Chapter 10 - The End

The water of the plunge pool wasn’t just blue, it was an eye-stabbing sapphire, the kind of color that hurt to look at if you weren’t already half-wild yourself. The falls above battered the pool into a haze of shattered glass, every droplet erupting into rainbows that twisted and evaporated before you could blink. That’s how you knew the Silver-Bark Expanse had you, the place got into your eyes and ears and tongue before you noticed, and once you did, you’d realize you’d stopped missing the outside world.

I didn’t miss it, or anything else. My focus was here, now, claws sunk halfway into the wings of the idiot writhing against me. The fucker tasted like he’d been sucking on blueberries for a year. I guess that’s how it went with Fae boys. Nothing about them was ever subtle, not their scent, not the taste of their spit, not the way their cocks would rub yours like they were trying to claim the right to your next six orgasms.

Tillioron made a purring sound, a thing that should have been delicate, but in his throat, it was something you could bite down on. His wings twitched under my hands, feathers gone slippery from spray, and he shivered against my chest. I growled at him, a rumble that started in my ribs and made his hips buck. Show-off. I matched him with a squeeze that left crescent marks on his shoulders. He moaned, but the sound was almost lost under the waterfall’s static. That was fine. I didn’t need to hear him. All I cared about was how hard he was against my belly, and how much harder I was.

There’s a thing you should know about the Expanse: nothing stays secret here. Not sex, not hunger, not even the ugly parts you try to keep shut inside. The trees watch, the stones remember, and every time you think you’re alone, something is always listening. The first of the fairies arrived before I realized. They drifted in, balls of idiot pink and lurid gold, sparking around the surface of the pool and bouncing light off our faces.

“Looks like we have an audience,” I murmured, lips skimming the shell of Tillioron’s pointed ear.

He shivered again, but he didn’t pull away. “Let them watch,” he whispered, and the words were sticky-sweet, like honey left too long in the sun. He bared his throat and dragged his tongue along my jaw, licking at the taste of salt and sweat and river water.

I opened my mouth against his, tongue pushing deep, and was rewarded with the taste of ripe fruit and something brighter, chemical, sharp, like biting into a flower you’re not supposed to eat but doing it anyway because you want to see what happens. The first hit landed on the middle of my tongue and bloomed outward, sticky as crushed plums, sweet enough that my teeth ached. The second hit was worse. It went straight to the base of my skull and turned the lights down on every other thought I had. There it was again, the thing I always pretended I didn't come back for. The reason I let this loud, vain, ridiculous bird live in the canopy over my territory. He tasted like an orchard at the end of summer, like every fruit that had bothered to fall and rot in the sun, fermented sugar and pulp and the bright wet middle of something forbidden. I licked deeper into his mouth. Then deeper still. I dragged my tongue along the roof of his mouth, along the soft inside of his cheek, scraping for every last trace of him I could pull off the wet of his teeth, and the back of his throat answered me with a hum that put more honey on my tongue. I was drinking him, and I knew it. He knew it too. He pushed his tongue against mine like he was offering refills.

Our cocks slid together, skin on skin, so hard it almost hurt, and I ground against him until our bones clicked and he moaned into my mouth. His wings beat once, twice, stirring the water around us into little hurricanes, and I dug my claws in harder. No blood yet, but I was working on it.

The fairies multiplied. Pink and gold, with the occasional reckless blue, flickering inches from my eyes, landing in my hair, nosing at my ears. Their wings buzzed loud enough to set my teeth on edge, but I ignored them. Let them get off on it. If they wanted a show, I’d give them a show.

Tillioron’s hands were all over me, one wrapped around the base of my tail, squeezing like he could milk it for more of what he wanted. The other scraped along my ribs, finding every scar and running a thumb over it slow, like he was reading a dirty story written in braille. The air was colder than the water, but his body pressed so tight to mine I couldn’t tell where his heat ended and my fur began.

I snapped at his mouth, biting his lower lip until it bruised blue-black. He hissed, but the bastard laughed at the same time, feathers fluffing and eyes gone bright. He pushed a knee between my legs and spread me open, cock grinding against my balls, his own shaft sticky with pre and river spray. “You’re going to rut me right here, aren’t you?” he said, half-mocking, half-daring.

“No,” I said, but only because I wanted to hear him whine for it. I wanted to taste the desperation in his mouth, watch the way he shook when I didn’t give him exactly what he wanted right away.

He tried to move his hands lower, but I twisted his wrists behind his back, holding them there with a grip that would’ve left bruises on anything softer than a Fae. I shoved him against the rock wall at the edge of the pool, water sheeting down over his shoulders, turning his wings into a dripping white shroud. The fairies screamed and scattered, but a few brave ones perched on the stone beside us, eyes huge and hungry.

I kissed him again, deeper this time, sucking on his tongue until he whimpered and tried to buck against me. My own cock leaked against his thigh, slick and so fucking ready I almost lost control right then. But I held back, because the chase was what made it worth it.

“You taste like a whole damn orchard,” I growled, licking a path down his neck, biting at the place where wing met shoulder.

He laughed, gasping. “Better than wet dog.”

