Love and Duty

Characters: Maelog, Darron
Origin: World of Egaea (WIP)
Advent Day: Day 4 (November 30th)
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 5,860


Darron glanced at Maelog as he continued to play his flute, the notes lilting out from beneath the tarp protecting them from the falling snow. Well, sort of protecting them. A gust of wind sent a flurry into them both, dusting his eyelashes and sending his blue-streaked white hair dancing in the air around them. Maelog looked miserable, and it made his heart ache with guilt. Maelog wouldn't even come here if it weren't for him. Spinners Forest was not the most hospitable place, especially in the winter, not just because of the frigid snowstorms, but because the giant spiders became especially unruly during the winter fast.

Still, Maelog endured. It was heartening to Darron. The fact that Maelog loved him so much he would risk this forest—risk being in a place he'd once been sent to die—was more than Darron had ever hoped to be given. What he shared with Maelog made everything in his past pale in comparison. Even as the Widows tittered in the snow, moving in time with his flute and Maelog's violin, Darron knew he had never been happier. The sacrifice of Maelog's, the yearly winters among spiders and with the barest of necessities, was the greatest gift his lover could have ever given him.

Another gust of icy wind blew through the makeshift stage. A blizzard was brewing, and Darron finally brought their concert to a close. The Widows made noises of disappointment as Maelog's violin fell silent, but Darron held up his hand.

"A storm brews," Darron explained. "We cannot remain outside our shelter." He smiled at them. "As soon as the blizzard passes, I promise, we will play for you once again."

The spiders began to dissipate, and Darron helped Maelog put their instruments away as quickly as possible before leading the way back to their cabin. Another gust of wind blew at them, but Darron lifted his hand, and his own power created a wall of wind around them, pushing the ice and snow away. A flare of fire lit up the air around them so suddenly it made him jump, and he looked back at Maelog with a breathless laugh. "I think your power is a bit more effective here."

"That's putting it mildly," Maelog murmured, catching up with Darron with a couple long strides.

Darron reached out and wound an arm around Maelog's shoulders, but when Maelog didn't return the touch, his smile twitched, threatening to fall. The walk to their cabin was uncharacteristically quiet, and it set Darron on edge. When they finally stepped into the warmth of their shelter, closing the door and covering the seams, he licked his lips. "Are you all right?"

Maelog wiped the snow and water from his body, stripping himself of his wet, cold clothes. "Why wouldn't I be all right? I'm in a forest full of spiders who want to fucking eat me, in the middle of a blizzard, and with the promise of coming out to play music for them yet again as soon as the worst of the snow—but not the worst of the cold—has passed." He threw his sodden clothes to the floor and crossed his arms over his bare chest. "With an eternity of such winters stretching out ahead of me, why, Darron, I'm thrilled."

Darron felt all warmth flee from the room, even though the fire was still going strong behind the grate. He shivered, standing there in his own wet clothing. "These spiders are integral to the House of Wood."

"Oh, so now you grow a sense of duty. That's just perfect."

Darron's eyes narrowed, and he struggled not to hug himself. "You're unhappy here."

"No," Maelog growled at him. "I'm fucking miserable here."

"Then that's all you had to fucking say!" Darron snapped back. He'd been deluding himself. Gods, he'd actually started to believe Maelog was growing used to the woods. He'd known it was particularly difficult for Maelog, especially after everything that had happened when they had first met, but Maelog had started to relax just a little. They enjoyed playing together, and Maelog had struck up a friendship with Ardea. The little widow spider was endlessly fond of Maelog, and he could have sworn Maelog was beginning to warm up to her. Darron shook his head and sat on the edge of their bed, his clothes making a slightly wet sound.

"You're getting the bed wet."

Darron ground his teeth together. "Fuck the bed."

"I have to sleep in that bed, and I'd rather not do it in a puddle. Take your goddamn clothes off," Maelog ordered.

Anger flared inside Darron, but he stood and ripped at his clothing. The fabric fell to the floor in a sopping mess, and then he sat back down. "You should have told me."

