Chapter Text
Fisting
Augus
*
It wasn’t something that Augus could work up to over a period of days or weeks. Gwyn’s exceptional healing ability meant he wouldn’t stay stretched, he wouldn’t stay open. Which meant that there had to be a measure of pain in the process of it, but Augus thought that was perfect, and Gwyn- Well, he’d not said no.
Gwyn lay face up on the leather bound table, legs splayed, head tilted back. Augus had locked his wrists into place with magically reinforced leather cuffs. Of course Gwyn could break them, he was King, but it would probably take a few hours of effort to manage it, and Augus could make all the progress he wanted in that period of time.
‘If you were underfae, and didn’t heal as fast, this process would take longer – a few days or weeks perhaps, would probably be more…accommodating to your personal comfort,’ Augus said softly, smiling as he twisted two heavily lubricated fingers inside of Gwyn’s ass. It felt tight, hot, perfect. He enjoyed the fact that Gwyn was alternately tensing and relaxing, knowing that there was more to come, yet still overwhelmed by something as simple as this. Augus lay his head against Gwyn’s thigh, smiling to himself, before he stabbed his fingers in hard just to ride out the jerk of Gwyn’s muscles.
‘You can’t pretend this is too much,’ Augus said, tapping his other three fingers against Gwyn’s skin. ‘There’s so much more to go.’
‘It’s impossible.’
‘Sweetness, you’re King, nothing is impossible.’
Gwyn made a grumbling noise, and Augus wondered if Gwyn was going to point out that it wouldn’t be painless. Well, it wouldn’t be. Augus could use muscle relaxants and analgesics if he wanted to, but he didn’t. In an ideal world, Gwyn would look at Augus’ right hand from this day forth and never forget where Augus had forced it. Perhaps Augus should be gentler, but what was the point? He was confident he could get Gwyn to come – clamping down around his hand and wrist – regardless, and there was something enticing about Gwyn when he was utterly shattered, recovering from pain and pleasure both.
Augus had never gotten past his need to consume Gwyn, to tear him open, dig into him.
This was more a gift for himself than it was for Gwyn. And Gwyn was just enough of a sucker to give it to him. Augus smirked.
‘Three now,’ Augus said.
‘You don’t have to tell-’ No more words as Augus pushed the third finger in, leaving his little finger and thumb outside. Three fingers and Gwyn groaned faintly through the stretch of it, and Augus watched his cock twitch, watched the way his fingers disappeared into Gwyn’s body, hypnotised by it.
Normally, with a client, he’d take his time. He’d use toys and work up to it over a weekend. But Gwyn didn’t like toys, and Augus wanted the intimacy of this. Wanted to be able to feel the shudders working their way through Gwyn’s body. Wanted the clench around his knuckles.
Augus clasped his other hand around Gwyn’s balls and squeezed gently, watching as Gwyn’s shoulders locked up from the ache of it. Augus squeezed again, harder, just because he could. The sound of chains rattling as Gwyn’s wrists strained at the metal cuffs. Yes, well, if Gwyn thought he was being pushed now, he really had no concept of what was coming next.
Then again, he didn’t. Gwyn wasn’t into anything much larger or wider than Augus’ cock. Flattering, really, but Augus craved seeing the fear on Gwyn’s face when he wasn’t sure he could handle it, and he needed the noises Gwyn would make, Gwyn’s certainty that he couldn’t, even while Augus made sure he could. It had been wonderful making Gwyn take such things when he’d been masquerading as Seelie King. It was more wonderful now, knowing that Gwyn returned to him, still allowed it, even if he looked at Augus with a bruised, sulky expression on his face sometimes. Like Augus was being unfair.
Like that wasn’t Augus’ whole shtick anyway. Honestly, what did Gwyn expect?
Gwyn’s entrance was loosening, slowly. The muscle still tightened from time to time, but not as hard now that it was fatiguing. They’d been at it for a while. Augus should have let Gwyn come first, at least he would have if he cared for Gwyn’s comfort. Forcing an orgasm when a fist was pressed up hard against the prostate could be awful.
‘It’s going to hurt,’ Augus said.
‘Shut up,’ Gwyn snarled.