I liked the way he mouthed off. It made what came next even better. I slid one hand down his back, fingers raking through the feathers, then lower, until I cupped his ass and pulled him so hard against me that he almost lost his footing on the slick rock. His wings beat, flaring out and shaking water in every direction. I dug my claws into the muscle, just shy of breaking skin. He made a sound that was all throat.

A fairy landed on my shoulder. I shrugged it off, and it tumbled into the pool with a shriek, but three more took its place, lining up on the wet stone like judges. I bared my teeth at them and they buzzed, unimpressed.

I looked back at Tillioron, his face flushed dark, lips swollen, pupils blown wide. He looked wild, feral, beautiful in a way that made me want to eat him alive. I pressed my forehead to his, letting our breath mix, hot and ragged.

“I’m going to make you scream,” I said, voice low and rough.

He looked me dead in the eye, a smile twisting the edges of his mouth. “Try.”

Challenge accepted.

I shoved him off the wall, spun him in the water, and wrapped my arms around his chest from behind, claws drumming against his ribs. His ass nestled perfectly against my cock, slick and ready. He arched into me, wings beating slow, and I bit down on his shoulder hard enough to leave a mark.

The fairies were everywhere now, lighting up the whole pool with a frenzy of color, their wings stirring the mist into psychedelic fog. I could feel the magic in the air, thick and sweet, soaking into my skin and making every nerve raw and electric.

Tillioron writhed against me, grinding his hips, moaning with every stroke. I let go of his wrists, and he immediately reached back, grabbing at my hair and pulling my head down to bite at my jaw. I growled and ground my cock between his thighs, slow and deep, while my mouth went to work on the long bronze line of his throat. There was a sweat trail running from his ear down to his collarbone, mixed with river water and the faint glittering grit of fairy dust, and the second I licked into it I was gone. The salt was a lie. Underneath was the sugar. I followed it down with my tongue, dragging the flat of it from the soft hollow under his jaw to the dip above his sternum, lapping up the sweet that bled out of every pore he had. I bit the muscle there to make him sweat harder. He did. The next pass of my tongue came back richer, and I made a sound against his skin I would not have admitted to in daylight.

He craned his neck and kissed me again, backwards, awkward, and I swallowed his moan, loving the taste and the fight, chasing his tongue back into his own mouth so I could keep tasting. My hands roamed his chest, fingers pinching his nipples, tugging them until he gasped. I felt him shudder, felt the heat of his skin through the chill of the pool, and I wanted more.

The fairies spun around us, faster and faster, their laughter high and shrill. One bold bastard swooped in and licked a droplet of sweat off my cheek. I snapped at it, catching a wingtip in my teeth before letting it go. The taste was sharp, like biting into cold metal, and I spat it out, focusing back on Tillioron.

His cock was hard as stone, bobbing with every shiver, the head flushed purple and leaking. I reached around and stroked him, fist tight, jerking him with rough, fast pumps. He bucked, wings beating so hard the surface of the water frothed around us. His moans turned to cries, the sound echoing off the stone walls and bleeding into the roar of the falls.

I pressed my mouth to his ear. “You going to cum already?” I taunted, squeezing harder, feeling him twitch.

“Not unless you do first,” he shot back, breathless but still cocky. I liked that. I liked it a lot.

I let go of his cock and spun him around again, pinning him against the rock. This time, I kissed him slower, letting him feel the hunger without the hurry. His arms wrapped around my neck, pulling me down, and his wings folded tight to his back, feathers sticking to his skin. I thrust against him, over and over, not in yet but so close it was torture.

The magic in the air thickened, turning the mist into gold. The fairies hovered, wings beating in unison, their little bodies glowing with heat and want.

I grabbed Tillioron’s thighs, hoisted him up, and he wrapped his legs around my waist. Our cocks pressed together, sliding slick and perfect. I rolled my hips against his in long, dragging strokes, the heads of us bumping and smearing, and every pass left a slick streak of his pre on my belly that I could already smell from where I stood. The smell alone made my mouth water. That was the problem with him. The taste got into my nose and my nose lit up my whole skull and the whole skull lit up my cock, and the chain ran in a loop I had never been able to break.

I lowered him just enough that I could duck my head, and I licked up the wet trail on my own stomach where his pre had pooled. Sweet. Sweeter than the kiss. Sweeter than the sweat. He watched me do it, eyes huge, lips parted, and I held his gaze while I dragged my tongue back up through it again, slow, like I was lapping cream off a saucer. His cock kicked between us. A fresh bead of pre welled at the slit and I caught that one, too, the tip of my tongue dipping into the soft wet eye of him and stealing it before it could fall.

"Fuck, wolf," he whispered, voice gone wrecked.

"You taste better than anything that grows in this forest," I told him, and meant every word. "Some days I think you’re the only reason I haven’t starved."

I hoisted him back up so our cocks lined up again and rolled my hips against his, harder this time, working the slick of him into me. He was shaking now, hands clawing at my back, head thrown back as I kissed and bit down his neck.

I could feel the build-up in my gut, tight and electric, every muscle burning with the need to finish. But I didn’t let go. Not yet.

