Chapter 33 #3
The drums seemed to get louder, more insistent, pounding through their bodies. All around them, the celebration had reached its peak—bodies everywhere, intertwined, the air thick with smoke and desire and primal abandon.
The warmth was singing now, pulling them together with desperate need. Twenty-five years of carrying this power, and finally it had both halves close enough to touch.
Eliam's hands pulled her flush against him, but he was looking at Arion over her shoulder, and his expression held something she'd never seen before. Recognition. Understanding. Hunger not just for her but for completion.
Rather than retreat, Arion stepped closer, pressing against her back, and Briar found herself caught between them. The drums made thinking impossible. All she could focus on was the way their hands felt on her skin, their bodies pressed close, the warmth connecting all three in a circuit of need.
"We should—" someone started to say, but then Eliam's hips moved with the drums, pressing her back against Arion, who groaned softly. She could feel him hard against her lower back.
They began moving again, but barely, just their bodies finding rhythm together, no space between them.
"I can feel it," Eliam said as his hands spanned her bare waist, fingers spreading across her ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts.. "The pull. Not just to you anymore. To him too. Through you."
Arion's hands settled on her hips, holding her against him, and she could feel his arousal growing with each movement.
“Maybe…” Briar began but Eliam's mouth found her throat, teeth grazing her pulse, and the words died. His tongue traced the column of her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat mixed with ceremonial paint.
Behind her, Arion's hands moved up from her hips, sliding across her stomach. His fingers traced the painted symbols there, each touch sending sparks through her oversensitized skin. When his palm flattened against her belly, pressing her back more firmly against his arousal, she moaned.
The golden warmth in her chest wasn't just pulsing now, it was reaching out in tendrils, wrapping around both men, trying to bind them through her. Every point where their bodies touched felt electric.
Arion's hand slid up slipping beneath the minimal leather binding to cup her breast, thumb finding her nipple already hard and aching. His touch was gentle but possessive, and when he rolled the sensitive peak between his fingers, her knees nearly buckled.
"Here?" she gasped. "In the middle of—"
"Look around," Eliam commanded, his hand tangling in her hair to turn her head.
The celebration had descended into something primal.
Drak couples and groups writhed together by the fires, hands and mouths exploring freely.
The drums had taken on a deeper rhythm that seemed to bypass thought entirely, speaking directly to the body.
This was what Mor'va had meant by celebrating life—pure, uninhibited expression of being alive.
"No one cares," Arion murmured against her ear, his other hand joining the first to cup both breasts. "This is what the celebration is for."
Eliam's mouth found hers, kissing her with a desperate hunger that had nothing to do with the wine and everything to do with the revelation of what he was. What they were.
She kissed him back just as desperately, her body on fire from their combined touch. When Arion's mouth found the side of her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, she broke the kiss to cry out.
With a newfound sense of urgency, Eliam's fingers made quick work of the ties holding her top in place. The leather fell away, and then their hands were on her bare breasts, Eliam's from the front and Arion's reaching around. Four hands touching, teasing, making her writhe between them.
"Look at her," Eliam growled, his voice thick with desire as he watched Arion's hands move over her breasts. "So responsive. So perfect."
Arion's fingers pinched her nipples simultaneously, making her arch between them with a sharp gasp. The movement pressed her ass more firmly against his arousal, and he groaned against her neck.
The warmth in her chest was no longer just pulsing—it was singing, reaching out to wrap golden threads around all three of them. She could feel it trying to pull them closer, deeper, to merge them in ways that went beyond physical.
Eliam's hands slid down her sides, finding the ties of her skirt next. Once again the leather strips fell away, leaving her in nothing but the ceremonial paint and the two men's hands. She should have felt exposed, vulnerable, and she did, but she also didn’t care.
Arion's hand slid down her stomach, fingers tracing the muscles that jumped under his touch. When he reached the apex of her thighs, finding her already wet and aching, they both groaned—as if they could both feel what he was feeling.
"The connection," Eliam said roughly, his forehead pressed to hers as Arion's fingers began moving in slow, teasing circles. "I can feel what he feels when he touches you."
"Both ways," Arion confirmed, his voice strained. "When you kiss her, I taste it."
The revelation sent a new wave of heat through her. They were connected through her, the warmth binding them together in ways none of them had understood. Every sensation was shared, amplified, reflected between them.
Eliam's mouth found her breast, tongue circling her nipple as Arion's fingers pressed inside her. She cried out, her hands grasping desperately at whatever she could reach—Eliam's hair, Arion's arm, anything to anchor herself.
Around them, the celebration continued its primal rhythm. The drums seemed to sync with her heartbeat, with the pulsing of the warmth that connected them. She could hear other sounds—moans, cries of pleasure, the celebration of life in its most basic form.
When Eliam’s hand moved to join Arion's between her legs, she found her heart racing in anticipation. As he slowly eased his fingers inside of her, her hips rolled to meet his touch, her head falling back against Arion's shoulder He captured her mouth in a kiss that was all heat and demand.
His tongue swept past her lips, claiming and exploring, swallowing the sounds she was making. She could taste the fermented drink on him, sweet and strong, could feel his desperation in the way he consumed her mouth. His teeth caught her lower lip, tugging before soothing it with his tongue.
It was deep, possessive, his hand tangling in her hair to angle her head exactly how he wanted.
Each stroke of his tongue matched the rhythm of their fingers below, deliberate and overwhelming.
