A Wish Upon the Stars

  “Sam.”

  I smiled tremulously at him. “I took control of my own destiny. Set my own path. Made my magic my bitch. The Great White shoved everything he had into me—and gods, that sounds terrible—and I took it. Because I had to. He taught me more in a year than any wizard should learn in a lifetime. And because of him, because of the fucking Destiny of Dragons, I learned things no wizard has ever learned before.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Like how to be mortal. It was… a light. All I had to do was snuff it out. And I did.”

  He kissed me then. With all that he had. His cheeks were wet, and I was laughing, laughing, laughing against his mouth, his fingers digging into the sides of my head. He was frantic in his movements, muttering, “You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid, Sam, I love you, gods, I love you,” and it was the greatest feeling in the world. Being kissed by him. Being held by him. Being loved by him.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, even though he didn’t stop kissing me.

  “Yeah, dude,” I said, the words muffled against his mouth. “More sure than I’ve been about anything.”

  “I can’t believe….” He shook his head as he pulled back. “You did that for me?”

  “Yeah. And for me too. Because I want to live my life the way I want. Not the way the gods want. Or Randall, or even Morgan.”

  “Randall’s gonna be pissed.”

  “Eh. He took it pretty well.”

  “You told him?”

  “Yep. He was more… shocked than angry. Granted, he could still be pissed at me later. You know how he is. Gets revenge when you least expect it.”

  “You are so fucking stupid.”

  I grinned at him. “You still pissed off at me?”

  He frowned. “Why? I thought that’s what this whole thing was about, so we wouldn’t be angry with each other.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. But if you were still angry with me, we could totally have angry-we’re-fighting sex where you manhandle me and maybe I fuck you up against the wall. Or you could fuck me, and I could be this awesome bossy bottom who still tells you what to do, because that’s how we roll.”

  He gaped at me.

  I waggled my eyebrows at him.

  And then I was up and over his shoulder, arms hanging down his back as he carted me toward his room. I laughed at him and spanked his ass, because it was there and deserved to be spanked. He growled at me and I smacked him again, my palm burning. It sent a zing through me, the feel of it, and I knew that’d be something we’d have to explore later, especially when he gasped the second time, clutching me tighter against him.

  He wasn’t gentle when he threw me down on the bed, but I wasn’t expecting him to be. Everything was too ramped up after finally coming to a head, and I didn’t care who fucked who, just as long as one of us was eventually inside the other.

  I got an idea of how things were going to go almost immediately. He towered above me, knees pressed against the edge of the bed. I smiled lazily at him, watching and waiting. He slid his tunic up and over his head, and there were miles of skin for me to gaze upon for the first time since I’d returned. He was thinner, yes, the muscles in his chest and stomach lean and pulled tight. There were scars across his chest too, ones that hadn’t been there when I left. I’d only glimpsed them briefly the day he’d returned to Camp HaveHeart. There were stories on his skin that I hadn’t been there for, and later, when all was done and we were happy, I’d demand an explanation for each and every single one of them. Of course, the one that needed no explanation was the scar I zeroed in on. The one right below his rib cage.

  So I ignored him for the moment, the way he stood in front of me, posing and flexing (because no matter what happened, Ryan Foxheart would always be a bit of a douchebag), and pushed myself up. I crawled to the edge of the bed and sat back on my heels. I reached out and traced the scar with a finger. It was thick and ragged but white, the color of something long since healed. It wasn’t very large, and I was struck by the fact that something so insignificant could have led to something so devastating.

  I could feel him staring at me, but I still leaned forward and pressed my lips against the scar where a man named Ruv had thrust Ryan’s own sword into his chest, pinning him against a wall. The muscles in his stomach jumped, and he brought one of his big hands to the back of my head, not pushing me closer or pulling me away, but just… holding.

  I kissed the scar again and again and again.

  He allowed it, but a moment later, the hand on the back of my head moved until he cupped my jaw, forcing me to look up at him. His bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth, and his pupils were blown out. Through his trousers, I could feel his dick in a hard line against my chest.

