by Ariana Nash
“There’s fire in your eyes, Eroan.”
Fire elsewhere too. It was going to eat him up any second now.
“The way you look at me, you’ve no idea what it’s doing to me.”
“I think I do…” Eroan swallowed and managed to pry himself from the door to take a step forward. And with that step came another, and another, and then Trey was in his arms, hard and resisting, but warm and pliant too, and Eroan thrust into an all-body kiss, the type that takes two to ignite, and Trey caught fire in his arms, rocking, writhing with him.
The male pushed back, nipping at Eroan’s lip. His hands found Eroan’s ass. His fingers sank in, yanking him forward so there was no space between them, no time, no thoughts, just the feel of male on male, of hard against hard. Eroan fell into the feel of him, clutched him close and kissed at his neck, his collarbone, hearing Trey purr out delicious sounds and moan into Eroan’s mouth when he came back for more. They hit a table, or a wall... something, and Eroan ran his hand up Trey’s thigh, around his waist, and pulled out the shirt. When his fingers skimmed the male’s flat, lean stomach, Trey hissed a gasp in through his teeth, body wracked with tremors.
Yes, this was madness, but it was good madness, oh so good, and Eroan could feel his barriers falling away. All of it, the ache of loneliness the Order life imposed upon him, the thrill of understanding that this was what he’d ached for his entire life but had never allowed himself to have.
He thrust his hands up Trey’s back, relishing the feel of the male’s musculature roll beneath his palms. He dug his fingers in and dragged them down Trey’s spine, making the male arch into him like he could plaster himself against Eroan.
Trey gently levered a hand against Eroan’s chest and pushed. He crossed his arms and tore the shirt off over his head, mussing his braids. Eroan stole a few seconds just to look without shame, to look and admire the defined abs and where the V led all the way behind Trey’s belt like a path to wicked desires. Eroan’s arousal throbbed. He plucked his daggers free and let them fall, then dropped his hand to stroke himself, only for Trey to get there first and take two fingers to Eroan’s shaft. The trouser fabric suddenly felt like too much and not enough. Eroan fumbled with his belt, tore it off and froze as Trey went onto his knees, flicked open the buttons on Eroan’s fly, and circled his hand around Eroan’s freed erection.
He almost lost his mind and his seed right then and might have had Trey not squeezed his tip, briefly turning sweet pleasure into startling pain, and released just as quickly, leaving Eroan a panting mess.
The messenger pulled Eroan’s arousal down, opened his wet mouth and flicked his tongue across Eroan’s head, sending a rush of dancing pleasure to the seat of his balls. Trey’s dark lashes fluttered, and the male took him into his mouth, using his tongue to swirl and lick around the crown as his hand tightened and stroked in a tight, maddening pulsing beat.
Eroan groaned out something, words maybe, and closed his eyes, letting the pleasure build up and up like a tightening thread building to snapping point. And then Trey was on his feet again, his tongue thrusting into Eroan’s mouth, tasting of his own sweet pre-seed. Eroan was lost now, lost to the feel and taste of this impossible male. Eroan speared his hands into the long hair, now mostly free of its braids, so it flowed like silk through his fingers, and then he kissed down Trey’s jaw, relishing each tiny gasp and shiver he wrung from Trey.
“Touch me,” Trey whispered, his voice ragged with want. “Like you touch yourself.”
Eroan tore off his jacket and flung it somewhere. The shirt went next, buttons flying and now, chest-to-panting-chest, he roughly tugged at Trey’s belt, ripping it free of the loops, and plunged his hand inside, making Trey spit his favorite f-word. Eroan took Trey’s engorged, hot, silken shaft deep into his palm and rubbed long strokes downward, making sure to grind against the head with the ball of his palm. Trey rocked with the rhythm. He fell back against the table, braced one arm to the side of him and threw the other around Eroan’s neck. Skin on slick skin, Eroan watched Trey’s pupils dilated and drank in the sight of Eroan leaning over him, at the feel of his hand pumping.