"Told you?" Maelog's voice was sharp, discordant. "You knew. Darron, this isn't a surprise! Three frigid months around starving spiders, playing endlessly, so Terfel can brag that he has the spiders. I've told you how the spiders frighten me. You knew! But you always throw up Terfel's needs. Well, I have needs, too!"

"I know you have needs. I'm not a damn idiot! But, forgive me, I thought you might actually bring them up, since I can't read your mind!"

"You can read my mind!"

"I read auras, Maelog, and you specifically forbade me from looking too deeply without your permission. I'm not about to rape your mind just to figure out why you have an attitude," Darron hissed out, gesturing angrily. "Yes, Terfel roped me into this assignment without my permission, but my music brings the spiders joy. Yours does, too, if you'd take an instant to look around while you play. The spiders adore you."

"They tried to eat me."

"That was just the once—"

"Four times!"

Darron huffed. "Fine. Four times now. It's just because it's the winter. They get testy this time of year when prey is limited. You would, too, if you couldn't eat for a couple months out of the year."

"I am not going to sympathize with the damn spiders!"

Darron bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping again. He took a deep breath, struggling to pull in his control again. When he exhaled, he let some of his old icy demeanor return. It was safe, effective, and probably all that would get him through the argument without screaming. "Very well. No sympathizing with the spiders. You have needs that I haven't been able to read or see to. What are they? What do you want?"

Maelog's eyes narrowed. "Don't fucking do that."

"Do what?"

"Go all cold and distant, like I'm some stranger." Maelog shook his head. "I come here, year after year, with you because I love you. I have escaped serious injury three times, but that first attack from the wolf spider... Darron, you're lucky I didn't die. What happens next time? What if one of the jumping spiders gets too excited about the prospect of a meal when I'm walking by? I shouldn't have to worry every time one of us steps outside this damn cabin!"

Darron threw his hands up. "So I tell Terfel to fuck himself? Find someone else? Or do we lose the treaty with the spiders? Start bringing them Elves to eat? Tell me, Maelog, what the hell am I supposed to do?"

Maelog glared at him. "Nothing," he spat. "There isn't a thing you can choose that won't make you resent me, all of the House of Wood hate me, and put me right in line to be the first meal sent here in lieu of your music."

"I would never let that happen," Darron gasped, his eyes wide. "You're my lover. I don't want to put you in harm's way!" How could Maelog think that?

"You put me in harm's way by bringing me here every year while the spider's are at their hungriest!"

Oh. Darron found he couldn't argue with that. He hated being unable to argue, unable to defend himself, and—worst of all—admitting he was in the wrong. He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands, his hair falling in wet tangles on both sides of his face to the floor. He didn't know what to do. How was he supposed to make everyone happy all at once? Not long ago, he would have simply told everyone to go fuck themselves and not committed to anything that would take away his personal freedom. Maelog had been the one to thaw his heart, made him feel something after being numb, and now he felt like he was torn in twenty different directions.

Maelog crossed his arms, looked at the fire in the grate. "I'm a warrior. I'm used to being in harm's way." He sighed. "I just... hate... losing a third of our lives to this. We spend a whole season cold, wet, and usually exhausted." Maelog paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, Darron could hear the soft grief in his lover's voice. "We haven't even made love once in the last fortnight, but you've ensured we've played for the widows. Four seasons out of the five, we fuck like new lovers, but the one season we should spend buried in blankets, eating rich foods, loving until we're sore... we spend here."

Darron swallowed thickly. "Maelog..."

"I know," Maelog murmured. "You've no real choice. And I accept that, but, please, don't ask me to rejoice in losing so much and gaining so little. Yes, I adore Ardea. I know my music brings the spiders pleasure, and I'm happy to give them that small joy."

Darron hadn't felt so close to tears in a long time, and the moment he saw Maelog catch on to that fact, he looked away. Maelog let out a long sigh and sat next to him, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to hold Maelog close or push him away. "I... I don't know what I can do."

"Nothing," Maelog repeated.

Darron straightened, glaring at him with tearful eyes. "Don't say that. Don't just tell me I'm fucking shit up, and then say there's nothing I can do about it. There has to be something." And then, Maelog actually ran his fingers through Darron's hair, massaging his scalp ever so lightly, and Darron just wanted to weep. His glare lost all its heat, and he let Maelog see the hurt in his eyes. "What do you hate the most?"