Instead, I lifted him out of the pool, pressed his back to the rock ledge above, water sluicing off our bodies in sheets. The fairies followed, lining the edge, watching. I smirked at them, baring my teeth, and they scattered, then doubled back, twice as many, hungry for the show.

I kissed Tillioron again, one last time before the flood. He bit my tongue, drawing blood, and that’s what finally did it.

I came hard, cock pulsing between us, jetting hot against his stomach. He broke away from my mouth and howled, wings flaring out as his own orgasm hit, cum splattering across my fur and the wet stone. The fairies shrieked and dove, fighting over droplets like it was the only food they’d ever had.

I beat them to it. I pinned his hips to the ledge and went down on my elbows over him, mouth open before I'd even thought about it, and I cleaned him with my tongue. Long stripes from the cut of his hip up the lean muscle of his belly, gathering every pearl of him onto the flat of my tongue and rolling it back through my teeth before I swallowed. The taste rolled my eyes back. Pure summer fruit, hot and thick and almost too rich, with that ozone snap underneath that said magic and storm and bird and something I had never bothered to name. I licked the dip of his navel clean. I licked the soft trail of feathers under it. I licked his softening cock from base to tip and sucked the last drop right out of the slit, and when there was nothing left on him I started on the cum he'd shot across my own fur, scooping it onto two fingers and sucking them clean while he watched me do it with his mouth open.

"You're disgusting," he breathed, but his voice was reverent.

"You did this to me," I said around my fingers. "Months ago. First time I tasted you. Now I hunt and I can't smell anything else through it."

He made a small, helpless sound. The fairies whined, cheated of their share. I gave them none of it.

I held him there, arms locked tight, savoring the aftershocks. The roar of the waterfall swallowed everything else.

When I finally set him down, he slid back into the pool, limp but grinning like a devil. I followed, letting the cold water rinse us clean.

The fairies kept circling, and I could tell they wanted more. Good. I had plans for them.

But for now, I just floated, Tillioron in my arms, the pool glittering around us like we were the only things that mattered.

Let the forest watch.

We’d give it a show it would never forget.

---

The water around us had gone from blue to gold, or maybe I was just dizzy from the blood still thundering in my ears. I didn’t let go of Tillioron, and he didn’t let go of me. Our mouths broke apart only because we needed to breathe, but even then, we stayed forehead to forehead, lips brushing as we sucked in air heavy with mist and pheromones.

The waterfall battered my back, muscles screaming but in a good way, and the spray kept everything slick. Water beaded in my fur and ran down in sheets, gathering where my skin was exposed. His feathers trapped the water, so every time I squeezed his wings, they bled cold against my palms and sent shivers up my arms. We were a mess. I liked it that way.

“Can’t get enough of you, bird,” I growled, my voice shredded by use.

“Then take what you want, wolf,” he fired back, eyes bright and mean.

Fuck yes. I hooked my claws around his ass, not gentle, and dragged him in until our cocks lined up again, hot against hotter, still so hard I didn’t know how I was supposed to do anything but fuck him senseless. He ground back into my grip, hips rolling slow, deliberate, making sure I felt every inch.

I felt him shift, his wings closing tight around my shoulders, then he ducked his head and licked me. Not a kiss, not a peck, but a long, slow stripe from my collarbone up to my jaw. His tongue was hot and rough, and it left a burn even after it passed. I shivered, more from the heat than the cold, and caught him by the base of the wing. “You’re going to make me ruin you,” I muttered.

He grinned, a slice of moonlight. “Maybe I want you to.”

He kissed me again, this time feral, tongue fighting for space, teeth clashing hard enough to rattle my head. He tasted like berries and ozone, like the air right before lightning hits. I bit down on his lip, sucked it until I tasted iron, then let go so I could hear him gasp.

The fairies came back in force, a whole fucking constellation, their wings making the air hum. Some hovered close enough to touch, and when they did, it was electric, literal static jumping off their bodies and shocking us where skin met skin. I hated the distraction, but also loved the way every jolt made my cock twitch.

Tillioron didn’t seem to notice. His hands were all over me, fingers combing through my fur, stroking my tail, tracing scars old and new. He had a way of touching that made me want to tear him apart and hold him together in the same breath. My body knew what to do. I bucked against him, cocks sliding side by side, wet friction and nothing but pleasure.

The mist thickened, fairy dust glittering in the air and settling on our skin. Every speck that landed on me burned cold at first, then hot. It was a fever, a curse, a fucking blessing. I ran my claws down Tillioron’s back, scored him just enough to see if he’d bleed. He made a high, sharp sound, but instead of flinching, he arched against me, wings trembling.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, voice shredded and breathless.

“Not even close.”

I flipped us, fast as a snake. His back hit the submerged ledge, wings half-submerged and splayed out like a fucking angel. I slotted myself between his legs, pressing my cock to his and grinding down, hard. The water turned white with foam, and the fairies swarmed, lining up on the rock like they had front-row tickets.

