An Embrace of Citrus & Snow (Fallen for a Fae #1)

30. Bo

Chapter thirty

Bo

Bo stood at the front door of the house he’d last seen burning, his hand in Ever’s. Leaves rustled at Bo’s ears as Faerie settled around them, while holly leaves and red berries bloomed in Ever’s dark hair.

No fire, this time. No looming threat from the Council. When the summons finally came, it’d been polite. No apologies, though, just like Ever’d warned. Still that sick, scared feeling twisting in Bo’s stomach. Not as bad, but fuck , it’d been a bad time.

“You said it was only this big sometimes.” Bo glanced sidelong at Ever. “Wanna show me the rest of the time?”

Ever nodded as his glamour fell away. The air smelled of old places lost to time and freshly peeled citrus, a hint of moisture where there’d been only arid stillness. Bo felt it, the way Faerie’s magic rushed to them, reached up as the house bled away like watercolors.

In its place stood a cabin maybe a quarter of the size. Well-aged dark wood and creeping vines, solid and sound. More than big enough for three, but Bo didn’t think he’d get lost wandering around it.

“Rustic,” Talia said. “You remembered I need a room, right?”

“Of course. There’s even a lavatory, all for you.”

Talia flashed him a grin and pushed the door open, making her way straight up the stairs. “I’m gonna decorate. You two call me when it’s time to go.”

“Have fun, kid,” Bo called after her. “Make good choices.”

Before following her in, Bo turned, curious to see if the rest of the land had changed too. Only the areas nearest to the house showed a tinge of green, while the desert remained beyond. And there, in the not-so-far distance, the forest they made that first time .

Smudgy darkness in place of leaves and bees, like something gone soft and sickly with rot after too long under the water. Didn’t take a fucking rocket scientist to figure out why it looked the way it did, distance or not.

“It will heal,” Ever said, his hand on Bo’s arm, chest at his back. “In time and with intent.”

“It’s still there.” And that mattered, too. Smudgy and dying, but it hadn’t gone away.

“Yes.” Just that, quiet and warm and very Ever.

“Let’s go inside.” Bo tugged Ever toward the front door, an arm around his waist. The wrap-around porch blocked out the bright sun, and the cabin itself waited, comfortable and inviting. “I like it. It suits you. And me. We have enough time for a quick tour before tearing into the Council?”

“I’m certain they’ll survive.”

“You fucking rebel you.”

Ever ducked his head, a faint smile teasing the corners of his lips. “I suspect it’s not much to see, is all.”

Liar. But Bo let him lead the way inside, so he could see firsthand just how big a liar Ever was.

Nothing to see, his ass. Everything screamed ‘curl up on me,’ all aged wood and deep colors. Plush furniture. Thick carpets. A bowl of citrus on the kitchen table, that wanton. A pair of empty rooms, waiting to figure out what they might be used for. The upstairs was mostly the bedroom Talia’d claimed if the sounds inside were any indication, and a bathroom. And near the back, on the first floor, a room for Bo and Ever.

A wide, four-poster bed, carved with ivy. Thick burgundy curtains held back by brass leaves. An unlit fireplace. One wall was entirely a window, showing off the bare desert and the distant smudged darkness of their forest.

Coziest goddamn house Bo’d ever set foot in.

“Acceptable?” Ever dropped his hand away, leaning on the doorframe to watch Bo wander inside. “It’s yours to change. I’m sure Talia is doing exactly that as we speak.”

“It’s great. This is fucking wild.” A window seat formed, the wooden frame the same color and design as the bed, cushions a shade lighter than their sheets. Bo always had been a sucker for a window nook. “I like your preference for a ‘closer space.’ ”

“As do I. I’ve not seen it as it is now, before.”

“You like it, then?” Bo traced his finger over one of the carvings on a bedpost. Ever didn’t answer, but Bo could feel him through the bond: affectionate and calm. He grinned, callused fingertip idly curving over a carved leaf. “Somehow, I’m not shocked this is a part of the decor, kelpie.”

“I take no responsibility for Faerie’s infatuation with you.” Ever stepped closer to rest his hands on Bo’s waist. “Though I certainly sympathize with the fixation.”

“There’s two crowns between us,” Bo reminded him, leaning back against the touch. “I’m not Faerie’s only crush.”

