who would prepare for peace take up the sword

You had your eyes closed, your head resting on the cold plane of car window. In this self imposed blindness, you listened to the hushed passing of the world outside. The engine thrummed, the wheels churning down the road, the song on the radio barely a burble after you had turned it nearly all the way down. Your breath, in and out, and that of your boyfriend’s as he drove, in, and out. You were out of sync you noticed, the two of you, and you wondered if that was a weird observation. But a fittingly poetic one, perhaps. You and Adam had only been dating six months, but already it felt like the two of you were out of sync, on so many things.

Adam had been the one invited to the party. They were his friends, the people he was always ditching you to spend time with. But this time Adam had wanted you to come along, and you’d actually been excited to go, despite not having met most of the other people attending, and how you weren’t a fan of big raucous parties in general. But it had felt to you like Adam had finally wanted to include you, wanted to introduce you to his friends, and hopefully they would like you and want to be your friends, too.

Breathe in, breathe out. Try not to wince. Even breathing made the hammering ache in your head throb all the worse.

You wished the chill of the window could seep into your skull and numb the echoes of music with too much screaming in it, and the shitty beers you’d consumed for lack of anything better to do. The volume of the stereo made conversation an impossibility. You told yourself that that was the only reason no one had bothered to talk to you. You’d thought Adam would have introduced you around to his friends, but he had disappeared almost immediately, leaving you to navigate through the icebergs of people and their stares as you made your way to the table covered sparsely in snacks and liberally with beer cans, and awkwardly parked yourself there.

Then you waited. For what, you weren’t sure. Something to happen. Someone to talk to. For the music to get better. For the beer you were nursing to taste like something appealing instead of warm and sweaty. For Adam to come back and explain to you why he’d even brought you here if he didn’t even want to spend time with you, while you stood here feeling lonely and stupid and with an increasing, stabbing headache building behind your eyes and in your temples and down your jaw, painfully throbbing in time with the music’s baseline, and…

You felt like everyone else was looking at you too, wondering why you were here. Like you were an anomaly, a vaguely interesting bug, but not interesting enough to go and investigate. The room was too warm and too humid, and the music was doing its very best to exceed the volume and level capabilities of the speakers. You’d thought maybe Adam was just off saying hi to some of the other people in the house- as best you could tell, the party was continuing in nearly every room- and then you thought maybe he’d just got caught up in conversation. But a few minutes turned into several minutes, turned into half an hour. More people arrived, were greeted enthusiastically at the door, immediately disseminating into some group or other, crowding the room further. You ought to go looking for your boyfriend, but part of you was afraid to move, afraid to draw more looks your way, to remind everyone here that you’d been brought and immediately abandoned. You got another drink instead.

Half an hour stretched like taffy into an hour, into more, and finally you gave up. You still felt stupid and pathetic, but now you were also mad and in pain and you didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore, you just  wanted to go home. That was enough to drive you from your corner and into the depths of the house, pushing your way past or even through groups of chatting people, muttering a quick “’scuse me,” only about half of the time.

Adam was in the basement-converted-game room, in the middle of what turned out to be an impromptu billiards tournament. Adam spotted you as you came down the stairs, managing only a “Hey babe, where you been?” before you announced that you wanted to go home, NOW.

That had actually prompted a few jeers and wolf-whistles that did nothing for the state of your headache, as his friends misinterpreted your rage as lust, assuming you were dragging Adam away from the game because you couldn’t wait to get him somewhere private to fuck his brains out. Whatever. Let them think whatever they wanted- you had never spoken to any of them before, and after tonight, weren’t likely to in the future. Adam had laughed at your uncharacteristic ferocity too, entirely unfazed, and had let you drag him away from the party he’d been so insistent on bringing you to.

In the car, the cold was at least soothing, the quiet a gentle blanket you used to wrap around yourself while you nursed your misery. Adam had tried to talk, and you had shushed him. He’d turned on the radio, and you had lowered the volume immediately. Finally he seemed to get the hint, and drove you out into the night in quiet. You’d closed your eyes, sank low into the seat, and tried to block everything out. When you got home, you wanted to go to bed. No shower, no sex, do not pass Go, do not collect $200. You wanted sleep, and nothing else.

The wheels crunched briefly over gravel and the car pulled to a halt. The sound of the engine cut off, taking with it even the soft mumble of the music. You breathed a sigh of relief that the evening was finally over, and you could get that heavy hitting dose of oblivious unconsciousness that you and your headache were craving.