He wrapped his thighs around me, locking his ankles behind my back. The pressure was perfect. I dug my knees into the moss, found my balance, and started to thrust. Not inside, yet, but between his thighs, cocks rubbing together, shafts slick with sweat, water, and fairy magic.

The friction was unreal. Every time I rocked forward, our cocks slid against each other, heads bumping, both of us leaking so much that it didn’t even matter that the pool was half-washing it away. He grabbed my ass, fingers digging in, and met me stroke for stroke.

“You ever get tired?” I grunted.

“Not with you,” he spat back, and then he bit my ear, hard.

Fuck, he was perfect.

The fairies started to get braver. One landed on Tillioron’s chest and licked a drop of sweat off his nipple, tongue glowing blue. He gasped, and I felt his cock jerk against mine. Another hovered by my face and dusted my nose with something that made my vision tunnel and pop with colors. It should have pissed me off, but instead I just got harder, if that was even possible.

I kissed him again, slower this time, grinding him into the rock. My hand found his cock and jerked him, thumb stroking the slit, and he bucked so hard I almost lost my grip. He was leaking like crazy, the taste of his precum mixing with the river water on my tongue.

The air vibrated, a combination of waterfall, fairy wings, and the two of us going at it like we were the last things alive. The smell of ozone was everywhere, sharper now, like the promise of a storm.

“Fuck, I want you,” I said, voice barely more than a snarl.

“Then fuck me,” he begged, and his eyes burned so bright I thought they’d set me on fire.

I didn’t hesitate. I lined up, pressed the head of my cock to his hole, and pushed, slow at first just to watch his face as it changed from taunt to want to holy-shit. He was tight, tighter than anything, and the magic in the water made it feel like fucking heaven.

He arched up, wings flapping hard, and I drove in deeper, inch by inch, until I was buried all the way. He cried out, but it was a good sound, a sound that made me want to break him and heal him and do it all over again.

The fairies went nuts, some zipping around our heads, others perching on limbs and even getting in on the action, tiny hands tracing lines down our bodies, leaving behind burning trails of gold. Every touch made it better, made it more, and I was starting to lose track of where my body ended and his began.

I set a rhythm, slow at first, hips rolling so I could feel every inch of him clamp around me, every twitch of his rim as it tried to keep me. Then I shifted my angle, pulled almost all the way out, and slammed back in until his teeth clacked. He yelped, and I did it again, and again, until the slap of my hips against his ass had its own echo under the falls. His cock slapped against my abs with every thrust, the head smearing wet trails through my fur, leaking so much I wondered how he hadn’t already blown. I stroked him in time with my thrusts, fist tight at the base, thumb dragging through the slit on every upstroke, milking every drop and loving the way his whole body shuddered when I twisted my hand just right.

I changed the cadence to keep him guessing. Long, deep grinds pressed my pelvis flush to his ass and made his wings spasm against the rock. Short, jackhammer snaps rattled the breath out of his lungs. Slow, dragging pulls let him feel every vein on my cock before I split him open again. He took all of it. He begged for more of it, half in words and half in noises that didn’t bother being language.

"That’s it, bird," I rasped against the wet shell of his ear. "Take what your wolf gives you. Every fucking inch. You were made to be split open on this cock and you know it."

The base of me started to thicken. My knot was waking up, swelling against his rim with each thrust, catching on the way out and dragging another keen out of him. I wasn’t ready to lock him in yet. I wanted him wrecked first.

He came first, predictably, but the way he screamed my name made it worth it. His cum shot between us, hot and sweet, splattering on my chest and getting washed away by the spray. The fairies dove for it, lapping it up like it was holy water. I didn’t slow down. If anything, I went harder, chasing my own finish.

When I came, it was violent. I locked my arms around his waist, held him tight, and buried myself so deep I thought I’d never get out. I saw stars, literally, because the fairies exploded in a shower of light right as I blew, filling the air with a thousand little fireworks.

I collapsed against him, both of us panting, water pouring over our heads. The rock scraped my knees, and I didn’t care. The only thing I cared about was the heat of his skin, the throb of his pulse, and the way he smiled up at me even when he was spent.

The fairies circled, slower now, basking in the aftermath. The pool shimmered with all the colors in the world.

“You’re insatiable,” I told him, but I was grinning like an idiot.

“Look who’s talking,” he shot back, and he kissed me, soft this time.

We stayed like that, tangled and aching, until the water washed away everything but the want.

And then we started all over again.

---

I don’t know who moved first, maybe it was both of us, or maybe the waterfall just decided it was done playing background noise and wanted us out of its pool. Either way, we staggered to the edge, lips glued together, claw and feather locked in a death grip. The mossy bank felt like a soft knife under my feet, every blade sharp and impossibly green, dusted with mist and fairy shine.

We waded out, water streaming off our bodies, every inch of skin catching the late sun and throwing it back in shards. By the time the water was at my thighs, I was already sinking to my knees, pulling Tillioron in close, mouth open and hungry for everything he had.