‘But you want that, don’t you? If not for yourself, then for me.’
Gwyn said nothing, in that mutinous way that only made Augus want to laugh. He didn’t. A deeply humiliated Gwyn was far more likely to walk out than a mildly shamed one.
They’d come close to this before. A few times now. Augus sliding his little finger inside of Gwyn and making it four, pushing deep enough to tease Gwyn’s rim with the final knuckles. Gwyn would complain and gripe and come so hard that he’d often be insensate during aftercare, deliciously pliant later. So Gwyn wasn’t into size, or being stretched like this, and would never ask for it or seek it out, but Augus would chase after it anyway. From start to finish, he’d make this worthwhile for the both of them.
‘Four now,’ Augus said.
Gwyn clenched around him, not seeming to realise that it both wouldn’t keep Augus out, and would only make the stretch worse.
Augus simply forced his little finger inside, pushing until that clench around him became less of an angry reflex and more alarm.
‘Shhh,’ Augus said automatically, lightly patting Gwyn’s thigh. Nothing too reassuring. He didn’t want Gwyn to truly calm down.
‘I’m in the process…of changing my mind,’ Gwyn gasped.
‘Good for you.’
‘Augus.’
Was Augus supposed to feel contrite when Gwyn said his name that way? It only made Augus’ cock harder.
‘We’re nearly there,’ Augus said.
That wasn’t entirely true.
‘Just fuck me instead,’ Gwyn said.
‘Look at you, so much better at asking for something. But you know how I like to deny you. Besides, don’t you want me to see you completely undone? No? Wait, that was me. I wanted to see that.’
‘If you think I won’t-’
Augus pushed harder, making that tight rim of muscle yield to his fingers. He was going to need to apply more lubricant soon. But for now, he shut Gwyn up by pushing deeply enough that those final knuckles began to stretch Gwyn even more. Likely, Gwyn was just going to say something about getting revenge anyway. Augus didn’t care. He shifted and placed his other hand down on Gwyn’s belly, pushing him into the leather table, making sure Gwyn knew that he wasn’t going anywhere.
‘Just take it,’ Augus said, as though he was impatient with Gwyn’s attitude. ‘Or can you not even do that much?’
Augus watched as Gwyn’s fingers splayed like he wanted to scratch Augus’ arm. Or, more likely, his face. Augus smiled, and Gwyn’s eyes weren’t open to see it. That was probably for the best.
‘Really, I thought you’d be much more amenable to me getting my hand inside of you this way, instead of how I’ve done it before.’ He thought back to that moment – years ago now – when he’d thrust his hand into Gwyn’s abdomen. That wasn’t even about sex…not entirely, anyway. That had been a combination of forgetting where he was, forgetting who Gwyn was, and forgetting what game he was supposed to be playing, but he still thought of it with a strange, embarrassed yearning. The feeling of Gwyn’s viscera around his fingers, as hot and warm as the inside of his ass was around him now.
Gwyn tensed again, and Augus mouthed over his flank gently, knowing that what counted as almost fond memories for him likely didn’t feel the same for Gwyn.
Besides, it wasn’t like Gwyn hadn’t returned the favour. Augus just hadn’t been alive for that part.
‘People…’ Gwyn began, and cut off, taking several shaking breaths. ‘People aren’t supposed to do- It’s not…’
‘I missed that part of the manual that told me how to be a proper waterhorse,’ Augus admitted, licking up the taste of Gwyn’s sweat. He withdrew his fingers all the way and covered them more liberally with lubricant. Then, because he could, because it was necessary, because Gwyn would writhe and hate it, he pushed a large amount directly into Gwyn’s ass.
Gwyn squirmed, huffed a breath out of his nostrils that was all distaste.
Augus distracted him by plunging four fingers back inside of him. No point wasting the stretch he’d already achieved.
‘There,’ Augus said, as his fingers slid deeper automatically. It was easier now, though probably not so much for Gwyn, who was rumbling tight noises through his chest, his lips pressed together. After all this time, still repressing anything that might look like pleasure or pain when Augus was doing something Gwyn hadn’t quite agreed to, but hadn’t disagreed to either. ‘That’s much better.’
‘For you.’