  We watched each other for a beat or two before he leaned down, kissing me fiercely, still gripping my jaw, his beard scraping wonderfully against my face. It was still such a novelty, and I was delighted by it and him. He licked into my mouth, hot and wet, and I was already scrabbling for the ties on his trousers, trying to get as much skin exposed as possible. I was about to break the knots when they came loose, and I shoved my hand inside, grabbed his cock, and squeezed. He groaned against my mouth. I shoved his face away as I pulled his trousers down to his knees, his cock hard, the head flushed. Before he could say a word, I leaned forward and swallowed him down.

  He gasped as he stood ramrod straight, hips twitching like he wanted to fuck my face. Spit was already leaking down my chin as I got him as wet as possible. I gagged when I tried to take him farther, out of practice after having been gone for so long. I pulled off and took a breath.

  “Sam—”

  “Shut up. I’m going to gag on your dick all I want.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut, fingers tightening in my hair. “I have no argument against this.”

  “Good.” I licked a line up his fat cock, tracing the vein underneath. I reached up and tugged on his balls, his pubic hair wiry to the touch. I sucked his cockhead back into my mouth, tongue pressing into his piss slit. His grip on my hair was harder now, almost to the point of pain, but I reveled in it, because it was sharp and bright and crystal clear. It wasn’t like one of the hazy dreams I’d had in the forest, my body trembling with magic, lightning crawling along my skin as dragons whispered in my ear. It was real, and almost shockingly so.

  He said my name from somewhere above me, and I reached my free hand up his stomach and into his chest hair until I found a nipple. I twisted it gently as I bobbed my head on his dick, pushing myself farther and faster.

  His hips started to move then, either by his own volition or an involuntary action. It took a few thrusts, but then my nose was pressed against his pubes, my eyes watering. He smelled of clean sweat and something so distinctly Ryan that an onslaught of memories washed over me, from the very first time we’d been together in Castle Lockes to the last time in Meridian City before everything went to hell. I was a little delirious at the thoughts of him, having spent so long pushing him from my mind.

  He was muttering under his breath, saying, “That’s good, Sam, oh, that’s so good, look at you, look how well you’re taking it, you’re doing so good,” and I groaned at the praise, what felt like lightning arcing down my spine. Used to be we didn’t play this way. It was always Ryan doing the good job, Ryan doing so well, because that’s how we were. I didn’t need it, not before, and he did.

  But now, hearing him whisper filthy things above me as he pulled his dick out of my mouth and smacked it wetly against my lips, telling me he was going to eat me out before he fucked me, because he needed to taste me on his tongue, I couldn’t help but feel grateful that he was taking charge. It was like he knew I was tired of keeping my shoulders squared and my head high. I was tired of being strong and doing what was right. I didn’t want that now. I wanted to be told what to do by someone who loved me, who only cared about making me feel good.

  The sound I made when he said, “Open back up for me, okay?” was one I would probably be em
barrassed about later, but I couldn’t find reason to care right then. I opened my mouth, and his cock was hot and heavy on my tongue. My face was a mess of saliva, and there was the bitter tang of precome on my lips, but I took as much as he gave me.

  He stood above me, almost fully nude, strong and scarred and alive, and I was clothed before him, taking what he gave me. There was nowhere else I wanted to be. Everything else could wait. Verania could wait. I’d earned this.

  My throat and jaw were sore when he grunted and pulled out, panting above me. His eyes were glassy as he looked down at me, tracing his thumb over my bottom lip. “Gods,” he whispered. “Look at you. Just look at you.”

  I sucked his thumb into my mouth, and he hissed before he pulled it away and reached down to the bottom of my tunic. “Raise your arms.”

  I did.

  He pulled it off, and the air was slightly chilly against my heated skin. I’d long gotten over being self-conscious about the lightning-struck scars from when Myrin had tried to consume my magic. They were a part of me and marked me as a survivor.

