Chapter Eight
Teige
Viraj had left in a storm of tears and anxiety, but their bond said he didn’t go too far. It wasn’t uncommon for him to sleep off fitful moods in the mines. He was prone to sadness and isolation, but they’d discovered his dragon rather enjoyed figuring out his own moods. Space was a healer, too.
So, when his phone rang, he answered it, not recognizing the number. “Hello?”
“This is Frikka Nielsen,” a whisper of a voice on the other end spoke, none of the Nord’s usual Viking boldness in his tones. “I spoke to your mate. You’re good, Drakes. I heard his phone battery beeping when he called me earlier. Go get him. Sounded like he was in a cave.”
The mines. As usual. Teige gave a prim thanks, ready to say goodbye when Frikka spoke once more.
“Go put some pups on that one. Do us all a favor. Now, if you’ll kindly piss off, I have a few days of heat left.” And he hung up.
Gatlin rushed to the doorway, eyes wide. “Viraj called and it cut off and now it’s going to voicemail.”
Teige held his phone up. “He’s in the mines and his battery went dead. He’d been talking to Frikka Nielsen.”
Gatlin gave a stilted nod. “That Dette is a fecking puca, I swear on my pa.”
Teige frowned. “I’ll leave the puca an offering before we head out to get Viraj. One doesn’t take their tricks lightly.”
Gatlin’s brow furrowed. “You gonna go bake a loaf tae leave out? A raw arse potato?”
Teige thumbed through his index and called one of the local dragons he knew, one who didn’t have a Dette to appease. The phone rang twice before a gruff voice answered.
“Ro!” Teige sighed. “You still have goats?”
The dragon on the other end grumbled an affirmative.
“Do you have any on ice from slaughter or a billy you could part with?” Teige’s voice piqued hopefully.
“Why?”
“I have to leave an offering for a puca.” Teige couldn’t help the smile that stretched his lips.
“Dare I ask?” The grumbling voice on the other end sighed.
“Frikka Nielsen.”
“Yep. When you want it?” Few words. It was why Teige liked Ronan.
“Wednesday morning, it sounded like. He’s out for spring.” Teige gave Gatlin a filthy wink.
“I’ll take care of it. That all you needed? And why you owe Frikka?” Ronan waited for an answer.
“He had kind words for Vivi.”
“Viraj still torn up about you two poking about for a Dette?” Ronan normally didn’t pry, but he liked Viraj. The two had a silent kinship in that Viraj never spoke first and appreciated calm and quiet.
“Apparently Viraj is a Dette. We’ve just been idiots, and Vivi has some wires crossed in the biology department. Gaspard and Bastien treated him, and we should find out if he’s in any shape to have seasons or whatnot.”
“Well, I’ll send my thoughts out to you and yours and ask the wind for a favor and hope it brings a bounty. And make sure the puca gets your bribe.” He gave a soft chuckle, and Teige wished him farewell.
Gatlin gave Teige a half smile and shucked his shirt. “Let’s fly.”
***
It’d been ages since they’d last flown. And perhaps a drive or a jog might have gotten them to the mines in a respectable amount of time, but flying let their dragons stretch their wings, and as an added bonus, let the two slither into the mines to rub their scales against the walls. The rock felt good against their hides.
Flying high, Teige’s heart fluttered, a scent in the breeze that he’d known before, from moments when Viraj was inconsolable with lust. At the distance they were from the mines, though? The scent would only go stronger.
Our mate is unprotected. Another dragon could come along and harm them! Teige’s dragon snarled.
The thought wasn’t jealousy or protectiveness over their property. The thought was for the well-being of him, his heart and soul, his bodily safety and spirit.
Then we fly to him and carry him home. Teige sat back in peace and inhaled deeply, relishing the scent his dragon followed as Gatlin twirled midair and set his nose in direction of a hillside, the face of it not tall enough to be a mountain but enough for a dragon to claim.
From memory, they landed, shuffling their large forms in one by one into the cavern to follow the winding paths to a usually blocked-off tunnel that curved and led into a less stable tunnel system meant only for Viraj’s moments.
And the moments more when his mates came to his side, when he needn’t be alone any longer.
Teige’s dragon mewled, the tone echoing and low in his throat.
There wasn’t a word for the trill, only the desperation of submissive want for his mate.
Gatlin echoed the call, a chastened thing pleading for their mate to come back.
Despite their dominance in fornication, their relationship was rather equal, if not pandering to Viraj.
Their dragons sought his approval, as a good Drake should have sought a Dette’s choice. A Dette’s approval.
“Boys?” Viraj’s soft voice, human form weak and breathy, echoed in the dark as Teige’s eyes adjusted.
Their mate lay on a span of blankets he’d brought into the space over time, the smell less than fresh, but not unclean. Their servants saw to the periodic airing out and washing of them, which kept their mate’s scent strong above all.
We come to claim. Gatlin’s purr rumbled through the room, not a Dette’s purr but a rumble of delight.
We have made a nest for you. Show us your approval. Teige’s dragon practically sat up and begged as he focused in on their mate lying prone amid the blankets, his scent as alluring as anything. Teige couldn’t help but approach and sniff lightly, nuzzling along his side.
Viraj rolled onto his back and lavished in Teige’s gentle nuzzles, humming as his shirt rucked up his toned belly.
The soft flesh slicked along a quick dart of Teige’s tongue where salt and sweetness coated his taste buds.
Pure perfume engulfed his senses, all sweet and alluring, having an undertone with masculine musk that sent a bolt of desire rocketing through him.
Familiar, but a thousand times stronger.
“I already told you I loved your nest. It’s beautiful.” Viraj’s arrogant tone didn’t give Teige any reassurance.
