Chapter 8 Skye
Skye
The news about Phoenix Sanctuary keeps replaying in my head, Dante's words filtered through Ambrose's contract, each detail worse than the last. I sit up a little, my gaze zoning in on Ambrose at the edge of the camp.
I can see the green glow of his contracts from here, his silhouette hunched over the threads, Harlow a pale shape beside him.
They're talking about something, heads close together, and whatever it is has Ambrose's shoulders tighter than I've seen them in days.
Part of me wants to go over and ask. The rest of me knows that if it's something new to worry about, it can wait until morning.
Rumi is asleep on my left, one wing draped over Jade, both of them breathing in tandem. The bond between them hums with the particular warmth of people who wore each other out before falling asleep. On my right, the space where Stellan should be is empty.
I find him at the back of the cave, sitting with his knees drawn up, staring at the far wall. His fire burns low beneath his skin, barely visible, and the scar on his side is visible when he shifts. He doesn't look up when I approach, but his fire flickers in recognition.
"Can't sleep either?" I lower myself beside him, leaving a few inches between us.
"Every time I close my eyes, I see the spike going through me." His voice is flat. "Then I see it going through one of you instead, and that's worse."
"Yeah. I keep seeing the sanctuary burning." I lean my head back against the stone. "We're a fun pair tonight."
He huffs, almost a laugh. "The others would tell us to talk about our feelings."
"The others are asleep. Well, Ambrose and Harlow aren’t but they seem occupied."
"Thank fuck for that." He glances at me sideways, something shifting in his expression.
We don't do this often, just the two of us.
There's always someone between us, someone louder or more demanding or more obviously in need.
Stellan and I tend to orbit the same people without ever quite landing on each other.
"You've been different since we left," he says. "More sure of yourself."
"I've been faking it."
Stellan snorts. "I don’t entirely believe that but even so, you're faking it well." The corner of his mouth twitches. "At that checkpoint, when you told the official to let us pass. I almost believed you had actual authority."
"I do have actual authority. I'm the Praestes."
"You're a twenty-something counselor who found out he had magic months ago."
"And you're a phoenix who failed out of the academy because nobody could teach you what you are. We're both making it up as we go." I bump my shoulder against his, and his fire responds, heat blooming where we touch.
"I'm tired of being treated like I'm fragile," he says quietly. "Jade won't let me lift anything heavier than a water skin. Rumi keeps checking my heartbeat through the bond. Even Ambrose has contracts specifically monitoring my vitals."
"You almost died."
"I know I almost died. I was there." His fire sparks, irritation bleeding through. "But I'm not dead. I'm healed. Jade's essence made me stronger than I was before the spike, and everyone is still hovering like I'm going to collapse if someone breathes on me too hard."
"So what do you want?"
He turns to look at me, and the heat in his eyes has nothing to do with his phoenix fire. "I want someone to stop treating me like glass."
I'm not sure who moves first, maybe both of us at the same time, but suddenly his mouth is on mine and his fire is surging against my essence. Stellan’s kiss mirrors the way he fights, aggressive and uncontrolled, his hand fisting in my shirt and pulling me closer.
I grab the back of his neck and give as good as I get, biting his lower lip hard enough to make him groan.
We break apart, both breathing hard. "That," he says. "More of that. No one being careful. No one asking if I'm okay every five seconds."
"I can do that."
I push him back against the wall and climb into his lap, my hands bracing on the stone behind his head.
He grabs my hips and pulls me down against him, and the friction makes both of us hiss through our teeth.
His cock is already hard against mine, both of us grinding through our clothes with zero finesse.
It's graceless and desperate and exactly what we both need.
His shirt comes off first, then mine, and then we're skin to skin, his fire prickling across my chest, making my nerve endings sing. I bite down on his neck and he arches into it, his fingers digging bruises into my hips.
"Fuck, Skye—"
"Shut up." I grind harder against him, chasing the friction as his hands scramble at my waistband. We get our pants off through a combination of shoving and kicking that is the opposite of sexy, and then his bare cock slides against mine and we both stop breathing for a second.
I reach between us and wrap my hand around both of us, Stellan's head falling back against the stone. His throat is exposed, firelight flickering beneath the skin, and I lean in and drag my tongue up the length of it because I can.
"I want you inside me," he says, cheeks flushing.
My hand slows. "I've only topped once and it didn't exactly go well. I couldn't find a rhythm and it was over embarrassingly fast."