“Ah, fuck… Stop. I can’t…” Eroan smothered the male’s mouth with a kiss and felt him buck, felt his cock strain. Trey hooked his arm tighter around Eroan’s neck, thrust up into his hand, and then threw his head back and cried out as the pleasure slammed through him, robbing him of all control. His seed slickened Eroan’s palm, making the ending strokes exquisitely smooth.
“Damn it…” Trey blinked quickly. “That wasn’t supposed to happen yet.”
Eroan liked seeing the messenger flustered, liked the heat on his face, the swollen touch to his lips and the drunken look in his eyes.
Trey swallowed with a click. He lifted his chin and bared his gritted teeth. “Fuck me.”
“What?”
Trey straightened, gently maneuvering Eroan back a step. He kicked off the trousers, took Eroan’s soaked hand and wiped it behind him, and then turned and lay chest-down over the table. “You won’t hurt me, just go slow at first.”
Eroan clutched at the male’s ass and dug his fingers in. This was… unexpected. “Are you sure?”
“Please. Trust me. I promised you’d lose your mind…”
Eroan spread the cheeks and slickened his fingers with the remaining seed on his palm. Slowly, carefully, he inserted a finger. It seemed impossibly tight but soft and inviting. Trey grunted, “More. I want you. Damn it, Eroan, stop fucking around and do exactly what you’ve wanted since you saw me.”
Eroan braced an arm against the table at Trey’s side, took his flushed erection, gave himself a few invigorating strokes, and gently pushed against Trey’s hole.
Trey gripped the far side of the table, turning his knuckles white. He turned his head and snarled over his shoulder, “Like I know you can.”
Eroan eased in, soaking up the sweet friction sliding over his cock, and then out again, sending shivers dancing up his spine. Oh by the gods. His eyes rolled. This was too good.
“Now who’s the tease?” Trey laughed and canted his hips, opening himself.
The laughter choked off when Eroan thrust in. Darts of pleasure burst through Eroan’s member, up his back, making his ass lock and hips thrust. He gripped Trey’s waist with both hands and thrust deep again, making the messenger growl for more. Again. Eroan needed this, he needed it more than he could have ever known. He thrust again, hips working now to pump out a beat that had Trey panting and Eroan’s mind sparking. His thighs slapped against Trey’s. The messenger grunted and growled like an animal and it was all Eroan could do not to lose his seed too soon, but it was happening, starting down low like an arrow about to be sprung from its bow. He heard himself growling with every thrust but was too gone to care. Mindless, just a male made of fire and need and wild abandon, he took everything Trey gave until it built too far, too high, and pleasure blasted it all to nothing, leaving Eroan shuddering his seed in deep. He came back to himself, filling out his body again, so damn sensitive it hurt to move. Trey smirked over his shoulder, his eyes telling a satisfied story.
Eroan swept all Trey’s dark hair up in one hand, knotted it around a fist, and pulled just enough to hold Trey still. He fell forward, lay his chest against Trey’s slick back, and nipped his salty shoulder.
“Now that we’ve gotten years of raw lust out of your system, are you ready for something a little more leisurely?” Trey asked.
Eroan swallowed hard. “There’s more?”
“Dawn is a few hours away yet… Unless you have somewhere you need to be?”
There was, but Eroan couldn’t recall where. There was nowhere else he’d rather be right then. He shifted his hips and eased himself out of Trey while running his fingers down the male’s spine, making the male’s eyelids droop and his lips part. Oh yes, Eroan could spend a few more hours locked in pleasure-making. He wasn’t letting this one go now, not before he had to.
Trey rolled over and propped hi
mself against the table, sprawled in the torchlight spilling in through the window like some kind of dream who might not exist outside of this moment. Eroan had to stop himself from falling on him and licking every lean ripple, mapping that male’s body with his tongue.
“You’re the cutest when you blush,” Trey purred.
Eroan scooped up Trey’s shirt. Trey was circling a nipple with his finger and eyeing Eroan like he wanted to do exactly the same to him with his tongue.
“I’ve never been called cute before.” He threw Trey’s shirt at him.
The messenger snatched it out of the air. “It’s a night for firsts.”
Eroan laughed and shook his head as he collected his scattered clothes. Trey was a damn tease. Was he always like this? “Do you do this in every village you visit?”