‘You are in a mood today, aren’t you?’ Augus trailed his free hand up to Gwyn’s neck and let his fingers settle gently over his throat. He felt the way his muscles strained against his fingertips. Waited to see what insults would fall for the provocation. Nothing came. Augus watched fascinated as Gwyn’s hair – longer than usual lately – caught and snagged on the polished leather. Blonde against dark brown. It suited him.
Then again, bondage had always suited Gwyn.
Augus stroked Gwyn’s throat, matching the movements to those of his fingers, caressing without hitting Gwyn’s prostate. It would seem soothing, but Gwyn’s toes curled tightly, his fingers opened, closed, opened, agitation spidering through him.
‘Relax, Gwyn.’
‘As if you want me relaxed,’ Gwyn hissed.
‘Still, you should at least try. You know I’m going to do what I like whether you’re fighting me or letting me in. Or letting me in while fighting me.’ Augus wiggled his fingers inside of Gwyn to make a point, and Gwyn let out a sharp cry. Augus touched his tongue to one of his canines, running it over the sharp tip, promising himself that he would bite and spill blood another day. Not today. ‘Are you trying?’
The whole leather table juddered as Gwyn yanked harder at the chains in answer.
‘Your poor wrists,’ Augus crooned. ‘You should treat yourself better.’
‘The hypocrisy-’
Augus pressed the tip of his thumb to Gwyn’s entrance just to watch him choke off in a mixture of fear and anticipation. He didn’t push. Gwyn wasn’t ready yet. But Augus had certainly made his point.
‘Think of it this way,’ Augus said, in the kind of patronising, cajoling tone he reserved for visitors to the Court that he wanted to forcibly eject and couldn’t. ‘Why don’t you be kinder to yourself? For I’m not going to be. One of us here should at least attempt to make sure you weather this better. It might as well be you.’
‘You conniving, twisted…’ Gwyn couldn’t seem to finish that sentence, even though Augus had moved his fingers away from Gwyn’s prostate. But, oh, probably because Augus was now forcing past those last knuckles. Four fingers pressed together, his thumb upright and out of the way, so he could wedge most of his hand inside. By the gods, he didn’t think he’d ever stretched Gwyn this much. It was definitely something he had to do again.
Gwyn whimpered, his breathing hoarse and shallow. His arms had gone limp against the rests, his wrists drooping. Augus clenched his jaw together, kept his hand still, and watched. The pulse points at Gwyn’s neck, the sweat that had broken out further than before, now sheening his shoulders and chest, not just his forehead and his neck. Gwyn’s eyelids fluttered, but his eyes remained closed. Augus drank up every detail, wanting to remember this moment for himself, for his fantasies. Truthfully, he didn’t know how far Gwyn would let him go, and he wanted to be sure that Gwyn wouldn’t simply shut down if it got too overwhelming.
‘Careful,’ Augus said, half to himself, half to Gwyn.
In response, Gwyn’s eyes blinked open, he stared up at the ceiling. He directed that dazed, blue gaze to Augus’, blinking like he was trying to get everything into focus.
‘It’s a lot, isn’t it?’ Augus said.
Gwyn only nodded.
‘We’re not done yet.’
Gwyn made a face at Augus. His mouth twisted into a crooked frown. He scowled. He said nothing at all. Augus considered him. Sensory overload perhaps, already. Augus was right not to have made this more difficult, more challenging.
‘I must say, you’re doing very, very well.’ Gwyn blinked at him like he hadn’t expected that, and no wonder, because Gwyn had spent the entire lead up complaining, grumbling, refusing while not actually teleporting away and generally doing his best to seem as though no one in the world had ever been more recalcitrant. One of the side effects of Gwyn embracing his Unseelie side more freely, was that he had discovered a deep bedrock of letting people know when he was unhappy about something. In other words, Augus had to deal with him complaining about everything. All the time.
Apparently Gwyn had never been a terribly happy person, and he always had something to complain about. Augus wished he’d expected that, given everything he knew about Gwyn’s past.
