The Last Canticle: Summoner's Dirge (10 page)

“It’s finished.” Damir held up the dress he’d made for Elina to wear to the festival.

Elina rose from her seat at the table, Chipo remaining on the floor where she’d been lying at Elina’s feet. Elina gathered the material in her hands and looked the dress over, a pleased smile on her face.

“It’s beautiful, Dammy.”

Balin sat close to the fire in a large chair he’d built over the winter. The frame was fashioned from a fallen cypress he’d found along the border of the forest. He’d lined it with the pelt of a deer they’d hunted early in the fall, which helped soften the hard seat. From his chair, he watched Elina vanish up to her room to change into the dress.

“You’ll have nothing to keep you busy at night now,” Balin said with a chuckle. Damir never seemed to have issues with keeping himself occupied. He lived a simple life, and when there wasn’t work to be done, he easily found some task to do, whether it was sewing, whittling, or reading.

It was Balin who found his nights to be restless. He felt like a caged wolf with a lamb just in reach. His nights had never been so tame. In the past, if Balin wasn’t working, he was wasting away in a shade hall or brothel. The hunt waited to rise up in him again. He longed for it, even while he wished to escape it.

“I’m sure you’ll find ways to entertain me,” Damir teased with a small smile. He had grown more brazen over the months, and Balin reveled in the change.

“There are a few ways I could think of spending our time.”

Elina trundled down the stairs right then and stopped in front of Damir, her arms spread wide. She slowly turned in a circle, lifting the skirt of the dress so that it spun around her slim legs. The dress had been made of light cotton dyed the color of buttercream. Damir had carefully embroidered the hem and neckline with gold and green threads.

“You’re beautiful, Elina.”

“Finer than all the princesses in Zoria,” Balin added as he rose from his seat.

Elina smoothed her hands down the skirt of the dress and fiddled with the hem, a scarlet flush painting her cheeks. “You did a wonderful job, Dammy.”

“I’m glad you like it. Now go take it off until tomorrow night,” Damir said. Elina rolled her eyes and returned upstairs.

“She’ll be the finest dressed young lady there. You do have a gift.”

Damir rose to his feet and began to pack his sewing supplies. “I’m just glad she likes it.”

Balin slipped behind Damir and wrapped his arms around Damir’s waist. Damir leaned against Balin’s chest. “No matter what it looked like, she would have loved it,” Balin said as he pressed a kiss to Damir’s temple.

“Are you excited for the festival tomorrow? Did you celebrate the solstice in Terrasolis?”

Damir always had a question about Balin’s homeland. He wanted to know everything there was to know about him. Most questions Balin evaded with the stealth of a thief in the night, but there were a few that Balin would answer, and Damir seemed to devour them.

“Not the solstice, but something similar. There in the capital, Eyrie, there is a large parade, and then a giant celebration. We call it Dia Nami, Day of Birth. It’s a celebration of life and beginnings. In the winter we celebrate Dia Mors, Day of Death.”

“Dia Nami? What kind of celebration do you have?” Damir set his sewing box on the table.

Balin brushed his lips over the soft curve of Damir’s neck and murmured against his ear, “Well, since it’s the day of birth, one of our favorite ways to celebrate is through the body.”

DAMIR COULD FEEL the hard bump of Balin’s desire. A shudder raked down his spine. Balin’s tongue traced the shell of Damir’s ear before he whispered huskily, his voice like the timbre of a wolf.

“I could show you.”

“Are you two at it again?” Elina said from behind them. Damir ripped away from Balin, his face hot with embarrassment, and put away the sewing kit.

Balin shot her a playful scowl. “Brat.”

“Geezer,” Elina quipped in retaliation, a smug smile in place. She had changed into her nightgown, her long hair unraveled from its usual braid.

Chipo rose to her feet and trotted over to Elina, nudging her head against the girl’s leg. Elina patted Chipo’s head. “Come on, Chipo. Let’s leave the two dirty old men to their games.”

“Elina!” Damir scolded.

Elina dashed up the stairs with a wave over her shoulder, shouting down, “Don’t be too loud!”

“She has been around you too much,” Damir groused and went about straightening the home for the night. When everything was put away, he washed his face and brushed his teeth and doused the fire. The night was cool but warm enough that they didn’t need to feed the flames throughout the evening.

