Waylon's Crossing - 30. Chapter 30: Lovers’ Spat

Waylon's Crossing
Chapter 30: Lovers’ Spat

Kynan stood in the doorway and watched his pairling. Alan sat in the healer’s small study with a book propped open on his knees. He held a quill poised above the book and from where he stood, Kynan could just make out the barest hints of a drawing making him wonder what Alan was imagining. Sunlight from the window at his shoulder sprinkled over Alan like dew and such was his concentration that he didn’t notice Kynan’s presence until Kynan knelt beside him.

Warm, brown eyes slid from the book to search Kynan’s face like a caress. He shivered. Between them, their bond throbbed.

The quill found its way back to its inkwell. Alan smiled. “Secret meeting over?”

“It wasn’t a secret,” Kynan replied. He took Alan’s ink stained hand and kissed the palm, grinning at the indrawn breath his action produced. Lust surged between them, making Alan’s fight for conversation seem almost comical.

“Yeah,” the werewolf whispered through a dry mouth, “but that stuff’s boring to me.” He licked his lips, suddenly a little more concerned. “You’re not going to leave me behind, are you?”

The truth was impossible to hide across their link.

“Kynan!”

He grabbed both of Alan’s hands, easily restraining him. They both ignored the book that fell to the floor.

“Alan, I know you’re angry --“

“Angry? I’m not angry!” Kynan watched the eyes he loved so dearly fill with tears, but he already knew how hurt Alan felt; the emotion thundered across their bond. Kynan winced, for little about his pairling was quiet or subtle.

“I can’t sit around here waiting! Worrying about you, about us! Wondering if this breath or the next is going to be my last.”

Kynan frowned. “You’re being melodramatic.” Karadur had warned him that his pairling would not take this well, but Kynan hadn’t believed. Alan was no warrior. He knew it, Alan knew it, everyone knew it. Logically, then, why would he even want to go?

“I don’t care!” Alan cried, throwing his arms around Kynan and burying his face in his neck. “I want to go with you! Kynan!”

“No.” Kynan enfolded Alan in his arms, but his mind tone and voice remained firm. He could not have Alan there with him! Couldn’t he feel how much Kynan hated this, too?

“But, Kynan --“

Cupping Alan’s face in his hands, Kynan met his eyes squarely. “Alan, listen to me. If I’m protecting you, I won’t be able to protect myself. These stupid wings, I -- I need you to be safe so that I can do this.”

Alan opened his mouth to object and then stopped. His eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. Then he said, “You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?”

“Uh …”

Lips bared a very wolfish snarl. “I knew it!” cried Alan, pulling away. He leaped to his feet and began to pace. “Oh, why do you have to be so stupid? Stupid jerk!” The thoughts and desires in his head, mostly of strangling Kynan, made the demon-incubus smile.

Heat filled him as he watched; loosening some muscles he hadn’t even realized were tense. As he’d learned to as a small child, Kynan drank in the strong emotion. Alan was cute when he was angry, and Kynan’s lust built with every stomp of Alan’s foot. He didn’t realize he was smiling blissfully until Alan’s cursing became a lot more forceful and direct. The end came only when Alan stalked right up to Kynan and kissed him.

“Fuck,” Alan breathed a moment later. “You know you can’t end all our arguments this way, right?” He shifted as his cock pressed uncomfortably against the front of his britches, still too self-conscious to adjust himself under Kynan’s knowing gaze.

Kynan lifted an eyebrow. “Are we arguing?”

Alan’s shocked outrage faded almost instantly. “Oh, you!” he groused, socking Kynan in the arm.

Kynan grinned.

“Stupid demon.”

The grin faded as Kynan sighed and turned away to put distance between them. “Incubus, remember?” His spirits sank.

“Hey.” Alan took a determined step forward. He slid his fingers along the nearest feathers. Blacker even than Karadur, the feathers were so dark they made everything around them seem dimmer somehow, except for Kynan’s eyes. They were still the same blue eyes he’d been born with, but he knew there was something different. His eyes were his demon heritage and it wasn’t until that moment that he realized how important that was to him.

“I think it’s really neat -- and you are still half demon. That hasn’t changed, Ky. Besides, you’re even more handsome, and I bet you can kick some serious ass now.”

