Chapter Thirty-Two
Theodore
Our time at the fire was exactly what we needed, as I had suspected. I look at our bride from the corners of my eyes, her face light from within as she explains her livelihood: brewing.
I see Arch watching her closely, a tiny smile playing at his lips. Ben, however, is once again, sucked into his own head. I let my tail slide over to stroke at his thigh.
He jumps, not paying attention to the outside world. My intellectual mate. I smile at him and as I look away, I catch our bride watching us.
I give her a crooked grin, my tail playing higher on Ben’s thigh. She quickly averts her gaze.
An omega. Unreal. Just the mere suggestion makes me want her more, though I don’t know how that is possible.
“More chili, anyone?” I ask, standing.
When everyone shakes their heads, I gather bowls and place them on our outdoor table. After filling everyone’s wine glasses, I resettle in my chair.
We sit, watching the stars in the now-dark sky, and the fire, and occasionally chatting.
I remember watching over my basilica, near the ocean, before the wars.
The light pollution from the town, then bustling city, then huge metropolis, slowly blocked out the starlight in a way that to me, had been almost slow-motion.
It had been painful, to watch it happen, to lose the ability to see all but our central Goddess.
I can’t say that I disagree with our species’ decision to take control of the governments of our world. The humans were killing the Earth, killing our Goddesses. But now, looking at Fern, I wonder if we went about it all wrong.
After the wine brewing conversation drifted off, we all just settled in and enjoyed the fire, and the stars, and the sound of the late season insects and animals.
Peaceful. It feels peaceful.
Arch shifts in his chair and clears his throat, and mine tightens as well. This cannot be good.
“Bride,” he starts stiffly, “You must know you are owed a punishment for your escape.”
She cups her empty wine glass and looks at him evenly but silently.
“And yet,” Arch continues, tail wrapped nervously around his calf, “I find I must first apologize.”
Ben coughs on his wine.
Ben’s shocked eyes meet mine. I raise my eyebrows in a gesture of ‘who the fuck knows.’
“When we... found you, and brought you home, I acted exceedingly poorly. You were, understandably, traumatized. I should not have... well. That.” He leans back and runs a hand through his messy black hair, sighing.
“I was distraught. Not in the same manner of you, of course. But seeing you, well, not helpless, but certainly in harm’s way, when you are meant to be under my, our, protection.
.. it did something to me. So I apologize. ”
Fern tucks her shiny hair behind one ear. “Yes, having your property sullied was surely worrisome.”
Fuck.
Silence except for the crackling of the fire.
Arch’s face is twisted but I cannot read it. “You are not our property, Fern! You are to be our wife, our trusted center! A beloved member of our chime!”
Ben’s mouth is hanging open, and I’m stunned too, at Arch’s outburst, at his blunt words. But Fern’s face is ice.
“If I’m not your property, I can leave.”
“When your contract is up,” Arch says as calmly as possible through gritted teeth.
“I am owed no punishment. If I am not your property.”
Arch’s eyes narrow. “No, that’s bullshit word games, little one, and I won’t be playing them.
I punish both Ben and Theo, and they would have given me consequences last night, if I had crossed a line.
And you, by running away, by endangering yourself, and any babe of ours you might even now be carrying, crossed a line. So you will be punished.”
He crosses his arms, wings fanning open, looking imposing.
She leans back, glaring.
“But,” Arch says unexpectedly, “I will allow you some choice of your punishment.”
Ben’s eyes meet mine again and again, I shrug. I have no idea what the stones is going on with Archibald lately but I’d hazard a guess that our little bride has him wrapped around his finger and he’s struggling to come to terms with that.
She already has Ben and me, I know that for certain.
“First, would you prefer it tonight or after we wake tomorrow?”
Her eyes narrow. “Now,” she answers flatly.
He nods. “Good. And would you rather show us how you prefer to be touched, or for one of us to fuck you in the air?”
“Why exactly would I be complicit in my own debasement?” She arches an eyebrow.
Terrible little beast.
“I’d be happy to choose,” I rumble, wanting to feel her on my cock as I dive through clouds.
Her face turns sharply towards me, nose wrinkling.
“Fine.” She looks like wrath incarnate. “I’ll jill off for you fucking pervs.”
I bite down a laugh even as I see Arch make an unimpressed face.
“Here?” she asks, standing and dropping her robe smoothly to the dry grass. She crosses to the table, obviously ready to make this a spectacle. “Should I climb up and spread my legs?”
“Yes,” Arch snarls. He obviously underestimated our little bride.
“Fine,” she snaps, climbing onto the bench and laying down on the table.
She wiggles to the end of the table and lets her legs drop open.
“Like this?” she asks, fingers dropping between her thighs. She rubs her palms over her legs, sliding inward slowly.
“Right here? You want to watch me?” she whispers.
Her little pinkish fingers dip into her very pink cunt. Her toes find each bench, her foot arching and legs looking gorgeously tense as she spreads.
She shoves two fingers into herself and I groan needily.
“Fuck, you bat bastards, my fingers are better than your cocks.”
Yes, Arch has definitely underestimated our bride. I grin and pull my dick out, gripping it tightly.
“Just like this, you stones could never find my pleasure spot,” she gasps, obviously close to an orgasm already.
I hear Ben chuckle lowly, but Arch answers, “You’ve been coming all over our stone cocks for days now, little one.”
“Unneeded,” she mutters, “Just watch...”
Her one hand has three fingers buried in her wet and squelching cunt while the other uses two to circle her clit.
“Watch,” she gasps again, back arching.
I look over to Ben and Arch and both are stroking their cocks as frantically as I’m beating mine. Somehow, I think this is not what Arch had intended. He wanted her embarrassed, shy. Instead he’s getting a close-up on how our bride likes to be touched.
Win-win, I’d say, although Arch looks a tiny bit put out as he watches silently.
“Just here,” she whispers, arching harder, hands working.
And our little human comes apart, high-pitched whimpers escaping her grit teeth as her hips fuck up into her hands.
As she calms, I grip my cock hard, not quite sure I should squirt all over the ground. Though I wish to, dearly. I look to Arch, but Fern’s movements draw my eye.
She sits up on the table, legs swinging in the air as she licks her fingers clean–an adorable smirk on her face, to the groan of three, incredibly hard, gargoyle alphas.