XO [Kyros]

Lochlann was glad their walk home had been relatively silent. He was trying to get his mind in order. For some reason, what had transpired left him feeling unsettled somehow.

Of course, he'd been the one who'd initiated it. Looking back, he could probably have fucked her in that alleyway, but he hadn't wanted to. He'd wanted to save that until they were back at the apartment.

The door closed behind them and Guinevere asked a question. Lochlann turned around and she was pressed against the door, barring his escape.

He hadn't noticed his jacket because his eyes were fixated on her in the darkness.

"I swam," Lochlann said. "It was raining."

When he came to the facility, there was no way Lochlann could have escaped. He was weak and sedated. There was also that bracelet they'd put on him that sealed him into this human shape and left him weak and tired.

But they had taken it off.

He wasn't sure why--they weren't going to release him, he knew that because they wanted to keep him there until October. October!

Even though he was stronger when he was sober, that wasn't enough. It was really just dumb luck. He couldn't explain to her the relief he felt when he broke free of the current that dragged everything back to the islet and found himself in the choppy sea headed south east towards her.

He eyed the way she was pressed to the door and Lochlann said, "I'm not going to run."

He was too busy taking a catalog of where he was going to take her tonight, and if there was anything around he could use to his advantage.

It struck him suddenly that Guinevere had never been fucked in her own bed. The thought brought a slow, anticipatory grin to his face.

"Guin," Lochlann said suddenly. "I would like to try something with you. I would like permission to use you in a way I haven't tried before. It might take a while, but I think you are capable of doing it and I would like to find out. Would this be okay?"

He turned so he was facing her at the door. His eyes were intense as he searched her face. He still had the after affects of a smile on his face, and one arm reached above her to lean on the door, looking at her.

He would give her something in return, of course. Lochlann did not mean to bargain with her; she was not a whore. But Lochlann did mean to let her keep the power she had on him. This was going to be an act of worship. He wondered if she could tell by looking at his face that he was excited by the very idea.

She didn't move from the door, and so Lochlann didn't move away from her.

He kept his right hand pressed on the door above her head, and the other one was on her hip now, just teasing the fabric of her skirt.

She'd crossed her arms and shifted her weight, trying to look nonchalant, but Lochlann had seen the way she'd shifted her weight right before she'd jumped him in the alley. Because he was sober, it was very hard for Lochlann to take Guinevere at face value.

He was delighted than she'd consented.

He wanted to start right away, but he also wanted this to last. Lochlann leaned down towards Guinevere so his face was right next to hers.

He hadn't intended the gesture to be so predatory. He was peering into her eyes and his head was cocked to th side, his mouth parted slightly. It'd be easy to assume he was going to kiss her, and he would, too, but he was searching her face.

"You want to ask another question," he said. It was a question and a statement. There was something in the lines around her face that prompted him to ask.

If she kept chewing her lip like that, Lochlann was going to have to kiss her.

Who was he kidding? He was going to have to kiss her anyway.

He was surprised when her body relaxed so suddenly and it spurred Lochlann closer to her. Her hand was on her face and he could taste her breath. The gleam in her eye did not go unnoticed; if anything, it excited him further. Lochlann slid the hand on her hip around to the small of her back and pressed her into him.

"You," he said. "I plan to do you as long as you let me."

That was the truth of his answer, but he knew that it would not satisy her, so after a slow press of his lips to hers he said, "I don't know the rest."

He didn't think they would find him at Guinevere's apartment. They would check his place first, he thought, and then maybe even his normal haunts.

"They will find me eventually, and then they'll try to take me back," he said. Try, because Lochlann would not go willingly. Lochlann didn't seem to care about that, not right now, although something in his eyes hardened at the thought, but it disappeared quickly.

"Have you woken up touching yourself and tasting my name on your lips yet, Guin?" he asked. There was a challenge in his question. He didn't expect her to answer seriously, although he was curious. This was a dangerous game they were playing.

"No. “

“I’ll have to try harder then,” Lochlann sighed. It was a pleasant kind of sigh, like the exhale before the first cup of coffee in the morning. He was so looking forward to this.

Her next question caught him off guard. Finish it? He shuddered and closed his eyes. That small room, the walls closing in on him, the group sessions, the detox, the blood work, the things they did to make him want to stay clean. The complete and utter lack of control.

”No,” he said. ”I can’t go back.”

It was not an option.