"The most?" Maelog asked warily.

"Just tell me. If I know the worst thing, maybe I can fix it. I have to have somewhere to start." This wasn't something that he could fix just by changing a few colors in Maelog's aura.

Maelog sighed, rubbing at his face for a moment. "Being looked at like a meal. I don't like fearing each time we step out into the forest. It makes me feel like a prisoner."

Darron took a deep breath and let it out slowly, nodding. "I don't want you to be afraid or feel like I'm holding you hostage." He finally gave in to that soft touch in his hair, leaning against Maelog. "I never want to see you trapped like that again."

But what could he do about it? He couldn't change the spiders' nature. They were hungry, and they would always see them both as food. He couldn't make them any scarier or less appealing. The spiders weren't frightened. Even a display of Maelog's fire wouldn't do the trick. He bit his lower lip. "I can't help that they're hungry. They're always hungry this time of year."

"What about other times of the year?"

Darron blinked several times, and then looked at Maelog. His pulse started to race as his mind put the pieces together. "Not really. Just winter. They're much calmer and pleasant the rest of the year."

"Then I have a suggestion," Maelog said with the beginnings of a smile.

"Tell Terfel I won't come back here in the winter ever again or he can take his treaty and shove it?"

Maelog chuckled. "I thought you couldn't read my mind."

"I can when you speak so plainly." Darron sighed, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry." That phrase was one he rarely spoke, and mainly only to Maelog. With Maelog, Darron found himself sorry for a lot of things.

"I admire your loyalty to Terfel," Maelog said against Darron's hair, "but, I think it should only go so far. Being here, now, we risk so much. I would never ask you to cease coming to Spinners Forest—and gods know I want to see what becomes of Ardea—but it needs to be safer for us."

"You're right," Darron admitted, and then shivered. "Gods, I was terrified when that wolf spider got to you. I can't remember how long I yelled at them, at the Queen Widow herself."

"I'd never seen you so fierce."

Darron turned his face, his brows knitting together as he looked at Maelog. "You saw? I thought you..."

"—had passed out from the pain?" Maelog shook his head. "Not quite. I could hear you. Saw you threaten to never step foot in their forest again if I didn't survive. That was quite a threat."

"I meant every word. And yet, another attack the year after that." Darron sighed. "I just don't think the spiders can control themselves like we can."

"They're like the Wood Elves," Maelog remarked with a smirk.

Darron laughed and elbowed Maelog. "Hey, those barbaric Wood Elves are my friends. Besides, I'm just as wild as the Wood Elves."

"Not quite," Maelog said.

"I am." Darron turned on their bed to face Maelog. "I dance naked at the Solstice. I partake in the Hunt every year. I rut in the forest."

Maelog shook his head and gave a little laugh. "That's wild? Come now, Darron. You don't do a fraction of what those barbaric Wood Elves do."

"I may not change my shape or eat raw meat, but I can be just as unpredictable and wild as they are!"

"Can you?" Maelog asked with a raised eyebrow.

It was a challenge. Maelog was actually challenging him on this! He didn't hesitate, turning on Maelog and pinning him down to the bed. Before Maelog could taunt him again, he straddled him and sealed their lips together in a passionate kiss. He was making a point, dammit, and that meant using every skill he had. He licked, flicked his tongue against the sensitive places in Maelog's mouth, laying claim but teasing Maelog's tongue forward until he could suckle at it with all that pent up passion they hadn't been enjoying with one another the last fortnight.

Maelog's skin was so warm against his. Then again, Maelog always ran hot. The fiery spirits inside the Fire Elves just made everything about them hot and volatile. Darron kissed Maelog until they were both breathless and hard, and he rubbed himself against Maelog. The moan Maelog let loose was as potent as any aphrodisiac, and Darron couldn't help but see how Maelog's aura changed. The anger and misery were replaced by the warm hues of arousal, love, and pleasure, and Darron had never been happier to see those streaks of color as he was now.

"What... do you plan on doing?" Maelog didn't even struggle against Darron's grip. "Humping me until you come?"

