Chapter 15
Once Asher was squeaky clean and dry once more, Vrayl and Trenet took him to the bedroom. The lights were set low, but Asher still looked around with interest. He’d never really seen this room before.
The bedroom was large, absolutely enormous by Asher’s standards, but dominating the space was an equally large bed. Big enough certainly for two Dresht, even if they had a slight and small yshain to hold between them.
Asher shivered in anticipation as Vrayl set him down on his back in the middle of the large, comfortable bed.
He was looking forward to that, he realized.
He quite liked being held—always had. He’d been an affectionate child, always giving and seeking hugs, and he’d grown into an adult who sought out the same.
So very, very difficult.
“I know you woke up not so long ago,” Trenet said, leaning down to cup Asher’s face. “But it’s evening now, and you’re still recovering from your implant being recalibrated. You need your rest.”
Asher nodded and made what he hoped was agreeable noise.
He did feel tired, even though he’d only been awake for an hour or two.
The fact that it was already night out, when all he remembered was breakfast that morning, well.
A translation implant did feed directly into the brain, after all.
Even if he’d been given state of the art treatment—and something in Asher somehow knew he had been—it still made perfect sense to him that he’d slept the day away.
Trenet smiled down at him. “You’re so perfect. Our perfect little love.”
Asher couldn’t stop his happy wiggle, nor the pleased sigh that he emitted at hearing the praise. They kept—they kept saying those things. Things to make Asher feel beautiful. Feel proud.
Feel desired.
Asher could… he could do something about that now, couldn’t he? He could—
He could have sex and know what it was and enjoy it now. Couldn’t he?
He was under no illusions that Trenet or Vrayl wouldn’t slide into him for sleep, as they’d done every other night since Asher had become theirs.
But Asher didn’t have to just lie there and take it anymore.
Didn’t have to cry and fuss and grind his teeth into his gag because he didn’t understand.
Because he thought he was a toy instead of a yshain.
A beloved.
He… he could invite Trenet and Vrayl in. Under his own terms. Even still gagged and bound, Asher knew that they’d do anything to please him. Asher could become a part of his own narrative now, in what happened. Invite them to partake in his body.
Taking a fortifying breath, Asher looked up at Trenet, glancing over at Vrayl, who was fussing with something in the room’s chest of drawers, and whined loudly as he parted his legs.
The reaction was instantaneous. Trenet’s eyes widened, his pupils slitting before rounding out. Vrayl jerked his head up and swung around, holding something tightly in his hands.
Trenet splayed his palm over Asher’s belly, able to cover the whole span of it their size difference was so great. Asher shivered again to see it. To sink into what he was really doing—offering. He tilted his face back up to meet Trenet’s heated gaze.
“Does our little Asher wish to be filled?” Trenet asked, voice even lower than usual.
Asher nodded. Turned to Vrayl, who had rushed to the bedside as well, and nodded again.
“Both of us, sweetling?” Vrayl asked, sounding hoarse. “After we—we failed you, you want both of us?”
Asher scowled at Vrayl, making a disgruntled noise, and spread his legs wider. Yes I want you, on my own terms. But you didn’t fail me.
You rescued me.
“My heart,” Trenet said, putting a hand on Vrayl’s shoulder as both his and Vrayl’s tails coiled around Asher’s ankles. “Our yshain forgives us. We shouldn’t dishonor his choice by doubting it.”
Vrayl nodded rapidly and set what he was carrying down on the bed. “First, let’s adjust your jahin, dear heart. You’ve worn your tirlak for many days, and it’s healthy to change up jahin.”
Tirlak. Arm security.
Asher nodded warily, uncertain as to what changing his jahin, his comforts, might mean. But he didn’t fuss when Vrayl reached for the tube that had secured his arms for so long, pressing and pulling specific spots until the whole thing peeled off and away.
Vrayl reached for Asher’s left arm, Trenet his right, and Asher watched as the both of them slid something over his wrist, his fingers sliding into a padded mitt that kept them comfortably spread and at an agreeable angle.
A moment later there was a beeping sound as the wristband of the mitt locked in place.
Asher brought his hand to his face, turning it over to observe the mitt.
These jahin were certainly much less restrictive than the tirlak had been.
He knew that the mitts could get so heavy he couldn’t move them, but—they weren’t too heavy now.
So he’d suddenly been given a much greater freedom, for however long it lasted.