Kynan snorted, but his wings twitched into the caress and he couldn’t entirely suppress a smile. He couldn’t walk across a room without tripping over his wings, but Alan’s sincerity wasn’t feigned. Even though Kynan couldn’t see what Alan was thinking, he knew it was naughty just by Alan’s blush and mischievous smirk. He shook his head, fondly ruffling his pairling’s hair.

He looked down, alerted by something in Alan’s thoughts, and saw the soft brown eyes harden as an equally determined thought surfaced. At its simplest, there was refusal to listen to reason, denial that anyone could tell him what to do, belief in what he thought was the only right answer, and rejection of anything which might separate them. Anger and hurt and love and other tangled emotions sent Kynan’s head spinning.

“Please let me go with you. Please, Kynan. You need me.”

“Yes,” Kynan agreed, staring down at his pairling. “I need you too much to let you walk into danger. Stay here, with Azil, where it’s safe.”

“How can you say that?” howled Alan, flinging himself from Kynan’s arms. Tears wet his cheeks but his eyes blazed as he spun to confront the half-demon. “I came all the way from the city to get you! I’m the reason we even found you, that you’re alive and not your uncle’s plaything!”

“I know. I know, Alan, but it’s different now.”

“It is not! It’s not, it’s not, it’s not!”

“Alan --“

“No!” He threw aside Kynan’s attempt to grab him, and bolted toward the door. “I love you, you stupid jerk!” The door crashed against its frame in Alan’s wake.

Kynan blinked, and then charged after him only to have his feet go one way and his wings another. He grabbed at the doorjamb to try and regain his balance, but the wood came off in his grip, sending Kynan spinning out into the hallway. He landed in a heap with his wings twisted every which way. By the time he fought his way free, Alan was gone.

Karadur sat out in the great room, but he only raised his brow, barely meeting Kynan’s gaze before returning calmly to the armor he was crafting. Kynan scowled at his mentor, thumped a fist on the floor, and cursed. Sticking out his jaw, he got to his feet and threw back his wings while idly massaging the muscles of his chest. He had to find Alan. This was their last night together, possibly forever, and damned if Kynan was going to leave with an argument still seething between them.

Outside, Kynan stretched out his wings in the twilight. He also stretched out his senses, as Karadur had been coaching him. Not only did he have the new wings to deal with, there were new facets to his dreamscape ability. Not to mention the pair bond. Thinking about only the present and not about all the other things Karadur and the others had also dumped on him was easy in comparison; he’d been doing that most of his life.

Standing there, Kynan let his mind unfurl as if he was in the dreamscape. Karadur and Azil glowed to these senses, brighter than he’d ever felt them before; pulling away was almost painful. To a lesser degree he felt a rough contact from what he thought was the half unicorn, or maybe that was the human, they were so mixed up it was hard to determine.

It was strange to be awake in real life and sensing people this way. If not for the crazy wind or the way the scenery stubbornly refused to shift, Kynan could have been in the dreamscape. A passing thought made him shiver and lose focus: what if he lost the ability to tell the difference? Could he get stuck? Lost in a dream world? What if this was the dreamscape and he only thought it was real? Could he still be Xeran’s prisoner? Had he imagined everything that had happened?

"Kynan?”

When had he closed his eyes? Kynan blinked to find his pairling standing in front of him. He opened his arms and Alan ran into them. He turned his face to nuzzle against the top of Alan’s head, breathing in his scent. He stopped as he felt a spurt of surprise, letting his arms relax so that Alan could step back.

The werewolf looked up at him and tipped his head sideways. “Are you taller?”

Kynan laughed, swooping in to cup Alan’s cheeks and kiss him. His wings folded around them and as the breeze brushed the feathers, it wound its way between each one, like a thousand tiny caresses. It was the most sensual experience of Kynan’s life and he gasped, shivering.

Hands slid up his bare chest, familiar and new and exciting and frightening. Tensing, Kynan started to take a step back, but his wings twitched forward and Alan was there and stepped on his toes and the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back with Alan straddling his torso. The werewolf was laughing. His eyes glittered when he looked down, chasing away Kynan’s fears. Kynan grinned back, but the discomfort of the damned wings was too much. The wind had picked up and he hit the ground more than once on his way back to his feet.