What you got was Adam’s hand on your knee, squeezing your thigh as it worked its way up. His hot moist breath on your cheek as he leaned over to kiss the edge of your jaw.

“Ugh,” you muttered, giving him a shove. “Stop it.” You blinked open your eyes, first to glare at him, then to take in what was outside the car windows. Not a lot, it turned out. The narrow two lane road was a long slash through a darkened forest, lit only by the moonlight, untouched by streetlights or the headlights of any other cars. Adam had pulled over onto a patch of gravel that grew like a canker off the road’s edge, and had apparently decided this was a great spot to start getting handsy.

As you stared at what looked to you to be the middle of nowhere- not your apartment, definitely not Adam’s, and no sign of civilization in any direction, your boyfriend took your silence as permission to keep going, crowding back into your space and pulling you as close to him as your seatbelt allowed, trying to press kisses on your face in the general direction of your mouth. You gave him another shove, harder this time.

“What the fuck,” you demanded.

“What?” Adam asked, blinking at you, stupidly and with the beginnings of irritation. “C’mon, babe. You pulled me out of a party, what was I supposed to think you wanted?”

“That I wanted to go home, like I told you,” you said, feeling the headache ramp up with the increasing volume of your voice. You took a deep breath, trying to settle it back down. Even glowering at Adam hurt your head, as much as he deserved to be glared at. “You brought me to a party, introduced me to nobody, and just left me alone while you went to shoot the shit with your friends.”

He shrugged. “You’re an adult, figured you could handle yourself. What, you needed me to hold your hand?”

That felt like a trap- either you had to admit you couldn’t handle yourself like he thought, or that you could and were therefore getting pissed at him for no reason. It felt like Adam was always making these little traps for you. You were sick of it, and you were sick of him. You felt just plain sick at the moment, and your head was pounding so hard you could almost hear the drumbeat, and that sleep you had promised yourself seemed a million miles away.

His hand had found its way back onto your knee, and you slapped it hard, like it was an insect you were hell bent on squishing. He yelped and yanked it back.

“No,” you told him firmly. “Do you understand that? I’m pissed and my head hurts and I am tired and I am pissed.” You were repeating yourself, and you didn’t care. “I don’t know what the fuck you were thinking, driving me out here, but you can just start the car and take me the rest of the way home, because the sight of my backside going inside and shutting the door in your face is the only view of my ass you are getting tonight.”

Adam glared right back at you, lips thin and tight and his jaw obviously clenching so hard his teeth were probably creaking, but he turned the key in the ignition.

You relaxed fractionally, when Adam said flatly, “Get out.”

“I beg your finest pardon?” you asked. You knew what he’d said; you just couldn’t believe he’d really said it.

But he had. “Get out,” he repeated. “Get the fuck out of my car.”

You stared at him, but now he wouldn’t even look at you. His hands on the wheel were clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. If Adam was going to have a tantrum about having to leave a stupid party and then not getting laid, then fine. You’d call an Uber.

“Fine. Fine.” You unbuckled the seatbelt, opening the car door, gravel crunching under your heels as you stepped out. You closed the door behind you and turned around to tell Adam that he could go fuck himself. But he stomped down on the accelerator and peeled out so fast that you were sprayed with flying gravel. You stumbled back, gawking at the taillights as the car sped away from you. With a huff, you flipped off your now-ex boyfriend, and reached into your pocket for your phone.

Which wasn’t there.

“What the fuck?” You tired the other pockets, then crouched and peered as best you could at the dark gravel, trying to see if you’d dropped the phone somewhere. You were almost certain you’d had the phone when you’d left home. When you couldn’t find it on the ground, you wondered with a sinking feeling if it might have fallen out in Adam’s car.

You looked down the road, to where Adam was already out of sight. Then back down the way you had come. You had no idea where you were, you had no phone, and you didn’t know if walking in the direction that Adam drove would bring you to civilization soon, or if it would be faster to turn around and go the other way, and hope even the assholes that didn’t give a shit about you at the party would at least give you some directions home. The only way this could be more like a bad movie plot was if it started raining.

As though on cue, thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. You glared up at the sky, earning a splash of rain right in the eye for your petulance. Around you, a soft patter of rain began to fall on the treetops and the gravel, dampening your mood as well as your clothes. Nothing for it but to pick a direction and start walking. Mostly because you didn’t want to feel like you were trailing after Adam like an abandoned puppy, you chose to try and make your way back to the party house. Maybe another car would come by, as much as you loathed attempting hitchhiking.