Stellan studies me for a second, something shifting behind his eyes. "Well, I won't pass up an opportunity to be inside you either."
"That's not what I — you're just switching it around?"
"You said you don’t want to top. I can. Problem solved." His grin turns wicked. "Unless you're saying no?"
"I'm definitely not saying no."
We stare at each other for a moment, and then Stellan bursts out laughing and I follow, both of us chuckling at the absurdity of this moment. Two grown men with five shared partners between them, and both of us are hilariously awkward running this show.
"Okay." I press my forehead against his. "Okay, let's figure it out."
"Inspiring leadership, Praestes."
"Shut up." I kiss him again, still grinning, and reach behind myself. "I'll ride you. That way I can control the angle and you just have to lie there and look pretty."
"I can do pretty." His smile widens, his fire flaring beneath his skin as I work myself open with spit and determination and not nearly enough prep. It stings when I sink down on him, enough to make me wince, his hands immediately flying to my hips.
"Slow down, you'll hurt yourself—"
"What happened to not treating me like glass?" I throw his words back at him and take another inch. The burn fades into something that borders on good, his cock thick and hot inside me.
"That was about me, not—oh fuck." His protest dissolves when I drop the rest of the way, taking him fully. His fingers dig into my thighs, his fire flaring hotter. I feel it through my whole body, warmth that sinks into my muscles and loosens the knots I've been carrying since Dante's message.
I try to move and immediately lose my balance, catching myself on his shoulders. "This is harder than it looks."
"You literally just said you'd control the angle—"
"I'm working on it." I shift my knees wider, find a better position, and try again.
The second attempt is better. The third is actually good, the angle hitting something that makes sparks shoot up my spine.
"Oh. There." My partners have always been a little more dominant with me and even then, we were never really doing anything sitting up against a cave wall.
Each movement also pulls against muscles I had no idea I was using, making this whole experience slightly more daunting as I take control without truly knowing how.
"There?" He rolls his hips experimentally, matching my rhythm from below, and the combined motion drags a moan out of me that I feel in my teeth. "There."
We find it together, clumsy and imperfect.
I set a pace that works for me and Stellan meets it, his hips snapping up to match mine, his hands guiding without controlling.
When I lean back too far he catches me. When he thrusts too hard I shove his shoulder and he adjusts.
It's a negotiation happening in real time, both of us learning each other's rhythm without the rest of our mates to guide us.
"You feel incredible," he says, the surprise in his voice making me laugh.
"Don't sound so shocked."
"I'm not, I just—" He pulls me down for a kiss, swallowing whatever he was going to say.
His hand wraps around my cock, stroking in time with our rhythm, and the laughter dies in my throat, replaced by something much more urgent.
His fire pulses through his palm with every stroke, waves of heat that make my cock twitch and my toes curl.
I brace my hands on his chest and ride him harder, chasing the building pressure. Our essences tangle without either of us directing it, pink and flame weaving together in patterns I've never seen before.
"Close," I manage, and he nods, his jaw clenched, his hand moving faster on my cock. His other hand grips my hip hard enough to leave marks, anchoring me while I lose my rhythm entirely, grinding down on him in jerky, desperate movements that have no finesse at all.
"Come on," he grits out, fire blazing beneath his skin. "Let go, Skye."
I come with his name on my lips, spilling over his fist and stomach, clenching around him hard enough that he follows me over almost immediately. His fire flares so bright the cave wall glows orange for a second, and the sound he makes is the best thing I've heard all day.
I collapse against his chest, both of us sweating and panting. His cock softens inside me, and I should move but I don't want to. His arms come up around my back, his fire settling into a steady warmth that seeps into my bones.
"That was—" he starts.
"Messy."
"I was going to say good."
"It was good AND messy." I lift my head to look at him. His hair is plastered to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright with something I don't see often from Stellan. "We should do that again. Once I can feel my legs."
"Next time I want you on your knees," he says, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "I think the angle would be better."
"I'd like that." I turn my head and kiss his palm. "Having five mates, it's hard enough finding time alone with any of you. I want more of this."
"Then we make time." His arms tighten around me. "I'm not sharing you tonight."
"You'll have to eventually. Ambrose will have opinions about it in the morning."
"Ambrose has opinions about everything."
That pulls another laugh out of me as I twist around to see which of my mates noticed what we’re doing. It’s no surprise that there are four sets of dark eyes pointed at us.