When he opened his eyes, she was right there. Lochlann pressed his lips to hers and tangled the fingers of the hand he’d been bracing himself with into her hair. All at once, he pulled her hair back and kissed down her neck where she’d had bruises only a few weeks before.

”Did you know that I woke up in the hospital with a strange bruise on my neck?” Lochlann told her. ”It did not fade for days, and everytime I saw it, I wanted to touch myself.

Her throat vibrated under his lips when she hmmm'd and spoke and Lochlann kept kissing her skin. He like the feel of the words leaving her throat.

"I don't know where it came from," he said. He slid his other hand up from her hip to her breast and groped her. His touch was lazy, just because he liked the feel of her under his palm and the sound of her breath when he touched her.

Her fingers were in his hair and her breath tickled him. He was afraid to think too hard because if he did, Lochlann would admit that he liked these moments with Guin. They felt stolen. He was stealing time he was supposed to be locked up, and he was stealing moments with her that should probably be spent fucking or trying to kill each other.

To his credit, Lochlann did not flinch when she asked about iron, but his dark lashes fluttered against her skin like an impromptu butterfly kiss.

Of all the things she remembered, that was the one she asked about. Of all those things on the list, it was the one that would hurt him the most.

"Iron is cut from the veins of the earth," he said. It was what his mother had told him, but there was no real reason he could tell her, only that it burned and scarred him like nothing else.

His brother, Lawrence, had almost no reaction to iron. If it wasn't for Lawrence's inability to stay human when it so much as drizzled, he'd be the one taking over, not Lochlann.

He felt her giving her body to him and Lochlann purred. He slid his free hand down to her leg and hiked up one leg, and then positioned it so it was resting behind him on his butt and his ready cock was pressed up against her sex again.

She was offering him herself, so Lochlann could at least give her information.

"Fairies can't touch it. Some demons can't, either. It's why there are iron gates around a cemetery. It keeps the spirits out."

He knew he was damning himself, but what option did she give him?

He said, "It burns."

Guinevere was just full of surprises.

When her arms encircled his neck and her body pressed between him and the door, Lochlann couldn't help but think of that moment on the carousel. Of course, that'd been exactly what Guin intended, but Lochlann didn't know that. All he knew was that her mouth was on his neck and the way her teeth grazed it made Lochlann shudder beneath her touch.

He was grinding into her, too slow to be rough but too hard to be quiet. The door trembled against the frame in rhythm to his thrusts. He loved the way her hips felt when she stirred into him. It made him wish she was wearing nothing and the anticipated of undressing her caused him to grope harder.

"No," Lochlann whispered. He did not want to be burned with iron, but somehow, he felt better knowing that Guin knew this about him. He already knew she might kill him; this is how he'd be stopped from killing her.

But then her lips were on his and Lochlann wanted to be burned by her. He sucked on her tongue, drawing her in deep and then stroking her mouth as though he was pleasuring her cunt.

He caught fire beneath her and Lochlann kept her like this until his dark hair was mussed and his shirt had somehow dislodged the first two buttons.

He had so many plans for her.

He broke back from the kiss and grinned at her. It wasn't a propper grin, but something more akin to a predator baring its teeth.

"I am going to use you now," Lochlann said, and he slid his hand beneath her butt and carried her down the hallway.

If he was drunk, Lochlann might have mistaken the way she clung to him as excitement. He could still sense a tinge of excitement on her, but what was enticing Lochlann now was the way she was clinging to him and the strange, barely noticeable note in her voice.

He tightened his grip around her. It could easily be mistaken as an attempt to crush her breasts harder up against his chest and he was hoping Guinevere would take it this way, too. He was hoping he wouldn't recognize what a blatant attempt it was to comfort her and assure her that he wouldn't let her fall.

"To your bedroom," Lochlann answered.

He reached out with his free hand to open the door and stepped in, closing it and locking it behind him. He set the plush horse on her dresser and carried Guin to the bed.

He placed her on it and looked at her, admiring the view of the young woman on her back with her hair spread across the white sheets.

She looked small and pure and absolutely delicious.

For some reason, the idea of taking Guin's virginity did not phase him. It might have had something to do with Lochlann's relative polyamory. What she did or did not do with other men was none of his business.

But, for some reason, the idea of being the first to take her in her bed was exciting him. His green eyes were black and they observed her body without shame. He did not know if it was true or not, but Lochlann liked the fantasy.

Lochlann did not crawl into the bed next to her, but rather stood on the side of the bed where he'd placed her and continued to eye her unabashed.