Damir pulled his shirt over his head, and as it slipped from his fingers, he stepped in front of the window. A corona of light encircled his body. A cool wind blew in through the window, smelling of junipers.

“Your light has grown brighter,” Balin commented.

He had finally stopped asking where it came from. Damir never could explain how the beacon manifested inside him. He didn’t know.

“It has?” Damir turned to look at Balin.

“Are you sure you aren’t an angel?” Balin asked half in jest.

Damir smiled, and his heart picked up speed. The first morning he’d woken up next to Balin, he had been afraid it was all a dream. But then the second night came. And another. Night after night, they’d fallen into passion, and Balin had filled him with cum and unbridled emotions.

“Are you okay?” Damir crossed the room.

“Fine,” Balin said, none too convincingly. “Why?”

“You seem anxious, especially with the change of seasons. Is something worrying you?” Damir knew Balin had shed any thoughts of returning to the city, but there were moments when he got a distant look in his eyes. His amber orbs would glaze over like candied ginger and focus on a world that was outside their own. There was a tension that would form in his jaw and shoulders, and no amount of hours kneading at the muscles would loosen them.

“No, I’m fine,” Balin assured him. He moved to finish preparing for bed.

Damir watched him, a land-bound star, a lighthouse in the storm, and waited until Balin had finished washing and changing before he wrapped his arms around Balin’s shoulders and drew him close to his body. “You can tell me. I will never judge.”

Balin pressed a hand to Damir’s cheek and stared down at him with soulful eyes. Damir wished Balin would tell him more. He kept his secrets locked away in an ironclad box without a key. When it was apparent Balin wasn’t going to say anything, Damir dropped it.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Damir said, nudging Balin toward their bed.

“You never answered my question.” Balin took a seat on the edge of the mattress and guided Damir between his thighs.

“And what was that?” Damir combed his fingers through Balin’s hair and pushed some strands away from his face.

“Are you sure you aren’t an angel?” Balin glided his hands up Damir’s exposed back, his fingers rubbing at the notches in Damir’s spine.

“You ask that almost every night.” Damir rolled his eyes. He would never admit that he loved Balin’s persistent assumption.

Balin leaned forward and pressed an openmouthed kiss to Damir’s navel. “And I’ll continue to ask until you tell me the truth.”

“Then I guess I shall have to keep lying,” Damir whispered. Balin grinned up at him. Damir’s cock thickened. Balin fell backward and dragged Damir on top of him, their pelvises pressing together.

Damir let out a low moan and rolled his hips to feel the friction again. They scrambled for one another, hands pulling at clothes and caressing, taking until their naked bodies molded together. Damir panted against Balin’s mouth. Balin took fistfuls of Damir’s ass cheeks, thrusting against him until their hardened cocks rubbed together.

“Oil,” Balin mumbled into the curve of Damir’s neck as he worked a path down to his collarbone. “Where is the oil?”

“In the drawer,” Damir answered as he craned his neck to the side to give Balin better access. He had begun to realize that keeping the gralui oil with the medicine was pointless, so he hid it away in his nightstand drawer. Damir fumbled for it, his fingers brushing over his Scriptures and an unlit candle on the top. He wrenched the drawer open and fingered blindly for the glass vial.

Balin sealed his lips around Damir’s pert nipple and bit down. Damir let out a sharp hiss of breath and arched up. Tenderly, Balin soothed the areola with his tongue, rolling the hard pebble in circles.

He pulled away and blew a stream of air against the damp nub. Damir squirmed above him, barely containing a moan. He let out a heavy pant and looked down at Balin, his eyes half-lidded.

“There are nights I believe I could drown in your eyes,” Balin whispered huskily. He slid Damir off him and patted his side. “Turn around and raise your hips up for me.”

Damir obeyed and rolled onto his stomach, sliding his knees under himself and lifting so his ass was high in the air. Balin ran his hand down Damir’s ass cheek, squeezing the firm muscle as he did so. He opened the bottle of oil and, without warning, poured a good amount down Damir’s crack.

The air was perfumed with the scent of gralui herbs. Damir strained to look behind him and watched curiously as Balin set the oil aside and parted his cheeks. Damir balked. “W-what are you doing?”

They had never tried the position before. His cock sprang to attention at the prospect of what Balin had planned.

Balin didn’t respond. He just smiled rakishly and pressed a wet kiss to the hole.

