Chapter 11 Feather
Feather
Idreamed of Mikhail and Rumple setting a picnic among the stars, while Gavriel and Righteous sang to distant planets, beckoning them close.
Rumple twisted his tail around my ankle, while Mikhail wrapped a firm hand behind my neck, both of them sending visions of the improbable, miraculous things they wanted to do to my body using stardust and moonlight.
Rumple had just begun feeding me a candy-sweet cloud of nebulae, when I woke to the sensation of soft, warm lips brushing over mine. “Growly?” I mumbled, and fought to open my eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Mmhmm,” he murmured. “Are you?” One of his hot hands began to drift slowly down, and I thought about shutting my thighs, but those birches would not move on my command.
“I’m weak,” I complained. “Why can’t I move?”
The bed moved as he laughed. “Because I gave you seventeen orgasms. I may have been a bit overexcited.”
“Overexcited, yes.” I would have smiled, but I was too blissed out. “Did we have sex? Or, you know, merge?”
“You think I would merge with you while you’re unconscious?” He sounded truly offended, and I managed to crack open one eye.
“I believe we’ve firmly established we’re both into spiritual somnophilia—”
“Stop saying that,” he grumbled, lying back and running a hand through his shaggy, dark hair. “It makes me sound like even more of a pervert than I am.”
I raised one eyebrow. “You haven’t begun to discover just how perverted your new mate is, Growly. I have fantasies that are probably illegal in every realm.”
One bushy eyebrow quirked up to mirror mine. “Tell me about them.”
“Can we start with vanilla?” I asked, trying to keep the pleading tone out of my voice. I wanted to merge with him now more than ever. “The orgasms were nice, but if you wanted to try merging… That is, if you think merging wouldn’t be too taxing, old man—”
“I’ll tax your pretty ass,” he threatened, and I wiggled that ass on the sheets.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time. And sexual spanking is on page three of Feather’s Fantasies. You’ve got to earn your way there, snookums.”
“Snookums?” I blinked, and suddenly he was on his elbows, hovering over me, his bare chest rubbing on my shirt, his eyes drilling into mine. “I suppose I’d rather be called that than what my full name is now,” he teased.
I snapped a bite toward his nose. “The first rule of mate club is we don’t talk about… how dumb I am.”
“You are many things, mate. You are irreverent, and brave. Generous to a fault, and far too clever and young for an old fogey like me. You are a breath of fresh air, the youngest Angelus in the universe, whose soul is every bit as great as the ones who were first created.” He swooped down and stole a kiss.
“I am the most fortunate High Angelus in the history of time to call you mine.”
For some reason, the phrase “in the history of time” made me think of Rumple.
Mikhail’s voice was gentle when he asked, “Can you tell me about the feather on your chest?”
“Oh, my birthmark?” I peered down at it.
Before I’d gone into the gate, it had been covered by smut.
Even after I was mostly clean, it had stayed faint, a burnished glimmer on my silver skin.
Righteous had commented on it, and Sunny.
But no one else had noticed it. Apparently, not even Mikhail.
That annoyed me slightly. “You spent some quality time with your mouth on my nips, Growly. I’m surprised you didn’t notice it before now. ”
He did growl then, the stern expression on his face giving me real “dom about to spank his brat” vibes. “I saw it before—when we merged for the first time. But the room was darker then, and I assumed it was a shadow, a scar. It’s more pronounced now.”
I used a nail to scratch at it, and felt an odd sense of comfort as I did.
“I’ve had it since I was born the first time on Earth.
It’s a birthmark. I’m surprised Rumple stuck it back on me when he smooshed me together.
I guess he liked it. He did remake the rest of me the same.
Even if I did ask him for bigger boobs.” I jiggled them, wondering if they weren’t even a tiny bit smaller.
“You love Seraphiel, don’t you?” Mikhail guessed, probably thinking about my new name. He was staring intently at my birthmark, though, like it posed a riddle he needed to solve.
“Why would you think that?” I tried to paste a smile on my face, but I had never been great at acting.
Or anything, really. I wondered if that would change now that my name was no longer, literally, Useless Scrap.
Or did names stick with a gal through incarnations?
I vowed to sneak into the supply closet and steal a harp soon.
If I wasn’t useless, I’d be able to learn how to play one.
I’d learn a new skill, and help the gate stay strong at the same time.