"The thought crossed my mind," Darron laughed, "but I have bigger plans for you." Maelog raised an eyebrow at that, but Darron just smirked and shimmied his way down Maelog's body, shoving his thighs apart and sinking down on Maelog's cock, taking him deep into his throat. The startled shout that echoed in their small cabin just made him all the more eager, and he worked the burning-hot flesh with lips, tongue, and throat, bobbing up and down at the pace he knew made Maelog's toes curl.

"Oh, fuck, Darron!" Maelog groaned above him.

Strong hands dove into his hair, and Darron moaned, letting the vibration add to his technique before he sank deep again. It wouldn't take long; he made certain of that with the lightest of touches down Maelog's thighs and around to the dips behind Maelog's knees. Maelog bucked beneath him, coming with a shout, and Darron drank down all his lover had to offer, drawing on his cock over and over until Maelog's hands tightened in his hair and pried him back.

Maelog's eyes blazed like the embers in the hearth, flickering with that internal fire. He was flushed and beautiful, breathing hard. Darron licked his lips obscenely, and Maelog snarled, yanking him up for a deep, possessive kiss. In an instant, Maelog had turned the tables, and Darron was soon pressed into the thickness of their mattress, legs spread wide. Maelog gave him a wicked look, one of his broad hands holding Darron's wrists down above his hand while the other dipped low. Nails raked over the sensitive flesh between groin and navel, and Darron screamed, bucking as white-hot pleasure raced through his senses.

"A Fire Elf can be just as wild as a Wood Elf... or even a wayward Cloud Elf," Maelog purred, dragging his nails over that patch of skin a second time.

Darron threw his head back with another cry. The stinging pleasure of that spot went straight to his cock, and he smirked at Maelog as he teased, "Oh, I don't know about that. I've seen many Wood Elves in action. You'll have to prove a Fire Elf can compete."

Maelog growled, eyes blazing. "Don't push me," he warned.

"I like pushing you," Darron purred, and his reward was a series of stinging slaps to the insides of his pale thighs. Each one sent a jolt of pleasure through him, and he gasped as he felt his cock twitch, fluid seeping onto the burning scratch marks below his navel. "The last few weeks... so cold. Are you going to warm me up now? Make me burn all night long?"

"Longer," Maelog promised darkly, sending a shiver down Darron's spine. "All through this damn blizzard, and then some."

Darron was given a volley of blows to his thighs, and then to that area of flesh, and then Maelog returned to Darron's thighs. His cock was completely ignored, and Maelog's physical strength kept his arms pressed to the bed. Regardless of his inability to move much of his upper body, Darron squirmed, hips pushing up, his thighs spread wide. He cried out, whimpered, and as the gentle burn gave way to throbbing heat, he knew he'd come if Maelog didn't back off.

Still, Maelog continued. His eyes never left Darron's face, and the look in that gaze... it stole the breath of Darron's lungs as he hovered there on the edge of release. The pain, the pleasure, and that look... and then he was tumbling over, screaming as he arched into one of the strikes and came thickly onto the stinging area of flesh below his navel.

His vision blurred, and he trembled in the aftermath, realizing quite belatedly that his eyes were tearing up, sending streaks down his temples. He blinked several times, looking up at Maelog, and to see that passionate heat still smoldering in those fiery eyes just made him squirm and whimper. "Maelog..."

"Yes, Darron?" Maelog's voice was like a lewd caress, and it made Darron's skin prickle with gooseflesh. "What do you want?"

"To... t-to..." Darron felt his face flush and forced himself to take a deep breath, even though it came out in a shuddering exhale. "I want to make these horrible winters up to you. Please... just tell me how. Anything you want." He could manipulate, could ensure they'd both be satisfied after a wild, night-long romp, but sometimes Maelog's needs weren't easy to read. More than anything, he just wanted to erase some of the anger, paint over the bad memories with a new one that would outshine them.

Maelog braced himself above Darron and drew him into a long, tender kiss. It nearly broke Darron's heart. Even when angry, even disappointed, Maelog's kisses could be as sweet and soft as a feather. Darron couldn't help the way his chin trembled, and the moment Maelog released his wrists, he wrapped his arms around his lover. His mind brushed against Maelog's. Please, just tell me. Tell me how I can make things right between us.