“What if I do?”
Eroan looked over, but Trey was focused on dressing, his smile a ghost on his lips. A messenger’s life was a short, lonely one. Assassins weren’t so different. Being part of the Order was more than a purpose, it was a calling. One left from Eroan’s ancestors—those who had failed to protect humans. But callings allowed little room for company. This night, this gift Trey was giving him, it was a gift from Eroan too. Because once Trey left, he might never see another sunrise. May never have another lover, never taste another heated kiss or hear that sudden, wanting gasp or hear his name whispered in pleasure.
Eroan approached Trey and waited for him to look up. When he did, the messenger straightened, suddenly wooden with tension. His waistcoat hung open, trousers sat loosely on his hips and his mess of hair sprouted at odd angles from half-tied braids. His smile was all but gone, and Eroan knew why. In a few hours, this would just be a memory to cling to during long, cold nights. Nights in which there were bigger, darker things waiting to tear him to pieces.
He touched Trey’s cheek, tilted his chin up, and gently set a kiss upon his parted lips. Of all the maddening, passion-wrecked kisses they’d shared, this one felt the most real. Eroan didn’t need to speak. Nothing he could say would change anything. He smiled and watched the warm smile mirror on Trey’s face.
After dressing, he took Trey’s hand and led the messenger out the door.
Later, Eroan couldn’t remember returning to his home, just the feel of Trey’s body rocking beneath him, the sound of the male’s demands for more and the luscious insanity Eroan felt answering those demands. Dragons could have come in the night and burned the village down around him, and he wouldn’t have noticed. Wouldn’t have cared. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, but Eroan had given years of his life in service to the Order. This night… This night was his.
They tangled in Eroan’s bedsheets with firelight from the hearth licking over soft, pale skin. Eroan followed that warm light up Trey’s arm, kissing the sensitive spot inside his elbow and up to where the tribal tattoos circled his bicep. Eroan kissed those marks too, and with his right hand, he pushed Trey’s thighs apart and stroked lazy circles inside where he’d earlier discovered more tattoos looped around Trey’s hard muscles.
Trey swallowed with a loud click.
Eroan would never tire of seeing what his touch could do. He shifted his weight and craned himself over Trey, bracing an arm on either side of Trey’s shoulders. The messenger lay beneath him, a luscious spread of maleness just waiting to be teased and taken. His hair pooled beneath him like black ink spilled over the pillow. Eroan flicked his own hair over one shoulder and let the platinum blond curtain trail over Trey’s chest where it rose and fell with his breathing. He lowered himself to his elbows and swirled his tongue around one of Trey’s pert nipples, then licked lower, riding over powerful abdominal muscles to the dip at Trey’s hip.
Trey’s fingers combed into Eroan’s hair, pulling it back from his face, making him look up. The male wore a frantic rawness, his needs displayed in wide eyes and swollen lips. Lips he bit into, delivering a shot of lust to Eroan’s veins that fed straight to the bundle of nerves seated below his wanting erection.
Trey was going to ruin him. Maybe already had ruined him. He couldn’t imagine anything being this good ever again.
Eroan tilted his head down. Trey’s fingers released. Lower, Eroan snaked until his chin nudged Trey’s erection, making it twitch. He kept his head tilted down, but looked up through his lashes and met Trey’s eyes just as he took the silken head into his mouth. Trey’s arms flew out, his back arched and that word fell from his lips again. Then his fingers were in Eroan’s hair again, guiding, building the beat. Eroan took what he could, took him deep, and then broke off, gasping. Trey had clutched at the bed like it could stop him from falling. Eroan wasn’t stopping anything. His lips fought with a sly smile. He pumped his hand faster, flicked his hair out of the way, and tongued the male’s slit. Trey’s entire body jolted like he’d been struck by a blast of power. “Fuck!” His seed spurted, hips shuddering, and Eroan milked the last tiny drops from him. Tremors chased the come-down. Smugly, Eroan crawled back up the bed, propped his head on his hand and crooked his leg protectively over Trey’s.
