Chapter Fifteen #2
Zara’s eyes are lidded and burning with periwinkle fire under the skillful play of Lucius’ tongue between her legs. The soft slurp of the wolf’s mouth, eating into her drenched cunt, is audible to my keen Unseelie ears, even above the hubble-bubble of the jacuzzi.
Meanwhile, Ronin is regaining his strength.
He licks his way down the rungs of Ash’s Jacob’s Ladder like a sweep scrambling down a chimney. Ash lifts his tortured face toward the frosty glass dome of our igloo, eyes squeezed shut, and groans like he’s being gutted.
“OMG, yum.” The brassy rumble of Zara’s inner dragon lurks in her voice. Still, my bride’s innate sweetness rises to the fore. “Thanks for letting us all watch that .”
“Except this one,” Vasili says viciously, glaring at Mordred, whose hips he’s straddling in the hot tub. “This sex demon of ours isn’t allowed to watch the actual sex. He’s been horribly naughty. I intend to make him suffer.”
“Knock yourself out, bae.” Mordred’s white teeth flash in his blue goatee in a wolfish grin.
My fool of a cousin even winks at his tormentor.
“For moon’s sake,” I mutter. “Have a care, cuz. Don’t provoke him.”
Alas, my warning is uttered too late.
Using a fistful of Mordred’s hair for leverage, Vasili drags the fool brutally to his feet, spins him around, and shoves him forward over the jacuzzi rim.
With a scramble and a flail of tentacles, Mordred manages to kneel on the submerged seat. The sleek bronze mounds of his buttocks emerge from the bubbling water. His mighty shoulders bunch, his tattooed arm flexes, and his primary tentacles grip the rim for leverage.
Still, he is more than willing.
Mordred’s smaller and defter tentacles snake back to twine around Vasili. His extra limbs stroke the warlock’s pale thighs and cup the pert cheeks of his tight little ass and tease the alluring rosebud kiss of Vasili’s pucker in a way that makes our snake hiss.
That sound mingles pleasure with warning.
Except for Maxim, whom I now understand bargained his way into the sanctum by scheming with Vasili against me in the early days, Vasili’s rosebud is still virgin territory for most of the males in this harem.
Including myself.
But, in my case, not for long.
After last night’s encounter in that enchanted Christmas cottage, Vasili and I have formed an understanding. At last, we have learned how to love each other.
We are allies.
We are lovers.
And we are equals.
Because I have bent for him, he will bend for me.
All in due course.
At the moment, Vasili has no eye to spare for me. He rears behind Mordred’s exposed and breathless buttocks and wiggles a hand impatiently.
“Lubricant,” Vasili commands the room at large. “Where is it?”
Neo straightens, but he can’t rise with Zara’s precious form supported in his strong arms. He particularly can’t rise now, with Zara arching into the suck of Lucius’ mouth with a sharp breathless cry that announces her own first climax.
“I have some of those little foil packets… in my wallet. Pants pocket,” Neo offers, bending to drop a sweet kiss on Zara’s furrowed brow, just between her teal eyebrows. “Hey, Max, could you…?”
“My kitten is always well prepared,” Maxim growls, with gruff affection for Neo lurking in his sandpaper voice, “to be fucked. Are you not, kotyonok ?”
“Um…” Neo blushes to his hairline and hides his hot face in Zara’s teal curls. As she surfaces from her own first climax, Zara lifts her heavy lids to give Max a sultry grin. Then her hand floats up to caress Neo’s flushed face.
Her touch conveys love and comfort. Neo settles into her caress with a happy sigh.
“Now.” Vasili snaps his imperious fingers at Max (yet he dares call me a tyrant?) Seeing Zara’s narrow look as her head clears, Vasili deigns to add a few curt syllables. “If you please, Maxim.”
While the dragon hunkers down and rootles obligingly through Neo’s abandoned trousers, a low moan from Ash demands my renewed attention.
I uncurl to my feet and prowl around Ronin for a better vantage.
Still, I am careful not to obstruct my bride’s view.
Ronin is edging our Light Fae Prince in earnest, just as I decreed he should. The imp is engulfing all those meaty Seelie inches in the divine suck of his wicked mouth, deep throating Ash to the hilt on every downstroke.
In truth, Ronin is so much the master of this particular craft that his human gag reflex is manfully suppressed.
I know from experience precisely how good Ronin feels when he does this.
I know the hot silken squeeze of throat muscles rippling around my throbbing length, then backing off with a teasing swirl of tongue, lips sucking my shaft like a sweet.
Ash is destroyed by it.
Hands clasped desperately behind his back until he’s permitted to touch, Ash sways on his feet and tilts his head back, jaw clenched, neck straining. He groans through his teeth.
Ronin’s amber eyes lift to ensure my sustained appreciation for his talent.
“Nicely done,” I breathe, sweeping aside a gleaming wing of raven hair that threatens to obstruct my view. “Now finger his greedy hole and he’ll beg in good earnest.”
“Geez Louise,” Ash pants, mighty chest heaving like a bellows. “Sparrow… please…”
Ronin grins at me around Ash’s cock, then backs off all those inches to mutter up at him, “Fancy a bit of arse play then?”
Poor Ash can scarcely deny it. “I…”
“Don’t bother mouthing off, mate. We all bloody know you’re gagging for it.” Clearly, the schoolyard bully Ronin likes to play is surfacing for his Potions Prof’s edification.
