by Jaime Samms
The nymph proffered another toothy grin as water lapped up and over the bank of the creek. A spiky hand on Emile’s back made him jump. His feet went out from under him. He landed hard on his ass on ground that gave beneath him with a wet squelch. He sank into black, sticky mud, sliding down onto his back, then went feet-first into the creek with an almighty splash.
Water sprites surged around him, buoying him up, laughing at him, but keeping his head above water until he’d regained control of his body.
“Emile!” Sunny’s shout cracked through the forest.
The nymph shivered into shadow and dappled sunlight like he’d never been there. The water flowed around Emile’s waist where he sat, picking up the ends of his hair as it swirled and lapped at his skin. He trembled, unwilling to move. If it got deeper, if the stones beneath his ass and palms were slippery, if his head went under—
“Emile.” Behind him, Sunny’s footsteps slapped through the mud on the bank, and a warm, strong hand landed on his shoulder. “There you are. What happened?”
“Fell,” Emile muttered, jaw tight, skin breaking out in gooseflesh under the layer of mud coating his back. His hair plastered against him in a solid mass of mud and twigs and leaves.
“You are a mess.” Sunny stroked fingers over his head, catching in the tangles of mud-crusted hair. “Hang on.”
Emile remained stock-still, not even daring to turn around to see what Sunny might be doing. The water remained just turbulent enough to hide his privates under the roiling surface. He heard the faint laughter of the sprites, though they were clearly disguising their voices and forms in the bubbling brook.
He hated water sprites. So much. When he scowled down at the water, they crawled up his chest, tickling over his most sensitive areas, then trickling innocently away as Sunny returned to crouch in the stream behind Emile.
“Let’s get the mud out of your hair first. Can you lie back?”
“No!” The mere thought of putting his head anywhere near the mischievous sprites made him bark out the word, and he was sure the dragon voice came through, though Sunny’s only reaction was to squeeze his shoulder.
“It’s okay. It’ll just take longer this way.” He cupped some water and let it flow through his fingers over Emile’s head. The cool silver slid along his hair and scalp and skin. Maybe because Sunny had touched it, the water was just water, clear and calming and cool, like magic that meshed with his and settled it.
Soon Emile closed his eyes, and before long he was leaning back against Sunny’s chest, body, magic, and mind calm despite the water still flowing past, rippling around his waist and over his legs.
“Why did you take off?” Sunny asked finally. “What did I say?”
“Nothing. It wasn’t you.” And yet, it was Sunny. Or his house. Emile couldn’t be sure. Right here, right now, he was calm, his magic quiescent. Even sitting waist-deep in the lap of the aggravating water sprites wasn’t enough to stir his dragon. Because of the forest or his proximity to the Fold or Sunny’s arms around him, he had no idea.
He wanted to stay this way, wanted to never, ever leave this place. This moment. And the thought of remaining closed like a trap around his mind. Caged, just as surely as if he allowed Hakko the golden chains of the Egg-bearer’s lot.
“No.” Emile sat up. He couldn’t stay. Magic flared under his skin, and he fought it back.
“No what?” Sunny placed a hand in the centre of his back. Heat spread outwards from the touch. The magic burned bright and strong. The dragon reared up, roaring inside his head, demanding and covetous. Emile whirled.
SUNNY SCRAMBLED back. He’d been leaning on his shirt, which was draped over a boulder at the edge of the stream. When Emile turned to face him so suddenly, he was pinned. For a split second, the light in Emile’s eyes blazed the fiercest blue, flames so intense the heat licked at Sunny.
Sunny held up a hand. “What?”
“I—” Emile stared at him, lips parted, gaze so heated it set fire to Sunny’s tenuous control over his libido. It had been all he could do to ignore his body’s response, knowing Emile was naked under the waves.
The mud had been everywhere, providing a convenient excuse to get close, but now only clear water remained, sliding lazily down Emile’s chest from the splashes he’d made turning around. It teased, trailing over Emile’s pale, freckled skin, daring Sunny to reach over and follow.