“Perhaps.” Ever’s thumbs traced over Bo’s waistband. A line of heat. “May I kiss you?”

It’d been a fucking week since they’d gotten close like this. Family left Ever wired and Bo busy as fuck. He’d had to go get the rental car, leaving Ever and Talia with Jan and Bo getting interrogated by Robin. Videos, sleep, more sleep. Repeat.

No Ever asking to kiss Bo. No press of Ever’s hardening cock into his hip.

“Yeah, pretty kelpie. You can kiss me.” Bo ran his fingers over Ever’s wrists until he heard the catch of his breath. “I want you to.”

Warm lips brushed over his neck, the barest ghost of teeth and tongue. Electric. Not nearly enough, and it still set his nerves to dancing.

“You spoil me, sweet.” Playful words, and sweet never something that Bo thought would get him sighing, tilting his head to give Ever more room. Or maybe it was the way Ever’s thumb found its way under Bo’s t-shirt, the skin-on-skin more than good. Bond bright. Love drunk. “Keep indulging me, and you’ll find me quite insatiable.”

Bo grinned, reaching back to tangle his fingers in Ever’s hair. Ever tightened his grip in response and slid his thumbs a little higher.

“Oh, no. I’ve encouraged a dastardly kelpie with my wanton human enjoyment. Such watery lusts. Help. Ravenous fiend.”

And Ever? He fucking laughed . The sound did just as much for Bo’s cock as the continued touch of lips to his neck.

“Utterly dastardly, yes. Licentious. Salacious.” A kiss to punctuate each word, too gentle for the way his breath shook. “Poor, sweet Bo. Best rebuke me now, lest I threaten your virtue.”

Bo shivered with each kiss, grabbing the bedpost with his free hand. Warm wood under his hand as the lights dimmed. And Ever kept petting him.

“Greedy kelpie, putting my virtue at risk. Obscene and shameless.” His words were unsteady with want and laughter. “I might be too weak to protest you holding me prone for ravishing. ”

Hesitation through the bond, but not at Bo . Curiosity, then the winter crisp bite of joy and realization, followed quickly by want . Want and play and pleasure.

“Best stop me then while your modesty remains unthreatened.” Ever’s voice had gone breathless, soft as his tug at Bo’s shirt. “May I?”

A quick, bright press of blunted teeth. Bo’s fingers tightened in Ever’s hair.

Ever fucking daring hit as hard as anything else, his smiling request all the more so after he kept his hands on Bo, comfortable, at ease, grazing him with teeth without apology.

Playing at something he’d had used against him while he tugged at Bo’s clothes, and all of it a fucking thrill.

“My shirt? Vile seducer. I don’t think you can be a vile seducer if you don’t take my shirt off. Ahhhh, help.”

Ever laughed again, the whisper of it warm on Bo’s neck. He kept his hold on Bo’s shirt, grip tightening but not pulling.

“Help? Perhaps I’ll take pity,” Ever murmured, and let Bo’s shirt go. He smoothed the fabric with a delicate touch, heedless of Bo’s bitten-back whimper. “Leave you your shirt.”

“That’d be nice of you.” Bo’s hand tightened on the bedframe. His nails damn near gouged the wood at Ever’s barely there touch at his jeans, tugging at the button of his fly.

Another tug, and the button gave. Bo definitely made a noise.

“Of course, sweet.” Ever dragged Bo’s zipper down, unhurried. Still playing, Bo caught as surely as he’d be if wandering toward Ever in his river. “If that’s what keeps this … chaste.”

“So merciful.” Bo managed to breathe, shaking in the effort to keep still. “Not leaving me debauched and wrecked. I’d be grateful.”

“Grateful?” The pressure of Ever’s hand over Bo’s cock through his clothes. Ever’s hips pressed closer, so Bo could feel the line of his cock against his ass. Fuck . “And how do you show your gratitude, sweet? What might you tempt a kelpie with that’s more alluring than having you entirely bare and immodest for me?”

Bo did whimper then, Ever’s fingers fucking torture. So fucking gentle, and Bo needed so much more.