‘You are though,’ Augus whispered. He carefully, delicately shifted his fingers and pulled his hand free slowly, not breaking away from Gwyn’s gaze. Then he pushed four fingers back into him and felt how Gwyn was looser. Not much. Not enough. Soon, maybe. ‘I know you don’t like to give me this side of yourself when you’re trying to concentrate on your many and varied responsibilities.’
Augus kept working his hand, the lubricant enough now for what he wanted. Gwyn was dripping the stuff, which he no doubt hated, though Gwyn wasn’t saying a word about it. Maybe he’d stopped paying attention to details like that.
Minutes passed, and Gwyn’s breathing settled down, becoming even, though it was still laboured. Augus focused on making sure that Gwyn’s body was as ready as possible, everything from tracing the rim of his ass and massaging it to make sure the muscles wanted to stay loose, to pushing four fingers deep and sometimes glancing across his prostate to keep his cock hard. That wasn’t really a challenge. For all of Gwyn’s griping, he’d not completely lost arousal once Augus had cuffed him to the leather table.
It was absorbing, taking the time necessary to let Gwyn get used to this. It wasn’t just about making sure his body was relaxed, but his mind had to follow too. Gwyn would never be completely comfortable with it, but he needed to find a greater locus of calm.
‘I can’t believe you’re letting me do this,’ Augus said softly, giving Gwyn something to hang onto, even though he wasn’t sure Gwyn could understand him now. Sometimes Gwyn kept his alertness deeply into a scene, especially if there was elaborate bondage, and sometimes he drifted so quickly that Augus was shocked all over again that no one else had known, except Mafydd, who also may not have known, and may have just lucked into it. Gwyn wore his need for submission like a painful badge. It was one of the brightest things about him, like a diamond gleaming.
‘You feel incredible, of course,’ Augus said. ‘You’re handling everything so well. You can trust I’m going to make this good for you, can’t you?’
Gwyn only nodded, and Augus smiled to himself. Gwyn was likely just floating along to the sound of Augus’ voice now, nodding at the question in his voice.
‘You’ve needed this,’ Augus continued.
Gwyn hummed. His legs had slumped. His breaths had slowed further.
Yes, that was very good.
He stroked his free hand over Gwyn’s chest, the dip between his pectorals where sweat gathered, the curve of collarbones. He rubbed Gwyn’s upper arm, thumbed the inside of his elbow which always made Gwyn shiver. He used tenderness to balance out the bloodlust inside of him. Normally when he had this many fingers inside of someone, it was a prelude to ripping them apart. Certainly he was more used to doing it in waterhorse form, but still…
It was a strange kind of hunger, to do this with Gwyn. It made his eyes feel warm as they began to take on their hunting brightness, but his teeth didn’t sharpen. It made his chest tighten on harsher, shorter breaths, as though he was somehow wrecking himself even as he did the same to Gwyn.
Gwyn wasn’t the only one who needed this.
Augus’ hand trailed down, fingers slipping in slick lubricant and testing Gwyn’s rim. Gwyn made some faint noises that could have been discomfort or acknowledgement or want. There was no way of knowing. But it certainly wasn’t Gwyn shutting himself out of the experience.
Licking his bottom lip, he slipped the tip of his other index finger inside, squinting at the tightness. Gwyn tensed, hissed, head lifting as he came back to reality again.
‘Augus…’
Augus pressed the finger deeper, alongside his other hand. The skin was stretched taut, but it still yielded. Augus stared, half to make sure he didn’t cause injury, and half in fascination. He was quite certain this was going to work.
‘Please,’ Gwyn said, thumping his head back to the table. ‘Just- You can’t.’
‘I think you’re ready,’ Augus said, withdrawing his index finger and shifting his hand so that his thumb pressed to the middle of his palm and then began to slide forwards.
Gwyn’s breathing went from even to still. His chest didn’t move.
‘Breathe,’ Augus said. The compulsion was automatic, but of course Gwyn didn’t pay attention to those. A few seconds later, Gwyn took a huge shaking breath, another, and a faint sound of protest came on the exhale. A kinder person would wait. A kinder person might say they’d do it another time, or they’d use the relaxants, or whatever was necessary. By the gods, a kinder person wouldn’t do this at all.
Augus’ thumb pressed against further, stretching him, Gwyn’s hole giving way reluctantly.