“It’s all right, Feather,” he said, gently holding my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. “When we find a way to bring him home, I won’t stand in your way. Or his.”
“Wait—what do you mean?” I grabbed his forearms. “I won’t ever leave you.”
“I won’t ever let you,” he agreed, his forearms flexing, though I tried not to get distracted by the hotness in my peripheral vision. “I meant, I would share you with him, if that’s your desire.”
My mind stuttered at the sudden, stark image of what that would look like. Rumple and Mikhail both plunging into me, both worshiping my body. Both of them scarred in different ways, both of them perfect and strong, and intent on unraveling my soul with bliss.
I whimpered slightly, and Mikhail smiled at the sound.
“You have a lot of fantasies.” He leaned over the bed to grab something from a small table.
He dipped one hand into what looked like a small clay pot, then pulled it out and set the vessel back down.
His fingers gleamed in the firelight. “Any chance back rubs are on that list?”
“They so are,” I moaned, and threw myself onto my stomach, making noises that would have been embarrassing if I cared as he rubbed oils into my skin and even my wings.
He sang as he massaged me, a deep, sensual melody that seemed to make my skin hum along.
“Seraphiel never sang that one,” I said drowsily.
“I bet your voices would be amazing in a duet.”
At my words, Mikhail stopped rubbing and flipped me over, his eyes scanning my face, his mind gently exploring mine. I reached up and traced the myriad scars on his face as he drifted gently into my thoughts. The dimple appeared in his cheek at whatever he discovered there.
“Why not a trio?” he growled low. “We could sing together, us three. More than sing.” I swallowed hard at that thought.
His eyes darkened at something he saw in my face, and he leaned closer.
“You like that idea, don’t you? Me and Seraphiel together, working to bring you so much pleasure it would shake the roof of Sanctuary.
” I whimpered, and he went on, his hands moving over my breasts and stomach, igniting sparks everywhere he touched.
“He cared for you on Earth. And in the Abyss.” He grinned as his fingers slid between my legs.
“Did he touch you like this?” One of his fingers plunged into me, and stilled, as he waited for me to answer.
“Not on Earth,” I finally admitted, my cheeks burning. “But in the Abyss… he touched me there.”
“One finger?” he growled. “Did he put one finger inside my mate, or two?” He added another one, and I felt the stretch and burn of it as he pumped, hitting the spot inside that made me catch my breath. He stopped again, waiting. Two of Mikhail’s fingers felt like… a lot.
“Three,” I finally said. “He used three.”
“Oh, sweet soul. Did my old friend stretch you out? It doesn’t feel like it.
” He withdrew his hand, and I thought for a moment he was done.
But then he ran three of his fingers across his tongue, wetting them from the knuckles to the tips.
“Tastes like heaven,” he whispered. And then he lowered his hand and slowly slid three fingers into me.
I was making small, pleading noises as a darker sort of orgasm began to build inside me. Not the flashes of light, but something more significant. When Mikhail started gently pumping his fingers inside me, my thighs began to shake.
“Did he fuck you, little mate? Did he slide his cock into you?” I shook my head. “Is this all he did?” The tone of his voice made my eyes fly open, and I saw something in the depths of Mikhail’s gaze. It might have been jealousy, but it was flavored with approval. “What else did he do?”
I bit my lip hard to keep from answering, but an unholy smile lit up his face.
“Oh, wicked Rafe. He didn’t just touch you here, did he?
” Slowly, intentionally, he withdrew his fingers, ran them across the oiled skin on my stomach, and then pushed my thighs open wider.
I felt his thumb draw circles around my dripping pussy, the loops dropping lower as he moved another finger inexorably toward my back entrance.
“The older Angeli like to play in all sorts of ways. Nothing was forbidden, as long as it brought pleasure and joy to all involved. This feels good, doesn’t it? ”
Mikhail circled my neck carefully with one broad hand, tethering me to the bed, while the other explored parts of me only Rumple had touched.
The pressure on my throat was light but firm, just enough to make the point that he was controlling my pleasure.
And a dark pleasure did race through me, as I felt an oiled finger gently, repeatedly, nudging at the tight ring of muscle, breaching me the tiniest amount.
Testing me, teasing me, while his thumb still circled around the opening to my pussy.
I pressed my neck up against his grip as he entered me in both places at once, pushing into me, and then pulling out, his fingers moving rhythmically, gently.