When she gasped for air, he barely let her breathe before claiming her mouth again, like he was trying to devour her very breath, to merge with her through the kiss alone.
All the while his fingers continued to tease, the two of them working together instinctively, as if they could feel what the other was doing, adjusting their rhythm to drive her higher.
"I need—" she panted when Arion finally released his claim on her mouth. "I need more. Need you both."
The words had barely left her lips when Eliam lifted her effortlessly, shadows curling around her thighs to help support her weight. The position opened her completely to them both, and she felt exposed in the most delicious way, suspended between their bodies as the drums thundered around them.
"Hold onto me," Arion murmured against her ear, guiding her arms back around his neck.
She could feel them both hard against her—Arion's cock pressing insistently against her lower back while Eliam pressed himself between her spread thighs making her dizzy with want.
"Please," she whimpered, not caring that they were surrounded by other dancers, that anyone could see how wantonly she writhed between them. The Drak wine had stripped away her inhibitions, leaving only raw need.
Without a word, Eliam withdrew his fingers before positioning himself at her entrance. Arion's fingers traced down her spine, his touch leaving trails of starlight that made her shiver.
"Both of us," Eliam growled against her throat, not a question but not quite a statement.
"Yes," she breathed, the single word holding all her desperate need. The warmth in her chest flared so bright she could see it even with her eyes closed—golden threads wrapping around all three of them, pulling them together in ways that transcended the physical.
At her words, Eliam pushed inside her slowly, stretching her, filling her with a deliberate care that made her body tremble.
Behind her, Arion's fingers moved lower, slick with her arousal as he prepared her carefully.
The sensation was foreign but not unpleasant.
When Arion pressed one finger inside her there, she tensed.
"Breathe," he murmured against her ear, his free hand stroking soothing patterns on her hip. "Let me make you feel good."
She forced herself to relax, focusing on the pleasure of Eliam moving slowly inside her, on the way their combined touch made the warmth in her chest pulse brighter. When Arion added a second finger, scissoring gently, the stretch burned but in a way that made her moan.
"That's it," Arion murmured against her ear as he replaced his fingers with the head of his cock, pressing gently but insistently. "Let us in. Let us have all of you."
"Together," Eliam said, his voice rough with restraint as he held still inside her. "Move together."
They did.
As Eliam withdrew slightly, Arion pressed forward, making her cry out. The initial burn gave way to an overwhelming fullness as Arion worked himself inside her inch by careful inch. She felt stretched beyond capacity, claimed in the most primal way possible.
Eliam groaned, his forehead pressed to hers. "I can feel—I can feel both sides. What you're feeling, what he's feeling—"
When they were both fully seated inside her, they paused. She could feel them both throbbing, could feel the way their breathing had synchronized. The warmth in her chest was no longer just pulsing—it was singing, a golden harmony that seemed to vibrate through all three of them.
"Move," she begged, rolling her hips experimentally. The motion made both men groan, their hands tightening on her.
They found a rhythm slowly, learning how to move together. When Eliam thrust forward, Arion pulled back. When Arion pressed deep, Eliam withdrew. The drums around them seemed to guide their movements, primal and deep.
Eliam's shadows wrapped around her breasts, teasing her nipples while his hands gripped her hips. Arion's light pulsed against her clit with steady pressure that made her buck between them. They moved together like they'd done this before, like their bodies knew each other through her.
"Look at me," Eliam commanded, and when she opened her eyes, his were pure black with desire. "I want to watch you come apart for us."
The pace increased, both men driving into her with a synchronized rhythm that spoke to their shared essence. She could feel the warmth spreading from her chest throughout her body, could see the golden threads growing brighter, pulling them closer together with each thrust.
Around them the Drak drums pounded relentlessly, their rhythm matched only by the frantic pounding of her heart. Briar couldn't tell where one man began and the other ended; they moved as one, their motions so perfectly in sync it was as if they'd rehearsed it a thousand times.
The connection between them only heightened the experience, every touch, every caress, every stroke amplified by the power of three.
Each moan she gave was echoed back to her, intensifying her pleasure until she felt as if she were teetering on the edge of a cliff, the drop-off into oblivion dizzying and thrilling.
The world faded into nothingness, the celebration and drums and even the very air they breathed all but forgotten as they lost themselves in each other. They were the only three beings in existence, bound together by a force greater than any of them could ever hope to understand or control.
Ecstasy built within her, the warmth in her chest now a raging inferno, threatening to consume her whole. She clung to the feeling, to them, knowing that without this connection, without the anchor of their shared climax, she might fly apart.
"That's it," Eliam growled in her ear, his voice low and commanding, his thrusts driving her higher. "Come for us, Briar. Come with us."
"Yes," Arion gasped, his fingers digging into her hips as he pushed even deeper inside her. "Fall with us, Briar. Let go."
The call of their combined voices, the pull of their shared lust, was too much to resist. She arched, her head thrown back as her orgasm crashed over her in a wave of white-hot light. Their names tumbled from her lips in a breathless litany—Eliam, Arion, together, apart, it no longer mattered.
She felt them both follow suit, their moans mingling with hers as they filled her, their essence mingling with hers, their connection sealed in a way that went beyond the physical.
As they collapsed against each other, breathless and spent, Briar couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them. They were, after all, three halves of a whole, now bound by more than just circumstance or shared experiences. They were bound by the very fabric of existence itself.