Chapter 8: His Bed

He carried her up the stairs.

She told him she could walk, and he said he knew, and he carried her anyway.

She rode up three flights of cold stone with her face against his throat.

His room was at the top of the keep.

It had a tall window, a low wooden table and a bed, and nothing else.

There were no hangings, no cups, and no clutter of any kind.

The bed was wide and plain, with one pillow.

"One pillow," said Riko.

"I am a simple man."

"You are three hundred years old and you've never had a second pillow?"

"I have never had anyone to put on it."

He set her down on the quilt.

He stood over her in the moonlight with his hands open at his sides.

Riko looked at the room, and at him.

She felt it again, that slow turning in her chest.

"Come here," she said.

He came.

She sat up and took hold of his belt and pulled him down beside her.

She kissed him slowly.

He made a low sound against her mouth.

She slid her hand into his hair, and her thumb found the base of one small black horn.

He went rigid.

"Oh," said Riko, delighted. "Does that do something?"

"It does a great deal."

"Show me."

She stroked it again, from the root outward, with the pad of her thumb.

A shudder ran through his whole body.

His breath broke, and his hands closed on the quilt, and his eyes went dark gold and then nearly red.

"Riko," he said, hoarse. "I cannot think."

"Good."

"I mean it."

"So do I."

She pushed him back against the pillow, the only one, and followed him down, and swung one leg over his hips.

He stared up at her with his lips parted.

The moon lay across his chest and showed the fine black scales that ran from his arms over his shoulders and down his ribs.

She traced them one by one with her fingertips, and then with her mouth.

He tasted of smoke and salt.

She kissed his collarbone, and the hollow of his throat, and a long line down the center of his chest.

She felt the muscle jump under her lips.

"Tell me what you like," she whispered.

"This," Kagiro said.

She went lower, wrapping her scarred hand around the thick, burning length of his cock.

"This," he said, in a different voice, as her mouth closed hot over the blunt head, and then he said nothing at all but her name.

She learned him patiently, licking the bead of pre-cum from the tip and stroking the heavy shaft in time with her tongue.

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