"Undress for me," he ordered.

He wanted to watch.

He licked his lips.

"But don't take your panties off yet."

Even here, she owned him. Lochlann knew it by the way he could think of nothing else save for her.

Lochlann licked his lips.

He devoured every inch of her with his eyes. He followed the trail of exposed skin as she unbuttoned each button and nodded appreciatively when she arched her back and removed her bra. That soft sigh had his cock straining against his jeans, but Lochlann never moved.

He savoured the sight of her gloved hands caressing all the places he was going to be touching with his mouth very soon and the graceful way she shimmied out of her stockings and leg her body exposed for him.

For a long moment, Lochlann just looked at her. He let his eyes memorize every line and curve of her. The intensity of his gaze and the lust rolling off of him would have been misplaced if they were anywhere else.

Lochlann didn't say anything. He started to unbutton his shirt, and then he folded it and set it on the dresser. He kicked off his shoes and his socks, but left his pants on.

Somehow, the act of staying somewhat dressed lent him the illusion of dominance in this situation. Lochlann grabbed something from off the dresser and then he climbed on top of her.

"Close your eyes," Lochlann told her. "And do not open them until I tell you to."

He did not blind fold her because this was not that kind of evening, at least not yet. He wanted to own her body with his words and touch alone. Lochlann straddled her and then settled ontop of her so his cock was a threatening presence against her sex.

He poured a dollup of lotion onto her decolletage. With broad, sweeping strokes, Lochlann began to work the lotion over her neck and shoulders. His touch was gentle and experienced. Lochlann worked lotion down each one of her arms, though he stopped where her bare skin met the gloves. His hands never left her, even when they worked back up and to her breasts.

He spent a great deal of attention there, circling the sensitive tips and then massaging them between the pads of his fingertips until they were firm and looking ready for his mouth.

But he didn't do anything else besides massage her. The last time he'd done this, Lochlann had still hated her. The feeling was still there now, but it was different, and his motives were considerably different. Tonight was about delayed gratification, not an angry, hateful fuck.

"I want you to relax, Guin." His voice was husky and the tone was a command. He needed her soft and pliable because he was going to start to break her tonight. It would be better if her body was too relaxed to resist what he had in mind.

He wondered if she knew. She knew so much about him, but Lochlann wondered if she knew what he was going to do to her.

He started down her stomach and then lifted her legs up in the air in a mirror image of how she'd lifted them earlier and Lochlann worked the lotion into them. He grasped one foot in both hands and kneaded his thumbs into the sole.

"How many times do you think you can come in one night, Guin?" he asked.

The needy way her body responded to his touch was torture.

Lochlann did not expect to react so strongly to the way her hips moved and back arched when she reached up to grab the pillow above her. He appreciated the movement, watching the way her breasts perked with the movement. Had he been weaker, Lochlann might have torn off her panties when she moaned when he'd touched her breasts, but his resolve was surprisingly strong for tonight.

"That's not a good answer," Lochlann said in response. "I didn't ask if I was good at this. I asked, how many times do you think you can come in a night, Guin?"

He was on her other foot now, erasing what tension he could with his touch. He slid his hands back up her leg when he was finished and then gripped her by the hips. He lifted himself enough to roll her onto his stomach, and Lochlann settled back ontop of her.

He started the whole process all over again, though this time he worked from her legs up to her back. He pressed her into the mattress while he unworked knots and caressed the smooth muscles of her back. She felt limber and supple, and Lochlann remembered all to late that she took yoga courses.

He worked his way up the back of one arm until his fingers met the fabric of her glove, and then he repeated the processes with the other. The entire time, his cock throbbed up against her.

He leaned forward then, pressing himself tight up between her legs and pressing her into the mattress. He clasped both her wrists in one hand, again mirroring the moments of the first night in the apartment.

There action was nothing but a mirror. Slowly, Lochlann peeled off one of her gloves, and then the other. He folded them with his free hand and set them to the side with an unexpected reverse, and then Lochlann released her wrists. He picked up one of her hands and started to massage it, working the lotion into her scarred joints and down to the tips of her fingers.

Maybe because she'd admitted that she didn't remove the gloves, even at home, but Lochlann felt a rush of illicitness at being able to do something so intimate to her. He worked her other hand next, and then back down her arms and to her back.

He massaged her for a while. He was soaking in the heat spilling from between her legs and taking advantage of the time they had to make sure this was done properly.

