Union (24 page)

“Mountain rock from the highest peaks of Torsere, seared black by dragons’ breath,” Ryneq answered before Nykin had a chance. His soft, lilting tone sent shivers down Nykin’s spine, and Nykin shuffled closer to lean more fully into Ryneq’s side. “My father used to tell us stories about it when we were young.” He sighed, and Nykin felt him drop his head back against Fimor’s side.

When Nykin glanced over, Ryneq’s eyes were closed and his mouth drawn in a tight line. He didn’t need Fimor to tell him Ryneq was thinking about his parents. It was written all over his face, and Nykin was well aware how grief and longing could hit you again and again, especially in the moments when you least expected it. He laid his hand over Ryneq’s where it rested on Nykin’s thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. The barest of smiles tugged at the corners of Ryneq’s mouth, but that was enough.

“This rite was originally performed by the very first dragon riders and their dragons and has been performed the same way ever since.” Nykin’s chest filled with warmth as he thought back to his own bonding rite. “A new piece of Draceth K’ohl is forged each time a dragon is bonded, and it’s broken as soon as the rite is finished.”

“What do they do with the blood?” Avelor sat back on his hands, his head resting against Faelon’s shoulder. “Do you have to drink it?”

Nykin shook his head. Although it was a very vague and blurry memory, and it had saved his life, he’d only ever drank dragon’s blood once and hopefully never again. “No, we don’t drink it. The blood is used to draw the binding symbols onto both the dragon’s and rider’s chests.” Nykin tapped his fingers just above his heart. “Here.”

“Who does that part?” Avelor asked again, and Nykin was a little surprised that Avelor and not Faelon was asking all the questions. For now, Faelon seemed content with watching and listening. His gaze constantly flicked between Nykin and Fimor, with an occasional sweep over where Ryneq’s hand still lay, inappropriately high, on Nykin’s thigh.

“The rider does it all.” Nykin gave Avelor his full attention. “The rite itself is very personal and private—only the dragon and rider are present for the blood drawing.” Nykin remembered how nervous he’d been for his, walking up to the landing caves to meet Fimor with the silver dagger his father had given him wrapped in soft black cloth and held tightly in his hand. “The cuts are made across the rider’s palm and the dragon’s foreleg, and the blood collected on the slate.” Nykin’s gaze was drawn down to his hand, and he absently traced the faint scar running across his left palm.

“Is the bond immediate?” Faelon watched Nykin’s hand intently, as
though picturing him making the cut. “Can you hear each other
straightaway?”

“Yes. The bond is forged as the last symbol is completed, and the rider’s mark glows with—” Nykin trailed off as his mark flared hot and bright with a burst of Fimor’s magic. He grinned, nudging Fimor with his elbow.
“Thanks for the demonstration.”

“You’re welcome.”

Everyone’s gaze flew down to Nykin’s wrist, and he could almost hear Selene’s eye-roll. “It’s like a veil is lifted in your mind, and you can suddenly hear your dragon as clear as day.” Fimor snorted behind him. “And Fimor has the pleasure of listening to me either in my head or out loud.”

The elves were silent for a long while, clearly taking in everything Nykin had just told them. Nykin started to fidget as the silence stretched out. He’d expected Ryneq to cut in with something and break the tension, but he seemed content to let Nykin handle it all. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?” Nykin asked, finally. He looked over at Lerran, who’d been very quiet so far, but Nykin understood why when he saw him staring openly at Selene and making her blush. Nykin was definitely going to tease her about that later.

“I believe you promised us dragon tales, did you not?” Faelon arched his eyebrow, a smirk playing about his lips. “I’d love to hear some now, if Fimor and Kalesh are agreeable?”

“Dragon tales? Ah yes, I did promise, didn’t I. Hmm… what shall we start with?”

Nykin was about to reply that surely Fimor must have hundreds of stories he could tell the elves, when Ryneq moved to slide his arm around Nykin’s waist. He pulled Nykin firmly into his side, his thumb grazing over the place where Hatak had stabbed him. Nykin turned to kiss the side of Ryneq’s throat, humming softly as he thought of the perfect one.
“Why don’t you start with how you and the other dragons ended up settling on Mount Tors? I’d like to hear about that too.”