  Ryan stepped out of his trousers and kicked them away. He leaned down and kissed me, my lips swollen and sore. His rough hands traced down the scars on my chest, gentle and sweet. He reached the ties on my own trousers and tugged at them, my dick aching against the fabric. I reached up and cupped his face while he worked, sighing into his mouth, his beard scratching my cheeks and chin.

  “Lift up,” he muttered, and I did. He pulled my trousers down, my dick slapping against my stomach. Once he got them past my hips, he pressed a hand against my chest, forcing me back against the bed. He stood upright again and pulled the trousers off my legs before he dropped them out of sight. He let my left leg fall off the edge of the bed but kept the right in his hand, pulling it up against his chest, turning his head and kissing the bone of my ankle.

  “I gotta admit,” I said, sounding rather giddy, “the beard is doing it for me. Like, you have no idea.”

  He grinned against my calf, sweat dripping from his brow. “Yeah?”

  “Oh yeah. Don’t get me wrong. Clean-cut Knight Commander Ryan Foxheart is hot as shit, but Dirty Camp HaveHeart Ryan Foxheart is really my jam right now.”

  “Dirty Camp HaveHeart Ryan Foxheart,” he repeated. “You capitalized that, didn’t you.”

  I grinned up at him. “It’s gotta be true now. So, idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Let’s see how it feels on all my other parts. Because as much as I love you macking on my leg, I got some ideas about where else you can put your face.”

  He snorted against my leg, and while it was disgusting, I was so godsdamn horny, I thought it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. People didn’t understand the need to laugh during sex. It couldn’t always be hot and heavy. It needed to be sweet and awkward too. “Ideas, huh?”

  I nodded quickly. “So many ideas. Like, you don’t even know how many ideas.”

  “That right? Let’s see if I can figure a few of them out. How about here, for example.” He bent forward slightly, hooking my leg over his shoulder, his lips and beard scraping against my knee.

  I swallowed. “Good. That’s… that’s a good start.”

  “Is it. And here?” He bent over the end of the bed, one hand at my side on the mattress, his face on my inner thigh. I fisted the comforter as I squirmed against the way he mouthed at my skin.

  “Yeah,” I gasped. “That’s a good place too. We should have done this whole beard thing a hell of a long time ago. You are never allowed to shave. Ever. Unless you start looking homeless. Which, I guess technically we sort of are right now, so. I mean—oh my gods,” because he was at the crease of my legs and pelvis, and my dick was so hard it hurt. I felt him chuckle as I jerked out of his grasp and raised both legs toward my chest, exposing myself to him.

  Hard to believe I’d once been weirdly prudish about sex when I was essentially asking Ryan to lick my asshole without saying a word.

  He made a noise like he’d been punched, and I lifted my head in time to see him fall to his knees at the edge of the bed. There was a moment of almost excruciating anticipation where nothing fucking happened, and I couldn’t help but wiggle my hips a little.

  Then I felt hands on the back of my thighs, pushing my legs farther against my torso, almost bending me in half. I watched him, and his eyes were hooded, the green of his irises so dark that it reminded me of my magic. His nose bumped against my balls, his breath against my perineum, and I was ready to fucking crawl out of my skin when I felt the flat of his tongue against my asshole, licking up to my balls.

  I cried out, trying to push toward him and pull away at the same time, my skin oversensitive. Say what you will about Ryan Foxheart, but the man surely knew how to eat ass. His grip on my legs was tight as he pressed his face against me, sliding his tongue along my hole. I turned my head to the side, trying to catch my breath, my hand going between my legs and wrapping around my aching cock, giving it a good stroke or two.

  “Stop,” he growled.

  “Fucker,” I groaned. “Come on. Just let me—”

  “You don’t touch yourself. Not today.”

  “But—”

  “Sam. I mean it. You keep your hands away from your dick. I’m going to be the only one who touches you.”

  “Bastard,” I snapped at him as he licked my ass again.

  “Do you understand?”

  “Fuck you.”