Gently, Maelog's lips traveled down his throat, teeth nipping at his flesh, making him gasp. And then, Maelog's fire-laden voice burst into the cool fog of his own. Things were never not right between us. You must stop thinking that I'm going to walk away from you every time we argue. I love you. That will never change.

He was about to open his mouth to argue that he knew Maelog wouldn't walk away, but then he stopped himself, because once again, Maelog was right. He was always afraid that would happen, that one misstep, one argument, one misunderstanding would make Maelog reconsider being with him and just leave rather than deal with the tangled web of his past. I never want it to change. I never want to make you so angry that you leave. My life would be as frigid as the weather outside if you weren't here to warm me up.

Maelog chuckled. "You saying your life would be meaningless without me, kitten?"

Darron couldn't help but smile at the use of the silly nickname. "More or less," he purred, tangling his fingers in Maelog's maroon hair and tugging until their eyes met. "I'm serious, though. Anything you want. I always demand so much, work you up into giving me what I want without ever asking. Now, I'm asking."

"I just want you."

It had been Maelog's response every time Darron had worked up the courage to ask. What did Maelog want? Him. How could he be worth so much? How could he alone be all that Maelog wanted? Darron swallowed thickly, brushing his calloused fingers down Maelog's cheek. "Just me?"

Maelog peppered soft kisses over his brow, eyes, cheeks, chin, and lips. "Is it so hard to believe? Just you. You're about all I can handle, you know."

"I know," Darron chuckled. "I'm quite the handful. That's exactly what makes it hard to believe." He licked his lips and craned his neck for another kiss. Maelog gave it without hesitation, and he felt affection well up in his chest, warm and so comforting. When he pulled back, he looked into Maelog's eyes and murmured, "If you don't have any specific needs... would you like to make love with me?"

Maelog stilled completely, and the smallest of frowns pulled at his lips. Silence stretched out between them as they stared at one another, and Darron actually feared he'd picked the worst timing to offer that closeness. Maybe Maelog was still angry, still in the mood to sensually punish him, even if that still meant unbelievable pleasure for them both. "Do I... what?"

Darron's heart jumped up into his throat. "Want to make love with me?" he repeated, his voice a bit tighter than before.

A slow, but brilliant, smile blossomed on Maelog's face. "Yes," Maelog whispered. "Of course."

That. That smile. That look filling Maelog's face. That was what Darron realized he lived for now. Such a simple thing, but it meant the world to Maelog. Making love—something Darron had so rarely given to those who fucked him in the past—was the one gift he gave to Maelog, and he was never sorry to have given it. "Do you want to take me, or...?"

Maelog gave him a half-smile. "Are you interested in being hugged by my body, kitten?"

Darron shivered and deliberately purred. "You know I am. I always am, whenever you like." Sure, it wasn't his normal role, but with Maelog, it meant so much more than it had with others from his past. He didn't have to pretend that he enjoyed it with Maelog; it all felt as natural as breathing. "If I'm good, will I get to enjoy a bit of cream?"

Maelog laughed. "You've already had some!"

"Mmm, but I always want more," Darron mewled, craning his neck to nuzzle Maelog's throat and nip just over his vocal chords.

Maelog moaned. "You know you can. I can wait to come until you're done, and then you can suck me."

It was a generous offer, especially since Darron knew how hard it was for Maelog to not let go when on the receiving end. He smiled against Maelog's throat. "No. We can make love, come together, and after we eat, I'll suck you until you sing for me."

A shudder moved through Maelog's body. "So, does that mean you want to take me?"

"Yes," Darron breathed, his cock hard at just the thought. "It's been a while."

"Mmm." Maelog moved off Darron, laid beside him. He pulled Darron toward him, over his body, and spread his legs so Darron could settle there comfortably. "It has. Fall harvest celebration, wasn't it? I was so desperate for you by the time we made it to the alcove, I didn't care that it was me being bent over and fucked thoroughly."

Darron grinned and rocked his hips into Maelog. "I was in a mood that night, wasn't I? You didn't complain, though, and I'd inwardly vowed to do it again soon."

"But you didn't," Maelog finished with a moan.