THE GRALUI OIL tasted like sugarcoated cranberries. It was tart and rich. Spread across Damir’s taint as it was, it was more addictive than Terrasolis’s most potent opium or the strongest
lyta
weed. Balin lapped a stripe up the glossed crack and then plunged his tongue deep into the tight, pulsing channel.

Damir let out a deep, muffled groan. The sound was barely smothered, and Damir couldn’t seem to keep the noises from escaping as Balin mercilessly tongue-fucked him.

Balin’s stomach pooled with needy warmth, his desire becoming molten in his veins. He never wanted the moment to end. He wanted to taste all of Damir. A whimper fell from Damir’s lips, and heat raced up his neck in a glorious shade of carmine.

Mercilessly Balin thrust his tongue deeper inside Damir, who thrashed beneath his administrations. Balin reached up and pinched the flesh behind Damir’s scrotum, then wrapped his hand firmly around Damir’s weeping dick.

Heat rose around them, pulsing with their energy, palpable as flames. It filled the room, turned their skin sticky with sweat. Damir rocked into Balin’s hand with graceful hip rolls. Balin blew a cold jet of air against the damp hole, and watched as Damir pumped into Balin’s hand.

Every night spent with the glowing angel reminded Balin of why he couldn’t go back to his other life, why he could easily allow the world to burn away. He had told himself it would only be one taste, but that had been a lie. One wasn’t enough. A single second, a single minute—they were never enough. Not when Damir’s laughter made his heart beat and his smile chased away the ghosts.

How could he go back to being a monster when he had finally learned what it meant to be human?

“Oh God,” Damir whimpered. The head of Damir’s cock, which was round and plump like a mushroom cap, dewed with pearlescent cum.

“You want me in you?” Balin asked, his voice a gravelly rumble.

Damir let out a strained whine. Balin chuckled and reached for the oil again. He opened it up. Damir trembled beneath him as Balin coated his protruding dick. It glistened beneath the starlight that escaped from Damir’s body.

Balin readjusted their position so that he stretched out on the bed. He pulled Damir on top of him with a possessive grip. “Ride me.”

Damir straddled Balin’s hips. He grabbed hold of Balin’s erect cock, stroking his fingers up before lowering himself. He sank down on Balin, his face contorting in pleasure. Balin grabbed Damir’s hips and watched as his dick was swallowed by Damir’s body. He became swaddled in glorious wet heat.

Damir paused for a moment to catch his breath, fully seated on Balin’s lap. Balin waited, rubbing his hands over Damir’s hips encouragingly. Soon Damir began to rise and fall, the muscles in his stomach contracting with each downward thrust. Balin watched, mesmerized, as Damir came undone above him.

Balin slammed into Damir as the man dropped down. He pounded relentlessly into the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Harder. Deeper. A single thought. One desire.

Quickened breath.

Shimmering eyes.

Salt on his tongue, Balin tasted Damir, their shared desire. Damir reached down and took hold of his shaft, stroking in time with their quickened pace. He shattered like glass, broke into a million pieces above Balin. His head fell back with a soundless scream. Balin could feel his control slip and plummet. His cock vanished into Damir over and over again, clutched by burning muscle.

As Damir came, his anus clamped around Balin and began to pull at his cock, milking him. Balin clenched his teeth to stifle his groan and pulled Damir down hard onto his lap, grinding into him so he could unload every last ounce of cum.

At the height of their euphoria, something crashed in the distance. It struck hard and fast like heat lightning. They broke apart and scrambled for their clothes, still sticky with their seed.

“What the hell was that?” Balin asked.

Chipo barked from upstairs, followed promptly by Elina calling down, “What happened?”

She appeared at the top of the stairs, her eyes wide with worry.

“STAY UPSTAIRS,” DAMIR ordered as he tugged on a pair of pants and grabbed Drachenseele and the quiver.

He rushed out, Balin—his trousers pulled on—beside him with his dagger. Damir hurried around the farmhouse toward the barn, where they saw smoke curling skyward. He drew an arrow from his quiver and prepared the shot. His heart pumped with adrenaline; it pulsed down his arms and heightened his senses.

Balin moved beside him like a shadow. They ran to where a giant scar cut across the field, just a few feet from the barn. Inside the barn, the animals were going wild. Damir came to a halt and stared at the smoldering earth. It looked as if lightning had torn into Zoria and left behind particles of diamond dust.