Alan was more a hindrance than a help as he held onto Kynan’s arm to pull him up, laughing harder each time he stumbled. Kynan glared and scowled and cursed, but true anger seemed just beyond his grasp.

“Do you mind?” yelled a voice from above them.

Panting, Kynan looked up while a giggling Alan hugged him. His tongue slipped out to slide along Kynan’s skin and he shuddered, torn between disgust and lust. He captured Alan’s hand in his, hearing and agreeing to the silent request for a walk.

Kynan led the way out of town, ignoring the solid presence at his back that let him know they were being followed. It could only be Timolin, Azil’s brother and bodyguard. The hairs on the back of Kynan’s neck prickled and he gritted his teeth … until Alan, hand in his, bumped his shoulder and sent Kynan careening sideways.

“You brat!” On one knee, Kynan pushed back, sending Alan rolling into the dirt. He laughed, stood up, and they continued on.

They walked into the hay fields, climbing over a low fence and wending their way through the tall forest of yellow-white stalks. The fluffy tops swayed in a gentle, shushing motion like ripples in a lake. In the sky above hung the moon, bathing all in its gentle light and lending a dreamlike quality to the walk.

“Kynan,” said Alan.

He jerked his thoughts away from the wind in his feathers and squeezed Alan’s hand.

Alan stopped walking, a serious look to his upturned face. “I’m going with you,” he stated.

Starting to frown in objection, Kynan stopped at the fingers against his lips. He felt again Alan’s admiration for his blue, cat-like demon eyes, and blushed.

“You can say no all you want,” Alan continued, letting his hand drop back to his side, “but I know you want me at your side.” He touched the center of his chest. “You’ve denied everything about me for years, but stop denying this … this bond that we have.”

“Alan.”

“I know you’re worried that I’ll distract you.” Alan bit his lower lip, radiating worry. “I can’t promise not to, because all I can think about is you, and I love you even if I’m scared out of my mind most of the time, but I almost lost you! I can’t sit back and just wait -- Don’t ask me to do that, please, Kynan, I can’t, I just can’t!”

Kynan looked down into those pleading eyes and was lost. He knew instantly when Alan realized he’d won by the softening in his eyes and the surge of gratitude and love across their bond. Skinny but strong arms went around him, hands curving up to that newly sensitive place on Kynan’s back, right between his wings. He gasped and shivered and felt Alan’s smirk from where the werewolf stood plastered to his skin, face buried against his chest.

He almost missed the whispered words, “I don’t want to die a virgin.” When the words penetrated, Kynan stifled a laugh, reaching up to ruffle his pairling’s shaggy hair.

“That’s my line.”

Nerves and want and need all bubbled together as Alan tilted his face and they fitted their lips together in a kiss. Just then, something uncurled at the base of Kynan’s spine. He froze, shivering with dread, and then tried to step back, to put some space between them.

“No. Oh,” he groaned, breath coming faster and faster as he shook his head, frantically searching for the inner strength he needed to bottle up his demon -- no, the incubus part of him which hungered. He staggered back, hand going to his face and eyes wide with shock. His cheek smarted from the slap. He didn’t notice the way his new wings fluttered to maintain his balance.

Alan stood glaring up at him, legs shoulder-width apart and hands on his hips. “Stop it,” he demanded, softening almost immediately. “Kynan, it’s okay. Trust me.”

Hunger clawed at his chest making it harder to think. “I … I want to.” He couldn’t seem to move as Alan took a couple steps forward. “Alan, no, I --“

“Trust me.”

Love, directed at him and for him alone, wrapped around Kynan and although he wanted to flail and run away, panic beating furiously within him, he could only stand there and shiver. Alan touched him and he cried out, “No!”

Then that lithe body was sliding to his knees, hands burning Kynan’s skin where they ghosted along his hips and legs. “Alan,” he whimpered, but his feet seemed turned to stone. Any minute now he knew that the beast inside him would get loose. He hadn’t felt this out of control in the real world since before arriving on Azil and Karadur’s doorstep. The beast laughed, reminding Kynan of those darker times, the lust of his victims turning to sweet fear and filling him to dizzying fullness. He wanted to deny that outcome -- it didn’t have to be this way -- but that internal darkness would not be deterred by promises of hunting. He’d let the beast out in the dreamworld and it would never be caged again. He was an incubus and he’d tasted lust once more.