You started off walking alongside the road even though you didn’t like how close that put you to being in the lane. You were at least hoping for some traffic to come by and notice your plight, and because it was so dark, the road was less hazardous than blundering through the foliage, trying to make your way just by moonlight. Though the moonlight was getting weaker, as the clouds rolled in to swallow up what little light there was, and the rain began to fall more heavily, almost aggressively. Mother Nature was not above kicking you when you were down, it would seem. 

It did not take long before you were soaked to the bone. You had not dressed with the intention of a midnight stroll in the middle of nowhere, in a downpour. Your shirt was soon clinging like a second skin, as were your jeans, with the added misery of the chafing weight of sodden denim. Walking became trudging, as you wrapped your arms around yourself, head down and forcing yourself to take one lurching step after another. Your head was pounding again, you were uncomfortable all over, and worst of all, you were getting really, really cold. There were no other cars traveling this road, and you had nothing you could use as a jacket, umbrella, or blanket. You didn’t even know if you were going in the right direction. You don’t even have your phone to use as a flashlight, much less as a way to communicate to someone, anyone, the predicament you were in.

You were going to kill Adam, if you got out of this nonsense alive.

You didn’t know how long you were walking. Thirty minutes, an hour, more than that? However long it was, it felt like an eternity. The road seemed to just go on forever. It was slow going, and the rain didn’t show any signs of calling it quits. You had started shivering so hard you were trembling all over, and your jaw hurt from how hard you were clenching it to keep your teeth from chattering. All your thoughts were getting slow and hazy, just a pulsing ache of misery. And you were getting so tired. Your whole body felt so heavy, it was a wonder you were still upright, let alone moving. You knew that you were in trouble, but it was hard to care about that with much urgency.   

You were going to have to sit down, you decided. You couldn’t keep walking. You ached all over, in every muscle and joint. It felt like you were slogging through molasses. You stumbled and slid through the mud on the edge of the paved road, barely catching yourself on the trees, as you worked your way just into the edge of the woods. You’d just rest for a little bit, you decided, and you didn’t need to risk getting run over if any traffic did finally come by. Bit by bit, you lowered yourself to the ground, propping yourself up against the trunk of a tree, heedless of the fact that all the earth around you had essentially turned to mud. The canopy of leaves blocked the rain at least somewhat, at least.

You didn’t feel so cold, anymore. That was nice. But you were very, very tired.

You closed your eyes.

You didn’t intend to sleep. But the cold and the pain had enervated you so thoroughly, you must have passed out almost the moment you’d stopped moving. You were only aware now of how dangerously cold you must have been when you fell asleep, by comparison to how warm and comfortable you were as you drifted back to wakefulness.

You became aware of sensations a little at a time. The last thing you remembered was being cold and wet and miserable- sometime during unconsciousness, the world around you had changed dramatically.  Someone had a hand carded through your hair, and was lightly scratching at your scalp with their nails. And oh, that felt nice. Head scritches had always been a weakness of yours. If you weren’t already feeling so boneless, you might have melted.

Your mattress, as it turned out, seemed to be this unknown someone’s chest, solid and radiating heat, and their skin felt so soft against yours. Were they wearing a shirt? Were you? A bleary evaluation confirmed that no, apparently almost all your drenched garments had gone missing at some point. And your companion did not seem to be wearing any more than you were.

Your head was tucked in comfortably against this stranger’s clavicle, and every breath they took was accompanied by a gently rumbling vibration beneath your cheek. The purring was soothing away what had been such a brain-splitting headache, leaving you feeling relaxed and lazy, and also a little bit like you wanted to burrow into their chest and make a nest there. Let the rest of the world sort its own shit out- you lived here now.

This was weird, wasn’t it? This felt like it should feel weird. People this comfortable just did not exist, in your experience. This person wasn’t Adam- Adam couldn’t purr for one thing, and also you sort of remembered that you were mad at him right now, so cuddling with him mostly naked was off the table. As much as you hated to disturb the peace, you really ought to figure out who this was, where you were, and what the hell had happened to your clothes.

“Mmf,” you managed to say. Well, good try.

The hand combing through your hair stilled, but at your little whine, resumed almost immediately. 

“Hi,” your pillow finally said. Then, “Don’t freak out.” Hesitantly, like the owner of the voice couldn’t quite understand why you weren’t freaking out.

You should be freaking out, shouldn’t you? But your adrenal glands seemingly hadn’t gotten that memo, and were barely producing enough juice to rouse in you a mild suspicion.