I didn’t wait for him to say yes. Why would I? He’d been grinding on me for an hour, and his cock was still flushed and angry, dripping like it had opinions about what I should be doing next. I wrapped a hand around the base, squeezed hard, and dragged my tongue from root to tip. The taste hit me like a punch: berries, sure, but not the delicate kind. These were wild and overripe, smashed into pulp and left to ferment in the sun. Underneath was honey, sticky and raw, and behind that, something sharp and chemical, like the tang of lightning on your tongue when you breathe in too deep during a storm.

I sucked him in, deep as I could go, and the sound he made would have scared off anything without wings. Lucky for us, the fairies were fearless. They clustered around us, little hands grabbing at Tillioron’s shoulders, his hips, some even crawling through his hair and biting at his ears. He barely noticed. All he could do was grab my head with both hands, claws digging into my scalp, and fuck my face with a desperation that made my whole body sing.

He tasted better with every second, precum mixing with river water and fairy dust until I couldn’t tell what was real and what was magic. My throat burned, but I kept going, jaw working hard, tongue swirling around the head, catching every drop. I wanted to drown in him. I wanted to choke on it.

He started talking, words broken up by gasps and shudders. “Fuck… your mouth… you’re too good at this… shit…”

I looked up at him, and the sight was perfect: wings spread wide, feathers soaked and sticking to his back, chest heaving, eyes rolled back so far I could only see white. Fairies were all over him now, crawling down his arms and thighs, some licking at the spots my hands didn’t reach.

He started thrusting harder, fucking my mouth like it was the only thing keeping him alive. I let him. I wanted it. My own cock was hard enough to split stone, leaking into the moss below. I used my free hand to jerk myself, matching his rhythm. Every time he bottomed out, the tip hit the back of my throat, and I swallowed around him, milking out more of that sickly-sweet nectar.

He let go with one hand and started stroking his own chest, claws raking lines through the wet feathers. The fairies followed, licking up the water and sweat, some even nibbling at the cuts. The magic in the air got thick, so heavy I could barely breathe, but I kept sucking, kept going, until I felt him start to shake.

His voice went high and wild. “Fuck, Hrodgar, I’m gonna—”

I didn’t stop. I wanted to taste it, all of it. I wanted to see if Fae boys came as sweet as they smelled.

He exploded in my mouth, and the first pulse landed on the back of my tongue with the weight of a swallowed sun. Hot. Syrupy. Thick enough to coat. The flavor hit and rolled, ripe-orchard sugar in the front, dark fermented honey in the middle, that ozone-and-lightning snap riding the whole thing into the back of my throat. My eyes rolled. I felt my knees lock against the moss to keep me upright. The second pulse was sweeter than the first. The third broke me. I groaned around him, and the vibration pulled a fourth out of him that I almost lost down my chin before I caught it on the flat of my tongue and brought it back into my mouth.

I didn’t pull off. I couldn’t. I rode the spasms with my throat, swallowing every flood of him, working the underside of his cock with my tongue to coax out whatever was left. He shook through it, hands locked in my hair, hips stuttering with the small involuntary thrusts of a body that had nothing more to give and was trying anyway. The fairies shrieked in tiny, delirious voices, fighting each other for the right to lick at the corner of my mouth where a single bead of him had escaped. I snapped my teeth at them and they scattered. That bead was mine.

When he finally went quiet, I still didn't let go. I sealed my lips around the soft, twitching length of him and sucked, slow and patient, until the slit gave up one more drop. I rolled it across my tongue like a wine I'd waited a year for. I swallowed it. Then I dragged my tongue from base to tip and cleaned every ridge of him, every vein, every crease of foreskin where a smear of his own cum had collected, until he was polished and shining and whimpering at the overstimulation.

I pulled off slowly. A thread of him linked my lower lip to the head of his cock for a long second before it broke. I caught it on the tip of my tongue and pulled it back into my mouth. He watched me do it. His eyes were glassy.

He dropped to the moss beside me, breathing hard, body twitching every time the fairies dared to land. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. There was a smear of him there I had missed. I brought it to my lips and licked it off, slow, eyes on his the whole time, sucking my own knuckle clean. I went back for the corner of my mouth. Then the underside of my own jaw, where one drop had run. I cleaned myself the way a wolf cleans a kill, methodical and unhurried, and I did it watching him, and his soft cock twitched against his thigh like it wanted to try again already.

"You really are an addict, aren't you," he said, voice wrecked, almost reverent.

"You knew that the first time," I told him. "You just like hearing me say it."

I licked the last trace off my thumb. Still perfect. Still wild.

He looked at me, eyes glazed and soft, and said, “You’re a fucking monster.”

I grinned, showing every tooth. “You love it.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he pulled me into a kiss, deep and messy, his tongue chasing the last traces of himself in my mouth. I let him, and when he pushed me back against the moss, I went willingly.

The fairies circled above us, slower now, drunk on what we’d given them. Their glow turned the whole shore into a fever dream, colors melting and swirling together. My body burned, every inch sensitive, every nerve ready to light up with the next touch.

I wanted him again. I wanted more.

And by the look in his eyes, so did he.

We rolled together in the moss, grabbing, biting, never letting go. The river kept on roaring, the sun kept on dying, and the world kept on watching.

Good.

Let it see everything.