More pushing in increments, and Augus was concentrating so hard it was almost meditative. His breathing mastered to evenness. His senses so aware of everything he was doing. The ache of his fingers pressed so tightly together, the slow pounding of his heart, the steady unblinking stare as he listened to Gwyn’s breathing, the pulse inside his body, the twitches in his muscles and the fine trembling that had started. He withdrew an inch, pushed back an inch, approaching the widest point of his hand. There was enough lubricant, even enough preparation, though Gwyn had to be aching, stinging from the stretch, tiny pains that would vanish in minutes, if not hours, once it was all over.
Augus slowly thrust his fingers back and forth, and then his jaw tightened as he began to work the widest part of his hand inside.
‘Augus,’ Gwyn said, alarm in his voice. ‘Augus, it won’t- It’s not going to-’
‘Sh-sh-sh, hush,’ Augus purred, a dark hunger inside of him for this moment, this protest. ‘Hush now. You don’t get to decide this part. Though you’re welcome to keep protesting. That’s charming.’
At the point where Gwyn’s entrance was stretched to the maximum, Gwyn gave a tortured cry that Augus tucked deep into his mind where he could call it back whenever he wanted, again and again. Then the widest part of his hand was through, the rest of his hand almost sucked inside, to the wrist. Gwyn clenching and pulsing around him, alive inside and out, his temperature so hot that Augus felt it all the way up his arm.
A pause for the both of them. Gwyn was tensing and going limp in cycles, as though his body couldn’t quite believe the invasion of it. Low, guttural moans on every exhale, he didn’t seem to be aware of them. His eyes were shut. Augus traced his free hand along one of Gwyn’s hands, and Gwyn grabbed onto his fingers, holding tightly.
‘You are…’ Augus said, pausing, searching for the words he wanted. ‘You are incredible like this.’
Truthfully, there were no words for what he wanted to convey.
He waited a few minutes, then let the hand he had inside Gwyn’s body relax. His fingers no longer crushing into each other, his thumb no longer digging into his own hand. Gwyn felt it too, twitched and whimpered, already wrung apart by what was happening.
Augus had imagined he’d talk all the way through this. He’d fisted others. He’d talked through that when he felt like it. The act had been all detached preparation and making sure his client was getting what they needed.
This was different. He’d not expected it to affect him so much. It wasn’t until now that he realised he’d not expected Gwyn would ever truly allow this. Gwyn hadn’t for a long time. Augus didn’t know why Gwyn had yielded to it today. There was only a thin barrier between Augus’ fingers and the rest of Gwyn’s organs. It was so much trust. Surely Gwyn knew that Augus could destroy him like this. Could ruin him so thoroughly that Gwyn would need a month to heal and healers besides.
The waterhorse part of him – having risen closer to the surface – almost coaxed him towards it. Almost.
Augus carefully rotated his wrist, making sure everything was fine. With a slow, cruel smile, he stroked four fingers over Gwyn’s prostate. One after the other, watching hungrily as Gwyn’s back arched and he wailed. His cock jerked hard, standing straight and proud against his belly, flushing darker.
‘Oh, you like that,’ Augus purred. ‘Or is it too much? I can’t tell. I’ll repeat and find out.’
Tormenting Gwyn like this made his skin prickle, his cock stiffen. He forced sensation upon sensation into Gwyn, moving his fingers, devouring every sound, loving that Gwyn was beyond words, made receptive and unable to escape it now. There was no dislodging Augus’ hand abruptly, everything from here on in…
Augus pulled his hand from Gwyn’s grip and stroked his fingers over Gwyn’s balls instead, before wrapping his fingers around Gwyn’s cock. He pulled it towards himself, and let it thump back into Gwyn’s body.
A sound that was almost a yelp, and Augus grinned. He did it again. Gwyn opened his mouth and panted like there was no air left in the room.
Augus was cruel enough to work Gwyn to the edge of orgasm, feeling all his muscles bearing down, contracting, before letting go of Gwyn’s cock and avoiding his prostate and simply working his wrist back and forth. He was only thrusting an inch forwards and backwards, but it was enough to make Gwyn behave like he was being wrecked by it. He probably was. Gwyn would sleep after this, and probably better than he had in weeks.