Maybe it had to do with the way he smelled. The man- for they really did seem to be more man than mattress- smelled like campfire and petrichor, a little like the tang of salt on the wind as it swept over the ocean, and with a tiny bit, just a hint, of wet dog. He smelled like one of the best naps you ever had, on your family beach trip over a decade ago, with rain pattering on the walls of the tent, and the rushing of the ocean’s rising tide just over the ridge. He smelled like the memory of tranquility, and though you might not know how you got to be where you were, you weren’t quite ready to give up that tranquility to deal with the realities of your situation just yet.

“Okay. Not freaking out- I think I can handle that,” you murmured quite reasonably into his collarbone. “You think you can handle answering some questions. Like who are you, where am I, why am I here, and why am I naked?” Despite the non-freaking-out that you had going on, you still felt a little stink-eye was warranted. It seemed to take an extraordinary effort to lift your head off its comfortable spot in order to level a glare at your stranger-companion.

Oh. He was pretty. Well that was just unfair. And oh sure, now your endocrine system is willing to rev up its engines. You could feel your heart rate increasing, and your tendencies for risk-avoidance taking a sharp downturn.

The most noticeable thing was the mask, of course. A half mask of gleaming silver, sculpted like the upper half of a skull. A strange look for a strange man to be sure, but it seemed to suit him so well, that part of you didn’t even question it. The area around his eyes had been darkened with facepaint, allowing the vibrancy of his strange eyes to shine even brighter. One green, not an emerald but like moss, something fresh and earthy, something the poets and romance authors would write about staring into dreamily during golden summer sunsets. But the other eye was almost alien, a glossy opaque white that almost matched the sclera perfectly, accented only with the darkness of the pupil with the faintest border of green encircling it. Taken together, it made him look half crazy. Something dangerous.

Something dangerous that should not be making your stomach swoop and drop in that deeply pleasant gut reaction of Want.

What else could be seen of his face under the mask was painted too, not detracting but enhancing his attractiveness. Mostly black, like around his eyes, which continued down his neck. Silver paint just hinted at the continuation of the skull to the mouth, with his lips and cupid’s bow accented with more black. He had an adorable little cleft right at the tip of his nose.

Held back by the straps of the mask was what looked like a thick riot of dark curly hair, and your fingers twitched involuntarily with how badly you wanted to touch it. He had his fingers running through your hair- surely it would be acceptable to return the favor?

“Perpetua,” said the strange, beautiful man.

You blinked rapidly, trying to bring your higher brain functions back online. “Huh?”

“Your first question, who am I,” he clarified, with a lopsided little grin. His lower teeth were just a little crooked and why couldn’t you stop staring at his mouth? “I’m Perpetua. But you can call me V.”

“How do you get a nickname like “V” from “Perpetua”?” you wondered.

He shrugged, which he couldn’t do without causing you to shift on top of him, making you immediately re-aware of how much of your bare skin was touching how much of his. “Names are weird where I’m from. Most of my friends are nameless.”

While you certainly had more questions now, those could wait until you had some of your first ones squared away. But you were naked and on top of him, and under such intimate conditions, it only seemed right that you return the gesture and offer your name, so you did. V inclined his head in acceptance of your introduction, but he had a sort of amused look on his face. Like he didn’t really believe you, or had a secret he wasn’t ready to share.

You decided to let him keep it. There were more pressing matters to press him about. No, don’t think about pressing him. Stay focused. “And my distinct lack of my clothing?” you asked, trying to sound arch but not sure if you’d succeeded. “What’s your explanation for that?”

His smile faded, and you sort of wished you hadn’t asked. “You were so cold when I found you,” he said solemnly. “I’d thought I was too late. It was such a relief when I heard your heart still beating. I had to get you out of your wet clothes and warmed up before you froze to death.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, though now that he mentioned it, you did remember how thoroughly drenched you’d been, how you’d barely been able to move with how cold and stiff you’d felt. And how very, very tired you’d been… “And you are also naked because…?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking- I didn’t have any other way to warm you!” V protested. “The Ministry was too far away. The closest dry place was the Den, and it doesn’t exactly have a heater.”