---

There was a limit to how long you could stay on top in the Expanse. Sometimes it was the hunger that got you, or the moon, or the magic. Sometimes it was just the other bastard’s turn.

Tillioron’s hands found my ribs and yanked me on top of him, mouths crashing together, teeth clashing and tongues fighting for every scrap. We rolled through the moss, neither wanting to give up ground, until he did something I didn’t expect: he wrapped his arms under mine and lifted. Full body, dead weight, like I was nothing. He spun me, chest to chest, legs locked around my hips, then slammed me down, wings braced and knees spread wide.

“Fuck,” I spat, caught off-guard by the sudden lack of gravity. It wasn’t magic. He was just strong.

He lined up, cock slick from the river and fairy spit, and shoved in. No warning, no prep, just pure animal want and a single-minded need to claim. I howled, claws digging furrows through moss and feathers alike. It burned, but the pain was perfect, a reminder that I was alive and here and never, ever going back.

He bottomed out, hips grinding into my ass, and he didn’t stop to let me catch up. He just started moving, slow at first but with a rhythm that said he wanted to drag it out, make me feel every inch. His hands locked around my shoulders, wings spread to keep us balanced, and with every thrust, my cock slapped against my belly, leaking more than seemed possible.

“Take it,” he hissed, voice gone hoarse.

“Harder,” I dared, biting his neck and leaving a crescent of teeth marks.

He obliged. He shifted his wings, pushed off the moss, and we left the ground. For a second, I thought it was the magic again, but no, his wings beat strong, lifting us a foot, then two, then three above the ground. The sensation was fucked up and perfect, like rutting in a thunderstorm with nothing but sky to catch you.

He drove in deeper, each thrust sending us higher. My tail thrashed on its own, slapping wet against his thigh, useless. I tried to fight back, but he held me too tight, and every movement just made it better. He worked angles I couldn’t escape from, hips circling, cock dragging across the bundle of nerves inside me until my vision flared white. He pulled me down onto him as he thrust up, and the gravity did half the work, every drop seating him deeper than I thought I could take.

"Ground-walker," he panted into my neck, voice gone wicked and slurred. "Look at you. Hanging off my cock like a stuck pig. Where’s your forest now, wolf?"

I snarled and clamped down on him out of pure spite. He laughed, breathless, and bit my shoulder hard enough to draw beads of blood that the wind whipped away before they could run.

The fairies followed, a swarm of pink and gold, their bodies tracing patterns through the mist as they howled and cheered us on. Some darted in to land on our backs, wings, or even the tip of my cock, licking up the mess and dusting everything with more of their electric powder. I felt every single touch, each spark another jolt up my spine.

A pair of them landed on the small of my back and didn't bother licking anything. They'd worked themselves up watching, apparently, because the gold one shoved the pink one down onto the wet plane between my shoulder blades and started rutting against her, tiny hips snapping, wings fluttering in time. They fucked on me like I was furniture. I felt the heat of two thumbnail-sized bodies grinding on my skin and didn't have the strength or the inclination to brush them off. Tilliron looked over my shoulder, saw it, and laughed so hard his cock twitched inside me.

"Your back," he wheezed. "They're using your back."

"Let them," I growled. "Long as they don't get in my mouth."

He pounded me in midair, wings flaring, sweat and river water flying off in every direction. I gripped his arms and let him have me, groaning through clenched teeth, loving every goddamn second.

Then he angled his wings and dropped us both, hard, into the heart of the plunge pool.

The shock of cold was like being hit with a hammer. It made me tighten around him, made him gasp and thrust even harder. We plunged down, water closing over us, but he didn’t let go. His wings beat slow, keeping us suspended, and his cock never left its home. I tried to scream, but it just came out as bubbles and soundless vibration.

He kept fucking me underwater, slow and impossibly deep, his hips rolling against my ass in a long, weighted rhythm that the river only made stronger. The cold cinched me tight around him, made every drag of his cock a sharper line of pleasure, and the buoyancy meant I drifted weightless on the end of him while he steered me by the hips. The fairies dove with us, their lights turning the blue into wild strobes, and the whole pool was a green-gold cathedral with the two of us at the altar.

But I couldn't taste him. That was the worst of it. His mouth was right there, his throat right there against my own, and the river poured itself between us and washed it all away. I dragged my mouth across his shoulder and got river. I licked up his neck and got river. The water was scrubbing the orchard off my tongue and I could feel my whole body start to panic about it the way an addict panics about a misplaced supply. I twisted in his grip, lungs burning, and got my mouth on the soft wet skin under his jaw and sucked, hard, like I could pull the sweet up out of him through sheer want. A faint thread of it broke through, just enough to keep me sane. I groaned around the suction and the sound came out of me in bubbles.

He felt it. Of course he felt it. He laughed, silent, and his cock kicked inside me. I clamped down, every muscle trembling, and lost all track of time.

We broke the surface gasping, still joined, and the first thing I did was twist in his arms and shove my tongue back into his mouth. I needed it. I needed the orchard back. He laughed into the kiss and let me have it, opened up sweet and wide, and there it was again, that crushed-fruit hit on the flat of my tongue, sugar bleeding down my throat and resetting every nerve I had. I made a sound that was almost a whimper. I would deny it later. He swallowed it instead, smug bastard, and gave my own moan back to me with another stroke of his tongue.