  He laughed quietly. “That’s another thing that isn’t happening today.”

  And then his mouth was on my ass again, his hands trailing down the backs of my legs, and a finger pressed inside me alongside his tongue. I was babbling then, saying yes and Ryan and please and more you have to give me more. A second finger came in with the first, and I wrapped my legs around his neck when I felt him blow against my wet hole. I clenched down on his fingers, and he grunted like the breath had been knocked from his body.

  I was shaking by the time he lifted his head, his beard glistening with saliva. He slid up my body, the bulk of his weight holding me down, and I squeezed my eyes shut as his hips ground down against mine, our cocks brushing together. Then he was kissing me, and it was wrong and fucking dirty, but I chased after the taste on his tongue, sucking it into my mouth, my legs around his waist, a hand on the back of his head, holding him against me. He thrust his hips, gasping into my mouth. The scars on my chest and stomach felt like they were burning, and he turned his head, panting heavily near my ear as he rubbed on me.

  “Gods,” he muttered as he slowed his movements, instead choosing to circle his hips.

  “If there’s no oil in here, I’m going to fucking murder you,” I threatened him. “You’re not boning me without it, no matter how much you put your tongue in my ass.”

  He stared down at me.

  I batted my eyelashes sweetly up at him.

  “I think,” he said faintly, “there’s oil in the table next to the bed.”

  “You should probably get it.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Now might even be good.”

  He frowned. “Hey, I’m in charge. Remember the whole don’t touch your dick thing?”

  “Distinctly. It will forever be ingrained in my memories, because dude, your dirty talk is A-plus work. But it’s cute how you think you’re in charge.”

  “I’m about to fuck you,” he pointed out.

  I rolled my eyes. “And when have you ever not known me to top from the bottom? Come on, Foxheart. You act like we haven’t had sex in a year or something.”

  Something strangely fond crossed over his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

  I leaned up and kissed him again before falling back onto the bed. “Damn right. Now get the oil, lube me up, and let’s get this show on the road. I’ve decided I want to ride you.”

  He wheezed something fierce.

  I patted his sweaty, furry chest. “Glad that works for you.”

  He almost fell off the bed with how quickly
he reached for the bedside table. I struggled not to laugh, but then said fuck it and laughed at him anyway. He scowled at me over his shoulder before opening the drawer and digging through it. When he found what he was looking for, he shut the drawer and moved above me again, laying the vial on my chest.

  “I suppose I should ask why you have this, right? I mean, while fleeing Castle Lockes, you decided to save lube.”

  “I knew when you came back that you’d bitch at me for not having it,” he said dryly. “It was one of the first things I grabbed.”

  I blinked. “So… what you’re saying is that while you were all planning to flee for your lives, you had the wherewithal to think about boning me, knowing that when I returned, I was going to yell at you for not grabbing the oil?”

  He looked smug. “Sounds about right.”

  “I love you,” I whispered fervently. “Dude, you are the best person ever.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  “Okay. Whoa. Calm down there, Captain Ego. Rein it back in. Let’s not go too far here.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I know what I said. And now I’m telling you to calm the fuck down.”

  “Mood ruined.”

  “Funny, that. Your penis says otherwise.”

  “Oh my gods.”

  “It’s saying ohh, I’m so hard and I can’t wait to go up Sam’s butt—”

  He put his hand over my mouth.

  I licked his palm.

  It’d been a long while since I’d found myself in such a position. When one is in the middle of the Dark Woods surrounded by dragons and getting slammed with magic, one doesn’t find a whole lot of time to finger oneself. And if I was being honest, I couldn’t remember if I’d ever even jerked it in the forest.

  So being worked open stung, and I breathed through my nose, slow and steady, Ryan muttering soft praise as he worked me open further. I cracked open an eye to look at him only to find him staring down at his own finger with something akin to awe as he thrust into me, like even the simple action was enough to take his breath away. He was a knight, a warrior, hardened in battle and able to deal death if called upon to do so. But Ryan Foxheart was also a sap.