Each time Augus wound him towards orgasm, Gwyn’s body would simply follow. When he stopped, Gwyn didn’t even seem to have the energy to protest. Tears leaked from his closed eyes, but he seemed far more concerned with catching his breath.
‘Sweetness,’ Augus whispered. ‘Do you feel how completely you’re mine, like this? Or are you beyond understanding it? Too busy existing in it to be aware of anything else?’
The lack of response indicated the latter.
Narrowing his eyes in concentration, he risked sliding his hand deeper, feeling Gwyn’s walls give way to him. Another inch, another, and Gwyn’s body locked up and Augus knew that where Gwyn had assumed it was too much before, it was truly heading towards too much. Gwyn’s eyes opened, his pupils huge, his breaths taking on a pained edge.
‘That’s it, isn’t it?’ Augus purred happily. This was what he wanted. To drag Gwyn along that cliff’s drop, not quite pushing him over, but making sure Gwyn knew Augus could. ‘Does it hurt? Not terribly, I know, you’re far too relaxed for that, but you can feel it, can’t you?’
Augus made a point of stroking his fingers, pushing just enough that Gwyn groaned. By the gods, Augus loved it, being within the inner workings of Gwyn’s body without literally destroying him. That he knew instinctively where all of Gwyn’s organs were, and knew not only his prostate, his ass, but a slight turn of his fingers and-
Gwyn sobbed. His mouth worked. He said nothing at all. Augus liked to think he might be begging, if he could manage it.
Augus rode Gwyn along that edge for as long as he could, long enough that Augus was finding it difficult to hold back the force of his arousal, even as Gwyn was hurting too much to manage it. He was still hard though. Leaking. It was perfect.
Augus withdrew his hand enough that he could gently stroke Gwyn’s prostate. It didn’t need much now, Gwyn was already so sensitive. In another lifetime, perhaps he would have placed a mouth on Gwyn’s cock, but instead he just trailed the fingers of his other hand along it until the twitching settled and Augus could begin jerking him off properly.
‘All right,’ Augus said, more to himself than anything. He could have done this for hours, wanted to, but they’d already spent a lot of time in preparations alone. This was only the foundation, he could do so much more with it later, if he played his cards right.
Gwyn had already been made to feel so much intensity, that by the time his orgasm rolled around, he could only shake and gasp. Augus felt all of it, clamping and quivering around his hand and wrist, knowing Gwyn’s release would have a harder edge to it, as Augus made sure to brush his knuckles over his prostate, deliberately dragging it out.
‘There we are,’ Augus said softly, comforting, stroking his fingers through the mess of Gwyn’s come and rubbing it into his sweaty skin. Gwyn was a mess. It was wonderful. ‘There we are, just keep breathing. Deep breaths.’
Gwyn listened without seeming to hear him. Automatic responses now, Gwyn deep in his submission and forgetting that he’d ever had a problem with it.
Augus concertedly avoided direct stimulation of Gwyn’s prostate. As tempting as it would be to see the spark of panic that came from being pushed like that, Augus was already proud of him. Instead, he withdrew his wrist slowly, twisting it to make sure the lubricant was well distributed even now, amazed at the looseness, and aware that it still might not be enough.
Careful now, and he stroked his other hand over Gwyn’s chest, gathering sweat. He stroked his sides, murmuring to him to keep breathing as Augus began to stretch Gwyn once more on the way out.
Gwyn attempted to tense, seemed to recognise it would make everything worse, and stopped. But his nostrils flared, his lips thinned, and Augus pressed his lips to Gwyn’s thigh, telling him that it would be over soon.
Augus had to draw back to watch the rim of Gwyn’s ass stretch around his hand – fingers pressed hard together once more. Gwyn cried out in broken stops and starts, but didn’t protest in any other way.
Augus liked that Gwyn wasn’t obedient. That he wasn’t someone who came with his head automatically bowed, accepting any order. He liked earning this state. Through force or coaxing, sweetness or cruelty, a combination of those and more.
After another minute, his hand was free, dripping lubricant, and Gwyn was open and gaping and Augus took a moment to remind himself that he would do more next time. Next time.