“Alumn,” Trey laughed. “Had I known what I’d be waking in you, I’d have come here sooner.”
Eroan’s gaze snagged the window. It would be dawn soon, and this dream would end. He lay back and stared at the ceiling cross-beams. Maybe he could travel to Cheen, visit the Order there? But that would mean leaving Janna and Nye, Curan and Xena, the green Order recruits, and as much as Trey blew his mind, he wasn’t sure he could leave his home in pursuit of this.
“Come with me…”
Eroan winced and looked over. Trey saw the denial in his eyes and flicked his gaze up at the ceiling. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked… Your Order needs you.”
“Will you return?”
Trey’s cheek fluttered.
Eroan shouldn’t have asked either. The chances of Trey coming back anytime soon were slim. He went where the messages went, not where his lust wanted him to go. They both had orders, responsibilities, duties. To speak of anything else was a foolish dream that couldn’t exist outside this night.
Trey sighed out and turned onto his side, propping his head up. He took a loop of Eroan’s hair and stroked it around Eroan’s nipple, tickling, then sent that silken touch lower but lost his way and spread his hand over Eroan’s heart.
“Do you have someone… at home?” Eroan asked.
“Does it matter?” Trey let his propped arm fall and nestled against Eroan’s side.
“No, I suppose not.” It did, but only because he hated to think this bright, funny, confident elf deserved more than a life on the roads. If he had a home, at least Eroan could pretend Trey would be safe. He couldn’t help wanting to protect him. Protecting was in his nature.
“What about you? The girl at the feast?”
“Janna? No, we’re friends… I don’t… Order assassins don’t have relationships.”
“None?”
“None.”
“Then I’m your private little secret?” Trey’s eyebrows lifted in mischief.
“I don’t think I could handle you in public.”
“You’d be right…” Trey let his eyes flutter closed. Eroan admired those soft dark lashes. “Eroan Ilanae,” Trey whispered. “One day, that name will be more than an Order assassin. Elves all over will whisper it.”
“They will?”
“Hm…” Trey’s breathing slowed. “It’ll be spoken in awe… At a time when we’ll need you the most.”
Eroan pulled Trey close, letting him use his shoulder as a pillow, and stroked his upper arm. The male’s breathing soon shifted into the tell-tale deep-breathing of sleep. Eroan let his own eyes close. Wasn’t this what it was all for? Protecting people like Trey, protecting the only elves left in a world ruled by monsters? He could live with that.
Dreams took him, wrapping him in warmth and comfort until he woke what felt like minutes later with the sun streaming in through the windows. The fire had burned down, the grate full of ash, and beside
him on the bed lay a single wildflower in Trey’s place—tiny blue petals around a black center. Eroan lifted it to his nose and breathed in. It smelled sweet and light, like Trey, or maybe that was his imagination making a connection that wasn’t there. Like Trey wasn’t here now, and might never have been here at all if Eroan didn’t feel the ghost of his kisses and touches burning all over his body.
He smiled. Janna would be knocking on his door soon. The day would begin, and life would return to normal. Trey had been right. Eroan would never forget this gift of a night, and he knew Trey wouldn’t forget it either, wherever his journey took him next.
* * *
The End
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See more from the assassin Eroan Ilanea in Silk & Steel, coming 2019 by Ariana Nash. A dark m/m fantasy spanning a world ravaged by dragons where a tormented dragon prince has the misfortune of capturing one of the last surviving elven assassins who will change the world, and the prince, forever.
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Read on for an exclusive excerpt of Silk & Steel…
Silk & Steel (excerpt)
Eroan
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The iron door rattled on its hinges and groaned open, spilling silvery light inside. Gloom fled to the corners, leaving behind a figure with broad shoulders. Male, Eroan thought. Curious scents of warm leather and citrus tickled his nose. After the wet and rotted smell of the prison, he welcomed any change in the air, even if it meant his visitor had returned.
Eroan kept his head low and his eyes down, hiding any signs of relief on his face. The shackles holding his wrists high bit deeper. He’d been so long in the dark, he’d almost forgotten he was a living thing. The constant, beating pain was a cruel reminder. This visitor was a cruel reminder too.
