Chapter 30 #3
He's desperate. Underneath all the control, he's vibrating with want. And he's making me beg anyway because control is the only thing Seraph has ever trusted, and letting go of it terrifies him more than Heaven's army.
"Please," I say. "Seraph. Please make me come."
He rewards me. His fingers drive deeper, faster. His thumb works my clit with a pressure and speed that's precisely calculated to undo me, and combined with Croesus's mouth hot and relentless on my breast, the sensations converge into something blinding.
I come with a whispered gasp.
The orgasm rolls through me in waves, and through both bonds I feel them react.
Croesus's groan against my breast, his hips pressing against my thigh, his cock hard and leaking against my skin.
Seraph's sharp intake of breath, his fingers stilling inside me as he feels my body clench around him, his composure cracking for one unguarded second.
I ride it out. Let it take me.
When I come back to myself, Seraph is watching me with an expression I've never seen on him before. Not clinical. Not controlled. Open. Hungry. Almost reverent.
"Extraordinary," he breathes.
"That's the first nice thing you've ever said to me."
"Don't get used to it." But his voice is ruined. Wrecked. The polish worn away by what he just felt through the bond, and what remains underneath is raw and real and more honest than anything he's ever shown me.
"My turn," I say.
They both look at me.
I sit up. Push Seraph back. He resists for a second, instinct and pride, and then lets me.
His back hits the headboard, his ruined wings spreading against the white silk, and the image of him is almost too much.
Shirtless, flushed, his platinum hair disheveled for the first time since I've known him, his lips swollen, his eyes dark.
Below the waist he's still dressed, and the evidence of his arousal strains against the dark fabric.
"Pants off," I tell him.
"You're giving me orders now?"
"Someone has to. You two have been circling each other like wolves for the last ten minutes and nobody's actually fucking me yet."
Croesus laughs. A real laugh, warm and surprised, and it breaks something loose in the room. The tension shifts. Reconfigures from competition into something else. Something closer to collaboration.
Seraph undoes his pants. Lifts his hips to push them down, and I help, clawing the fabric away, and then he's bare before me for the first time.
He's beautiful. Obviously. Every line and plane of him is sculpted, lean, defined, pale skin that seems to glow faintly in the silver light.
His cock is hard against his stomach, flushed and thick, and the sight of him completely undone and straining with want sends a pulse of heat between my legs that has nothing to do with either bond.
That's just me. Just my body responding to the sight of him.
"Stop staring," he says. But his voice is unsteady. His hands are gripping the silk sheets. He's used to being looked at with worship. With awe. Not with the honest, uncomplicated wanting I'm giving him now.
"Make me." I straddle his thighs. Feel the heat of his cock against my inner thigh, and his hips jerk, involuntary, the first truly uncontrolled movement I've ever seen from him. His hands fly to my waist.
"Raven." His voice is a warning. A plea. Both at once.
"Croesus." I look over my shoulder. He's behind me on the bed, golden eyes fixed in our direction, tracking by sound and heat and the bond between us. His cock is thick and hard, jutting from his body, and watching us has done nothing to diminish it. "Come here."
He moves. Settles behind me, his chest pressed to my back the way it was in the shower, his mouth finding my shoulder.
His cock presses against the curve of my ass, hot and insistent, and I'm sandwiched between them again.
Seraph in front, Croesus behind, the two of them on either side of me like bookends, like sentinels, like two halves of something that needs me in the middle to be whole.
"Here's what's going to happen," I say, and my voice comes out steadier than I feel.
"Seraph. You're going to be inside me." His fingers dig into my hips.
"And while you are, you're going to touch him.
" I take Seraph's right hand from my waist and guide it behind me until his fingers brush against Croesus's cock.
The contact is electric. I feel it through both bonds. Seraph's shock, controlled instantly but not fast enough to hide. Croesus's groan, low and unguarded, his forehead dropping to my shoulder.
"You can't be serious," Seraph says, but his hand hasn't moved away. His fingers hover against the hard length of Croesus's shaft, not gripping, but not retreating either.
"I'm completely serious. I'm done watching you pretend that the tension between you is just rivalry.