Maxim lobs a packet of lubricant at Ronin, then drops the rest of the foil strip to the floor within Vasili’s dangerous grasp.
Finally, with a last burning look at Lucius—now devotedly licking Zara’s slick from her inner thighs and dedicated to delivering her next climax in short order—Maxim decants himself into the hot tub, next to Vasili and my cousin, with a splash.
The dragon has been enticed beyond bearing by all that tentacle play with Vasili’s pucker.
Vasili gives the dragon a narrow look but—for once—opts not to skewer him with his cutting wit. Apparently, Vasili is far too intent on lubing himself up and burying his alpha dick in Mordred’s needy hole to send the amorous dragon packing.
Meanwhile, Ronin has wasted no time slathering his own fingers with lube and working the first slick digit into Ash’s eager ass.
Ruthlessly trained by a lifetime of ritual abstinence that only ended when I mated Zara last spring, I am a master at delayed gratification.
Yet a hot rush of need clenches my balls and squeezes my shaft.
Swiftly I swoop to claim the remaining lube from the half-used packet. The dregs of this product will be more than sufficient. Truly, Ash is so well stretched from hard and frequent use that he barely requires it.
And besides, he likes it rough.
I anoint my straining manhood with a careless swipe, then saunter into place behind Ash.
“Hands above your head, sweeting,” I murmur, rising on tiptoe to get a bit closer to his pointed ear. “Grip those ceiling trusses for me and hold tight.”
While Ash fires into motion and hastens to obey—biceps bunching, lats flexing—I drag the sturdy footrest from a nearby chaise into place behind him, then leap onto it.
I’m not tall enough otherwise to give my consort what he needs.
Given the urgency of Ash’s need and mine, I barely require a moment to spread the muscled globes of his ass and fit my straining cock to the mouth of his glistening hole. My gaze fills with the silver-gray wings tattooed across his shoulders and down his back.
My pelvis flexes.
My shaft drives forward.
The tight clench of Ash’s ass engulfs my eager length in the familiar bliss of his strangling clutch. My eye rolls back in my head with a blinding pleasure.
Ash cries out and rocks back to welcome me. I press forward until I’m fully seated in his depths.
I lean my brow against my consort’s sweating back, nose into his welcome scent of ocean spray and citrus, and lick the salt from his skin.
“Suck him off like a vacuum hose while I fuck him,” I say roughly to Ronin, my lips moving against Ash’s quivering skin. “Bring him right to the brink. But don’t let him climax.”
Ronin’s obliging snicker mingles with Ash’s starved and desperate cry.
I grip Ash’s hips hard enough to tell him I mean business, back out a few inches, then pump deep into his divine tightness.
From the chaise, Zara’s soft cries mingle with Lucius’ guttural growls.
From my elevated vantage, I can savor the view of my bride on hands and knees, taking Lucius’ thick dick into her soaked pussy from behind, while she wraps her lush lips around Neo’s eager inches before her.
Under the impact of every pump, her luscious full breasts sway beneath her.
Likewise, I watch Vasili mount the kraken from behind and ride him, arms wrapped around Mordred’s waist to pump both kraken dicks, until the kraken bellows and roars with pleasure.
Finally, at long last, ’tis my privilege to watch Maxim mount Vasili.
This is an intimacy Vasili rarely allows the dragon to enjoy—and even more rarely allows our polycule to witness.
I’m so inflamed by this particular performance (and the prolonged anticipation of finally doing the same to Vasili myself) that I erupt like the Avalon volcano—far sooner than I meant—into Ash’s viselike clutch.
I even deign to show mercy to my long-suffering consort.
I permit Ash to spill in Ronin’s mouth and spurt down his throat in such copious abundance even Ronin struggles to swallow it all.
Ronin staggers to his feet, licking the creamy spillage from his lips with an eager tongue. By now, my mortal lover looks simultaneously satisfied and desperate.
Desperate because, of course, Ronin’s earlier orgasm has barely blunted the edge of his own heat.
Lucius is still hovering attentively over Zara’s spent form. Now, sharply, Lucius’ head snaps toward Ronin. The wolf’s nostrils flare. Then his whiskey eyes acquire a reddish tinge and his fangs descend.
Moving like the predator he is, Lucius rises from Zara’s satiated and languid sprawl. Neo eases our queen onto her side, cradling her head in his lap, stroking the tumbled curls from her face.
Slowly the wolf unfolds to his feet. An alpha like Lucius is more than capable of satisfying multiple mates.
“Come here to me, dear one,” Lucius says to Ronin tenderly, with his wolf lurking in his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re going into heat?”
“Didn’t want to cock-block Mordred in his,” Ronin mutters, jerking his chin toward the hot tub.
Together, we all turn to look.
Mordred sprawls on the rim with his legs in the water, both dicks limp and spent, purple eyes lidded with pleasure while Vasili grips the kraken’s thighs for purchase. Vasili is bracing himself against the driving rhythm of Maxim, pumping fiercely into Vasili from behind.
Both warlocks are securely lodged between Mordred’s spread knees.
A spark of humor lights Lucius’ sherry-gold eyes. “Mordred does not appear cock-blocked to me.”
“I ain’t,” Mordred agrees, tentacles winding lazily around both the alphas between his legs. “Soon as Blondie’s finished with Babydoll here, imma get in line for seconds.”
“There, you see? Our kraken’s heat is well attended.” Lucius’ eyes pulse red and his voice roughens. “Now come here to your headmaster, Mr. Pendragon. Zara and I will gladly attend to yours.”