“ So grateful.” Bo tried to push back, forward, both, either, but Ever kept an arm around his waist, holding him fast. Fucking strong, Bo’s kelpie. “I’ve got my mouth? Throat. I’ll let you take it like you would me, if I were laid out, bare and immodest.”

Bo laughed, or something like it, the sound hitched and hungry. Ravenous, all the more so as Ever traced a line down the throat Bo’d just offered up.

Something not unlike hesitation threaded through the bond, a soft beat of tension. Like fingers around a wrist to keep from touching. There and away, nudged past as Ever caressed Bo’s neck, made his breath come sharp and shallow with the brush of his lips.

“I– Show me, sweet. Let me see how grateful you can be.” Everil’s fingertips found Bo’s lips, traced the shape of them. “If you’re still feeling … decorous … after, perhaps I’ll leave your chastity un-assailed.”

A game. Same rules, different boundaries. Bo didn’t ask questions. Hadn’t asked Ever if he wanted it on purpose, offered an option, out included, if Ever happened to be a guy who didn’t like getting head.

“You’ll not tempt me, pretty kelpie.” Bo kissed Ever’s fingers. Caught the tip of two between his teeth. He reached for Ever’s hand properly, his own freshly uncurled from the bed. Ever pulling his hand back right away sounded tragic .

Ever’s fingers slid slow into Bo’s mouth. Eager Bo, taking what he could with greedy lips and tongue. Desire reflected and echoed, over and over, Ever pressing his fingers deeper, in and in.

“No chance of temptation?” Ever’s arm relaxed around Bo’s waist, hand taking over where the other left off, stroking slow over Bo’s cock. “Are you certain, sweet?”

Bo wasn’t sure that the sky was blue, to be fucking honest.

He might’ve said so if his brain had half a chance to catch up to Ever’s too-light touch. If he didn’t have Ever’s fingers fucking slow into his mouth, pushing deep, deeper, fucking bold kelpie.

There was no helping Bo’s low, muffled moan or hitch of his hips toward the ghost of a stroke. Barely there, then gone. No weight around his waist anymore, no solid grip at his hip or chest. Only the taste of Ever’s skin on Bo’s tongue, winter and salt, and his chest against Bo’s back kept him grounded.

Bo leaned into him, rocking back, wanton and wanting. He clung to his hand, his hair, and swallowed around Ever’s hungry fingers with a muffled moan. Ever hissed, dragged his teeth against the back of Bo’s neck. Fucking beautiful sound, that hiss.

Bo shuddered, eyes closed, lips wet. Absolutely fucking lost in the moment.

“So lovely in your gratitude,” Ever murmured, catching Bo by the waist again and pulling his fingers out with a farewell scrape of Bo’s teeth to soft skin. “But I fear now I only desire you more. ”

“More?” Bo squirmed against Ever, earning himself another hiss. “I can’t imagine what more there could be. We’ve held hands. I’ve tasted the river. Surely there’s little else a greedy, beautiful kelpie might want from me.”

“I fear, sweet Bo, that you’re about to learn. How could I resist taking advantage of someone so very,” he rocked against Bo, deliberate and slow and hard, “pure?”

Bo whimpered, hungry, with the pressure and sharper touches of teeth. Because Bo was a weak, weak man, and wasn’t sorry.

“Wicked kelpie.” Bo swallowed as his jeans gave way to what Ever called faerie-weave. Soft and thin enough to feel the heat between them. “I’ll not fall for your charms.”

The faerie-weave parted easily for Bo, and he wrapped his fingers around his cock. Aching and unsatisfying to touch himself with Ever near. And still enough to pull a moan from him.

Fucking gorgeous, Ever’s hungry sounds being kissed into Bo’s neck, Bo’s tongue on his fingertips. Even better when that hand closed around Bo’s. Guided him in a slow, teasing rhythm, the bastard.

“Entirely wicked,” Ever agreed. A shaking breath and a hard swallow. “You are so incredibly enticing to watch. But I want more of you, my poor, pure human.” Firm grip and slow, so fucking slow, and he was going to drive Bo to whine. “Get on the bed, sweet?”

Was ‘someone asking for what they wanted’ a kink? Bo’d look it up later. Maybe. If he remembered. For now, he had Ever asking for things, and Bo had only so much ability to play pure instead of gritting out some form of ‘fuck me now, thanks.’