The fingers on his thighs traced upward, pulling a strangled denial from Kynan’s throat. Those fingers, hotter than coals against his icy skin, slipped up further and curled around the waistband of the altered pants. Kynan’s breath caught in his throat. He looked down and was caught, trapped by the dark, lusty depths of the golden-brown eyes staring up at him. He moaned as Alan slid forward just the tiniest bit to lay the gentlest kiss on Kynan’s bare knee. He let out his breath in a rushed, wordless cry, shivering anew as Alan’s fingers grazed his skin. They moved to the front of his pants, working the leather belt that held the cloth around his waist.

The pants fell in a deafening jangle as the belt buckle hit the ground. Kynan moaned. Alan’s hand, curled around one leg, held him motionless. The dark hunger in his gut chuckled.

“Don’t!” he gasped, having to close his eyes.

Something cool and wet lapped against the skin of his inner thigh, making him gasp louder, pant harder. He convulsed with the strength needed to hold back.

“Let go,” Alan purred against his skin. “Trust me.”

“I … can’t!”

“Yes, you can.”

He looked down into determined eyes. “Alan …” He wobbled, inhaling sharply as a strong, callused hand cupped his balls. The grip was steady if tentative and the only thing connecting Kynan to the world. “O-oh, I stop.” He gasped, lightheaded and still struggling to speak.

Then hot teeth sinking into muscle wrung from him a sharp cry. Little did he know the harsh brittleness that had fallen over his features, the dark shadows in his slitted eyes. Looking down he watched Alan’s wolfish tongue lap the blood from his thigh. He panted a little and blinked.

“Don’t you get it?” Alan asked, baring his elongated canines in a snarl. “Did you not say that I am you and you are me now?” His fingers, strong from hours hammering metal and handling the tools of his trade, dug into Kynan’s skin. “You cannot hurt me,” he hissed. “To hurt me is to hurt yourself and you will not -- you can’t -- do that.”

“I --“

Alan’s mouth tightened into a stubborn line, his chin coming up, brows lowering as he glared his defiance. As Kynan looked at him, shocked and taken aback by the challenge, he felt laughter boiling up from the back of his mind. With it, the blossoming power of the incubus further unfurled, fluttering like night flies unable to resist the light. He felt those wisps attach themselves to Alan and watched as the puppy-bright eyes started to glow, desire fanned even higher through their bond.

He saw the wolfish smile and the long tongue flick out, slurping from balls to tip. Kynan moaned and his head fell back, hands finding and twisting in Alan’s hair. His teeth chattered but he wasn’t cold; blackness fell over his vision and Kynan gave in.

“Put those lips of yours around me, little wolf.”

Alan had one arm looped around his leg for balance, one hand half caressing and half exploring, and his face rested against Kynan’s groin. That long, drooling tongue flicked out at random, a maddening tease. Kynan moaned and yanked at Alan’s hair. Blood rushed to his dick as he felt more than heard Alan growl.

Abruptly, the exploring hand seized Kynan in a tight grip, and his mouth swallowed the head of Kynan’s cock. His hand slipped in the slobber as Alan tried his best to swallow and move like the pictures in his head dictated. Kynan could see them, too, and he groaned. He bent his elbows, partially leaning forward to direct, but Alan fought his control. He held the suction as Kynan tried to withdraw, used his teeth when Kynan started to thrust, and moaned with every tug on his thick, black hair.

Their tug of war grew more and more frenzied, their discordant moves more erratic. Each of Alan’s moans was like a barely-there graze of fingernails along Kynan’s back. He breathed in Alan’s arousal, drinking him down in great gulps that lifted him higher and higher until unbeknownst to him he rose up on his tip-toes, wings bashing against the hay stalks on either side.

They crashed together. For long moments all Kynan could do was try to breathe. He couldn’t see or hear anything except for some great thumping noise like a giant drum. Contentment filled him in a way that none of Azil’s huge solstice feasts had ever done. Sleepy and full, Kynan tried to curl up on his side, but his wings got in the way. He pushed and shoved at himself until he rose to a sitting position and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Alan lay half under him and Kynan leered first, seeing the gooey mess on Alan’s face and hair. The memories churned to the forefront of his thoughts tried to leech away all the enjoyment, but then Alan opened his eyes and grinned, pride at his prowess plain to see. It was sexy as hell; the memories evaporated.