The Den, huh? For the first time, you lifted your head to peer around at the surroundings. To your surprise, you discovered that you were still in the woods. Sort of. The place you’d been brought looked like a sort of half-cabin. Three walls, with the fourth completely open to the elements outside. The floor was just tamped-down dirt, with a number of mismatched rugs tossed over it haphazardly. You could hear the rain still pattering on the roof, not as heavily as it had been earlier, but just as persistent. While you were mostly draped over Perpetua, the two of you were actually ensconced in what looked to be a nest of pillows and blankets. The only pieces of furniture you could see were a small chest of drawers shoved into the corner, and a big plastic cooler. The whole place was lit by three battery-powered camping lanterns that hung from hooks on the walls. As V had said, there was no heater or even a fireplace. Cute in its own way, but not remotely warm. You hadn’t even noticed, because V radiated heat like a furnace.

He watched you as you assessed the place, and you could feel his satisfaction as you had to reluctantly admit that he was probably right.

“I was trying to save your life. Sharing body heat was the best option,” he said. “It was not a time to be thinking about sex.”  

“Okay, okay,” you conceded with a laugh. He was cute when he was all offended. “You prevented me from dying and didn’t have a single naughty thought the whole time. Good for you. So, as I am no longer half frozen and in danger of leaving this mortal coil, why are we still naked?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” V said, perking up once more, offense already forgotten. “You’re alive, you’re safe, and you’re awake- now I can think about sex.”

He touched a finger to your chin, tilting it up just a little so he could look you fully in the eyes. He moved slowly, telegraphing his movements as he moved in closer, giving you all the room to say no, to stop him. But you didn’t stop him. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to think about why you didn’t want to.

What you wanted was to know what those cutely crooked lower teeth tasted like. You wanted to find out if his lipstick would smear on your mouth. You wanted to put your hands in his hair and find out if it was as soft as it looked, and what sort of sound he’d make if you tugged on it. And really, it was about damned time you got something you wanted.

You met his lips with your own, letting out a soft exhale the moment they touched. So lightly, just enough to learn the shape of his mouth, to feel the way he smiled against you. He kissed you, feather light, full on the mouth, then the left corner of your lips. Faint kisses, almost too gentle to be called that, across the upper lip, over the philtrum ridges, to the right corner. Then taking the path back along the lower lip. You smiled, finding it cute. He mapped your lips with faint kisses, and you tried to quash the disappointment in the almost achingly sweet tenderness.

When he pulled back a little you smiled at him, ready to thank him for saving you but suggest that you get dressed now and maybe ask to borrow a phone. The moment you opened your mouth to speak, V crushed his lips to yours, tongue sweeping in to taste the startled cry you let out. But once you got over your surprise, you couldn’t help but grin into the kiss. This was more like it!

You gave into the urge to thread your fingers into those dark curls of his, closing your hand into a fist to tug, and lapping up the pleased growl he made.  His hands slid down your back in a caress that made your spine tingle, and his arms wrapped around you to hold your body tight to his own. The body heat that had saved your life now enfolded you like an inferno, and you basked in it. You could feel his body responding to your enthusiasm, the hardness trapped between your bodies, and you gave a little wiggle of delight that had him groaning. One of his hands migrated down to cup the curve of your ass, pressing you closer in to him, as if there were much more room to do so. You laughed, delighted.  

“Oh, you are a bad one, aren’t you?” you whispered against his mouth.

“Am I?” Perpetua asked, amused. Your lips were still so close to his, beckoning, that he couldn’t help but take more kisses from them like little sips of water, like he couldn’t get enough. “I can be good, if you want. For you, I could be very, very good.”  

“Show me, then,” you commanded, too pleading to be truly imperious. “Show me you can be good for me.”

He pushed up, rolling the two of you in the nest of blankets so he could pin you beneath him. Those two seconds were clearly too long to be without kissing you, if the way V dove in to ravish your mouth again was any indication. You were enfolded in his scent, deeper and richer with the heat you had built between you. His hands skimmed you ribs, down your hips, nails scratching very faint red lines into the skin.

His thumbs hooked into the waistband of your underwear, the only thing he hadn’t removed when divesting you of your wet garments. He met your gaze, and you could almost swear those strange, mismatched eyes were glowing. He swallowed, then rasped out, “Yes?”

A rush swept through you, glacial ice melting rapidly beneath lava heat, at that one tiny question, so intense it actually caused you to shiver. You bit your lip, giving quick jerky nods, but Perpetua didn’t move until you croaked out your answering, “Yes.”

 He shoved the garment down, your legs caged briefly together by a tight tangle of fabric, when you heard a rip and the waistband snapped, a slight sting against your thigh. Perpetua seemed unperturbed by its demise, perhaps pleased even, and he flung the scrap away from him with finality, and went back to kissing you. You felt it only fair to return the favor, hands clutching what frankly felt like a truly superb ass, as you tried to shimmy his own underthings off of him. It took some doing, especially since you couldn’t take a break from the kissing, but with the two of you twisting and wriggling a bit, you managed to remove the last barrier between your bodies.    