" I wrap my hand around Seraph's and press it against Croesus, curling his fingers around the thick shaft.
Both of them make sounds that I will remember for the rest of my life.
"You want control? Fine. Take it. Control all of it. Both of us."
The silence lasts three heartbeats.
Then Seraph's hand tightens around Croesus, and the angel of greed swears against my shoulder, his hips bucking into the grip, and Seraph's eyes go dark in a way I've never seen.
"You're a menace," Seraph tells me.
"You like it."
"I find it..." He strokes Croesus once. Slow. Deliberate. Croesus's breathing fractures behind me. "Compelling."
He lifts me. One arm around my waist, effortless strength, and positions me above him. The head of his cock presses against my entrance, slick with how wet I already am, and my thighs tremble on either side of his hips.
"Look at me," he says. And the command in his voice is different from Croesus's. Croesus commands because he wants to possess. Seraph commands because he needs to know he's being chosen. That someone is looking at him, seeing the broken wings and the cracked perfection, and choosing him anyway.
I look at him. Hold those mirror eyes where I see my own face reflected, fierce and flushed and falling.
He pulls me down onto him.
The stretch is slow and deep and exquisite. He fills me completely, his cock sliding into me inch by inch, and the angle with me straddling him lets him reach places that make my spine dissolve. I sink down until he's buried to the hilt, and we both still. Breathing. Feeling.
With the bindings, the sensation doubles. I feel what I feel, the incredible fullness of him inside me, the way my body grips his cock. And I feel what he feels, my heat clenching around him, the slick, tight pressure that's making his careful world disintegrate.
"Fuck," he whispers. The word sounds wrong in his elegant mouth. Filthy. Perfect. "You feel... this is..."
"I know."
His hips shift beneath me, a shallow, testing thrust that makes us both gasp. "I have watched you fight and bleed and grow and I have wanted this every single day and I'm having difficulty maintaining any semblance of..."
"Then stop maintaining it." I roll my hips. Take him deeper. His head falls back against the headboard, and a sound tears from his throat that's closer to a sob than a groan.
Behind me, Croesus's mouth is on my neck.
His hips press against me in a rhythm that matches my movements on Seraph, grinding against me, and Seraph's hand is still on him, stroking in time with the slow rock of our bodies.
The three of us are moving together, finding a rhythm that has no right to work but does.
Like instruments in a chord. Like pieces of something that were always meant to fit.
"Tell me how she feels." Croesus's voice is wrecked. His breath is hot against my ear, and his hips push forward every time Seraph's hand tightens on him. "I want to hear you say it."
Seraph's eyes open. Silver, blazing, locked on a point just past my shoulder where Croesus's face must be.
"She feels like absolution," he says. His hand works Croesus's cock with the same deliberate precision he uses for everything, twisting at the head, tightening at the base, learning by feel what makes the angel of greed come apart.
"She feels like the first thing that has been worth wanting in a thousand years.
She is hot and tight and when she clenches around me I understand why men start wars over women.
" His hips drive up into me, harder now, and I cry out, bracing my hands on his chest. "She is extraordinary and she is between us and for the first time in my existence I don't want to compete with you for her.
I want to take her apart with you and listen to every sound she makes and know that we did it together. "
"Fuck," I breathe.
"Speechless." Seraph's mouth curves. His thrusts find a deeper angle that hits the spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. "That's a first. I should talk more often."
"You should fuck me harder."
"So demanding." But he complies. His one hand grips my hips and he drives into me from below with a force that makes the headboard crack against the wall.
Once, twice, and each thrust punches a sound out of me that echoes in the marble room.
Croesus's hand finds my clit from behind, his fingers working that bundle of nerves while Seraph fills me again and again, and the combined assault obliterates my ability to think.
"That's it." Seraph's voice is coming apart at the edges.
The formality is fracturing, the polish wearing thin, and what's underneath is desperate and hungry and human in a way I didn't think he could be.
"Take what you need. Both of us. Everything we have.
" His rhythm stutters for a second as Croesus does something, shifts or presses or moves in a way that pulls Seraph's attention, and the angel of pride's eyes flutter shut.
"That's... Croesus, your hand, that's..."