Chapter 18
Spence had lost track of time somewhere between the slow, relentless build of ache in his muscles and tendons, and the deeper, throbbing burn that radiated from his stretched balls.
Every small shift sent fresh waves of fire through nerves compressed too long against unyielding rope, but it was impossible to stay still.
The weights swung gently with his breathing, a constant, merciless tug that kept him teetering on the knife-edge of pain and surrender, his body a living testament to their claim.
He watched them through half-lidded eyes, his lovers tangling on the bed below, bodies moving and writhing, her cries and his growls weaving together like music.
His entire body throbbed, radiating devotion in the language of pain, every pulse, every heartbeat another storm of sensation. And after every one, he didn’t think he could possibly bear another. And yet, he did.
Relief finally came when Zander climbed the stool and slid his cool arms around him, cradling him close.
The shift was immediate, his weight redistributed, pressure easing from abraded skin and compressed nerves, burning muscles instantly relieved.
Spence’s breath stuttered out in a broken sigh, head falling to rest against Zander’s shoulder, the scent of cool night and faint sweat enveloping.
Emmy moved a chair over, climbed on it, and used safety shears to snip the supporting lines near the ceiling ring, then released his wrist from his ankle, allowing his body to straighten, and he pulled more air into his lungs than he’d managed since being folded backwards.
Zander came down the stepstool and settled Spence gently onto his side on the wide bed, the mattress cradling his bruised body.
The weights settled against the sheets, the downward pull on his balls easing to a dull, throbbing ache instead of sharp fire, skin no longer stretched to breaking, balls no longer compressed until he thought they might rupture in the sac.
His Masters worked in tandem, both with shears in hand. His bound leg straightened in a rush of pins-and-needles bliss, the other allowed to bend, relieving muscles strained far past endurance.
More ropes fell away, diamonds unraveling from his torso, the deep bite around his ribs loosening until he could draw a full, glorious breath that expanded his chest without restraint.
He wiggled his toes, muscles sighing in relief, joints popping softly as circulation returned in warm tides.
Finally, Zander’s cool fingers circled the rings between his body and balls, and eased the cruel donuts off. Blood and feeling surged back in a single merciless wave, sharp enough to blacken the edges of his vision, a broken sound tearing from his throat as his nerves screamed awake.
Emmy’s hands were there before he could breathe again, slick with lube, wrapping around his cock in a slow, gliding stroke that drew a helpless moan from deep in his chest, the touch exquisite after hanging in agony, every nerve alight, pleasure coiling hot and urgent.
Zander moved behind him, easing the huge plug in his ass free, leaving him empty and aching — but then cool lube was injected inside him, and he knew what came next.
Moments blurred. Strong hands adjusted him, positioning him between Emmy’s thighs, her body warm and open beneath him.
His cock, guided by gentle fingers, nudged her tight ring, and Zander’s hand pushed him from behind until he found himself sinking into the velvet heat of her ass in a slow, inevitable glide that stole his breath entirely.
The grip was fierce, perfect, her walls clenching around him as he seated deep, the sensation overwhelming after the long suspension.
Without a chance to catch his breath, Zander pressed in behind him seconds later, the vampire’s cool thickness breaching him in a single, claiming thrust that punched the air from Spence’s lungs.
He hadn’t recovered, muscles still quivering from the ropes, nerves singing from returning blood flow, balls still screaming, it was too much, he couldn’t…
No. He stopped himself and breathed. He only had to accept, to be where they put him. To be a vessel for their pleasure.
Zander pounded him hard, the relentless rhythm driving Spence deeper into Emmy with every slam, his body a perfect, brutal conduit. She reached up between them and grasped his nipples, nails embedding, and twisted.
Spence gasped and yelped, pain flaring out of the blue. His body writhed, the twist sending fire straight to his cock buried in her ass, pleasure-pain twisting tighter as Zander’s thrusts battered his prostate without mercy.
“Oh yes,” Zander said. “Do that again. Love the way his ass grabs me.”
Her nails dug deeper, the twist harsher, and Spence writhed again, his cock pulsing, and he very nearly came, but his Master warned, “You don’t have permission to come, boy.”
This apparently set Emmy off, and she gave a low, keening cry as her body clenched around him, milking his length in rhythmic spasms that dragged him closer to the edge he wasn’t allowed to cross.
“Not yet,” Zander growled, hand fisting Spence’s hair to arch him back. “Do you belong to us or not, boy?”
Us. Not just Zander. He was owned by two people now. He’d disappoint them both if he spilled without permission.
Somehow, he managed to hold onto it, his breath ragged, balls throbbing with denied need. He was raw inside from the pounding, but floated in the exquisite torment of service.
