A Botanical Study In Symmetry #2
Tell her they’re special roots for soup, I hiss in the back of our mind. Tell her it’s a ceremonial fertility gourd. I dare you.
Sage is utterly paralyzed. The purple flush has spread from his ears all the way down his throat.
“They are…” Sage swallows, his voice cracking. “They are a traditional… botanical study in symmetry.”
“In symmetry,” Eden repeats, her mouth twitching. A tiny dimple appears on her cheek as she tries to keep a straight face. She walks closer, her gaze dropping to the bottom row. “And they just happen to match your dimensions?”
“A master craftsman respects the blueprints of greatness,” I declare loudly, flashing a cocky grin.
“They do not match anything!” Sage blurts out. “It is a soil density anomaly! The nitrogen levels in this specific shelf caused a… a structural elongation.”
Eden stops right in front of us, blinking up at Sage’s panicked face.
“Would you like to try your… structural elongation on me?”
The greenhouse goes quiet. Sage doesn’t say a word. So I take the wheel, a partial shift rippling over us. Our left eye goes from lavender to the deep, endless black she likes.
“He spent three months on those, ash’kaela,” I murmur. “I think he’s a little embarrassed that his project isn’t… finished.” I lean down until we’re a breath from her cheek. “Why don’t we show him how much you appreciate his gift?”
The change in her scent is immediate. Sage groans in the back of our skull.
I pluck the first bloom from the case. It’s one of the prettiest ones, shaped like a lily, not yet open.
It starts out ivory and bleeds into a rich, deep violet where my golden venya beads thickly along the petal’s edge.
The first thing in this greenhouse we actually made together, and the one I’m proudest of.
“This one,” I tell her, twirling in the sunlight so she can watch my venom sparkle, “he grew. And I… improved.”
You suggested one ingredient, Sage mutters.
I suggested the best ingredient, I counter.
Eden’s eyes track the flower, pupils already blown wide. “What does it do?”
“Hold still and find out, mí’aevúna.”
I trail the cool petals down her neck, my venom painting a thin golden line from the hollow of her throat to the valley between her breasts. The petals leave her skin glistening, the wet line slowly warming as the venya sinks in. I tease the flower over one of her nipples.
“Tell her what you were thinking about when you made this one, Sage,” I purr.
“You,” Sage rasps. “I was thinking about making something that could feel even half as good as you deserve, on the days your body is working so hard for us.”
I sink back against the workbench, and pull her down over my lap. Warm thighs straddle mine, the well of our daughter a soft curve pressed between us.
“Comfortable?” I ask.
“Don’t tease me, Ash. You know how bad my hormones have been lately.”
“You’re right, angel. I’m sorry.” I trail the lily down the front of her dress, slipping it beneath the hem and sliding it slowly up the inside of her thigh, finding nothing in my way.
My eyes flick to hers, and Sage, who has been quietly losing his mind in the back of our skull, short-circuits entirely.
“You naughty girl.” My voice drops in glee. “You came looking for us with nothing on under this dress.”
“I woke up alone,” she says, not even pretending to be sorry. “And I had a feeling.”
She had a feeling, Sage scoffs.
“You had a feeling about what, ash’kaela?” I drag the venya petals higher until they brush over her slick, swollen pélas.
“I had a feeling you guys were up to something—” She jerks in my lap as the heat of my venom begins warming against her kísh.
“Did you hear that, Sage?” She’s already soaking the bloom… and my lap. Thank aevún for these new hormones. (Gods) “Our mate came looking for us with no panties on. Because she thought we were up to something.”
“I think she wanted us to taste more than the sandwiches,” Sage quips.
“Are you two going to stop narrating and touch me?”
“Say that again, mí’maru.”
The lily’s petals part as I press them harder against her, letting the venom soak straight into the little bundle of nerves already throbbing under my hand.
She lifts her chin. Her skin flushed, muscles trembling, and somehow she still looks down at me like she has the upper hand. “You heard me. If you two aren’t able to handle it, I’ll just go take care of it on my own.”.
She wouldn’t, Sage rasps.
She absolutely would. That’s the problem with mating a hormonal little redhead. She threatened to urinate on my shadow just this morning—and she wasn’t bluffing.
“On your own,” I repeat, savoring the way the words make her breath stutter. “She thinks she’d do a better job, Sage.”
“She would not,” Sage says, scandalized by her claim.
I pull the lily away from her, earning myself a frustrated whine, which is, frankly, my favorite sound in any world.
“By all means, ash’kaela. Show us—we want to watch you take care of it yourself.” I catch her wrist before it can travel anywhere useful. “Oh—were you going to use these hands? The ones I’m holding?”
