90. Where You Go, We Stay
where you go, we stay
—EDEN
It feels like there’s an itch inside me I can’t scratch unless they’re both buried as deep as possible. My hips keep rolling, chasing the elusive pressure building in my core.
“Eden, did you hear me?” Sage’s voice pierces the haze. I don’t answer. I keep moving desperately until two heavy hands lock over my waist.
“Ash’kaela,” Ash murmurs. “Your water broke.”
I barely register the words. The pain and pleasure are so tangled up together that everything sounds like it’s underwater. I don’t know what’s happening. I only know the overwhelming, instinctive urge to keep them right where they are. I tilt my pelvis, trying to force them deeper.
“Eden, stop,” Sage rasps. His hand tightens on my hip. “I think we should give you a break.”
They shift me, and the sudden drag of them easing back, trying to slowly withdraw from my swollen, dripping core, sends a wave of pure, unadulterated panic through me.
“No!” I sob. My hands shoot out, nails biting into Sage’s arms as my legs lock around their hips.
“Eden—”
“Don’t you dare!” I scream. “Don’t you fucking dare move away from me.”
They freeze, their eyes wide with shock.
“Ash’kaela, if the nestling is coming, maybe we should—”
“I don’t care!” Tears sting my eyes. I arch my hips, forcing myself further until they’re both seated deep against my cervix.
The relief is instantaneous, even through the crushing grip of a contraction.
“It hurts when you move away. Stay inside me. Breed me through it, like you said you would. Just don’t leave me. ”
Sage flexes his jaw. Ashán lets out a low growl. But neither of them moves. The silence in the nest is broken only by our ragged breaths and the blood rushing in my ears.
They stare down at me, their shared chest heaving.
“Say it!” I command. “Say you aren’t going anywhere!”
A slow smirk spreads across their face. “You cursed at us,” they say together.
“I did, and I’ll do it again,” I jab my finger into their chest.
“Oh, ílyen,” Sage murmurs, his voice dropping so low it makes my skin prickle. He trails two fingers over my hot, tear-stained cheek, tapping my lower lip. “Look at how greedy you get when you’re scared.”
“So demanding,” Ashán rumbles against my throat. His hand slides down, possessively gripping my thighs to keep me pinned right where I drove myself down onto them. “Begging us to fill her up while her body tries to spill our little seedling out.”
I whimper, rolling my hips. I am beyond the point of modesty.
“Our perfect girl,” Sage murmurs softly, catching a stray tear. “Such a perfect, needy little thing. You really thought we’d leave you open and empty while you hurt? Hm?”
He shifts his hips up, and my entire body weeps with relief. A pathetic moan falls from my lips.
“That’s it,” Ashán growls into my ear, his fangs scraping gently over my pulse. “Clench around us. Use our cocks to hold yourself together, ash’kaela. Show us how much you need your monsters to carry you through this.”
Another contraction rolls through my abdomen. Ash pushes his skelva lightly into my lower back as Sage thrusts into me. It’s the perfect counterpressure. My thighs tremble on either side of their waist.
“You’re doing so good,” Sage murmurs, his warm hand coming up to cup the back of my head.
They give me slow, rolling strokes that keep me pulsing with pleasure.
The contraction slowly ebbs, leaving me limp, panting against Sage’s collarbone as the warm, slick mixture trickles steadily over their thighs.
“We’re going to be here a while, Saevúra,” Sage adds. He presses a kiss to my sweaty temple. “And you’re going to sit right here on our cocks for every single second of it.”
“Good,” I sigh. “I don’t know how I know, but my body is telling me I need you guys to stay like this.”
Sage’s hand tightens slightly on my hips, and Ashán’s arm wraps around my waist, bracing me against them.
“No arguments from us,” Sage whispers. “Your body calls the shots, ílyara.”
“You’re stuck with us, ash’kaela.” His hand slides over the hard swell of my stomach as another contraction begins. “Where you go, we stay.”
The hours bleed together. The contractions come slowly, creeping up every six minutes.
Each time my uterus tightens, my instinct is immediate: I tilt my pelvis, grinding down into their laps, squeezing tightly around their shafts until the pressure goes away.
At some point all their massages and kisses relax me enough that I drift off.
When I open my eyes, the room has grown darker, cast in the soft, flickering light of the fireplace.
They’re still beneath me, their hands wrapped around my waist, gently pumping inside of me.
“How long was I asleep?” I murmur.
“An hour at most,” Sage whispers, his lips brushing against my forehead. “Close your eyes if you can, sweetheart. Your body needs rest.”
“We’ll keep moving for you,” Ashán says.
“I can’t,” I whine. “It’s getting too intense.”
Sage lets out a breathy hum, their hips rolling harder to meet me.
“You’re doing so well, ílyen. You’re definitely progressing.”
“How can you tell?”
As fate would have it, a sharp contraction hits me. My fingers sink into their shoulders as my knees lock around their waist. I tilt my pelvis, forcing myself straight down onto them.
“That’s it,” Ashán growls softly into my hair. “Use us, ash’kaela. Squeeze us as hard as you can.”
“Breathe, sweetheart,” Sage murmurs. He holds my face steady as I pant against their lips. “Look at me. Ride the wave. Don’t fight it.”