He… honestly wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
There was something to be said for how secure the tirlak had been.
It had restrained him, yes, but it also had been comforting, in some strange way.
Maybe because it was almost like being held.
Another way that Asher had been granted an embrace, after so many years spent in the desert, dry of affection.
“You only have to wear these instead of the tirlak for tonight, if you don’t like them as much,” Vrayl said in a rush. “The moment you decide you want your tirlak back, just let us know.”
Asher made an agreeable sound and sat up.
His legs were still parted and held fast in place by Trenet and Vrayl’s tails, but Asher had spent years and years taking dancing lessons on Vader-X7.
As a result, he was pretty strong for his size and flexible, which had helped a lot while trying to survive on Journey-5.
He sort of wondered, now, how his Dresht might react to learning that about him.
As it was, it was easy to sit up. Easier still, to brace his hands on the bed and look imploringly at Vrayl, tilting his head up.
Vrayl licked his lips and obligingly bent down. Once his head had lowered enough, Asher hummed and rubbed his cheek under Vrayl’s chin, nuzzling him the way he and Trenet nuzzled Asher so often.
There was a sharp intake of breath, but Asher paid it no mind as he turned to Trenet, reaching one mitted hand up to paw at him. When Trenet lowered his head too, Asher nuzzled him just the same as he had Vrayl.
Then he turned to look at the both of them and beamed as best he could around the gag, before flopping back down on the bed and canting his hips up.
For one electrified moment, no one moved or spoke. Vrayl and Trenet just looked at him, eyes dark and heated, making Asher feel desired.
Desired and—impatient. Now that he’d made his choice about what it was he wanted, he wanted it.
So he whined again. It had worked before, hadn’t it? Whined and stared up at his Dresht with big, imploring eyes, asking, why won’t you touch me? Don’t you want to?
That seemed to snap the hold that had been placed over Trenet and Vrayl, because they moved as one, climbing onto the bed to bracket him on either side.
Asher immediately rolled to face Trenet, scootching his body back so that he could press himself against Vrayl.
“I think our yshain knows who he wants first,” Trenet said, with a throaty chuckle. “Isn’t that right, little love?”
Asher nodded emphatically and then looked back at Vrayl over his shoulder.
It was obvious that both Trenet and Vrayl felt horrible that they hadn’t realized Asher couldn’t understand them, but Asher could see that Vrayl had taken the revelation especially hard.
He wanted to show Vrayl that Asher didn’t hold anything against him anymore. That he was forgiven.
Vrayl placed a hand on Asher’s hip, and Asher could feel that it was shaking, very slightly. “Whatever our yshain wants,” he rasped. “Anything he ever wants.”
Asher made a pleased sound and lowered his head back down—onto the pillow that Trenet hurriedly placed beneath it.
Asher smiled up at Trenet in thanks, then let his eyes slide closed as two of Vrayl’s slicked fingers pushed into his hole, still loosened and open from sitting on Trenet’s lap in the bath.
The feeling was familiar now, but made that much more delicious knowing that what was coming was only something that he’d asked for. That he wanted.
“Look at you,” he heard Trenet murmur as the Dresht skated a hand down Asher’s chest. “Such a beautiful little treasure. Allowing us to please you, as you’re meant to be pleased.”
Asher moaned and twitched his hips back against Vrayl’s hand as Vrayl rubbed at that spot inside him, able to find it so easily now, after playing with Asher for days.
Not playing with—pleasuring. Because Asher wasn’t a toy to them. Asher was a treasure.
“Would you let me put my mouth on you, I wonder?” Trenet asked, curling his hand around Asher’s stiffened cock. “Would our yshain grant me that honor?”
Asher opened his eyes to pant up at Trenet. A mouth on his cock meant something so different to him now. Something so much better than Asher had ever imagined. Something wonderful.
Did he want to be able to have that happen to him now that he understood? Now that he could enjoy it?
Now that his Dresht were taking Asher’s pleasure in their hands as was their duty, while still asking permission, taking care to not do or try something Asher might not like?
Asher could say no. He could shake his head, and he knew with all of himself that Trenet would smile and find some other way to please him. That Trenet would respect Asher’s choice, without being annoyed or disappointed.
But Asher didn’t want to say no. More than he wanted to experience that, he wanted—to give Trenet something he seemed to want so much. An honor, Trenet had said.
Asher shivered with anticipation and nodded.