Page 17 of Close Quarter
Hurt?Laughter bubbled up, followed by language. "Oh Gods, no. A place like this could never harm me." He looked at Rhys again. "It was just a bit much to take in at once."
The glow, Silas realized, was the sheer amount of energy Rhys drew into himself. No, not drew in. Circulated through. Renewed.
The air around them smelled like honey, tasted like the crisp edge of a spring morning.
"Do you enjoy gardens like this?" Silas ran his fingers down Rhys's jawline. Touching him felt no different from before, though now he saw his reserve of element lick off his skin and fall into Rhys. More poured back. Fresh, new.
"Yeah. All this life. It's pretty amazing."
Rhys slid closer, hip to hip. "I like gardens. Parks.
Used to sit in Central Park and read for hours. Got more of a buzz from that than I did running, you know?"
"I do know, yes."
Even in the garden, deep fear found Silas.
Ancient fae legends spoke of wars waged over a single Quarter. He understood those stories now.
They--other fae--would want Rhys if they knew.
And what of his own intentions? Didhehave any true affection for Rhys, or was it just the desire topossessa Quarter?
Games of lust and pleasure were one thing, but to entrap another? Never. He would not let any other fae claim Rhys. What did that make him?
Rhys touched Silas's thigh, moved his hand upward. "How much time do you have left?" His fingers brushed against fabric made taut by Silas's budging cock.
Silas's heart hammered as need coiled like a snake around his spine. Blood pulsed in his fingertips. He took a sharp breath and looked up at the glass roof. "Until true dark. Another hour?"
"Plenty of time, then." Rhys stood, then straddled Silas's legs. He pulled Silas's mouth to his and opened it with his tongue, taking what he wanted, demanding a response.
Rhys sucked on Silas's tongue. Energy whipped through Silas and set every nerve alight.
A craving awakened in him, a need for more than just the fulfillment of lust.
Gods.He'd fucked in the middle of ancient forests, and none of those times had left him aching like this. Rhys was merely kissing him.
Who possessed whom?
Silas trailed his fingers down Rhys's throat and found the knot of the tie he had so carefully fixed. He worked it free and set about unbuttoning Rhys's shirt. He wanted flesh under his hands.
Warmth. When he found Rhys's nipple, he rolled it between his fingers.
Rhys broke their kiss and gasped.
Silas looked up at him. "Sensitive?"
"I'll show you sensitive." Rhys's voice was low and rough. He slid off Silas's lap and pushed his legs apart. Belt. Button. Zipper. A shift of fabric, then his cock was in Rhys's hand. "An hour, huh?"
The roughness and authority of Rhys's movements left Silas breathless. He was not used to being the passive partner. Didn't have much choice in the matter at the moment.
Rhys flicked his tongue over the top of Silas's cock and branded a wet path over Silas's crown.
Slowly Rhys circled the head. Little touches, no more than a tease. Each time that silky tongue caressed Silas's glans, tension curled at the base of Silas's spine.
He hissed and tangled his hands in Rhys's hair. He tried to urge that mouth forward and failed. The man was strong. Resistant. "Damn it, Rhys. Don't."
The incredible velvet heat vanished, replaced by the chill of damp air. "Don't what?"