Emmy shattered again, harder, her nails raking his chest now, walls fluttering wild around him, her cries long and loud as pleasure tore through her. Zander didn’t slow, driving them all higher, the slap of cool skin on his bruised ass a counterpoint to the tight heat gripping his cock.
Another orgasm ripped through Emmy, body convulsing beneath him, ass clenching vise-tight in endless waves that nearly undid him. His balls ached, and his insides burned with every thrust, his need a living fire he fought to contain.
Finally, when he was raw and trembling, every nerve screaming for release, and he could tell Emmy was right on the edge of another, Zander’s voice rasped against his ear: “Come for us, boy. Now.”
Permission unleashed him, and Spence plunged deep into Emmy’s clenching heat, the orgasm igniting through his core like wildfire, cock pulsing thick and endless inside her ass, hot ropes flooding her in violent, milking spasms as her walls squeezed him dry.
Zander buried to the hilt behind him, cool seed spilling deep in claiming pulses that prolonged the bliss into infinity.
All three shattered together, Emmy’s cries blending with Zander’s guttural growl, while Spence could only manage broken moans between them. Their bodies locked in shuddering unity, pleasure crashing endless and raw until the world narrowed to sweat-slicked skin and shared breath.
They collapsed in a tangle, Spence managing to land beside Emmy instead of atop her, limbs heavy and spent. Zander shifted to his other side, cool arm draping over them both, pulling Spence close against his chest.
And then, while Spence lay boneless, gentle hands massaged sore muscles and put soothing ointment on abraded, raw skin. Emmy’s warm fingers traced the diamonds on his torso. Zander’s cool digits soothed the welts on his thighs.
And all the while, they kissed his body as they worked on it, wrapping love around him like a warm blanket, and Spence floated, utterly secure, cradled by the people he loves most in the world.
The telepathic ping from security let Zander know someone was bringing the meal he’d ordered.
He’d judged well, telling them when to get started.
Aftercare had eased into a quiet, floating hush with Spence cradled between them, rope marks blooming like love letters across his skin, Emmy’s warm fingers still tracing lazy patterns over welts and marks while their wolf drifted in sated bliss, breath slow and even, the triangle’s foundation steady beneath them both.
He heard security enter the outer room with the kitchen staff who’d brought the food, tracked their minds as they set the table and left, and then he pressed a kiss to Spence’s temple and rose with fluid grace. “Food, my loves. Come.”
They stirred reluctantly — Emmy stretching like a cat in sunlight, Spence wincing beautifully when he sat up. Both followed him into the living area, with only two places set.
Each plate held three Wagyu ribeyes flown in from Japan hours before.
They were rested, rare, and glistening, seared just enough to caramelize the fat into golden lace.
Beside them were matsutake mushrooms sautéed with cipollini onions in a reduced bone-marrow demi, the earthy perfume rising in delicate steam, rich and savory enough to make even a vampire’s mouth water.
Zander guided them to their chairs and then settled onto the low sofa across from them, legs stretched, hands loose on his thighs.
He had no need for food, but watching them eat was one of his deepest pleasures: the way color returned to their cheeks, the small sounds of satisfaction, the primal satisfaction of providing for what was his.
Spence cut into his steak first, juices pooling dark and fragrant. He closed his eyes on the first bite, chewing slowly, savoring, and then, without a word, his boy opened the link wide.
Flavor flooded Zander’s mind like liquid silk — the deep mineral earthiness of perfectly seared beef, the fat melting on the tongue.
Another bite, and the umami depth of marrow and mushroom weaving through it all.
Zander’s breath caught; his body, long beyond hunger, responded as if the meal were his own.
Heat bloomed low in his belly, pleasure rolling through him in slow, decadent waves.
He leaned back against the sofa cushions, letting his head rest against the leather, eyes half-lidded as Spence fed him sensation after sensation, and he moaned in pleasure.
Another bite, richer this time, the onions caramelized sweet against the steak’s iron tang, the matsutake’s piney perfume lingering like forest after rain.
Emmy’s voice came, confused with a little concern. “What are you doing to him?”
Spence swallowed, cheeks flushed with simple joy. “Sharing. I can let him taste what I do. It’s … intimate.”
Zander lifted his head to watch them, and Emmy sat with her fork in the air, quiet. Thoughtful.
Zander met her eyes, steady and patient. He wanted to be able to telepath with her, to share more than spoken words, but he would wait until she brought it up.
She’d been taught since toddlerhood to keep her shields fortress-strong. Dragon minds are vast and dangerous things, and if she was to lower them and let him in, it would have to be her idea. Her decision.
But there was a different conversation the two needed to have. He was tempted to bring it up, but the threesome, the triangle, needed one more big scene, first.
For now, he simply savored the taste of rare steak on a tongue that hadn’t fed on food in centuries, and the quiet, perfect happiness of watching his lovers eat.