“Yes, Nykin, I think that will do nicely.”

With Nykin acting as translator, Fimor regaled the elves, Selene, and Ryneq with the story of how the dragons of Torsere came to be.

After many stories from Fimor, and even some from Kalesh, the sun finally set, taking the last of the light with it, and reluctantly they all made their way back to the royal quarters.

“I
WANT
you.” Ryneq pushed Nykin up against the door of their room and buried his head in the crook of Nykin’s neck. “That last story reminded me how close we were to losing everything, Nykin, and I just need to—”

“Yeah.” Nykin knew exactly what he meant.

Faelon had asked them to explain further, how Fimor had used his blood and magic to save Nykin’s life. The memories of their time imprisoned made Nykin restless and anxious, and he needed to feel Ryneq solid and warm under his hands. “Me too.” He fisted Ryneq’s hair, tugging sharply until Ryneq was forced to meet his eyes. “Here.”

Ryneq kissed him hard, biting his bottom lip. He licked into Nykin’s mouth with a desperate moan and pulled at the ties of Nykin’s pants. Nykin closed his eyes, let the tension and bitter memories go, and lost himself in the feel of Ryneq’s body against his.

T
HE
DAY
of the wedding was cooler than the two days previous, but still hotter than Ryneq was used to. Thankfully, the ceremony wasn’t due to start until early evening, and by then the worst of the day’s heat should have passed.

Ryneq adjusted the towel around his waist, wiped at the stray drops of water left from his shower, and eyed the outfits hanging up against the wardrobe. Both he and Nykin would be wearing the same clothes they wore for their announcement ceremony. Cerylea had suggested it. She said they looked so good together that it would be a waste not to.

“I’ll miss that shower when we leave.” Nykin appeared at the door to their bathroom, his towel hanging precariously low on his hips. One quick tug and it would be off.

“So will I.” Ryneq let his gaze linger on the smooth planes of Nykin’s stomach, water still clinging to the defined muscles. He idly wondered if they had time to fuck before they needed to get dressed.

“Hey.” Nykin’s amused tone caught Ryneq’s attention, and he looked back up to see his raised eyebrow. “Whatever you’re thinking, we don’t have time.”

Ryneq grinned. Nykin should know better than to issue a challenge like that.

“And besides, we’ve both just showered. There definitely won’t be time to do that again.”

Ryneq slowly stalked toward him, his gaze never leaving Nykin’s. “I promise not to get you too dirty, then.” He grabbed the edge of his own towel, pulled it undone, and let it fall to the floor. He was half-hard already, the sight of Nykin’s lean, wet, towel-clad body easily enough to get him there. “We can be quick.”

“Ryneq—” Nykin’s breath hitched, causing Ryneq’s cock to harden further, and it bobbed against his thigh as he walked.

“Sshh….” Ryneq cut off his protests with a finger to Nykin’s lips. He slipped his other hand in between Nykin’s towel and the smooth skin of his belly, the soft trail of blond hair rubbing against the back of Ryneq’s fingers. He eased the towel slowly undone, watching as it fell open and slid down Nykin’s toned thighs to join his on the floor.

Nykin was fully erect, and Ryneq slid his hand lower and lower and eventually wrapped it around Nykin’s length, then stroked him with long, lazy pulls of his wrist. Nykin felt so good—thick and heavy in his palm—and Ryneq wanted to feel that on his tongue. “Bed,” he whispered, and Nykin nodded. Ryneq let go of him and followed as he walked over to the bed. He gave Nykin just enough time to lie down on his back before crawling up after him.

Ryneq settled himself in the space between Nykin’s thighs and rubbed his thumbs along the insides, urging Nykin to spread them wider. Nykin’s cock was almost flush against his belly, and Ryneq ducked forward to lick at the drops of precome beading at the tip.

Before he had a chance to get his mouth around him fully, Nykin pushed him back with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.”

Ryneq looked up from under his lashes, wrapped his fingers around Nykin’s length, and brought it to his lips.

Nykin’s eyes were dark, the bright blue almost totally eclipsed by the black of his pupils. “I want to suck you too.” He smirked and his gaze lowered to take in Ryneq’s cock, hard and straining where it bobbed against his stomach.