“Gah! I want to kiss you again.” Emile’s voice, so smooth and cultured any other time, had a growl now, an underlying heated snarl that Sunny’s body responded to instantly.
“Then you should,” he breathed, leaning in to take the kiss if Emile didn’t offer it.
They met halfway. This was nothing like the exploratory introductions they’d had at the house. Emile pushed him back, crawling over him on hands and feet, not touching, yet still aggressive, pinning Sunny under him by force of will.
Sunny’s spine pressed against the rock. He could retreat no farther. Either he gave in, or he pushed back. As Emile ran his tongue along Sunny’s lips, Sunny’s will to resist evaporated. He pressed a palm to the centre of Emile’s chest. The skin there, slick and heated and smooth, felt glorious.
“I had no idea,” Sunny breathed.
“About?” Emile latched his lips on to Sunny’s throat, all heat and sucking pressure.
Sunny wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been talking about, though he did know he’d never been kissed quite like this. “We should get out of the water. Oh. Wait—that—do that again.” And he lifted his chin.
Emile trailed his hot mouth down over Sunny’s throat. Sunny granted whatever access Emile wanted. A low rumble, on the verge of inhuman, vibrated over his skin where Emile’s lips scalded his soul. He was going to melt.
“Come.” Abruptly Emile backed away, flowing like silk and sin to his feet, where he stood over Sunny. “Now.”
Sunny placed his hand in Emile’s, palm to palm, and allowed Emile to haul him to his feet. In moments, much faster than Sunny imagined possible, they were back in the clearing. Emile parted the hanging fronds of the willow and guided Sunny underneath. Green and yellow and gold light filtered through to them, creating a dome of delicate shadows, fragile streams of light, floating dust: a cocoon of pure magic.
Sunny didn’t protest as Emile drew him down to the bed of soft moss. He had a fleeting thought of ants and other crawlies, but it evaporated as Emile knelt over him.
“This should be weird,” Sunny noted.
Emile was naked, Sunny clad only in a pair of boxer briefs he’d had on under his own shorts. They both dripped, though the remaining water had warmed with their body heat. Sunny imagined faint steam rising off Emile’s back, but before he thought to examine that more closely, more immediate matters distracted him.
Like Emile’s smile. For the first time, Sunny saw more than a beleaguered stranger. There was something princely and majestic about Emile. And sad. So very sad and alone. The impression made him gasp.
“What do you see?” Emile asked, like he wasn’t the least bit shocked or surprised by any of this.
“You.” Sunny touched his cheek, expecting skin cooled from their time in the water. The contact was all heat and sparks. If he squinted, he imagined he’d see actual sparks. And then Emile was kissing him again. He closed his eyes and the sparks were real, flooding his vision, making the world spin around him.
Emile’s birdlike weight settled over him, a welcome grounding. Sunny let his hands roam, smoothing over flawless skin. Long, lean muscle rippled under his fingertips. Emile’s ribs no longer showed. His ass was a firm, sleek mound beneath Sunny’s palm and his cock even firmer, pressing into the hollow of Sunny’s hip.
Emile undulated against him, soft grunts and huffs puffing air over Sunny’s skin in hot blasts between kisses. Emile snaked fingers into the hair at Sunny’s temples, though he couldn’t get far because of Sunny’s curls. The gentle pressure, slender fingers against Sunny’s scalp between the coils of hair, soothed
and centred him in the moment. The simple touch kept his attention focused.
The gentle rocking of their bodies soon increased to a grind that Sunny knew was going to end in a sticky, delightful mess. He moaned softly, hands clamped to Emile’s ass as they rocked together.
Kisses trailed off. Emile buried his face in the crook of Sunny’s neck, and Sunny wrapped an arm around his waist. Their soft grunts sank into the moss around them, absorbed into the forest. When he lifted his face, his gaze on Sunny ignited heat deep inside, beyond physical.
The blue of Emile’s eyes sharpened, taking on gem-bright edges. Sunny couldn’t look away. He brushed fingertips over Emile’s cheekbones. “Beautiful,” he whispered.