"I had a little help getting distracted," Darron insisted, dipping down to lick and suckle Maelog's throat. "Should I be more assertive? More dominant for you? Did you like it that much?"

Maelog combed his fingers through Darron's long hair, groaning as he arched into Darron's touches. "Sometimes. Sometimes it helps."

"What do you mean?" Darron asked, nibbling up to Maelog's ear. He teased the pointed tip, loving how Maelog trembled for him.

"I like knowing—ah!—I'm wanted so badly that you can't help but take me," Maelog panted. "Not often, not always, but sometimes. When those moods strike us, it's easier for you to take than to ask."

"I live to serve," Darron chuckled, swiveling his hips until Maelog groaned and arched up against him again. He reached up to the wooden ledge above their bed, snatching the vial of oil they hadn't touched in weeks. In a matter of seconds, he had his fingers slicked and pressed them to Maelog's opening, massaging there as he breathed between licks and kisses, "I'll make sure I show you... how hard it is to keep my hands off you."

He didn't tease for too long, sliding his two fingers gently inside Maelog. "You could have fooled me the last two weeks," Maelog groaned.

Darron felt the slightest blush heat up his cheeks. "I know. I don't have a good excuse, but I plan to make it up to you. First with this," he said, curving his fingers up inside Maelog, basking in the gasp and moan the well-aimed touch earned him, "and then by confronting Terfel."

Maelog pulled at Darron. "Enough fucking talk," he growled.

"I just want you to know—"

"I know," Maelog said, staring up at Darron. "I know."

Darron couldn't help but stare down at Maelog, and then whispered, "What do you know?"

Maelog smiled, squeezed around Darron's fingers wickedly. "That you love me."

It was Darron's turn to gasp and shudder, and he smiled brilliantly. How did Maelog do that? Know what he was thinking and say the words that were so difficult to force past his own lips? Somehow, it made it infinitely easier for him. "I love you."

A look of such love passed over Maelog's face, and then need added heat to his eyes. "I know. Now kiss me."

Who was he to disobey such an order? Darron dove forward, kissing Maelog breathless and thrusting his fingers in and out of his lover. Maelog was impatient, though, and Darron found himself chuckling and teasing with more strokes against Maelog's prostate until Maelog actually whined up at him, nipping sharply at Darron's lower lip.

Maelog's hand suddenly closed around his cock, and the grip was so firm and demanding that it pulled a gasp from him as he broke away from the kiss. "Oh, gods... All right. All right!" He panted as he reached for the vial again and oiled up his cock. When he positioned himself at Maelog's hole, he locked eyes with Maelog. Even without using his aura vision, he knew what the light in Maelog's eyes meant, and it made his heart ache in his chest.

"I love you." Maelog said it with such sincerity that it made Darron pause.

Darron dipped down, brushed his lips over Maelog's. "You have for so long," he whispered, thrusting forward, gently filling Maelog with his cock.

Maelog's eyes fluttered closed, his hands gripping at Darron's hips. The pure enjoyment Maelog took in that first connection, that initial moment, stole Darron's breath away. Maelog loved him to a fault, but Darron could help but revel in it. He wasn't sure there existed a single thing Maelog wouldn't do for him, and the responsibility was both frightening and awe-inspiring.

Darron stayed deep inside for a long time, sharing soft kisses with Maelog. When he finally moved, it pulled the most beautiful moan from Maelog, as if the withdrawal of his body from Maelog's was a fate worse than death. He thrust back inside, setting a slow, intimate pace. It wasn't anything like the last time, when they had been so desperate, so rushed. This time, he savored every movement, every thrust that brought them closer together.

His hands moved over Maelog's face, tracing the beautiful lines, and then down his neck, his collarbones and chest. His fingers played over every scar, every imperfection.

"Don't," Maelog breathed, reaching up to stop his hand, but he batted Maelog away.

"They're gorgeous," Darron insisted. "They make you so fucking gorgeous."

Maelog closed his eyes, and his hands returned to Darron's back and hip. "The battered body of a warrior."

