Page 162 of Quicksilver
“Maybe I was. But I'll be damned all the way to hell and back if you use that sweet mouth on me and I don't get to watch.” He gazed at the ink staining my skin, taking it all in. When his eyes met mine again, they were full of fire. “And, anyway.I'mnot afraid of them, Little Osha. Areyou?”
And there it was. A question I'd been asking myself over and over again. I still didn't understand the implications of these marks. I was very worried about what they meant for any future Fisher and I had if we chose this. But they were beautiful. A representation of what he was beginning to mean to me. I sucked the head of his cock into my mouth, deeply pleased when Fisher trembled in response. My mouth made a wet popping sound when I let him spring free of my lips again.
“I haven't made up my mind,” I said carefully. “I'm not afraid of them tonight. And that's all that matters right now.” I sank back down onto him, done with the teasing, closing my mouth around him, and Fisher's eyes rolled straight back into his skull.
“Holy...fucking...shit...” he groaned. When he'd recovered himself enough to look at me again, a small wave of panic notched at the back of my throat. He was going to eat me alive. I was going to let him. But that didn't stop the thrill of nerves from shooting up my spine as I considered all that would entail. I bobbed up and down on his cock, working my tongue aroundhim, relishing the velvet-smooth texture of his skin as my lips moved over it. His twitched, straining, and I took him deeper.
“Gods alive, you're so pretty with your mouth wrapped around me like that.” Fisher traced the line of my cheek, my jawbone, then rubbed the pad of his thumb over my lips, stretched around him. He sucked his own bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on it as he growled possessively. “My lips to kiss. My mouth tofuck.” His canines pierced his lip, twin, glossy beads of his own blood staining his mouth, and as if throwing caution to the wind, he rocked himself forward, pushing himself deeper into my mouth.
I whimpered, the tip of his cock butting against the back of my throat, and Fisher immediately jerked back, pulling himself out of my mouth with a feral hiss.“Fuck!”
He fell on me in a wave of black shadows and smoke. No time to make it to bed. The couch was so close, but he took me where I was, right there on the floor. I cried out when he sank himself into me. It was all I could do to stop myself from coming on the spot. He filled me so deliciously, the weight of him on top of me so perfectly satisfying.
He went still. We both panted, staring at each other. “Tell me to fuck you, Saeris,” he ground out. “Tell me that you want this.”
I clawed at his back, desperate for him to move, to fill me again and again and again. “I—Please! Gods, please fuck me. I want you. I want—”
“That's all I needed to hear.”
Fisher drove himself into me hard, his jaw clenched tight. Energy flickered between us like tiny filaments of lightning, dancing all over our skin, connecting us as he drove himself home.
I took panting, gasping breaths, fighting to stay calm as a storm began to build in my chest. It would wreck me when it broke, and I wasn't ready. It was sweeping Fisher away, too. Heheld onto me so damn tight as he rocked into me, as if he was afraid that I'd disappear if he loosened his grip.
I came first, my orgasm obliterating my ability to think. Like one of the avalanches that I'd seen racing down the face of Omnamerrin, it slammed into me and swept me away. My back arched up from the rug, my body contorting as pure, unadulterated pleasure rocked me to my core.
Fisher followed after me. When he came, the sound of his breathless, furious cry made the panes of glass in the window frames shake. I watched, unable to tear my gaze from him, and an array of new tattoos bloomed like black flowers across his skin. They climbed up the side of his throat. Fresh runes chained his collarbone, interlocking and bold. The design on his neck looked like feathers at first, and—yes, they were feathers. The outstretched wings of a majestic bird, flashing metallic blue and green, fanned around either side of his neck, unique and stunning.
He roared, burying himself deep one last time, and sank down on top of me, covering me with his body.
For a time, it was all we could do to exist in the aftermath.
“Gods. That...” I swallowed thickly, trying to catch my breath. “That was...”
Fisher propped himself up on his elbow, and my heart backflipped at the sight of him. His hair was messy, his waves on the brink of actually curling for once. His cheeks were flushed, the shadows beneath his eyes nowhere to be seen. For once, he looked at ease. Content. And...wicked? A slow smile spread across his face.
“That was just the beginning, Saeris.” He bumped my nose with the end of his. “Didn't think I'd be done with you that easily, did you?”
Over the next three hours, Fisher proceeded to fuck me in every room of the apartment. Just when he seemed to finallyreach his limit, he was hard again and growling into my neck, ready for round three. And then four. And then five. He made me food when we were both eventually spent, and we sat on the floor in the middle of the living room, wrapped in dust sheets while we ate.
Fisher rubbed his fingers over the column of his throat, frowning playfully at me once we were done with our meal. “Did I imagine it, or did I feel something new slipping into place here earlier?” he asked.
I popped a grape into my mouth, bouncing my brows at him. “You sure did.”
His smile turned a little sad. He dropped his hand from his throat, and asked, “What is it?”
“Wings. Really beautiful wings. They have the same metallic sheen as this,” I said, holding up the layered, complicated rune on my right hand.
Fisher nodded slowly, angling his head down so that the line of the tendons in his neck beneath his new tattoo stood proud. He was as mesmerizing as a painting like this, with his hair obscuring his face, his strong, dexterous hands resting in his lap. I wished I could sketch him, so I could save the sight of him like this forever. Unlike his mother, I was no artist, though. And sometimes, that's just how things were supposed to be. There were moments that were gifts, meant to be cherished only for as long as you could remember them.
Luckily for me, I had an excellent memory.
“What does it mean?” I asked quietly, gesturing to his neck. “Why didyouget new tattoos this time?” We had spent a long time between rounds three and four, thoroughly investigating my body, and had confirmed thatIhadn't developed any new artwork.
Fisher shrugged noncommittally, lying down on the rug. He reached out a hand for me, gesturing for me to come to him. Iset aside our plates and did as he'd requested, snuggling into his side and resting my head against his chest. But I didn't let him off the hook that easily. “You can't just shrug off a question when you don't want to answer,” I said, poking him lightly in the ribs. “Tell me why they showed up tonight and not the other nights.”
I turned my head and closed one eye, squinting at him. His throat filled my field of vision, half of his new wing tattoo all I could see. “When we Fae are little,” he said softly, “our parents teach us the art of distraction so we can protect the things we don't want to confess. Will you forget you asked that question if I find the energy to make you scream my name again?”
“Absolutely not!” I pinched his nipple between my teeth in rebuke, and Fisher yelped, cursing in Old Fae.
