Bel loomed over him. “Are you satisfied, or do you still have need of me?”
Nicodemus adjusted his splattered glasses. “Do you still have need of me?” he asked quietly in return, and sighed in relief when Bel raised his eyebrows as if to imply that Nicodemus was very foolish. “You could take me again,” he suggested. “I will be sore as it is. And I do not think”–he glanced at Bel’s cock—“that you are done. Is that the, uh, Realm? Or is that…you?” He supposed it didn’t matter. He shivered, realizing he was still on his back, knees up, letting Bel look his fill. “I think you are just as hungry as I am,” he said, noting the snap in Bel’s tail, how tightly he held his wings to his back now. “I thought you didn’t deny yourself most of what you want.”
Bel held his cock almost lazily, as though his gaze did not give him away. “It’s your wants that have brought us here, innocent.”
“And none of yours?” Nicodemus prompted, a bit unhappily. “This was not pity. You said—”
“No.” Bel came back down to him, kneeling between his legs. It was uncomfortable now that Nicodemus’ lust had cooled a fraction, but Nicodemus did not mind. It meant Bel’s hands on his knees, petting. “Never that.”
“Even though I am a keeper of homes? A secretary who could not even suck you off properly?” Nicodemus bit his lip in worry, then gasped at the wound there he had momentarily forgotten. Bel had wanted to fuck his face and hadn’t, probably knowing Nicodemus could not manage it.
Bel let out an exasperated breath. “You don’t even know what you are.”
Nicodemus ducked his head, although Bel likely could still see his smile. “So we will do this again?”
Bel drew a fingertip over Nicodemus’ hip, tracing the imprint of his teeth. “Ask when we’re no longer in the Realm.”
Nicodemus suspected Bel meant something by this, but he was not in the mood to think, so he did not. He sat up, a laborious process, wincing all the while as he discovered exactly how sore he was, but then got onto his knees to fall against Bel. “I do not think my legs will support me for quite some time,” he admitted to the side of Bel’s throat.
Bel reached down to cup his backside and gently draw him closer, until Nicodemus had no choice but to wind his arms around Bel’s neck. One of Bel’s hands ended up in his curls, carding them softly.
“Holt never did this, either,” Nicodemus told him, so Bel could feel good too.
“Nicodemus,” Bel answered, but then nothing else. If he meant it as a warning, it had no teeth.
NICODEMUS’handkerchief was not up to the task of getting him clean. He was resting on the ground, half-dressed, by the time he realized Bel had tossed it somewhere, to be lost to the Realm forever. It did occur to him, in a dazed, sleepy sort of a way, that if he could banish a monster, he certainly ought to be able to summon a bath, or at least a pail of water, but the idea slipped away the moment Bel tried to button up his shirt for him, his claws only causing more damage.
Nicodemus grabbed Bel’s arm to stop him and to indicate he would like to climb to his feet, then blinked to find himself standing, with his trousers on, and Bel calmly pulling Nicodemus’ suspenders back up to his shoulders as though Nicodemus’ shirt—and trousers for that matter—were not torn.
“You could have undressed me the same way,” Nicodemus pointed out, quietly victorious. “I suspected it was so. You wanted to watch me.”
Bel, still naked, ignored him. “Step into your shoes.”
Nicodemus’ shoes had appeared, lined up in front of his feet. Nicodemus furrowed his brow. “Did youwantto tear my clothes? Or—oh—or were you too distracted to think of it?” Enraptured with this notion, he straightened up while keeping hold of Bel’s arm.
Bel ignored these questions in a way that suggested Nicodemus was right. “There will be no saving your vest.”
“What ofyourclothes?” Nicodemus pressed, although he dropped his gaze to Bel’s body, well, this version of Bel’s body, which he would miss.
“Normally, I don’t bother with clothing much, at least not here, in my woods.” Bel finally chose to answer him. Nicodemus peered up at him with some confusion. “My wings. My tail,” Bel explained shortly. “I kept my clothes on before because, if I had to return to you quickly, I didn’t want to waste time dealing with the matter.”
Nicodemus suspected there was a bright smile on his face, if only for the way Bel huffed and started to look away. Nicodemus leaned against him, standing on his toes, and lightly ran the back of his fingers across Bel’s cheek. “I am sorry you were uncomfortable for me.”
Bel wouldn’t look at him. “You will need a coat.”
“I have a coat.” Nicodemus was fairly sure he did. Or, he had when he’d entered the Ring.
“It seems to have disappeared,” Bel said evenly, leaving Nicodemus to imagine it had been sent halfway across the Realm. Bel held up a large gray coat. “This will have to do. The civilized world, and Nicodemus, demand some level of respectability.”
“I didn’t even need my coat.” Nicodemus shook his head, then shivered. “I am very warm right now.”
Bel’s gaze came to him at last. “Innocent, I don’t think you realize what you look like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nicodemus pooh-poohed him, although now he could admit to a bit of concern about his appearance. He poked his tongue into his bottom lip. “Do I look like I’ve been brawling?”
“No.”
The short, hot answer made him pause.