He fucked me hard enough to send ripples across the whole pool. I threw my head back and howled, not caring who heard. The water ran down my face, off my fur, pooling between our bodies. He used the leverage to grind in deep at the end of every stroke, working that bruised-perfect spot inside me until my thighs shook around his hips. I dropped my forehead to his shoulder and licked the run-off there, sweat and river mixed but the sweet was already climbing back through his skin now that the air had him. Every drag of my tongue made him groan. He liked being eaten as much as I liked eating.

I reached back and stroked myself, desperate for release, fist tight, two pumps and I was gone. I shot hot between us, cum swirling into the water and floating away like spilled moonlight. I caught the last pulse on the heel of my hand out of habit and brought it up between us. He saw what I meant to do and beat me to it. He locked his mouth around two of my fingers and sucked them clean of me, eyes on mine, while my cock was still twitching against his belly.

He pulled me in, teeth against my ear. “You look good like this,” he said, voice dark and wild. “Ruined. Mine.”

That broke him. I felt it go through him in a long, hard shudder. I growled and clamped down, and he shuddered again, wings locking as he came inside me, every thrust sending another wave of pleasure crashing through my gut. I could feel the heat of him even through the river chill, filling me up, and the only thing I could think through it was that I wanted to taste that too, and would, the second I could turn him over.

We stayed like that, tangled in the middle of the pool, until his wings finally gave up and we sank back to the shallows. He held me tight, breathing hard, cock still twitching inside me.

The fairies went absolutely berserk, their little bodies zipping around our heads, kissing every inch of exposed skin, fur, and feather. Some even tried to wedge between us, but I snapped at them and they scattered, giggling like little devils.

He kissed the back of my neck, soft for once. “You’re not bad, you know.”

I grinned, tail flicking water in his face. “Neither are you, for a bird.”

He laughed and pressed his forehead to mine, wings folding around us like a tent. The world shrank down to the circle of our bodies and the riot of color above.

We could have stayed there forever.

But I had other plans.

I broke free, tackled him to the moss, and started the whole damn thing again.

---

We crawled out of the pool like something that had just been born, gasping, dripping, every muscle raw and howling. The moss was a blanket, slick with river water and fairy dust, and it sucked the heat out of us fast enough to make my nipples stand up and my tail puff out like a bottle brush. I rolled Tillioron onto his back and straddled his hips, pinning him with my knees. He tried to laugh, but it came out as a cough and a moan, and I grabbed his cock before he could even recover, sliding my mouth over it like it belonged there.

I’d already tasted him, but this was different. He was sweeter now, somehow, like whatever the fairies had done to us made his cum into liquid summer. I sucked him down, greedy and fast, milking every drop from his slit, and when he tried to warn me (“gonna—fuck, Hrodgar—gonna cum—”) I just swallowed around him, refusing to let go.

He bucked, wings flapping wildly, and shot into my throat, thick and hot and so sweet I thought I’d get drunk off it. I drank him down, licking him clean, not stopping until he slumped back, wings limp and eyes rolling.

Then I flipped him onto all fours, because I couldn’t wait anymore. His ass was perfect, tailfeathers splayed, hole still loose from before but twitching, hungry. I lined up, grabbed his hips, and shoved in, hard. The sound he made was all animal, pure need, and it got swallowed up by the waterfall’s endless roar.

The fairies were all over us, tiny hands and mouths kissing every bit of skin, fur, and feather. Some latched onto my tail, some lined up along my spine, others crawled onto Tillioron’s back, licking sweat and fairy dust off his wings. Every touch made my nerves light up, every jolt another push toward the edge.

I fucked him hard, hips slapping against his ass, claws digging into his thighs. He pushed back, matching my rhythm, moaning with every thrust. The whole world narrowed down to the heat of his body, the squeeze of his ass, the taste of his cum still thick in my mouth.

The knot started to swell, hot and heavy and impatient at the base of my cock. I felt it catching on his rim now with every thrust, a thick promise dragging against the slick edge of him, threatening to lock us together. I grabbed his hips tighter and drove in deeper, and he felt the size of it against his hole and went absolutely wild. He started stroking himself, fast and desperate, knuckles white on his own shaft.

"Do it," he begged, voice cracked open. "Tie me. Fucking knot me. Fill me up so the whole forest knows whose hole this is."

"Mine," I snarled, and I meant it down to the marrow. "This sweet little ass is mine. These wings, this throat, every drop of nectar in your fucking veins. Mine."

I drove in once more, slow and deliberate, letting him feel every degree of the stretch as the knot crowded his rim. He whimpered, claws raking at the moss. Then I slammed forward, brutal, and the swollen bulb forced past the ring of muscle and locked deep inside him. He screamed, and it was beautiful, a sound that made every fairy in the Expanse shiver and glow a little brighter. The lock was perfect. He couldn’t pull off me if he tried, and I could feel his rim fluttering around the base, clenching at the thickness like it was begging for more.