He was also searching every part of her body. This was as much a seduction technique as it was reconnaissance. Lochlann wanted to know how her body responded and what he could touched to maximize her pleasure.

He had no idea Guin enjoyed pampering, but he did note the way her body shifted and writhed beneath him.

"Don't open your eyes yet," he told her, and again, Lochlann rolled her. He had her on her back again, the way he had when he first laid her onto the bed. Curious, his hands found her neck, but his touch was feather light.

"Does it feel good when I do this?" Lochlann asked her. He slid his hands from her neck to her breast and he pushed them together and then leaned forward, flicking his tongue across the tips. He began to suckle her while he palmed her other breast and rolled the sensitive bud between his fingers. He was listening for a change in her voice or any indication that would clue him as to the depth of pleasure she was capable of feeling. He had so, so many plans.

She was a curious creature.

Lochlann was glad her eyes were closed so she could not watch the fleeting expressions she drew across his face as easily as if she had a pencil in her hands. His eyebrows arched and the corners of his eyes crinkled when she put her hands over her eyes, and the muscles in his cheeks softened when she told him she didn't know.

"It's okay," he told her when she said she didn't know. At first, his voice was soft and dangerously close to being tender. It steeled into something soaking with his desire when he continued and said, "We're going to find out."

Sex was a weapon. It was just another hunting tactic.

It was easy for him to think this way. After all, everything about him was just a lure, a siren's call to the water's edge. But what Lochlann didn't understand was why he had to feel. It seemed like a horrible, fatal flaw: wouldn't this be easier if he didn't have to feel something?

But he liked doing this with Guinevere. He liked the little gasps and moans, the way she tried to bury herself in the mattress. He felt like she was trying to hide from him, and Lochlann didn't want her to hide. He wanted her exposed and vulnerable. He wanted her raw.

Sex might be his best weapon, but it was the only way he had to tell her the things he couldn't find with words. If it was a weapon, Lochlann was certain he was the only one who was getting hurt. Pleasuring Guinevere might be an act of self mutilation.

When he heard the word please escape from her lips in a hiss, Lochlann smile unrolled. He rewarded her by shifting to press his cock harder into her. He'd made her keep her panties on for a few reasons, though the primary was to take advantage of the extra friction it offered.

Anytime she begged him, he would reward her. Anytime she said his name, he would reward her. Anytime she came, he would take it from her.

Her hands and the reactions they elicited from her interested him greatly. She skin was warped and scarred and seemed impenetrable on the outside, but every once in a while she reacted as though she could feel. How deep did the scars go, he wondered, and how many of the scars were in her own mind?

Her story interested him. He wanted to know about that other Guinevere, the one who'd fallen from a high place, and what had happened to make her hide her hands behind gloves.

He lavished attention on her breasts. He felt as though he'd neglected them in the past, using them more as a vehicle to drive her lust rather than the erotic zone they should be.

He teased the bud with his mouth, grazing it with his teeth and tugging at it with his lips. His other hand matched the movements his mouth made. When her hips bucked up against him, Lochlann rewarded her by sucking harder and repeating the action that'd just drove her body towards him.

He pulled his mouth away slowly and admired the glistening tip. He ran his fingers across the raised skin. He loved those little moans she made for him, the ones that betrayed how she felt even if her words tried to deny this.

Her fingers were in his hair and Lochlann was enjoying the sensation. He loved having her touch his face, and he loved that there was no barrier between them now.

"Yes," he said, his voice humming with appreciation that she had asked permission. Of course, he knew that this, too, was a gift. There was nothing stopping her from opening them--she asked because she was rewarding him as well.

Lochlann would wait until she opened her eyes so she was looking into him before placing his mouth on her other breast. He would work it with his tongue the same way he'd worked the other, but changing the order of his assault so she couldn't predict when he was going to suck or lick or tug.

His dark eyes were heavily lidded as he looked up at her, and his body was arched possessively over her to maintain the angle to needed to both grind into her and to fondle her with his mouth.

She was wet and squirming, but that wasn't enough for him to move on quite yet. He wanted her soaked and writhing.

The moonlight cast their shadow onto the wall besides them. From up here, Lochlann could hear nothing of the outside world. No hum of traffic, no distant chatter of students walking home from late nights, no restaurants emptying their trash into the bins in the alley.

There was only the soft sounds of her moans, his shallow breathing, and the whisper of his skin against hers.