Lacuna - N.R. Walker Page 0,99

whisper. “Need.”

Crow’s eyes flashed by the light of the fire. He lifted Tancho’s leg and pushed into him, so slow. Too slow, torturously slow, painfully slow.

Tancho’s senses came back to him in a rush and he gasped, his eyes wide. Crow kissed him, plunging his tongue into his mouth, while he filled Tancho’s arse with his cock, and yes . . .

No. This is what Tancho wanted. What he needed.

His eyes rolled back in his head and he gave himself to the pain, to the pleasure, to the sensation of being claimed and owned.

He gave himself to this man.

Crow held him, kissed him deeply as he filled him, over and over and deeper with every thrust. It was slow and tender, desperation in his digging fingertips to go deeper and harder, etched with restraint and letting go.

This was giving and taking in equal measure, an ebb and flow of body and heart. And Tancho gave all he had and took all Crow gave him. They moved as one, breathed as one, became one.

Crow’s thrusts grew harder and deeper, faster, and he trembled as he tried to hold back.

“Give yourself to me,” Tancho breathed.

Crow thrust one last time, buried to the hilt, swollen and rock hard, and he groaned as he gave Tancho what he asked for. Tancho could feel the pulse, could feel Crow’s heartbeat, his seed, and in that moment—that perfect moment—they were one.

Tancho held Crow in place, never wanting him to leave his body, never wanting to be apart again. He would have this man inside him forever, for nothing in the world had felt like this.

He felt complete and whole. He felt unified and fulfilled, and as Crow kissed up his neck, over his jaw, and found his lips, he was certain Crow felt the same. It was slow kisses and tender touches, reverent, and Tancho tasted love in every touch of his tongue, felt his destiny in every touch of his hands.

When Crow pulled out of him, he quickly wrapped Tancho up in his arms and nuzzled into his neck. Whispering sweet nothings, murmuring contentedness, and humming sleepily. The fire cast the cave in an orange glow, with flickering shadows and warmth, and Tancho snuggled into Crow’s body.

Crow smoothed out an errant strand of Tancho’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. He planted soft kisses along his forehead, his closed eyelids, before tilting his face up for a soft kiss. “We have an old saying in the Northlands,” he said, his voice warm and gruff. “We wander lost until our heart finds a home.”

Tancho smiled into Crow’s neck. “My heart feels at home with you.”

Crow sighed and pulled Tancho closer, rubbing his back until he was drawing loose circles and patterns on his skin. And then the pattern changed. He drew a large cross, then put a line through it. Then he drew a line from the tip of the centre line to the tip of the first spire, and Tancho’s breath caught.

That couldn’t have been random. No, it was deliberate. It had to be.

Tancho pulled back to look into Crow’s eyes, and he saw truth and vulnerability, but there was no fear.

“You know what that means?” Tancho asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

Crow nodded. “And I meant it.”

Tancho kissed him then. Hard and with every ounce of emotion his heart could hold.

Crow had just drawn an old rune symbol on his back. A language old as time itself, but timeless in its meaning.

Love.

Crow had drawn the symbol for love.

“I love you,” Tancho murmured. “Our birthmarks might have drawn us together, but my heart is yours.”

Crow put his palm to Tancho’s cheek. “And mine is yours. The distance between us is no distance at all. Maghdlm can call the lacuna whatever she pleases. I know what it means,” he kissed Tancho softly. “There is no distance between us, not now, not ever.”

Tancho took his hand, kissed his palm and down to his wrist and forearm where his birthmark . . . wasn’t.

Tancho laughed. “Uh, your raven has flown away.” He lifted Crow’s arm, and not seeing the birthmark anywhere, he sat up and searched his chest, his neck. “I can’t find it.” He pulled Crow over onto his stomach so he could search his back, but Crow stopped him.

“Tancho,” he said slowly. “Stop looking.”

“Why? If it’s on your body, I will find it.”

“It isn’t,” he replied. “It’s on yours.” His gaze fixed on Tancho’s chest and Tancho looked down . . .

He gasped, almost falling