Page 6 of Fleshbound
Quill closed his eyes. It had been too long since he’d been touched.
It felt so incredibly real.
Maybe it would be enough to keep the heartbreaking loneliness at bay for a while.
“Am I really dreaming?”
“O course ye are. Ye've been workin far too hard tryin tae figure out Eli's family tree. Ye're mind is so worked up, it's still spinnin in yer sleep.”
Dreaming made so much more sense than a man leaping from the pages of a book—one he’d sensed no magic or curse within. He reached out and caressed Corven’s chest, surprised by the hardness under his touch. The man was lean, but it was all muscle. Firm, hard muscle.
He was so deliciously warm.
And he smelled so flipping good.
It all feltsoreal.
“Well… if thisisa dream…”
A small smile spread across Corven’s face.
“Ithasbeen a long time. Even dream sex might be better than none at all.”
“Ye even called itsex. No carnal relations. I'm impressed.” He cuddled closer, the scent of his cologne faint, but delightful. “I bet ye have a naughty side, dinnae ye? All o the quiet ones dae.” He moved closer, his lips a mere fraction of an inch from Quill’s. “Are ye naughty. Quillie?”
Quillie? No…
For the sake of the moment, he ignored it.
“I want to be,” Quill breathed out, his pulse racing.
“I want tae be naughty with ye. I only need yer consent.”
Quill frowned. His consent?
It was a dream.
Supposedly.
What did consent matter in the dark corners of his mind? He knew he should think on that question more, but he was too tired and too tempted to care.
“Dae I have it?”
Quill nodded, knowing full well he might be making a mistake on a grand magnitude. “Yes.”
“Aye, Quillie,” Corven whispered. He waved a hand, and they were both suddenly naked… but no longer in Quill’s bed.
4
They were in a meadow in twilight. Fireflies danced overhead. The first stars of the night twinkled in the darker blue above the narrow band of purple-gray. A creek flowed swiftly nearby, the soothing sound of it calming. The sweet scent of early summer flowers perfumed the air. Quill inhaled the fragrance, the clean, verdant aroma filling his lungs. The tall, silky grass was so thick under his back and bottom that it was softer than his lovely bed was. A dark tree line encircled them, not a sound of anyone near broke through it.
He turned to find Corven looking at him, his brows knitted together for a few seconds before they softened.
“We’re all alone here, Quillie,” Corven said as he brushed back Quill’s hair from his forehead. The cooler evening air swept over him.
“Where are we?”
“Evonium,” Corven whispered.
