"Here you are, Celeste..." He threw a long woolen jacket around me. At first I thought it was Bernard but then he became Piers instead.
I became aware of a hand on my forehead and jolted awake, thinking Variel was back, but Bevan was looking down at me, and it was his warm hand on my skin. It was dark and quiet now in the faery palace.
His small, private smile greeted me. "Good evening, sleepyhead. I'm so glad to see your eyes... Piers said you were awake for a while. Awake for him and not me? Really, now."
"It's you I wanted to see," I said. And it was--oh, it certainly was! Bevan was the only person I'd ever known who I relaxed around so deeply. He was the one I really wanted to give myself over to, completely and always.
"You don't know how much I wish you were my warlock," I said, the covers rustling as he moved to sprawl beside me in the bed. "Ooh, my voice is even more of a croak than before. I sound terrible."
"You look much better, toadlet," he said, kissing my forehead. "And someday I'll be something better than your warlock, I expect."
"Well, I wish you were everything. Because then I would have every sort of bond with you."
"I would rather we don't have a magical bond," Bevan said. "That's how we'll be absolutely sure that our feelings are real and we act of our own free will."
"You have a point." I lifted my head, even though it seemed to weigh a hundred pounds, to look at him better. "Are you...bigger?"
"I took some of Variel's magic from him," Bevan said, with pride. "Did you notice that he was smaller, too? I stole some of his power and his size. I don't seem to grow horns, though, which I guess is all right, but they're kind of cool."
"You're huge!" It was hard to tell at first when he was laying down, but I realized that I was absolutely tiny beside him now. Even his hands were larger. "I'm not sure I like it!"
He was still smiling even as he shook his head. "You'll get used to it, I'm sure. I'm stronger and more able to stand up to Variel. That's definitely a good thing."
"I don't want to look like a kid next to you! And--what about..." My eyes roved to his groin. It still didn't have a bulge like Variel's, but Variel did wear tighter pants. "What if your penis is too big?" I whispered.
He laughed outright. "I promise you that as you get more experience with penises..." He paused. "Well, just one of them, actually... You'll be fine with it."
"I hope so. Because it still hurts a little, but right now it's not a bad kind of hurt."
"I promise. We're not talking that much more dick size, really." He let out his breath and pulled more blankets over me. "You've got to stop talking about that when you're too sick to try it out. The fantasies I've had about you the last couple of days..."
"I'm sure I would have thought the same if I'd been awake," I said. "I'll feel better soon." I paused. "Can I...see how much bigger it is?" I put my hand between his legs.
I felt a need to stake my claim on this man. To feel, in this most tangible way, that I had his heart too. I felt him getting harder even as I placed my hand there. His breath came faster as my fingers probed through the black cotton work pants he was wearing. I felt his cock flex against my hand and strain the fabric.
“That's...that's..." He put a hand over mine, like he wanted to stop me, but he also really didn't.
"It does feel a little bigger," I said. "But I guess, not too bad."
His hips slowly flexed in agony. "You are...such a flirt," he said.
"If you really need to do it, I probably am too weak to stop you."
His eyes widened. "I'm not going to do that!"
I lifted my brows. "You could."
"You're barely coming back from death."
"Yeah, I know, I just...miss you too. And maybe I'm getting used to your bigger size already. At least, I'm wondering how it'll feel to have your arms around me and feel so small..."
"Damnit," he groaned. He got up and locked the door, then drew the curtains. He stood over me and I finally got an eyeful of just how much more imposing he was, although he was still much more lean and agile looking than Variel. "Are you really sure?"
"I mean...is it contagious?” I asked.
"I...don't know," he said. “I don’t think so. I think you only get it in the swamps.”
"Well, if it is, I'll be getting better as you get sick, and I'll take care of you."
He growled like I was driving him crazy and he thought I was being irresponsible, but then he slid into bed with me and pulled the covers over both of us.
"You still have a fever," he said. "I can feel you burning."
"I think I'd feel more alive if you were inside me..."
He pushed up my nightgown. It was a real object of clothing, so I couldn't make it disappear. He made his own clothing vanish, so I could feel the skin of his thighs against mine. He propped himself up over me so I didn't bear any of his weight, and pushed into me with a groan like he was succumbing to something he couldn't resist.
"You are wet...," he said. "It is pretty sexy that you got wet for me while you're this sick."
"Well...," I gasped. "I just think you're pretty sexy yourself."
He slid deeper into me more slowly, letting me take in his larger size. He was right, though--it wasn't too big to fit. Actually, it didn't feel as different as I feared, as long as we took it slow like the first time. I had to trust him, since this time, he was on top of me and I didn't have much strength, but he was being extra-careful.
"You're burning inside," he said, starting to sweat under the blankets with me. "But you feel so damn good..." He slowly flexed his hips, and I felt the sweet friction of his skin on mine, the way I slowly stretched out more and more to accommodate him as he moved inside me.
My body still responded to him like it always had, but I was struggling for each breath as the excitement and desire quickened my lungs.
He stopped, still inside me, but not moving. "No, this isn't good. You can't breathe."
I clutched his arm. "Just come inside me, and then stop. I want to feel you mark me."
I couldn't have explained what was making me talk like this, except that it had something to do with talking with Piers and thinking of Bernard, and the subsequent dream. I didn't mean to start comparing Piers with Bernard or having even the slightest thought about him, but deep down, I knew that feeling existed.
I still feared that if Bernard whistled, I would come--that something would compel me to his side and I would be helpless.
This was my best defense. Bevan, claiming me when I was vulnerable. Bevan, claiming me always. The more I became a part of him, the less I would be a part of someone else. Every ragged breath, every little pain I felt as he fucked me--urged, no doubt, by my fingernails digging into his arm whenever he stopped--was a layer of protection.
I wasn't trying to reach a climax myself, but it started happening anyway, although weakly. He felt so good and right inside me, and I was very turned on by the fact that he didn't resist--that he was even being a little rough.