He untangled himself from Ever’s embrace, cock aching and bond singing. Ever asked for the bed, so he went on the bed, ridiculously comfortable and just the right amount of soft. Bo stretched out on his side, sneakers gone, somewhere, his shirt sticking closer to his skin than any of Bo’s shirts did, and his chin propped on his hand to watch Ever with a small, hungry smile.

“Wicked kelpie don’t bring gentlemen home for a mere taste of the river, my poor, chaste human.” Ever’s eyes locked on Bo’s as he pulled off his own shirt, taking his time with it like the fucking tease he not so secretly was. Lean lines and golden skin. Immodest as fuck, slipping off his pants and kicking them aside. “But don’t be frightened, sweet.”

“Don’t fear the river?” Bo licked his lips, unable–unwilling–to look away from Ever when the kelpie moved closer.

Fingers over his cheek, whisper soft skin and nails that could cut. But didn’t .

“You needn’t, my Bo. Not you.” Low words, rough at the edges. “There are pleasant ways to drown.”

Fuck . Bo licked his lips, losing track of his lines. “Something something fuck me senseless,” right?

“I’m at your mercy,” he said, words coming breathy with need.

“Lie on your back for me?” Ever leaned in, knees against the bed, hand on Bo’s calf, trailing upward over soft fabric. “Let me make you more comfortable. Get you out of these.”

Like hell was Bo going to say no to that offer. He pressed his leg into Ever’s warm touch even as he shifted to sprawl on his back properly.

“Vile seducer,” Bo said by way of non-existent protest, lifting his hips to urge Ever on. “Tempting me with sweet hospitality.”

Both hands, now, to his calves, his knees, his thighs. Not that Bo noticed, distracted by the sight of naked, hard Ever leaning over him, full lips parted in a sigh as he finally hooked his fingers over Bo’s waistband and dragged his pants down.

Bo pushed himself up on his elbows to grin at him. And, yeah, Bo’s shirt had finished its transformation to skintight and thin, clinging to him and hiding nothing.

“A confection,” Ever murmured, sitting back on his heels to get an eyeful. Now, when he stroked Bo’s legs, it was bare hands to naked skin, leaving trails of shivering heat in his wake. “My sweet Bo.”

“All yours, badass kelpie.” Bo indulged, shifting toward that touch, electric and his. Just for him. “Yours when modest and ravished and everything in between.”

Their bond radiated wonder and want, that fragile hope and trust Bo didn’t think he’d ever get used to.

“Your kelpie. How could I possibly resist you?”

Ever’s kiss was a question, his mouth soft and parted lips seeking, tasting like snowmelt and crisp nights.

Bo held on to it all, gripping Ever’s hair to tug him in, deepen the kiss. Greedy, and Bo gave not a single fuck about it. Heard him whimper at the graze of Bo’s teeth, those slender hands going tight on his thighs.

Yeah. Bo was going to hear Ever make that noise again. In that moment, later, whenever, he’d hear it again.

“I … wish to watch you.” Ever breathed the words against Bo’s lips. And at fucking last , he wrapped his hand around Bo’s cock for sure, slow strokes. “To see you ready yourself for me while I touch you. Indulge a wicked kelpie, sweet?”

Bo heard him. He really did. He heard Ever asking over his whimper, the shift of sheets under him as he tried–failed–not to fuck up into Ever’s hand. Not that Ever made it fucking easy , meeting each restless rock of Bo’s hips with firm, slow pressure. Fuck .

Arching up, Bo groaned, unsurprised when the bed rose with him, tucked up under the small of his back. Faerie wasn’t with them in the kings and sacrifices sense. But it was still around.

“Obscene, insatiable kelpie.” An orchid unfurled at Bo’s fingertips, slick oil in its cupped petals, because why the fuck not. “I’m helpless against you, wicked as you are. You won’t think less of me for being so easily seduced?”

Play. A game that left Bo whimpering, his now-slick fingers drifting down, back, the bed moving with him. Left Ever panting, eyes moon-bright and lips parted to show the sharpness of his teeth.

“You’re in a kelpie’s bed. You’re meant to be seduced.” Ever’s voice shook, for all that his hand remained steady, the shift of his wrist sure. “You remain dressed. Chaste. Why deny us both your pleasure?”

