XO [Kyros]

"I don't care."

It was easy to say that now. He wondered if she'd still be saying it when it mattered. Killing Guinevere Haze wouldn't be easy, but Lochlann had dreamed about what it would be like to grab her by the ankle and pull her to the bottom of a lake. He would not be able to kiss her to death; it would have to be fast, too fast. He would have to let her break free a few times, have to let her almost get to the surface and then pull her down again to the bottom. That's how he'd exhaust her.

He hated that he'd dreamed about it. He hated that he spent as much time as he could dragging thoughts like that to the depths of himself, but they still found away to surface like a stubborn body.

He wanted a drink.

Lochlann swallowed. His chin was resting on her shoulder and he could see it in her eyes when see saw. Something in him lit up when she did, and the corners of his lips had twitched into the makings of a smile.

Then, she turned to face him, and her words caught him off guard.

"I can see it in you," she said without thinking. "Why show this to me?"

For a split second, Lochlann thought he understood what it was like to be loved.

"I wanted you to understand," Lochlann said. "There's somethings I can't put into words."

The way she'd shifted in his lap to look at him meant that one of Lochlann's hands was now resting on the smooth patch of exposed skin. He was touching it absentmindedly, his hand grazing higher and higher.

Her lips looked full and soft. The ferris wheel was at the top.

"On a Proper Date," Lochlann said. "I'm supposed to kiss you at the top."

He hesitated for a moment, and then his hand snaked slowly up her skirt. He pressed his lips to hers the same moment he parted her legs with his hand. The heat from her body was searing him and if she moved back another inch, she'd be all to aware of how badly he wanted her. He wanted to touch her, but he was waiting.

He kissed her, but it was restrained and slow, though she'd be able to feel the tension beneath it.

Lochlann wished there was a word for what Guin made him feel.

He wanted her and hated her, he desired her and feared her. He wanted to wake up next to her and never see her again. Ambivalence was far too flightly a term for what she brought forth from him when her hips stirred up against him.

He was going to slide his fingers onto the cotton of her panties and trace her, but she pulled away and now Lochlann was the one who felt like he was gasping for air.

She told a story of his own and Lochlann listened with his face close to her own, as though somehow tasting the words made it more real.

The green of his eyes was only a soft sliver surrounding the black depths. His dark brows were furrowed and his hair was mussed. Guin, of course, looked immaculate, and it was hard for him to picture the Guin she talked about, a child falling from a very high place.

She squeezed him and he shivered beneath her.

He wondered what to do with this new piece of Guinevere Haze. He nodded slowly, and there was something equine about the movement, like he was testing the fit of a bridle placed around him for the first time.

There was a silent understanding and a lot of uncertainty.

"Dont treat me like every one else you devoured."

He jerked his head as though she'd pulled on the reigns in the middle of a fast gallop. His nostrils flared and his lips tightened into a straight line.

He couldn't explain why he'd reacted like that, but he felt like she was spurring him towards something he didn't quite understand.

"Don't presume to know how I felt about the ones I devoured," Lochlann whispered. His words came out in heavily accented Welsh, and he didn't even realize he'd spoken them.

Everyone he had killed, Lochlann had loved.

Or, at least, everyone Lochlann remembered killing.

Guinevere Haze was asking him not to love her.

"You are already different," Lochlann said, in English this time. "Because you know who I am."

Lochlann did not realize he did not say what I am.

Her hand was on his face and her eyes were on his. She was holding him like a collie held a sheep, or a wolf held the eyes of a stag. He loved her hands on his face but he hated that her gloves where in the way.

Something about her words gave him goosebumps.

She’d been watching him.

For how long, he wondered. Did it matter how long? Did it matter when?

He thought about all those things he didn’t want someone to see, about all those nights he’d thought he’d been alone. Did she know how he would sit on the roof and smoke, or about all the times he’d jumped only because he knew he’d be caught by the spells guarding the roof? Did she know about the books he read? Lochlann felt his face flush with the idea of being caught reading.

And then, she whispered into his mouth.

He didn’t understand. He didn’t have time to ask what she meant because her mouth was on his. Her hands were in his hair and her nails where sharp, dragging into his chest. He pressed into them and accepted the pain and the conditions that came with it.

Lochlann’s hand slithered to her breast and he groped her as they kissed. He felt like he was being devoured by her and Lochlann relished the sensation. He treasured her aggression, her threats, that she was as dangerous as he was.

The ride slowed to a halt and the door opened. The pair was bathed in the orange glow of the artificial lights and Lochlann’s eyes blinked hazily. The ride operator was giving them a pointed look.

“Where do you want to go next?” Lochlann asked her. His face was flushed and his breath was short.

He wasn't sure how much time they had. The night seemed so long and so short all at once. Guindulin judged them silently with his beady eyes.

Something inside Lochlann sent off warning bells when Guinevere grabbed his hand. It was Guin making the initiative and leading him through the crowd, down the streets, and into the darkness.

