Wild Magic Four: The Light Beyond Constellations- a M/M fantasy romance

6- Choices

I glanced back, confused, until I followed his eyeline and realized he was staring directly at my ass. Or, more specifically, at the top of my trousers, where a bit of pink satin had managed to work its way out from beneath my shirt and trousers.

I could feel how hot my blush was on my cheeks, and I turned towards him, the lunch tray I'd been setting down rattling as I dropped it onto the table. I shoved at the satin, trying to force it back underneath my clothes, but Griffin's look wasn't mocking or disgusted, and that drew me to a halt. Instead, he now met my eyes with warmth and desire, and a little bit of something else. Something like anger, but I knew it wasn't directed at me.

"I want to see," he whispered, his fingers so tight on the bars keeping him from me that his knuckles were white. "Let me see what your pretty ass looks like with satin against your skin."

I shivered, the words like a stroke against my cock, and took a few steps forward.

"It doesn't... it doesn't bother you?" I asked, unsure how to handle the situation I found myself in. I'd never shown anyone that secretly I enjoyed wearing pretty undergarments— women's clothes, to most— and frequently dressed up in the privacy of my room with glitter, kohl, and jewelry I bought for myself with the stipend my papa sent me, pretending to buy it for my mama or my sisters, or a secret beau, to the salespeople.

"Bother me?" Griffin murmured, licking his lips as his eyes remained glued to my groin. "Fuck yes it bothers me. It's the sexiest thing I've ever imagined. C'mere and let me see you, mate. C'mon, take off your trousers. Let me see your pretty ass clothed only in indouley." 

"Indo..." I began, but I was unable to pronounce the word he'd said. He finally met my eyes again, and his smile was wicked as he bared his half-shifted fangs at me.

"Sex clothes," he translated, and I shuddered at the way the words came out. Like honey dripping with cum, his accent thicker than I'd ever heard it before.

"They're not... they're not sex clothes," I bit out indignantly. "I wear them because I... They make me feel... They make me feel good. S-sexy. Pretty. I wear them because I like the way I feel, not because... not to have sex."

His gaze softened as he reached a hand out, smiling gently as I took his hand and let him pull me up against him. The bars of his cell dug into my stomach, my thighs, and my face, but I tried to ignore them as I met his eyes.

"I'm sorry, angel," he said with a gentle smile. "I didn't mean to offend. That's what the word means, but really that's what indouley are. They are clothes that make one feel sexy, even if it is only for oneself."

"Women's clothes," I muttered, and I could almost feel Griffin's eye roll before he yanked me back from him and held me at arm's length.

"Indouley are for men and women, young and old, no matter who they are or who they are with. If they make you feel good, then they are for you. That is one of the few things I miss about my homeland— it seems as if everywhere else, sex itself is taboo, much less anything regarding it or anything but the most basic sex acts."

I'd never heard him talk about the place he was from before, and I was excited to hear about it, but then his hand ran down my stomach, lingering at the belt of my trousers. He teased at the bit of skin he could reach between my trousers and my shirt, his eyes never leaving mine. When I nodded, giving him permission, he quickly unbuckled my belt and untied my trousers. I pulled away, moving to lock the door to the dungeon room, then turned back to him and hesitantly, with shaking hands, lifted my shirt up so that it was wrapped around my neck, held on by my arms, and let my trousers drop to my boots.

Griffin's indrawn breath had me lightheaded so fast I almost fell over. I toed my boots off, let my trousers slide off of my feet, and moved a few steps towards Griffin.

"Do you like them? I prefer the look of lace, but satin feels really good against... against my skin."

Griffin's silence had me glancing up, and it was only then I realized the true depths of the mate bond he felt towards me. And that I was maybe, gods, possibly, beginning to feel towards him.

His knuckles and most of his fingers were pure white, his eyes so wide it looked almost painful. His eyes were wet with want and a fire that had my knees shaking in response. He looked at me, his eyes roving from my crotch to my nipples, up to my face, then back down to devour the rest of me, as if I was a piece of art he'd spend a fortune to own and look at every day for the rest of his life.

He looked at me as if I was his.

He watched me as if I was precious. As if he wanted to own and bite and devour.

He stared me down as if he wanted me to move forward into his arms again.

And so I did.

GRIFFIN—

River's tears had me wanting to leap atop him, claim him as my own, and never let him go. But I knew why I couldn't. My reasons were valid, and someday, if he ever found out what I'd done for him, he would likely thank me. For now, he was hurting, but someday he'd be with a husband or wife he could be proud of, with children underfoot and a good life and stable future before him, and he'd thank me.

I knew he would, because I could give him none of those things, and it was all he wanted.

I gave him the rabbit when it was cooked. It wasn't seasoned, and there was nothing else I could put with it, because the only vegetables I'd found around the cabin were rotten, and the only plants were poisonous or otherwise inedible. But my mate ate his dinner without a flinch, his eyes on the wall behind me, his chewing nearly silent. I kept my eyes on him, wishing more than anything that I could give him the meals he was used to. Even just some gods-damned vegetables to go with the meal. But all he got was stringy, nearly dry rabbit, with the juices having all dripped off because I'd not had the proper equipment to cook and baste it.

With every piece of evidence, I was more and more sure that my decision to let my mate go was the only choice I really had. With me, this would become what was normal. With me, he'd know only want, deprivation, and impoverishment. Back home, with his family, with the Emperor and Cain, he'd have everything he was used to.

And if he had to live without me? I was sure he'd understand, if he knew what my choices were. But now, he was young, he thought himself in love, and he was confused.

His words, cried out to me in his passion, I'd have to forget. His agony, pure and unadulteratedly filtered through his eyes, I'd have to take on my own shoulders and not let him see. His heartbreak, torn from him with his pleas, I'd push to the side, for the sake of his future happiness. And his soul, bared for me so readily, prepared to sacrifice himself just to be with me, I'd force him to keep to himself.

Because with me, he would have only poverty, loss, loneliness, and fear. And if losing him meant he'd have everything his heart could ever desire, even if it meant it had to heal from what I did to it, then so fucking be it. I'd do anything just to see him smile. So to what lengths would I go to see him happy, safe, and content?