Trapped in a kelpie’s bed, trapped between jerking up into Ever’s hand and fucking down against the slick pressure of his own fingers. In the grove, wrapped up in worship and sacrifice, Ever’s touch had been gentle and slow. Here, Bo knew himself. No hesitation.

“Lured to a kelpie’s bed, tempted by your touch.” A shift of his shoulders and Bo groaned, tight around his own fingers. “With promises of the river inside me.” Bo bit off a whine, back arched and thrusting closer to Ever. Because he could. Because Ever wanted him to. “Of being claimed .”

Eyes unwavering on Bo, Ever reached for the orchid. Another one? Fuck if Bo knew, his legs sprawled over Ever’s thighs, breaths coming hard, then harder at the sight of Ever fisting his own cock as he stroked Bo.

“Yes.” A low, encouraging growl instead of whispered pleas. “You’ll be mine, sweet. Claimed and kept. Would you like that? To feel me taking you?”

“Yeah. Yes .” A third finger, deep and slow, more greed than necessity. It took all his willpower not to say yes, fuck, now. Not when playing the fluttering unicorn bait in a skintight t-shirt while fucking himself open. “ Please . Need to feel you, kelpie. Spread out for you, ready to be taken, stolen pure to your bed. Untouched.” Untouched and on display, driving himself higher. “Please? Show your chaste, sweet human what it means to know the river.”

Love. Love and need like sunshine on a snowy day. Desire and gratitude, and Ever saying, “Come here, Bo,” without a tremor to it.

Grasping hands, gentle and insistent, catching Bo’s fingers before he could press into himself again. Tugging him up and up.

Sometimes, Bo forgot how strong Ever was. Forgot until Ever picked him up, lifted Bo and settled him into his lap. Chest flush to Bo’s back, his cock a teasing pressure against (not in, the fucking tease) Bo’s ass. Mouth and blunted teeth to Bo’s neck, fucking toying with him. Winding him up.

“ Fuck , Ever.” Bo let out an unsteady breath, his hand covering Ever’s where it pressed to his chest.

“I’ve got you.” The threat of a wicked kelpie. The loving reassurance of a besotted soulbond. “Claimed and kept. My sweet Bo. I’ve got you.”

Bo made a soft sound, a whimper of agreement. Caught up in Ever’s firm hold on his hip, guiding him down, pressing in. Unhurried. Fucking held him there, shaking.

“Fuck, Ever, fuck.” Bo tried to rock his hips against Ever’s hand, to take and take. “Yeah, fuck, yours. Fucking got me. I– Ever, please .”

Ever nipped Bo’s neck hard, tightening his grip so Bo couldn’t even hope to move. Fuck , his teeth, dragging another low groan, a fuck yes in there somewhere, from Bo. Magic welled between them with his shift back, in again, driving deeper, matching the thrust with another press of his teeth.

Hard enough to be felt. Unhurried and demanding. Fucking perfect, the touch of rough to push all the right buttons.

Bo could almost drown in it. Groaning soft encouragement, still trying to take more when held firm, unmoving. Drown in the song through their bond, citrus and snow, want answering want as it built and built and built on itself.

“Tell me?” Ever’s panting, rough voice as he bit down on Bo’s neck with another snap of hips. “Tell me I’m wicked. Your wicked kelpie. Tell me you want me to be.”

There wasn’t–

This–

Words . Ever needed him to make words , Bo on a fucking wire, more noise than coherency, lost in a haze of fuck, more, please .

“Fuck yeah, I want you to be. Beautiful fucking word for you, wicked. ‘Cause you are. My fierce, pretty kelpie. Just what I want.” Words hard to find, but Bo meant everyone. But fuck, he needed more. “Faster, my wicked kelpie? Please? I can take it.”

“Touch yourself for me.”

Bo’d never grabbed a cock faster in his life than he did at that order. Not as good as Ever’s, but the fucking wave of hunger and pleasure that came with his response more than made up for it.

No careful tenderness now. Sharp snaps of hips and shuddering legs, a back eagerly arched. Ever pressing in and in and in, taking with abandon and greed, while Bo fisted his cock, over-sensitive and aching, other hand buried in Ever’s hair. Heels dug into sheets, head back, and fuck, sparks of sensation, of too much and not enough and more , fuck, more–

“Bo. Sweet. My Bo.” Ever’s words tripped together, desperate. “ Summer . You’re exquisite. Drown for me, sweet. Come apart for me. I need you. My Bo.”