Darron let his lips tease Maelog's ear again, loving how his lover's body shivered, how Maelog's hands tightened on him. "To be a Dragonlord is one of the greatest honors," he whispered. His tongue traced the ridges of Maelog's ear. "Protecting others, that is so sexy... so damn sexy."

"Even if you hate... hate my dragon?"

Darron laughed breathlessly into Maelog's hair. "Hayden's part of you. I couldn't... ever hate part of you." He didn't get on well with dragons, especially Hayden, but he'd promised. He'd promised to try to get along with idiotic lizard. "I gave him an apple before we left, remember?"

Maelog barked out a laugh that was closer to a moan and pulled him close, bucking up into him. "Dragons... don't eat... apples."

"It was the thought that counted!" Darron gasped. He couldn't help himself and picked up the pace, moving faster and a little harder into Maelog.

Maelog shook his head. "You talk too much... during sex."

"You complaining?"


Maelog fisted his hair and pulled Darron down for a series of hungry, deep kisses. Even when being taken, Maelog was as in control as ever, and Darron distantly wondered what it would take to make Maelog lose that control. Maybe when they returned to Beithe, Darron could find out. Endless hours of finding out all Maelog's secrets, everything his body loved, craved. For now... for now, he was content with the impossibly hot, tight grip of Maelog's golden body and the sweet taste of Maelog on his tongue.

They moved as one, arching into and pulling at one another. Maelog's heels dug into his ass, urging him faster, and he cried out between Maelog's lips as he complied. The colors swirled in front of his eyes, his power going a bit haywire and altering his vision as he stared down into Maelog. Passion and pleasure and the most beautiful whirling mist of love he had ever seen. Bright. Maelog was so bright to him, layer after layer of light and energy. It made his own pleasure spike even higher, and he nosed Maelog's head back, exposing his throat so Darron could torment the sensitive spot just over Maelog's vocal chords.

Maelog moaned loudly, and he tightened his grip, taking him harder, faster, and sucking fiercely at that spot until it throbbed under his lips. The mark would be deep, and Maelog would feel it every time he spoke, swallowed, ate. The next time Maelog sucked him off, he'd feel it. It only made Darron that much harder. He released Maelog's throat, kissed up to his lips.

"Gods, please... I'm too close," Darron warned.

"Touch me." Maelog's breath was short, words faint. "Want to come... with you."

Darron couldn't deny him. He took Maelog in hand, a desperate sound leaving his throat when he felt how damn hard and hot Maelog was. The weight of Maelog in his hand only seemed to compound his own need, and he thrust hard, fast, rocking Maelog firmly into the mattress. Every cry, every groan from Maelog only encouraged him until he was teetering on the very edge of sanity, and then Maelog bucked, back bowing. Maelog's body squeezed him mercilessly as the Fire Elf came, and Darron's breath caught, pleasure slamming into him a moment later.

The heat of it all stole his senses away, and he cried out, the pleasure whisking him away, sending him flying with Maelog. Even in the throes of their passion, he could feel that connection to Maelog, that string of energy that bound them together. He'd always been so afraid of that connection, but in moments of bliss, he found himself clinging to it with all his inner strength.

The world around them started to settle back into place, but he panted, holding Maelog close, burying his face in Maelog's hair. His mind spun, but there was that one fixed point, that one place that kept his mind and spirit tied to Maelog's. He trembled against Maelog, pressing their bodies together as they panted and recovered. "Maelog..." he choked out.

Maelog's arms wrapped around him, and gods help him, he'd never felt so cherished, so at home. "Shh... it's all right."

Darron shook his head and peppered kisses over every bit of hair and jawline within reach of his lips. "I love you."

"I know," Maelog murmured, and Darron could feel when Maelog smiled. "I love you, too."

"No more winters in Spinners Forest," Darron promised.

Maelog chuckled. "I don't know. If this is what we wind up doing the majority of the time, I think I could compromise."

Darron laughed and shifted, gently pulling out so he could entangle their limbs and keep their bodies as close as possible on the bed. "If this blizzard is as bad as the one the second year we were here..."

"Mmm... stuck in here for days, snowed in."

Darron kissed Maelog, slowly, deeply. When they were settled comfortably among the furs of the bed, and the wind blew hard outside the cabin, he purred, "We can only hope."

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