Emile licked parted lips plump from kissing. “Close,” he breathed, the word like a prayer slipping over skin, sinking into muscle and bone, and deeper. Sunny’s gut tightened. His body flushed hot, cold, hot again, and he was right there with Emile, on the edge of something so much more than orgasm.
The willow branches creaked, leaves jostling and whispering. In the distance, the water gurgled—too loud, Sunny thought, but then, the sun was too bright, the moss too soft, everything too much, amplified and intense. And then he was coming, long, pulsing shots of lightning and hurricane washing through his body. He clung to Emile, breath caught as his release flowed from him.
Emile’s hands on his shoulders were just as tight, his body rigid as he reached his own peak. They melted down from the height together, Emile lying limp on top of him, kissing lazily along his neck, stopping to catch his breath, then kissing some more.
Sunny stroked a hand through his hair. The long strands flowed like water between his fingers, and for what felt like a very long time, he drifted, half his attention on the feel of Emile draped over him, the other half floating off in a haze of satisfaction.
Chapter 13
THIS HAD been a very bad idea. Emile had run from the house to avoid giving in to the magic, and here he was, subject to its whims anyway. Staying very still was probably the best way to avoid talking about what had just happened. Sunny would have questions, and Emile wasn’t certain he’d have answers.
He could feel the magic popping, bubbles of warmth or contentment or fizzy excitement or sunshine-bright insistence over his skin. The stream babbled incessantly. Even the willow, old as the earth, with roots so deep its dryad should have been long asleep by now, stirred above them. How Sunny didn’t notice any of it was beyond Emile.
“I love days like this,” Sunny murmured. He had an arm up, fingers weaving gracefully through the invisible strands of energy like he was playing the sounds of nature just for Emile.
“Like what?”
“Alive like this. Like if you reached out you could touch the sunshine. Cup it and hold it and form it into dreams that you can make come true. You know?” He moved his head a bit, and Emile just felt Sunny will him to look up.
He did.
Green and gold light, coloured by the willow’s leaves, hit the side of Sunny’s face. As he’d noticed before, Sunny’s eyes turned a molten amber when the light slanted sideways through them. If Emile weren’t sure he was human through and through, he might believe Sunny actually did know about the magic, maybe even knew how to manipulate it.
There was no doubt their lovemaking had awakened something. And there was no doubt that something belonged wholly to Sunny. He was magic, raw and unfiltered, and together they had trained the energy to something softer, stronger, easier to control.
Touch as gentle as the softest brush of a feather, Sunny stroked Emile’s cheek, sweeping away a few strands of hair Emile hadn’t realised had been floating near his face. He gave his head a small shake, willing the errant strands back into place.
Sunny grinned at him. “I’m talking shit, right?”
“Not at all.” A smile found its way onto Emile’s face, despite his worry. For a moment he managed to let his fear go and really study Sunny. “No.” He dipped low enough to peck the very tip of Sunny’s nose. “I know exactly what you mean.”
If he was brave, it was the perfect segue. Now was the time for him to reach out and do exactly what Sunny had suggested: cup the sunlight, form a dream. Make it real. The magic would respond to him after this, he knew it. His connection to it was stronger in that moment than it had been since he’d crossed the Fold. Maybe because his connection to Sunny was strong in that moment.
Merging with Sunny had somehow merged his magic with the flux of this place. At least for a time. He could reach out and use it to show Sunny his other form, if he dared.
A twig snapped. Fernforest started baying like a bear was after him, and something crashed through the underbrush, coming nearer and nearer.
Under him, Sunny’s body tensed. His face tightened to a mask of fear. “Ferny!” He all but shoved Emile off him just as Fernforest bounded across the clearing and into the sanctuary of the willow’s arms, then Sunny’s.
He wiggled his ass, tail waving furiously as he burrowed deeper into Sunny’s embrace. “What’s wrong, boy?” Sunny tried to capture the dog’s face in his hands, but more crashing sounded through the forest, and the dog wiggled free. Turning to Emile, he began barking again.