Because next time, he’d pull his cock out and thrust into Gwyn’s ruined hole, making sure that he knew that Augus would do whatever he damn well liked, whenever he wanted. Let his cock coast over Gwyn’s bruised prostate and see what it felt like, to own him that way too.
Next time.
Instead, he wiped his hand off, wiped Gwyn’s chest and body with a rough towel draped nearby. He dragged his teeth over Gwyn’s skin, licked over the taste of him, until finally he could kiss Gwyn’s open mouth, plunging his tongue inside. He dug the fingers of both hands into Gwyn’s wet curls and held on, thinking that it was quite something to be the consort of an Unseelie King he loved like this.
His kisses gentled after a few minutes, and he reluctantly lifted so he could remove Gwyn’s hands from the restraints. Gwyn was breathing hard, his legs still spread. Augus wanted to ask him to teleport them both, but not yet.
He continued to clean Gwyn up carefully. A warm cloth now, with water drawn from the adjacent bathroom. Wiping at his hairline, at the crusts of salt at the corners of his eyes, making sure to catch the itchy place at the back of the neck where sweat gathered and dried and stuck his hair to his nape.
Gwyn had lost some of the muscle condition he’d had in the Seelie Court. Not much, and certainly not noticeable to the naked eye, but Augus could feel it. Gwyn didn’t have as much time for training anymore, and it wasn’t safe enough for him to battle as frequently, with arrows that had mothersbane painting their tips somewhere out there in the realm. Gwyn still sparred and fought, but Augus could feel the millimetres of difference beneath his fingertips.
He didn’t know what to think about it. A slightly softer King, even as he’d become more obviously callous, opinionated and hardened to a role that he embraced with more dedication than what he’d ever given to the role of being King of the Seelie.
‘I saw you,’ Augus said softly, while Gwyn wasn’t listening, and likely didn’t care. ‘I saw you before they did. Would I have ever gotten to you, if everyone else had known? If the Raven Prince had taken you in? Would you even have given me the time of day? I flatter myself to think yes, of course. But…we’ll never know, will we?’
Gwyn’s arm weakly rose, fingers curling around Augus’ forearm. The touch was heavy, as though Gwyn couldn’t control how hard he was grasping.
Augus almost thought he’d reply, but Gwyn said nothing. Augus’ hand was still unnaturally warm from Gwyn’s inner heat. He liked it.
‘We’re going to do that again,’ Augus said. ‘But for now, would you like to teleport us back to our room?’
No response, but within a minute, that soft light surrounded them both, and Augus was standing by a bed, the covers already turned down. Gwyn only yawned, turned over, and within very little time was breathing deeply.
Augus supposed any sort of debrief or chat would have to happen later. Maybe even in several days. It was a good sign though, that he’d let himself go so deep, that he was happy enough to sleep like this afterwards.
Augus stripped off slowly. Showered, washed his hair, dragged his fingers through one of the plants with the hanging vines he’d found and planted into an alcove. It was growing far more happily than it had any right to, but Augus kept feeding it energy.
He joined Gwyn in their bed. Normally they’d do this in Augus’ lake-home, or Gwyn’s cabin, but Augus still wanted to create memories in the Unseelie Court for him. Memories of being undone, of letting go, of not having to carry every weight as heavily as he often did.
The pleasant side effect was that it allowed Augus to let go of that which he was responsible for. To set those weights free. To undo those heavy burdens in the act of undoing Gwyn.
He touched a hand to his cock as he lay down. It was still half-hard, but Augus wasn’t going to do anything about it. Not today. Plenty of time to sate himself later. Perhaps when Gwyn decided he was going to wake.
In the morning, Augus would let the servants know that Gwyn would likely be out of commission for another twenty four hours. He didn’t sleep as long as he used to, now that he was sleeping with increasing regularity, but it would still remove him from the Court for a day and a half.
But for now, everything could wait. Augus pressed his chest to Gwyn’s back, tucked his legs behind Gwyn’s, and slid an arm down over his flank, so that his hand rested protectively over his belly. Gwyn’s heart might have slowed its beating, but it still beat faster than Augus’. He felt it through his body and let his eyes close, let that rhythm guide him into peace.