When you were both well and truly naked, V seemed undecided as to whether he wanted to slow down, or devour you whole. His hands touched you everywhere, learning every your plane and curve, first gentle and reverent as he mapped your terrain, then his fingers would clench and curl and he’d drag his nails across your skin, drawing new streets and avenues across your body. With some reluctance he left off kissing your mouth, but consoled himself with kissing down your neck. You shivered, threading your hands back into his curls as he moved lower, now trekking across the pinkened paths he had drawn with his mouth, learning their taste as well as their shape. Down your chest, over your soft and quivering belly, detouring to your hip, and then far too slowly following the crease between the thigh and pelvis toward your center.   

When he touched you, first with his fingers, gently questing, and then with his mouth, you almost came apart right then and there. Every nerve felt drawn tight as a bowstring, vibrating and humming upward through your body with every kiss and lick. His fingertips found your entrance, and you felt him let out a heated sigh of pleasure against your most tender places. You parted your legs wider, encouragingly, wanting to feel everything he was willing to give you. V took that as the permission it was, bringing his hot mouth to where you needed it the most.

You cry echoed through the Den and out into the woods, your finger clenched in his hair for need of something to ground yourself. You swore you could hear him purring as he sucked and savored. His fingertips worked inside you, ever so gently, and the stretch and feeling of him added another layer of sensation that had your whole body trembling. You closed your eyes, head tilting back as you gasped up at the ceiling, some mix of his name and broken pleas for more.  

But when things started to tighten low in your gut, you knew you wanted something more than this. You put a hand to his shoulder, giving a little squeeze and a push. When he looked up at you, all you could manage was, “Please.”

Somehow he understood what you meant, the wonderful man, and he gave one last kiss to your core before moving back on top of you. You took his face in your hands, fingertips tracing over the smooth warm metal of the mask.

“Condom?” you whispered.

“Mmf,” he agreed, dragging himself away from you. But he didn’t go far, only pulling open the top drawer of the tucked-away dresser. A quick rummage produced both a condom and lube, and he quickly burrowed himself back into the nest and up against your body once he had claimed these prizes.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Prepared for this, aren’t we?”

Perpetua grinned at you with a little shrug. “It’s my friends’ Den. “

“The nameless ones?”

“The nameless ones,” he confirmed. “They have a Den back at the Ministry, but this one is for when they want some outside time. Hunting and orgies and stuff. They like nature.”

“Your friends sound… interesting,” you said.

Perpetua laughed. “You don’t know the half of it. I’ll introduce you sometime. They’ll like you.” He tore open the foil condom packet, then blinked as you plucked it from his hand. Then he groaned, eyes clenching shut as you reached between his legs to touch him. “Fuck.”

Fuck indeed. V was hard, and he was big. You stroked his length, tracing the veins, finding the slickness at his tip and smearing it over the head. Perpetua huffed and bucked his hips, burying his face into the crook of your neck as you explored him. He seemed to approve of anything you did to him, so you let yourself play and wind him up for a few minutes more, before you got on with the task of sheathing him in the condom.

You heard the pop of the lube bottle’s cap, and then V’s slick fingers were between your legs once more, finding your entrance and sliding one long digit into you. You sighed, enjoying the slow slide and stretch as he made sure you were ready to take him. All you had to do was lay back and let him care for you, and you had to admit, it felt nice to be cared for. You felt cherished, dare you say, even loved. And ready. Oh, you were so ready for him.

“Please, V,” you whispered. “I want you.”

“Angel,” he breathed. He covered you completely, raining soft kisses over your face. “My angel.”

You took a breath as you felt the head of his cock nudge up against your entrance. You lifted your legs, bracketing his hips as he began to slide into you, bearing down on him with a groan as he filled you in one slick side. He whispered something into your neck in a language you didn’t understand, but were willing to bet was something truly obscene. Because that was how it felt, to have him buried to the hilt within you. Obscene, and beautiful, and perfect.

“Ohh, yes,” you groaned, rolling your hips and dragging a similar moan from him. “Oh, you feel good.”

“Told you I could be good for you,” V whispered.

“You did,” you agreed. “And you are. You are so, so good for me.”

