would you please be my husband?”

The ring was on his finger before I had even finished my sentence. Gods, he really was super skilled at this pickpocketing malarky. He peered down at it—a titanium band with a fossilised wood bezel in the centre—and blinked back his tears.

“Yes. Thank you. That would be nice.”