Griffin
Our cabin was small but well built, the windowless walls of thick logs sealed against the cold outside. The only furniture consisted of a bunk, both upper and lower bed wide enough to accommodate two men; four chairs whose seats were made from logs split in half and sanded, and a rough table.
Whyborne lit the Yukon stove with magic while Iskander and I transported our belongings from the sleds to this tiny building. By the time we finished, the little cabin had warmed nicely. Whyborne took out his river stones and heated them with his hands, before tucking them into the sleeping bags and fur robes we’d spread on the beds.
Iskander glanced at the door, then at us. His white teeth flashed as he bit his lip. “I’m, ah, going to find Christine,” he said. “I imagine we’ll dine at the restaurant. She’ll complain of the expense, but a hot meal of something other than beans and bacon will do wonders for us all.”
“Should we help you look for Christine?” Whyborne asked innocently.
I restrained the urge to kick his ankle. Iskander’s bronze face flushed darker, and he shook his head. “No, it’s...no. I’ll be back later. Much later.”
He fled. I shook my head with a chuckle. “A good fellow,” I remarked, as I finished making our bed. “Not entirely comfortable with us yet, I think, but I won’t fault him for his thoughtfulness.”
Whyborne blinked at me. “What do you mean?”
I turned from the window and stalked toward him. “Iskander went out of his way to let us know he wouldn’t be back for some time. Freeing us for...other things.”
Whyborne’s eyes widened, and his cheeks went scarlet. “I...you mean...if we...he’ll know?”
“Assume is the word I’d use.” I laughed at his horrified expression. “Really, my dear, I’m fairly certain neither he nor Christine are under the impression our relationship is celibate.”
“Well, no, but that’s in general.” Whyborne flapped his hand vaguely. “This is...specific.”
He sat near the stove, on one of the log chairs. I dropped to my knees in front of him, and rested my hands on his wool trousers. He’d already stripped off his parka, sealskin boots, and fur stockings, and hung them to dry. “And?” I prodded. “Does it matter so very much? Shall we leave the cabin and follow along behind Iskander, when we could be doing something far more entertaining?”
His gaze went to my lips, and he licked his own. “No,” he said, and lunged forward to kiss me.
I returned his passion. The long days and nights in close proximity, without so much as a caress, left us both wild with longing. He bit at my lips, and I shoved him back, plundering his mouth with my tongue as I straddled his lap. I sank my fingers into his spiky hair, which hadn’t fared well trapped beneath the fur-lined hood.
“God,” he mumbled when I let him have the breath and space to speak. “Let’s get out of these clothes.”
We stripped hastily. Although the inside of the little cabin was warm compared to the air without, the chill still stung my exposed skin. But it was worth it to see him, pale and long and beautiful. The scars running from the fingers of his right hand all the way to the back of his shoulder had faded slightly over the course of the year, but still traced patterns of pink frost on his skin.
I’d been with men and women whom society would consider more attractive. But I’d wanted him from the moment I’d first seen him, and his gangly limbs, slender build, and absurd hair never failed to move me.
I scrambled up the short ladder to the top bunk. As Iskander had been polite enough to offer us some time alone, it only seemed right to leave him the more convenient of the two. Whyborne climbed eagerly after me, ducking beneath fur covers heated with stones.
The feel of his skin on mine again after so long drew a moan from me. He pressed tight, flinging one leg over my hip, sliding his arms about me. His cock pushed against my belly, hard and hot.
“I missed this,” I murmured to him.
“As did I.” He kissed me deep, and I clung to him, our bodies rubbing together.
I slid my hand down his back to clasp one buttock, pulling him even tighter. We both stank of the trail, but I breathed deep, letting the scent of salt and ambergris fill my lungs. I’d never understood why he always smelled of the ocean, until I’d learned of the inhuman blood in his veins.
I loved his scent. The feel of his skin. How he gasped and shuddered when I put a hand to his cock.
I loved him.
It had been too long for either of us to want something slow. We rutted against one another, kissing and caressing, drinking in one another’s feel and taste and scent. His fingers threaded through my hair, gripping gently, and he kissed me hard. I parted my lips, let him fuck my mouth with his tongue, even as his hips ground his cock into my belly. He was heat and passion and magic-scarred skin, my lover, my husband, and the world narrowed to only the two of us here in this bed. All of my worry and grief, that Jack would discover us, that the umbra might prove to be something too powerful for us to face, vanished. There existed only this moment, and us.
I bit back a shout as I spilled, all of it too much. His grasp tightened on my hair, forcing me to look at him as I spent between us. The intimacy of the act wrung a second, smaller burst of pleasure out of me. His kiss-swollen lips parted, and for a moment I thought he’d speak. Then he hauled me close, teeth biting hard into my shoulder to muffle his cry as he gave himself over to his own climax.
We lay in each other’s arms for a long time, just breathing and drinking in the sensation of being together. But gradually the heat faded and the punishing cold threatened to slip in again.
“We should clean up and join the others for dinner,” I said. My head rested on his shoulder, and I pressed a kiss to the skin in easy reach.
“Probably.” He didn’t sound happy about the prospect. A moment later, his lips brushed my forehead. “I love you. You...you know I do, don’t you? This was wonderful, but it’s not the only thing binding me to you.”
Sometimes I truly wondered what thoughts moved through that brilliant mind of his. “Of course—you’re being absurd.” I propped myself up on my elbow and took his left hand in mine, so our rings gleamed in the dim light of the oil lamp. “Why do you say such things?”
He looked vulnerable, in a way he never allowed anyone else to see. “I just...we’ve never gone this long without making love, and I didn’t want you to think it had any bearing on my affection.”
I snorted. “I don’t know...wasn’t one of your vows to love and cherish me, so long as I satisfied you sexually on a regular basis?”
“Beast.” He thumped me lightly on the shoulder. But I’d gotten him to smile. “As you said, we should find dinner.”
“In a moment.” I rolled over to straddle his body, then pressed a tender kiss to his mouth. “I love you, Ival. And I’m thankful to have you here with me.”
He returned the kiss. It edged toward passion, and after a moment, we pulled apart again with dual sighs. “Let’s go,” he said. “If Iskander returned and found us...well. I don’t think I could ever look the man in the eye again.”