He gave a full body shudder, and began to move. Dragging himself back before pushing home again, half thrusting, half grinding into your body, as if he couldn’t bear to part from your warmth for even a moment. You rocked your hips to meet him, breathing hard as the tension inside of you built back up. You’d never felt so incredible. You wanted it to last, but as the rhythm increased between you, you knew you didn’t have much time. Pleasure streaked through your body and set every nerve alight, until you felt like your very insides were sparkling with stars.   

In the weak glow of the camping lanterns, the Den’s strange shadows danced across Perpetua’s body, and you swore you could see things, impossible things. Tendrils of darkness that swam and danced beneath his pale skin. A fluttering wave of darkness like a cloak unfolded behind him, resolving into a pair of glossy black wings that clenched and fluttered with his every thrust. Were those horns that curved upward from the forehead of the mask? You blinked rapidly, shaking your head, but the visions didn’t cease, only slid in and out of your sight like oil over the waters of reality.

You met Perpetua’s gaze, searching for answers. But you only found more mysterious wonders, as his eyes seemed to glow, the right eye reflective green like a cat’s in the dark, with the white eye glowing bright as a miniature star. He slowed when he saw you staring, touching your cheek, asking silently if you were alright. How you knew that he was worried, you weren’t sure. But the apprehension was unnecessary- you weren’t frightened. You were awestruck. You had never seen something so beautiful. Was he a monster? A demon? An angel? Or something mankind had no words for?

“What are you?” you breathed.

“Yours.” He took your hand, pressing your open palm over his heart. You swore you could feel it thundering inside him. “I’m yours.”

“Mine,” you said wonderingly. Then you gasped, as something inside you peaked and vibrated like a plucked bowstring. You cried out, body arching as you shoved down hard, all your muscles clenched and trembling as orgasm swept through you as inexorably as a tidal wave.

Perpetua snarled into your neck and thrust in deep. Something was swelling at the base of his cock, catching and stretching at your entrance, a few more rocking pushes, and it breaches you. You gasped at the unexpected new fullness, body shuddering through a wave of aftershocks nearly as intense as your first climax. You gaped at him, gasping and rocking against where you are joined as one. His body trembled in your arms as he came undone, pressing soft panting kisses against any bit of you he could reach. You breathed in tandem as you came down together, and Perpetua’s eyes glowing bright were the last thing you remembered, before sleep rose up to claim you.

“How did you find me?”

It was probably hours later when you woke. The strange knot at the base of V’s cock has gone down, and you could part again. You felt a little bereft as he left the nest, only to return with a bottle of water from the cooler and a washcloth from the chest of drawers. He wet the cloth with some of the water, before handing you the bottle. You drank it down gratefully.

“The moon told me to seek you out,” Perpetua said, as he carefully cleaned the sweat and stickiness and smears of his facepaint from your body. “The trees parted to show me the path to you. The wind whispered to me your true name.”

You laughed, but after what you had seen in the shadows, you weren’t sure if he was only being poetic. “Did it now? Well then, what is my true name?”

He chewed at his lower lip, now mostly free of lipstick. Then he leaned in, and whispered something into your ear. It was a sound like wind in the treetops, the glitter of stars spread from one horizon to the other, the moment of breathless wonder of standing on the edge of the cliff, with the endless sea bowing at your feet. You shivered as that sound reached something deep inside you, nestling inside your chest like a lost creature come home.

“I…” You swallowed, deciding to ask. “Earlier… what I saw. Was that real?”

“I don’t know,” V said. “What did you see?”

“Wings, I think? Horns? Sort of a… iridescent darkness in your skin,” you said. “What are you?”

Zephyr gasps, pre dripping over the fire ghoul’s knuckles when he squeezes hard. “Know how to treat me,” they breathe, “know just where to—gods yes.” 

Ifrit hitches up their leg with his tail even further, thrusting in deep, right down to the base. Deep, until they nearly seize up, unsure whether to lean in or lean away. Deep, so they feel him up to their ribs, up to the tips of the feathers on their neck.

“Ifrit,” the air ghoul begs. 

“Uh huh,” Ifrit whines in return.

“H-hold it there, get in deep, make me—hells, make me feel it.”

The fire ghoul makes a wounded noise, hips stuttering. Nearly blowing his load right there. Zephyr can feel him throb.

“Fuck, Zeph,” Ifrit gaps, slotting all the way in and melting to their back. He pants, moving his hand from the air ghoul’s cock to grip at their hip. He buries his face into the soft down of their feathers and inhales their cool, honeysuckle scent. Ifrit bites back a moan. “Oh—wanna cum in you so bad.”