“You,” Kynan started, fingering a white, gluey clump on Alan’s chin.

“Me,” Alan murmured, sticking out his tongue to slurp at Kynan’s fingers.

“Augh!” Kynan exclaimed, drawing back only to join in Alan’s laughter. He rolled to pin the teenager down, licking and sucking at his face, tasting his spunk and soaking in the joy Alan exuded. He found and nibbled on an ear and heard Alan’s breathless giggles change pitch.

“Kynan,” Alan moaned, twisting his limbs to press their bodies together. “Kynan, please!”

In the dreamscape, Kynan had experience sensing hundreds of individuals and blocking them from his attention so that he could focus. Now that sense extended to the waking world. He grabbed for Alan and blinked, holding on tightly as he shook his head and his wings rose into the wind. Timolin was close, horny and frustrated and uncertain. Beyond him was a town filled with hundreds of tantalizing emotions. Under his hands writhed the werewolf, consumed with desire. He grasped after Alan, fighting for the control he’d learned in the dreamscape, putting all his energy toward avoiding the temptation to see what those other emotions might yield.

Clenching his jaw, Kynan gave a low, wordless cry, eyes falling half closed as his mind stretched further, so far he grew frightened he’d become lost. He’d trained himself from birth to explore and learn and master his abilities. There had never been anyone to teach him, but he wished for that now with all his heart. There were too many changes all come upon him at once. He needed help, but there was no one to ask. He was alone.

Alarm washed through him, followed by love so hot it left Kynan gasping. He blinked, aghast to realize he’d ever closed his eyes, and stared down into Alan’s liquid eyes.

“You’re not alone,” his pairling said softly. His hand curled around the back of Kynan’s head and drew him down into a kiss.

Kynan thrust his tongue inside that welcoming mouth without thought for kindness, only desire to consume. Into his mouth came Alan’s whimper and he drank it down, drank all of it as his tongue sought deeper. The mouth he kissed struggled and failed to hold onto him as Kynan retreated, dragging Alan’s lower lip into his mouth to suck before finally releasing him.

The drunken, glassy stare was reward enough. Kynan grinned. Nuzzling under the scruffy jaw, Kynan licked and suckled a path up Alan’s neck to his ear while his fingers worked quickly to let Alan’s cock fall into his hands. He howled as Kynan deliberately squeezed and pulled, shooting just like one of his guns, loud and messy. He moaned, twitching, eyes fallen closed as his body trembled. Kynan kissed the swollen lips and picked him up. Boneless, Alan snuggled against him, gooey face plastered to his chest.

Though the muscles of Kynan’s chest ached, he strove to do what Karadur demanded. Kynan told his wings to stretch out and behind, the feathered tips catching the wind and lifting further. They streamed above and behind him, taller still than the endless field of hay. He breathed in deeply of the night air, the dirt and dust, the sounds of the town drifting to his ears, and as Alan’s somnolence stole through him, Kynan yawned wide enough to crack his jaw.

“My prince --“

As certain as he’d been of Timolin’s presence, Kynan had not noticed or felt any change in distance. The demon stepping in front of him sent him careening sideways, to fall and curse as his pairling rolled free. Alan sat up, yawning, eyes sleep-fuddled and innocent to the tongue-lashing the stoic Timolin endured.

“My apologies, your Grace,” Timolin repeated, bowing deeply. “I did not intend to startle. May I assist you back?”

Kynan glanced up at him, frowning at the proffered hand because he could feel the demon’s uneasiness. Was it the prospect of touching him, or was it something else?

Alan sat up, nose wiggling as he sniffed, suddenly wide awake. “Kynan, there’s … something.”

Kynan met Timolin’s eyes and felt the demon’s unease tear into conflict. Stay and protect his prince as bid, or return to the house and his brother, the demon he’d loved and protected all his life? Those could be the only choices and Kynan made that decision for him: “Go! Go! You’ll get there faster without us, go!”

Alan was suddenly plastered against his side as Kynan swayed in the wind. He looked down at the warning growl rising in Alan’s throat and ran a hand through his hair, shaking him a little by the back of his neck. Alan’s fear was directionless and Kynan needed to think, to separate himself, but he couldn’t and they stood there shivering together as doom rushed down to meet them.