“Stop.” Emile crouched and laid a hand on the top of Fernforest’s head. “Stop,” he said quietly, using his grip on the magic to push calm at the dog. The effort cost him. His own magic bucked, unused to this strange meld of foreign flux and innate energy. But it was enough. Fernforest settled onto his haunches and stared directly into Emile’s eyes.
“Is that so,” Emile breathed after a moment.
“What?” Sunny crouched next to him, staring at his dog like he could see what Emile had, just by looking.
Fernforest couldn’t show Sunny what he had shown Emile, though. Not really. He whined softly and turned pleading eyes on his master, but Sunny didn’t have the same insight.
“Okay,” Sunny said, matter-of-fact. “Can I get my pants, though?”
Fernforest yipped, danced to the edge of the willow’s cave, and waited.
“What did—” Emile almost said what did he tell you but stopped himself. He knew what the dog thought he’d seen. A giant squirrel, bigger than the dog. Impossible. Except maybe not, with the way the magic distorted things so close to the Fold. And, after all, he was a dog. A giant squirrel could be anything. How else would a dog explain something inexplicable?
“Come on.” Sunny took Emile’s hand. “Let’s go see what all the fuss is about.”
They returned to the creekside to fetch their clothes and had only just managed to slip back into them, Sunny having doffed his sticky underwear and stuffed them into his pocket, when the unmistakable sound of a person tromping through the underbrush met their ears.
They glanced at one another. Heat rose up Emile’s neck, and then Sunny burst out laughing. “That was close,” he whispered loudly and once more latched on to Emile’s hand. “Hello?”
His call went unanswered for a moment, but the footsteps ceased. Emile would have held him back, hoped for whoever was there to go away. If it was someone from his side of the Fold, how would he explain that? If it was someone who knew Emile, how would he reassure Sunny that there was no danger? No reason to fear for the sanctity of his home?
“Can I help you?” Sunny called again, heading forward in the direction the steps had last sounded. “Is someone there?”
Trees rustled on the far side of the clearing. Pine boughs jerked in the light breeze that shouldn’t have been enough to stir them. They were hiding something, Emile was positive. Or someone?
Emile’s skin crawled. He could sense the ripples in the native flux. Dryads and nymphs tended to exude the raw energy in spurts when agitated. At home, the excess was absorbed by the salamanders that lived in symbiosis with them. Here, he wasn’t sure what was going to happen as the waves of energy escalated, making his own magic surge up to meet it.
“That’s big,” Sunny muttered, coming to a stop. “Hello? Come on
out. Are you looking for me?” He turned to Emile. “I expect the neighbours might be wondering who moved in. I haven’t introduced myself to many of them yet.” He shrugged. “I was hoping to keep it that way indefinitely, but you know how people can be.”
Emile tilted his head. He had no idea how most people were, only how Sunny was.
“Curious,” Sunny supplied. “Annoyingly so, most of the time. Hey.” He raised his voice and turned his attention back to the far side of the clearing. “You’re on private land, so if you want to talk to me, now would be a good time to step out. Otherwise, I’d be quite happy for you to just go away.”
Emile blinked. Sunny sounded downright cross. He’d never sounded that way towards Emile, even when he’d first found him squatting in his old shed. A heavy curtain of flux swept into them. Sunny frowned. Emile had to take a physical step back.
Fernforest barked, stopped halfway between where Sunny and Emile stood and the oddly wobbling pine trees. His bark was neither welcoming nor threatening. A warning, perhaps?
“This is my land,” Sunny repeated, the power of his ownership strengthening his voice. “Either come out where I can see you or leave.”
All around them the forest seemed to quake. A whisper shivered through the leaves. It could have been a breeze, if one wasn’t attuned to the sound of dryads gossiping.
Fernforest gave a last bark, as if to add his support to Sunny’s words; then he turned around and trotted back to Sunny’s side, tail wagging.
“Fernforest doesn’t seem concerned,” Emile said. Whatever was hiding from them, it wasn’t the giant squirrel. That creature—whatever it had actually been—had sent Fernforest into a positive frenzy of excited disbelief.
“No, he doesn’t, does he?” Sunny, on the other hand, was beginning to sound more than just annoyed. “We should get back.”