Zephyr sighs shakily and covers their lower stomach with a trembling hand. “Not yet. Not just yet.” Their eyes fall shut, pale lashes fluttering over the tops of their cheeks. Ifrit rumbles low and their mouth silently drops further open, bottom lip shiny with spit and swollen from being sucked between sharp fangs. And oh, Ifrit’s never felt such a demanding rush of admiration. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he blurts, voice cracking on the last word. He has to say it, lest it burst out of his chest unbidden. The sappy side comes out in an instant. He tucks a sweaty strand of hair behind an alabaster horn. “Feel so lucky. My birdie.”

The air ghoul huffs a laugh, looking over their shoulder. “You’ve gone sweet on me, dragonfly,” they lilt. 

“Can’t help it.” Ifrit props himself up on his elbow so he can capture their lips in a kiss. Slow and tender, pressing his mouth to theirs with the same level of softness as cats nuzzling their cheeks against one another. Parting and meeting again, over and over, like he can’t bear to actually pull back. 

Zephyr laughs against his lips and covers the hand on their hip with their own. “Are we going to continue, my flame?”

He can’t help the way his cock kicks at the pet name, drawing a quiet gasp from them both. “Yeah, yeah,” Ifrit nods quickly. Tips of their noses bumping together. “Switch? Wanna see you better.”

“Yes, dear,” the air ghoul teases, smiling against his mouth. Ifrit blushes. He pulls out slowly, pressing kisses to their shoulders. They do a quick dance, shuffling until Zephyr’s relaxed on their back and Ifrit’s straddling their lap. Looking down at them like they themself put the stars in the sky. They smile lazily at the loving gaze, giving him a long look up and down. Easing them back into the moment with a hand dragging down their own torso—down, slowly down, until their lithe fingers wrap around their cock. Zephyr arches into their own hand with a lavish groan.

“Fuck,” Ifrit says dumbly. Practically drooling over the way they bring their knees up, hooking one foot against the small of his back and beckoning him closer. 

“I’d like if you continued to do that, yes,” Zephyr purrs. “Please?”

Ifrit’s eyebrows draw up, and he whines a little. “Yeah,” he breathes. He slips two fingers in his mouth and slicks them up, bringing them down to circle their already-stretched rim. Zephyr doesn’t need anything more, he knows, but he watches that angular face soften again, their face blooming with heat as it morphs back into an expression of easy bliss. They gasp as he presses up and in, just a little. Their own hand milking out a pearl of slick and thighs twitching around his hips. 

“Please,” they repeat. Quiet and pretty as the wind through the willows. 

The ease with which he slides back in has them both groaning. Zephyr wraps the other leg around his hips and ushers him down into a kiss, probably the sweetest one of the evening. Nothing heated or desperate, just pure connection. Ifrit groans when the air ghoul clenches around his cock, involuntary. Begging for more.

“Love you,” Ifrit mumbles against their lips. “Fuck, birdie, love you so much.”

“I adore you, my dragonfly,” Zephyr breathes. Shuddering when they lift their hips and his cock brushes at that spot deep inside. 

“Oh, make that noise again,” the fire ghoul begs, grinding into them. Zephyr does, of course, can’t help that they do when the head of Ifrit’s cock presses into their prostate again. 

“Like that,” they whisper, nodding. “Yes, just like that.” They let their head drop back onto the pillows, mouth dropping open as the fire ghoul picks up a meaningful rhythm. Measured thrusts that jolt Zephyr a little each time he hits home, but not as rough and reckless as before. More present. Intimate. Neither of them willing to pop the warm bubble they now reside in. 

Ifrit noses up the long line of Zephyr’s throat, diving into the feathers just under their ear. Soft and sweet and them, Ifrit groans bodily at the way they ruffle and twitch under his touch. The air ghoul bites back a whimper. Clutching at Ifrit’s arms as they bare their neck to him. 

“S-sensitive there, you’re—” They cut themselves off with a startled noise as the fire ghoul moves one hand to grip at their hip, lips simultaneously ghosting over the base of their feathers. Just enough pressure to send a wave of tingles down their spine and fizzle out any last coherent thought. 

Ifrit hushes them. Thrusts just that much more purposefully. “Let me,” he rumbles. There’s neediness in his voice too, but he’s devoted solely to Zephyr in this moment. Tuned into the thrum of pleasure getting louder between them, to the way their body blurs further into his.

He strokes them with a gentle hand to the timing of his thrusts, and the noise they make is a delicate surrender.