Why will our mate not stay in our nest? You shouldn’t spend your heat in this hole. The way Teige’s dragon referred to Viraj’s personal little nest curled in his tone, the dragon snarling at the end.
“My nest doesn’t need treasure or fine stones!
It’s not for that. It’s mine. Nobody made this for me.
” Viraj rolled over, turning away from Teige as Gatlin approached, sniffing and pawing at the blankets, then Viraj in turn, his tail swishing excitedly.
“It wasn’t made to impress you two. It was made to comfort me. ”
Gatlin cowered lightly.
We will comfort you more in our nest for you.
“Or you’ll comfort me here and I’ll decide if I want to go to your nest. Doesn’t matter how many shinies you try to impress me with, if I’m unhappy. I don’t exist to tickle your fancies.” Viraj grumbled as he rested his long, slender fingers rested over his groin. “Can barely tickle my own.”
I could tickle. Teige nosed against Viraj until he lay on his back, hands reaching up to cradle the dragon’s jawline. His tongue, pointed and strong, slithered free and nudged Viraj’s side, digging just under his ribs until he earned a stifled laugh.
“You know what I mean, brute.” Viraj huffed and shrugged Teige away, only to be met with another tongue, Gatlin nuzzling under his arm to tickle there. “Ah!”
Teige took the opportunity to nuzzle his bare feet, snorting hot air before tugging his loose pants free, multiplying the delicious scent.
If you will not come to our nest, we shall appreciate yours.
It is comfortable and dark. You deserve many gems and shinies.
But a Dette is the best treasure a nest could hold.
Most beautiful treasure. Glorious treasure, Gatlin echoed as he nipped buttons on the front of Viraj’s loosely fastened shirt and tugged the thin material away to expose his firm, slender chest.
It had to be imposing, two lustful dragons hovering over such an amorous Dette.
Teige’s dragon grudgingly recognized it and surrendered to the human, letting him shift, his bare body coming to rest on all fours before crawling over to cage his mate in.
“Gatlin, don’t hover. Kiss our mate stupid while I make him come everywhere. ”
Gatlin shifted in a heartbeat, his glorious green scales constricting, browning, swirling over flesh until it spread, letting freckled flesh spread over his pale form.
Under his thick mane of hair, long lashes flitted; eyes like emeralds gilded in gold peeked up, hazel beauties that made Teige fall in love every time he saw them. “Stoor A stór.” Stoor, my treasure.
“Mo ghrá,” Gatlin purred before glancing back to Viraj, leaning in for a kiss as he chuckled. “And I cannot forget about you, Séad.” My love. Precious gem.
Viraj melted into a kiss, his body ripe for the taking, distracted into submission as Teige crawled over and straddled Viraj’s hips.
The heated presence there made Viraj reach to cover his cock with a protective hand, but he let it be brushed away with minimal protest. Ignore it. It’s too small to fuss over. Teige could imagine Viraj’s self-conscious words.
He had plenty. After all, females had far less to work with, and their male partners seemed satisfied. Usually. He guessed… Still. Teige lined his cock up with Viraj’s, the slick heads of their members touching, leaking against one another with a gentle rub.
Teige fisted them together, letting the tips of their cocks peek just from the ring of his fingers, tucking his pinkie and forefinger to give the illusion of sameness, to let Viraj have that sense of equality.
Teige had learned Viraj’s nervous glances always paused when he did that, focusing in on his short strokes, tips leaking there.
With gentle nudges of his hips, Teige’s balls meshed against Viraj’s, giving delicious pressure and comfort.
A muffled moan escaped Viraj’s lips, swallowed by Gatlin’s fierce kisses, the noise sharpened by a paw of a hand reaching out to pinch and roll one of Viraj’s dark nipples.
So, when Gatlin pulled away, letting Viraj see Teige’s work, both their eyes flared.
Gatlin’s sparkling hazel and Viraj’s burning gold.
“Mnf!” Viraj pulled his face from Gatlin’s hips, rising to grind himself against Teige. “No! Stop. Don’t stop. I mean…”
Teige pulled away, raising his hands as he inched back on his knees, and Gatlin pulled away.
“No! Just…” Viraj snarled and sat up, bringing with him a wave of that heady scent. “I need to be fucked. Please.”
“Here or home?” Teige palmed his erection and pinned it up against himself with a slow rub.
“Not here.” Viraj pawed around for his clothes in a hurry, rolling over as his ass, dripping slick, tempted Teige immensely.
“Killing me, Vivi.” Teige’s hoarse voice cracked.
“You’ll live.” Gatlin chuckled, cock twitching, leaking precum. Whenever he was that hard, he could come with a touch. Even Teige wasn’t that close, and he’d been the one frotting.
“You may not. All that blood gone to your dick.” Viraj huffed as he stood and stumbled, grumbling as he rubbed his belly. “Whatever that medicine they gave me… Things burn.”
“We don’t have to fuck if you don’t want, Vivi. If you’re in pain, we can call the doc—” Gatlin halted when Viraj hissed in protest.
“No! We fuck. That’s all I want. I want to fuck now, right here, and not stop. I’m—I need it. I need you both and… But here isn’t safe. Impress me, Drakes. Take me home. I want— Viraj tugged at his hair and flinched, tucking his knees tight. “Take me home, please.”
“I think you’re in heat.” Gatlin reached out to draw Viraj to his chest.
“Something like it, at least,” Teige agreed.
Viraj nodded, curling up against Gatlin to bury his face in his neck.
“Let’s get him home. Now.” Gatlin shifted with fierce grace, curling his growing arms around Viraj’s bundled form. A purr caught in his throat, and as fast as he could shift, he slithered free of the manufactured cavern, and Teige followed, chasing after to take flight.