I moan, a low, animalistic sound as my inner walls milk them ruthlessly through the peak.
“Rahnové,” I whimper, my head rolling back, tears blinding my vision. “I need your venom. It hurts.”
His fangs sink into the side of my neck. The sting is brief, washed away as a thick wave of heat spreads through my bloodstream.
“Thank God,” I gasp, grinding down harder. Slick and seed squelch with every thrust, but I can’t bring myself to care. “Thank God for your venom.”
He drinks greedily, his tongue lapping over the bite, suckling another mouthful before pulling back to groan against my skin. “You taste sweetest when your body is working for us like this.”
Warmth bursts behind my eyes, turning the ungodly pressure into a dull ache. My limbs go heavy and loose. I melt against their chest.
“There she is,” Sage praises, flashing me a gorgeous smile. He catches my chin, using his thumb to gently wipe a bead of sweat from my top lip. “There’s our sweet, loose girl. Better?”
“Mmm,” I slur, my walls squeezing around them in a lazy, weak pulse. “Soft…”
“Good.” Ash’s fangs linger over the shallow puncture marks on my neck, licking away the last drop of blood before their large hands lock under my thighs, effortlessly holding my weight. “Let it take you. I have as much venya as you need.”
The venom turns the next hour into a dreamy, golden twilight that I drift in and out of.
Every few minutes, my hips roll on instinct, dragging my core over their lengths to chase that comforting pressure.
Every time I do, Sage lets out a rumble of approval.
Their eyes watch me with a mix of affection and arousal as they slowly pump into me to meet each contraction.
“Look at her,” Sage murmurs softly to Ashán, his thumb tracing the curve of my flushed cheek. “Half-asleep, high on your venya, and she won’t let us shift an inch.”
“She knows what she needs,” Ashán rumbles back. “Let’s pray she needs this specific birth plan each time.”
Sage lets out a low chuckle. “We’ve never actually talked about how many—”
“All of them,” Ashán cuts him off.
I let out a soft whimper against their chest.
“Do you need more venom, angel?”
I nod.
His fingers slide into my hair, cradling the back of my skull as he tilts my face toward him.
“Open for me, sweetheart.”
I part my lips obediently. Their tongue slides between them, the tip already covered in venom.
The sweet, hot taste of him hits my taste buds.
I moan around it, sucking hungrily while my hips roll against them.
They both groan into my mouth. I drain every last drop of the numbing liquid from their tongue.
The venom hits, and my eyes roll back. Their face gets blurry, and the next thing I know I’m greeted by darkness.
I startle awake to a loud bang downstairs.
My eyes snap open, the thick, golden haze of the venya shattering.
My heart leaps into my throat, and my body reacts the only way it knows how—clamping roughly around Sage and Ashán as my hips jerk down to lock them flush against me.
Twin growls vibrate through the room. Their arms tighten around my back.
The shadows pooled around the room surge toward the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Sage. Ashán. We do not want to interrupt.” Therael calls from the other side of the door. “But we knew the baby was coming, so we wanted to bring by some different pain remedies for Eden.”
“It smells like Vyxen’s club in here,” Damon snorts. “I think your sons have the pain remedies sorted out.”
Sage lets out an irritated breath against my cheek.
“She’s sleeping. Or she was until the two of you woke her up.”
“Our deepest apologies. How far apart are her contractions? Have you checked her?”
“I don’t think they’ve stopped checking her.”
Heat floods my cheeks. I bury my face against their chest, my whole body twitching with embarrassment, pulsing involuntarily around them.
Ashán groans softly into my hair. “Keep still, ash’kaela. Unless you want them to hear how sweet you make us sound.”
“You sound absolutely divine, Little Reaper,” Damon purrs.
“If you two are quite finished,” Sage mutters, “my mate is in labor, and I would like for her to go back to sleep.”
Therael clears his throat. “Has her water broken?”
Ashán and Sage glance down at the drenched nest. “Yes.”
“Is she moving normally?”
Ashán smirks. “She’s moving just—”
“He’s talking about Vaelína, you absolute idiot,” Sage cuts in. “She’s moving normally. And Eden’s heart rate hasn’t gone over a hundred and fifteen beats per minute.”
My eyes widen. “You were tracking my heart rate?”
He smiles softly. “Of course.”
“Since when?”
“This morning,” he says.
“... Last night,” Ashán chuckles.
“... Yesterday afternoon.”
Ashán mock-coughs. “... Technically, we’ve been monitoring it since we left Damien’s. We knew you were getting close.”
“Four days?”
“It rises during contractions, and when you’re uncomfortable.”
“It also spikes when we kiss your neck,” Ashán adds proudly.
“Ashán,” Sage groans.
“What? It does.”
Damon laughs. “Like a young me, don’t you think?”
“The reaper?” Therael sighs. “Yes.”
“Why are you two still up here?” Sage barks.
“A young you,” Damon murmurs to Therael. “Very grumpy when he’s stressed.”
“He’s always uptight like this,” Ashán corrects.
“We are just going to leave the bottles by the door,” Therael calls.
“Not that they’re going to separate long enough to grab them,” Damon’s voice drifts down the hallway.
“Finally,” Ashán rumbles, his fingers trailing up the back of my thigh. “Where were we, angel?”