Ryneq sat back on his heels and licked his lips, tasting Nykin there. He needed more of it, wanted to have all of Nykin in his mouth, but he was definitely on board with Nykin doing the same. “I like the way you think.” He flashed Nykin a dirty grin.

Ryneq shuffled around until he was hovering over Nykin and facing his feet, with the tip of his erection brushing Nykin’s chin. Nykin didn’t hesitate, he took hold of Ryneq and guided him into the wet heat of his mouth, licking and sucking, and Ryneq hissed at the sudden rush of sensation.

“Nggh,” Ryneq grunted as he bumped the back of Nykin’s throat. He’d wanted it to be quick, but at this rate he’d be coming before he got anywhere near Nykin’s dick. Ryneq grit his teeth, willing himself back from the edge, and concentrated on Nykin’s neglected cock in front of him.

He balanced on his forearms and mouthed lazily at the head. The wetness smeared over his lips and made it easy for Ryneq to open his mouth and slide down Nykin’s shaft to take him in deep.

The room was filled with soft, wet sounds as they both tried their best to make this quick. Nykin’s hands gripped Ryneq’s ass, spreading his cheeks, and the press of a spit-wet finger to his hole had Ryneq moaning around Nykin’s cock.

Nykin pushed just the tip inside, and Ryneq arched his back in response. The move made him slip farther into Nykin’s throat, and he couldn’t hold it back any longer. Ryneq sucked Nykin harder and faster, trying to hurry him up as he came with a long groan. His whole body tensed as Nykin swallowed it all, and it took Ryneq a few moments before he could even think to finish Nykin off.

He moved to the side to get a better angle. Nykin’s length was slick with saliva, and Ryneq used his hand to stroke down to the base while he sucked and licked at the head. He worked his tongue into the slit, lapping up Nykin’s taste, and when Nykin’s hips pushed up off the bed, Ryneq let him fuck up into his mouth. Nykin cursed loudly, Ryneq’s name falling from his lips as he fisted both hands in Ryneq’s hair. Ryneq felt Nykin harden and pulse against his tongue as he came. He caught nearly all of it, only a little escaping to run down his chin, and he swiped at it with his thumb as he sat up.

“I told you we’d be quick.” Ryneq licked the come off as he spoke, and Nykin huffed out a laugh and rested his arms above his head.

“But you also promised not to get me dirty.” Nykin swept his fingers over his face, collecting up the beads of sweat and showing it to Ryneq. “Now I need another shower and we’re going to be late for your sister’s—the Princess of Torsere’s—wedding.”

“No we won’t.” Ryneq hopped off the bed, pulling Nykin with him, and they headed back into the bathroom. “Trust me.”

He had absolutely no intention of being late. For one, Cerylea would kill him, and for another, he doubted it would do their treaty with the elves much good. He dragged Nykin under the water, and they were clean and out again before Nykin had chance to open his mouth. Ryneq was nothing if not efficient.

B
Y
THE
time Faelon knocked on their door to tell them it was time to leave, both Nykin and Ryneq were dressed and ready. Ryneq was just pulling on his boots as Nykin went to open the door.

“Nykin.” Faelon paused, and Ryneq glanced up to see why. Faelon was openly appraising Nykin. His gaze swept up and down Nykin’s body, and Ryneq’s fingers tightened around the laces in his hand. “You look every bit the king’s consort. Very handsome.” Nykin smiled, the tips of his ears going pink, and then Faelon caught Ryneq’s eye. He smiled, not looking the least bit bothered by Ryneq’s murderous glare. “You too, Your Highness. You make a very striking couple indeed.”

“Thank you.” Nykin grinned at Faelon, clearly ignoring Ryneq’s obvious displeasure, and moved aside to let Faelon into the room. “We’re just about ready.” He turned to Ryneq, and arched an eyebrow at him. “Ryneq?”

Ryneq finished tying his boots and stood. He straightened out his jacket, smirking at the way Nykin’s eyes darted down to follow the movement of his hands. He took particular care with making sure it sat right over his ass. “I’m ready.” He walked over and slid his arm around Nykin’s waist. “Shall we?”