Bo twisted his fingers tighter in Ever’s hair; intelligible thought lost to the undertow. That first rush of winter, nurse logs and frost-tipped grass. And hands, grasping from the water, playing as they pulled him down and down and down.

Drowning.

He shattered, shaking, Ever’s name on his lips with, “fuck, Ever , fuck, my kelpie, fuck ,” in there, body drawn tight and wet heat spilling onto his hand, his thigh, and Ever, who growled and dragged his teeth over Bo’s skin, fucked him through it.

Everything was want. Shining and bright, rocking through him with each thrust. Low shuddering moans. Heat and heat again, greedy clutching fingers, held tight, then tighter. Driving pleasure, reinless, ravenous, the hum of pleasure from Faerie itself in their bones, the sound of the river and the scent of old growth.

“Mine. Mine . My sweet. My soul.” Words spoken between ragged pants and low groans. “ Please? ”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck, yes, wicked Ever.” Bo heard himself say, wrecked, bearing down on Ever for that final rock in (and in and in), buried deep, his please . “Yours, yours . Fuck, want you to. So fucking good.”

“My Bo.” Just that, and Ever’s whimpering cry as he came, holding Bo, clinging. The only feeling between them love.

And still, Bo held on. Floating, breathing. Whispering, “So fucking perfect. My fucking perfect Ever. My pretty kelpie. ”

For a moment, only breath existed. The world knitted together slowly, from teeth to gentle lips, tremors fading to shivers, and moans to quiet sighs, bodies slack and intertwined. Bo hissed when Ever moved them, pulling out slow while he held Bo close.

“Yours, sweet. Your wicked, insatiable Ever.” The words kissed into heated skin. Bo murmured a wordless reply, drowned out by the thrum between them. “I– Bide with me here, just for a moment? I fear I’m not ready to have you out of my arms.”

“I will be the saddest lump known to man if you try to push me away,” Bo mumbled, pressing a lazy kiss to Ever’s temple. “I want to cuddle.”

Ever adjusted his legs, leaning back with Bo tucked against his chest. The both of them relaxed into a nest of pillows that cluttered the previously bare bed. Somewhere nearby, the shuffle of fabric. Light on Bo’s upturned face, though his eyes were closed. Gentle light, the sort that didn’t burn.

“Poor, debauched human,” Ever murmured, nuzzling his neck. “Trapped in a kelpie’s embrace.”

“Help, help. A wicked, insatiable kelpie’s taken me for his own.” Bo laughed, eyes still shut. “I hear they like sweets.”

Ever’s lips brushed over Bo’s hair. “We do indeed.”

Something small and plush hit Bo’s foot. He opened an eye to see a palm-sized, burnt orange pillow nestled by his toes. The pillow twitched, nudged, when Bo tried to close his eyes again. Fucking impatient Faerie.

Bo sighed, eyes opening further. The start of a grumble died quickly when he saw what he’d been unsubtly pushed to notice.

Outside their window, the stark desert landscape no longer stood as a testament to Nimai’s time there. In its place, a lush forest of greens and silvers, like a sunset at the cusp of winter and spring. Towering oaks. Vibrant holly. Citrus trees along the banks of a fast-paced river lined with sharp rocks. Birdsong piping soft over the rushing waters.

“It’s us,” Bo said, hushed. He reached for Ever’s hand, held tight. “The Council can fucking suck it if they try and tell anyone we aren’t legit.”

“Indeed,” Ever murmured, his eyes half open. No shame from him. Just love and comfort. “Do invite the Council to ‘suck it’. Eventually. I’m in no rush to release you, sweet.”

“Good.” Bo twisted closer, an arm and leg thrown comfortably over the other man. “Me either. ”

Later, they’d force the Council to acknowledge their bond. Watch Talia spit facts and tacks, see if the selkie showed her face. All sorts of things.

Later.

In that moment, though, there was birdsong, a sunset of honeyed oranges, and slow, contented smiles, warm and quiet, all for themselves.