I ground against him, tiny rough circles that rolled the knot inside him and made him sob with pleasure. Each grind milked another wet pulse out of me. Each grind shoved his prostate into the unforgiving curve of my cock. I came in long, heavy floods, dumping every claim I had into him, and the heat of it filled him so full I felt it leak around the seal of my knot and run down his thigh. He came too, spraying the moss with more of that perfect, sweet nectar, his cock jerking untouched once my knot found its home.

We collapsed, tangled together, wings and tails and legs in a pile. The fairies swarmed above us, spinning and shrieking in a frenzy, their lights turning the dying sun into fireworks. The knot held me locked inside him, throbbing softly, every aftershock pulsing another small hot pump of me into him that he made the prettiest sound for.

But there was a problem, and the problem was that he had come on the moss beside us, and the moss was wasting it.

I twisted as much as the lock would let me and dragged him with me, growling low in my chest, until I could see the silver-gold splatter of him where it had landed on the green. I couldn't reach it with my mouth. The knot wouldn't allow it. So I scooped it onto two clawed fingers, careful, patient, and brought it up to my mouth and sucked them clean. The taste hit me even harder this time. Whatever the fairies had done to the air, it had done something to him too, and his cum had gone from orchard to liquid gold, denser, sweeter, almost narcotic. My eyes closed on their own. I went back for the rest. I scraped what I could off the moss and licked my fingers between every gather, and when there was nothing left on the ground I started on him. I licked a bead off the soft feathers of his lower belly. I licked the inside of his thigh where a drip had run. I lapped at his softening cock and sucked the slit clean of the last syrupy thread, and he whined and shuddered and clenched around my knot until I groaned into his hip.

Then I felt it: a thin warm trickle escaping past the seal of my knot, my own cum forced out by sheer volume, sliding down the inside of his thigh.

He felt me notice. He laughed, low and wicked. "Better not waste yours either, wolf."

"I wasn't going to," I muttered, and dragged my tongue up the inside of his thigh to chase it back to its source. The taste of myself in the taste of him almost ruined me a second time. I groaned and pressed my mouth to the soft skin behind his balls and sucked, gentle, gathering the leak before it could escape any further. He made a broken sound and his cock twitched, valiant and exhausted, against his belly.

I licked my way back up his body, slow, taking my time, leaving a trail of small wet marks on every patch of skin sweet enough to be worth the visit. I licked the dip of his navel. I licked under each rib. I licked the hollow of his throat. By the time I made it back to his mouth, my tongue carried so much of him that the kiss was almost a meal. He opened up for me, sucked the taste off my tongue, and we shared what was left of him back and forth between our mouths until there was nothing but the memory of sweet and the bare ache of breathing.

I licked the back of Tillioron’s neck once, just to be thorough. He shivered, then laughed, then turned and kissed me again, slow and sweet, the way creatures kiss when they have no plans to go anywhere ever.

For a long time, we just lay there, breathing, letting the magic settle. The world felt different now, warmer, softer, full. The waterfall roared, the fairies danced, and the Expanse held us in its arms.

I ran my claws through Tillioron’s hair, and he nuzzled into my chest. “Still think you can outlast me, wolf?” he murmured, voice half-melted.

I grinned and kissed his forehead. “Let’s find out.”

Then I collapsed.

I went down on my elbow next to him, lungs working like a bellows, knot finally easing, every muscle in my body finished arguing. The dying sun came in low and gold across the moss. Tilliron's wing was half-spread under us, white feathers fanned out like a stupid expensive blanket, and as my eyes drifted along the line of his shoulder, looking for a soft place to land, they caught on something and stopped.

Two fairies. On the meat of his shoulder, right where the wing met the skin.

The pink one was on her back. The gold one was on top of her, hips pumping, tiny wings beating fast enough to send up a little spray of sweat. They had picked the warmest, wettest patch of him they could find and made it theirs. The pink one had her ankles locked behind the gold one's back. She was making a sound I could only barely hear over the falls, a thin reedy whine of pure satisfaction. The gold one had its little fists planted on either side of her head and was fucking her like its life depended on finishing before the sun went all the way down.

I stared. I could not, for the life of me, look away.

Tilliron felt me go still. He cracked one eye open. "What."

I pointed, slow, with one claw.

He lifted his head just enough to see his own shoulder. Watched. Blinked. Looked at me. Looked back at the fairies. The gold one came with a high, victorious chirp and immediately rolled off the pink one and lay there with its wings splayed, panting in miniature.

Tilliron's whole body started to shake. For one second I thought he was crying. Then I realized he was laughing, silently, eyes watering, pressed face-first into my chest so as not to disturb the lovers on his shoulder.

"They're," he wheezed, "they're using us as a, "

"I know."

"As a fucking mattress, Hrodgar."

"I know."

The pool glittered behind us. The sun finished dying. The pink fairy rolled over and started kissing the gold one's neck like she wanted a second round. I closed my eyes.

That’s how the Expanse works.

You don’t ever really leave.

You just keep getting found.

And while you're being found, something smaller is using your shoulder as a bed.