He recognized that this would be a bad sort of situation and the kind that he put others in far too often. Lochlann decided to ignore the warning.

He wasn't exactly caught off guard when she shoved him into the wall, though the force behind the shove did surprise him. His breath came out in a woof and his hands made a slapping noise when they hit the red bricks. Her elbow was up against his throat and Lochlann knew that this was not an idle threat.

The darkness gave everything in the alley a dark blue tint that just made the moonlit highlights look whiter. Guinevere became a strange painting when she kneeled before him and tugged at his belt.

"I wanted to show you this," she said. "Do you recognize it?"

He followed her gaze and his dark eyebrows furrowed in response.

And then, she explained. Lochlann was very still. The memories came back to him like something half-remembered from a fever dream, though it was not exactly something that Lochlann could ever forget.

Standing outside the club when he'd met Cecelia. Fucking Dorito in the alleyway, using her while she was using him.

He looked at her and he was still. He did not say anything for a long while as he took this information in. He'd suspected she was some sort of witch or some sort of god for some time, and this reinforced it further.

Lochlann nodded. His body was tense under the hands that anchored him between her and the wall, but it wasn't fear that made him tense.

"So you've seen," he said. He shrugged as if to say, and what are you going to do about it?

It might have seemed cocky, but the reality of the situation was that he could not fight her. He would lose. He could not run, and he could not fight, so what else did he have besides yielding to her?

He wanted her pressed up against this wall. But, instead, he was, and Guinevere was toying with him like a cat toys with a mouse.

Lochlann wasn't a mouse. He was biding his time.

They were back to this again.

"Because I missed you," Lochlann said. He did not think she would believe him, and if Lochlann was being honest, he hardly believed it himself. How could he miss something that was so obviously and painfully bad for him?

But he missed Guienvere like he missed the taste of whiskey on his lips.

She always seemed so tall to him and it caught Lochlann a little offguard that he was looking down at her now that she'd stood up. There was still power behind her movements, something that reminded him of a serval he'd seen in the zoo. It was a small animal, but it ripped apart a squirrel that had gotten into the enclosure in record time. It was one of his first memories of school in the United States; his teacher had been horrified that the students had witnessed such a thing.

It just made Lochlann hungrier.

"Is it really so hard to believe that I would want to see you?" Lochlann asked. He was searching her face, her body, her movements, waiting to see what the answer would yield.

When she said yes, Lochlann gave an exasperated sigh and tilted his head back against the alley wall. For a moment, his throat was bared to her, and she'd be able to see his adam's apple move as he swallowed.

But she changed her answer and Lochlann sighed again.

"I. Don't. Know." He punctuated each word, although he wasn't angry; it was more of an attempt to wrestle with each word escaping his lips.

"Why do you curl your hands around each other when you sleep?" Lochlann asked her. "Why is it that when you roll in bed, you roll butt first?"

He was thinking about that first night they spent together.

"I can't explain why I feel the way I do, Guin. It's like how I can' t explain how I know what my name is, or why I like the color blue, or why my favorite word used to be periwinkle. I just can't explain that. You'll just have to take that as it is."

The memory of the serval devouring that squirrel was fresh in his mind as Guinevere swayed from side to side. It reminded him of the way the cat's butt had wiggled right before it pounced. Cute, but deadly.

He was ready for her when she came at him, even though the fact that she was coming at him at all was surprising and confusing.

Lochlann did not know how to answer her. He did not know how he could possibly explain something he didn't understand. She was asking him to speak a language he didn't know existed.

He couldn't answer her with words, so Lochlann answered her with the press of his lips to hers.

He'd kissed her so many times tonight that he'd have lost count if he were the sort to keep count of things like that. It didn't matter. The press of her lips against his still felt like it was the first time.

Lochlann slid one arm under her butt and hefted her up closer to his level. Her arm was still on his throat, but she wasn't so painfully far away.

He was thinking. Even now, Lochlann was thinking.

She wasn't going to believe him. He could not lie, but he knew something he could say. It would infuriate her, most likely, but it would have to do.

"it's a secret," he whispered into her mouth. "You will have to wait to find out."

"Show me,"

Lochlann treated that like an order. He turned suddenly and pressed her back up against the brickwork. He was grinding into her while he kissed her. He wanted her to be aware that he'd been hard this whole time, that there was not a moment where he stopped desiring her.

His other hand was busy plumping her breast and Lochlann let a low growl of frustration out that there were so many barriers of fabric between them. He wanted her now. He didn't want anything else in the way.

Lochlann spread her legs and balanced them on his knee and the hand that had been supporting her butt. He pressed into her as he kissed her to keep her pinned to the wall even as his hand moved down from her breast and then up under her skirt. He stroked her through the cotton of her panties, touching her just like he'd wanted to while they were overlooking the ocean. He wanted her good and wet for this.

He wasn't going to fuck her here. He wasn't going to let her know that, either. He teased her clit with his thumb while his index finger stroked her slit and pressed the cotton to her.

