Oh.
“Well, that still doesn’t mean you should yank off body parts all willy-nilly!”
“Be calm, my mate, it’ll grow back.”
I plop down next to him, grumbling the entire time. “What are you doing then?”
“It’s a surprise. Have you ever seen the northern lights?”
His question takes me off guard. “Erm, no, why?”
“Look up.”
I realize it’s fully night. There’s no moon and what seems like a million stars—more than I’ve seen in a lifetime of living in the city.
And right above the two of us, ribbons of green, yellow, and pink dance through the sky like a celestial ballet.
“Ilian, it’s beautiful!”
“They’re not as bright as near the Arctic Circle but they’re still stunning. Ithaqua use the lights to navigate—or so I recall through my mother’s memories.”
We lapse back into silence as I stare, lulled by the sound of Ilian scraping his claws along his broken horn.
After a moment, my Ithaqua grunts. “Finished. Now we can summon Ulyen.”
I sit up as he hands me his horn, shocked at its transformation into something decidedly phallic.
“Did you make me—”
“A strap-on. I added some holes on either side to weave your belt through to cinch around your waist.
“Hold the phone—are you saying that you want me to peg you…with your own horn?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, and I did say the freakier, the better. Oh, and look, I broke it off so there was a spur sticking out.
I rounded the tip and added those ridges along the length so that part fits inside of you like my stoyuk.”
His make-shift strap-on is a marvel considering the material and the circumstances. Ilian even etched grooves into the main beam where my clit will rub when I push into him.
My thighs clench and the waning desire from before comes rushing back in a flood of need.
Biting my lip, I glance up into Ilian’s fiery pink gaze. “Shall we summon ourselves a dirty deity?”
He smirks, reaching to cup my face. Our lips meet—his, bony yet pliant while mine are soft and demanding.
I’m ravenous for his touch, and quickly forget that we’re only doing this to appease a goddess so that our mating bond can be broken.
Ilian pulls me into his lap as he curls his tongue around mine, and I moan when the bumps caress me.
With his other hand, he scoops under where I grind my hips and frees his hard length from his pants.
“Do you want me to come all over your beautiful face again while we both lick my stoyuk?"
My body flushes, and all I can do is nod as I shimmy down the front of his body until his cock bumps under my chin.
I tuck it to my chest, running my lips over the rigid tip of his stoyuk. Even though the smooth head is made of bone, Ilian must feel every touch by the way he twitches and groans.
For a moment, I lose myself in the taste and touch of his cock, exploring all the dips and curves that make those fantasy toys seem sad in contrast.
They could never compare to the reality—the perfection—of the man beneath me.
Ilian grabs a fistful of my hair, halting my oral study of him as he sits up. The muscles of his abs bunch up the closer he leans forward, and my eyes widen at how far he can bend.
Without breaking eye contact, Ilian sticks out his tongue, and gravity yanks the heavy, textured length of it down to his cock.
I’ve felt it inside my pussy, but seeing the dexterous appendage wrap completely around the tip of his stoyuk takes my imagination to new heights.
In rapt fascination, I watch Ilian lap at the underside, where the deepest grooves sit before smoothing out near the base.
Unable to sit still anymore, I join him, my own tongue testing the sharpness of the bony spikes that jut out near the bottom of his cock.
Together, we work in tandem until the long tip of his tongue touches against mine. I jolt at the connection, staring up at Ilian in wonder.
He gives me a small grin and then begins to stroke his stoyuk as if he were using his hand.
The sight mesmerizes me, and I adjust my position to lave at his bone-white head before taking him in my mouth.
His tongue brushes the underside of my chin when I go down and he comes up, heightening both our senses.