“Ashán—”
“Sage. She’s run out of options. I think we’d better help.”
He grabs two of the rose-colored buds from the case, and rolls them once between his fingers to wake them, before he eases the front of her dress down and her breasts spill free into the warm air.
Vresh, both of us breathe at once.
Pregnancy has been rebuilding her by the week, and nowhere more devastatingly than here.
Fuller now, heavy enough to sway with her breathing.
Her nipples have deepened from soft pink to a rich, dusky shade, swollen, peaked and impossibly sensitive.
Beneath the pale skin, new veins trace toward each straining tip like rivers feeding a bloom.
My little mortal mate is building life under her skin while I sit here with a mouthful of promises not to taste it.
Níva is already dripping from both breasts, running down the curve of the life I put inside her.
“Your body is changing so beautifully, Saevúra,” Sage rasps.
“They ache,” she whispers. “All the time now.”
“Breathe in, luváel,” he murmurs. “We’re going to make you feel so much better.”
She inhales shakily as he presses the buds against both of her nipples, and they latch on.
The sound she makes sends my cock bucking against her involuntarily. Her spine bows, hands flying to my shoulders as the buds begin to suck.
“Oh my god. What are these?” Her head tips back.
“Mmm.” He sounds unbearably pleased with himself, watching his handiwork wringing pretty sounds out of her. “Three months. I told you they were worth the wait.”
“You said they were a botanical study in symmetry,” she gasps.
“I lied. I’m very embarrassed about it.”
I bring the lily back to her, settling it to work over her swollen clit, the venya pulses heat in slow waves.
Between the bloom below and the buds above, she completely unravels in our lap, rocking and gasping, clutching at us deliriously.
Every clever word she said two minutes ago has dissolved into breathless pleas.
“Do you need something inside you, ash’kaela?”
The rose buds suck greedily at her nipples while her lavína grinds messily against the lily. Slick drips down her, soaking my fingers as the venom works deeper.
“Yes—” She moans with zero hesitation. “Please, Rahnové.”
“Mm. Since you asked so nicely.”
I turn the flower in my fingers, pressing the slender bloom into her, the venya-slicked petals folding sleekly as I work it deep.
She’s so wet it slides in easily, filthy sounds echo off the glass windows.
The second she clenches down, expecting to be stretched, and finds only the slim stem, frustration ripples over the bond.
I twirl the bloom in slow circles inside of her, covering her walls with venom, working the heat into every sensitive inch until she’s lit up from the inside out and there’s nothing thick enough in her to grind against.
“Ashán,” she cries out, her thighs trembling and spreading wider on my lap. “It’s not enough. I need—”
I keep the lily moving lazily. “Thin little thing, isn’t it? Barely there at all. Were you under the impression I was going to make this easy, after you told us we couldn’t handle getting you off?”
“I take it back!”
“Too late, angel.”
You’re cruel, Sage murmurs, his hand stroking soothingly up her spine.
I’m thorough, I retort, curling the lily against the little spot inside her that makes her sob. I rub it back and forth until her nails dig into our shoulders.
“If you keep hitting that spot—I—I’m going to pee,” she moans, her belly pressing into us as she tries desperately to squirm away from my hand.
I still the lily out of pure, incandescent delight.
Sage. Did you hear that?
Don’t, Sage warns.
“By all means, ash’kaela.” I drag the lily right back over the spot. “You threatened me with this exact thing six hours ago. Consider it returned with interest.”
“Ashán—” She sob-laughs, burying her face against my throat. “I’m serious, I—”
“You’re not going to pee, ílyara,” Sage’s voice gentles against her ear, his hand spreading low on her belly. “I promise. This is something else. Something good.” He presses a kiss to her temple. “Let it happen.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to pee all over you guys.”
“You can.” My hand speeds up, rubbing the bloom across the swollen ridge, and her body winds toward something it’s never done before.
“Eden.” Sage’s hand cups her jaw, tilting her frightened eyes up. “Whatever your body wants to do—let it. We’ve got you.”
“No!” She sobs. “It feels wrong. I can’t. What if I—”
“This spot makes everything feel too much, doesn’t it, ílyen?” I murmur, never stopping the bloom’s movements. “You’ve never done this before, have you? That’s all this is. Something new. And we get to be the ones who give it to you.”
Her hips roll in tiny, helpless circles that only push the lily deeper. Her walls flutter and squeeze, more slick gushing out, dripping down my wrist and onto the workbench.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, mí’maru. We want you to soak us,” I groan.