Chapter Ten
Viraj
Everything hurt.
Moving a finger sent lightning bolts of pain up his shoulder and arm. Even flexing a toe made his calves spasm in threat of a charley horse. And trying to speak? Nothing came out but a dry rasp.
A bottle of something touched his lips, cool liquid following. Viraj lapped with his cottony tongue and coughed before forcing his hands up to take the bottle and gulp, filling another void within him.
Water. Glorious water. He didn’t care where it came from, but from the kind hum and warm scent, he gathered it was Teige. The firm hand that stroked his cheek? Gatlin. And from the gentle tug and prickle of Viraj’s hair? Gatlin, too.
“Morning?” Viraj’s hoarse voice cracked between sips.
“Don’t exhaust yourself.” Teige stroked Viraj’s chest. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Viraj tried and failed to sit up once more.
“Teige forgot to fill the cooler up before we started, so we’ve been limited to shower water and whatever Violet sent down the elevator when we could call.” Gatlin grumbled as the scent of food—something greasy and salty—permeated his senses.
“How long has it been?” Viraj managed to rolled onto his side, every hole on his body burning. Ass… Mouth… Pee hole. He’d orgasmed the poor thing raw.
“Eight days.” Teige cleared his throat. “We thought you had longer, but your scent died down and the frenzy stopped. We got a message through to Marc and he said you were likely over. First heats can be odd.”
“Ugh, I don’t care. Whatever smells good needs to be in my mouth, like, right this instant.” Viraj flinched at the mechanical rip of a zipper. “And it better not be a cock.”
The rip halted and slowly clicked, as if pulled the opposite way.
“Love the enthusiasm, dear.” Gatlin laughed as paper bags crinkled and the rich scent of fryer grease, potatoes, bread, and chicken made his mouth water. His arms acted before his mind did, grabbing the chicken sandwich and raising it to his mouth for an unreasonably large bite.
“I smell burgers.” Viraj grumbled as he sat up, ignoring the fire in his muscles with a groan. An enormous cold soda found his trembling hand, and Viraj drank greedily.
“Buffalo.” Teige crumpled a wrapper as he tore into something.
Viraj nodded. Dragons never really had religion, but the world’s largest population of cow shifters resided in India, and a good deal of them were servants to dragon families. The thought of accidentally eating one made him ill.
And the last of the buffalo shifters had died a long time ago, unfortunately.
So, their meat was safe, to a degree, but Viraj still didn’t eat it.
His mates, however, avoided beef on his behalf.
If it’d been goat, though, Viraj would have snatched one from Teige’s mouth just for the protein.
Viraj grabbed another sandwich offered to him, one in each hand. “I love you two. So much.”
“Us or the chicken sandies?” Gatlin snorted, and Viraj glanced from the lettuce, pickle, and mayo-topped sweet-bun-encased delights to his ragged mates.
“Eh.” Viraj grunted between bites. “The chicken sandwiches didn’t fuck me raw and forget to feed me.”
A sharp cramp shot through his stomach, deep in his belly, making him double over with a huff of irritation. “Fuh!”
The mouthful of sandwich he’d been choking down nearly tumbled out.
Gatlin and Teige gave one another sidelong glances full of curiosity, a secret conversation that Viraj desperately wanted to know. He rubbed at his stomach and huffed. “Say it.”
“Cramps… It may be a sign of blanks or—” Teige petered off, his gaze drifting off.
Gatlin waved his hands dismissively. “We’re not even going to entertain that option. You’re our mate regardless of whether you can or will ever have pups.”
Viraj finished one of the sandwiches and rubbed his belly. He thought about being full of cum, about holding his full stomach and wishing that it could be. “And if it happens?”
Teige cleared his throat. “We cross that hurdle when or if we get there. We will adopt pups if it’ll make you happy. The Stoor name will live on among many others. We have a few nephews that are living, breathing caricatures of the true Stoorwyrms.”
Viraj sighed, the breath carrying with it years of stress, anger, fear, and worry.
“If all we ever get out of this is a heat, I’m happy.” Gatlin snickered. “Best week of my life.”
“If I could remember more of it, I might agree.” Viraj bit into his other sandwich and almost moaned. “And these are the best sandwiches of my life. Pass the fries.”
Gatlin obliged, pushing a bag over.
“I loved it, but I never want to see you in that much pain ever again.” Teige shuddered. “You loved it, but between rounds, you were in tears at the worst of it.”
Viraj frowned. “I remember exactly zero of it. Well, I remember the beginning. That was fucking amazing.” As Viraj’s cheeks burned, the memories hazy and piecing together, he recalled the forcefulness and forwardness he acted upon for the duration of his heat. “And… Some stuff.”
Gatlin nodded sagely and didn’t inquire further. “We don’t have to talk about any of it. You were in a state. But know there wasn’t a moment that I hated it. I’d do it all over again next year if you want. And there’s a surgery that can stop it permanently if you like.”
“We’ll fuck that bridge when we get there.” Viraj stuffed a handful of fries in his mouth with relish.
A twinge in his belly stung as he swallowed. The depth and fire involved in the sensation told him it had nothing to do with his starvation or exhaustion. He only prayed it meant more. Meant something good.
“What does your dragon have to say?” Gatlin leaned in to steal a fry.
Viraj glanced up at the ceiling, focusing in on his dragon. The great beast was asleep, well-fucked and content. Very proud of himself. “He’s sleeping.”
“Wake him up,” Teige said, a demand in his voice as he crawled over, equally interested in Viraj’s dwindling fries.
Viraj tried to tap in once more and found his dragon snarling back, forcing an abrupt shift. Fuck off.
Teige backed away as Viraj was thrown back into his mindspace, watching from within as his dragon polished off the remaining fries and chicken sandwiches…paper and all. Mmmm, crispy fried dirt roots. Crunchy fried bird on bread. Oily package.
Viraj grumbled. You’re not supposed to eat the wrappers.
If not food, why touching food? His dragon snorted at a startled Teige and Gatlin, defending his precious crunchies.
Viraj had to agree. The dragon had a point.
“So, mate, what say you after the heat?” Teige crawled back to embrace Viraj around his neck with an affectionate nuzzle.
My mates did well. I will bear eggs. Many eggs.
So, when Gatlin added to the embrace, the bottom fell from his stomach. Dragons could be hopeful, but a Dette could also control their ovulation to some extent in that their stress levels could reduce their fertility. But his dragon was content.
Viraj shifted back once his dragon ran out of food. Viraj hoped he’d at least snuggle their mates a little longer, but his dragon wasn’t very affectionate with their human counterparts. He was a reptiles only sort of socialite.
In the shift, Viraj collapsed under the tight grip of his mates and laughed. “Well, seems he’s convinced.”
And nothing might come of it.
But it didn’t matter.
He had two wonderful Drakes spilled out over his chest. And despite the eight rough days they’d had, both of them rumbled with desire, nuzzled with affection, and pressed salaciously hard cocks against him as they snuggled.
No matter what happens. Our Drakes love us. Viraj’s dragon purred in his mind, and before he realized it, he was purring too.