He kept her this way for some time, kissing her and touching her until he was satisfied that her panties were soaked. He pushed the fabric aside and then Lochlann slowly slid a finger inside of her and made a small, appreciative noise in his throat in response.

"You're so wet, Guin," Lochlann said. He withdrew from her suddenly, licking the taste of her from his hand, and then Lochlann moved quickly.

He dropped to the ground and pulled her with him, manipulating her so she was on her knees just like she'd been before. He unzipped his pants then and freed his girth.

"Touch yourself," he said. "I want you to finish while you taste me."

His face was flushed and his dark hair was a mess, but he was deadly serious as he told her this. He needed to get the edge off or he'd never get her home, and he had many, many plans for her at home tonight.

Guin's hands felt amazing on him, but her mouth felt even better.

This was not something Lochlann normally did. He hadn't thought this through. Guinevere controlled when and where he came, and now that he gave himself to her he wasn't going to be able to break free.

To anyone walking by, it might seem that Guinevere was the one in the submissive situation, but the two of them knew the truth.

And also Guindulin, who sat judging them with its cold beady eyes. The pony had only been in their company for a few hours and it'd already seen some shit.

When her tongue swirled around the head, he groaned and thrust into her mouth. He was trying to keep his movements steady and slow, but when she started to stroke him with her tongue Lochlann's hips jerked in response to her.

His eyes were half lidded and glazed with pleasure when they found hers looking up at him. He blinked lazily at her and tilted his head back, starting to lose himself in the magic she was working on him.

When she moaned against his cock, Lochlann thrust hard and gave her as much as she was able to take, but he got control of himself quickly. His breathing was heavy and deep.

"Good, Guin, good," he purred, pleased that she was pleasing him and herself. "I want you to keep your thumb on your clit now, and I want you to slide a finger inside yourself. Feel how wet and tight you are. Will you do that for me, Guin?"

He had to tilt his head back to gasp for breath, because christ. He could barely think. The suction of her lips and tongue overwhelming his cock made his skin feel even hotter and he had to look back down because the visual was something he wanted to burn into his memory.

How was she able to take so much of this? She was so much smaller than him and his member wasn't an easy feat to handle. He watched her fuck him with her mouth and touch herself, and Lochlann knew that his plans for tonight where going to start in this alleyway.

"I want you to think about me being inside you," Lochlann told her. "I want you to touch yourself like your hands are mine, because I want you to come for me Guin. "

His hair was damp and his palms were closed into tight fists up against the brick wall behind them. A bead of precum worked from the tip and into her mouth. It was taking a while, as it always did, but Lochlann knew with a horrible certainty that he was going to come for her.

"I am going to say your name, Guinevere," he said. "But you have to come for me, first."

Of course, he'd just said her name, but she would know what he meant, how he meant it. It would be soon, very soon, and Lochlann couldn't help but give a low groan because he was losing his ability to speak.

Lochlann was getting close.

So was Guin.

He could tell by the way she was trembling around him, by the hungry way she was sucking his cock. He fed it to her in slow, aching thrusts when all he wanted to do was rutt into her like a desperate animal.

"That's good, Guin, good," he'd purred to her, offering little pieces of verbal encouragement as though he was the one touching her instead.

He knew she was going to come when he felt her mouth start to shake around him and Lochlann gasped and steeled himself He held her gaze as she came and whispered two soft words to her in Welsh. He didn't want her to hear their meaning, not yet. It was just important that she heard the sound of them as she came.

It was getting very, very hard for him to focus. Lochlann slid a hand down to her face, caressing it in response to the look in her eyes. She looked lost, and Lochlann's eyes softened in response.

"That was wonderful, Guin," Lochlann said. "You did good, touching yourself like that while I'm inside you. I am going to thank you for that tonight, Guin."

He didn't mean with his orgasm, though it was close. He was thinking about the way he was going to use her body tonight. He wanted her as many times as he could have her,

He was thinking about pulling out from her mouth and telling her to take him inside her when he finished, but between the thought and Guin's skillful use of her tongue and lips, Lochlann couldn't.

He thought about her coming and then Lochlann came.

His hips bucked and he didn't want to grab her, didn't want to try and force her to take this, but the hand he'd caressed her cheek with had moved to hold her hair as his cock twitched and then sputtered inside of her.

"Guin," he whispered her name into a long, drawn out hiss.

He was pumping her full of come, pent up from his weeks without her, and the intensity of his orgasm made his legs shake.

If he was being honest, Lochlann was afraid.

He'd never done this before. He'd never let another woman pleasure him the way Guinevere has. He felt almost shameful having received this from her without giving her anything in return, but he hoped he'd make up for it over the course of the night.

But it wasn't that fact that scared him. It was just how thoroughly Guinevere owned him.

Lochlann pulled himself from her at last. He tucked his cock back into his pants and then dropped down to his knees next to her.

For a moment, she looked as lost as he did, even when he whispered thank you.

But then, his eyes found hers and he caressed her face and kissed her.

'Let's go home, Guin," he said. "I won't be satisfied until you've come again, and again, and again. "