23. Louise #2
“Yes.” My breath hitches as Frank pulls me against him in tandem with the upward roll of his hips. The combination of clitoral stimulation and deep penetration—his knot banging at my gates, nearly stealing my ability to make words entirely.
Before I can say anything else, there’s another gentle stroking of my mind—as if Frank has reached out and run a finger down the pane of my consciousness, letting me know he’s seen and felt what’s there—entreating me to open myself to him as words pour from his lips against the curve of my jaw.
“Me too, Dennis—and my old partner.”
The two of us make soft, low moans as we move against one another.
As I close my eyes, I catch a wisp of Dennis’ scent—herbal thyme and hyssop with a clean bite of sea salt, and another that’s entirely new to me; sharp balsam, plum brandy, and black pepper.
I am immediately struck by how much this last scent mirrors my own, but powerfully masculine. Before I can regain my grip on reality—a vision dances across my mind’s eye.
Frank and the handsome man in the blue suit from the photo on Compton’s desk; fucking the shit out of each other on the couch in the BSU basement, on some white-sand-perfect-turquoise-water-beach, in the back of a stakeout car; the man murmuring something against Frank’s ear—staying his bonding bite.
The sudden flash is so intense, for a fraction of a second, I could swear that I can actually feel the pleasure Frank was experiencing in each of these moments—until another memory explodes into view; Frank, Dennis, and the mystery man from the bureau—a tangle of limbs, cocks, lips, tongues; then a plunging coldness—a cutting pain; one last glimpse of Frank and Dennis together.
The two of us, our bodies winding together—moving in time with our mounting desire—return to the moment, if only for the blink of an eye.
Along our shared connection—scraps of sensation, sights, sound, and color wash over me; Caz and I in the bath, the first time Q took Frank’s knot—the first time I locked Quentin, heats past—long before The Saints considered stealing me away. The first night in the cabin—all of us together.
Frank and I both exclaim our pleasure as the sun sinks behind the horizon, Frank’s knot disappearing inside me like the golden orb of light disappears beneath the surface of the frozen lake—deep fuchsia where the skyline meets the curve of the earth; bruising blue purples fading to velvet darkness above—twinkling stars glittering to light as Frank and I shudder against one another—his hot seed filling me to my core.
Frank’s eyes lock with mine—our breaths ragged, our teeth bared.
The moment kicks off sideways, stretching and elongating in an unspoken question. A bite? A bond?
Any risk of us being taken by the intensity of the moment—of the enigmatic visions and sensations we’ve just experienced pulling us beneath the undertow of the heat is cut short by the emergence of Caz from the hunting lodge.
“Ah, ah, ah! None of that, you two,” Caz scolds in a playful tone.
“Y’all have been in that hot water too long,” he pipes in nonchalantly, shuffling out into the snow in his boots, sweats, and parka—a spliff hanging lazily from his bottom lip; closing the door behind him.
“Yeah well, we’re going to be here a little while longer,” Frank grouses, his demeanor sliding back toward the familiar gruff exterior everyone comes to expect of Francis Stone.
“I can see that,” Caz clucks his tongue appreciatively—leaning on the edge of the large wooden tub to get a better look at Frank and I—our bodies still fit together beneath the water’s rippling surface.
“Get a good look while you can, Cazzy, and gimme that—will ya?” Frank reaches a dripping hand out for the spliff.
“No way dude, you’ll soak the thing with those drippy mitts—plus, we gotta get you two out of that boiling pot and back in the cabin; the temperature is falling fast and both of you are overdue for food and water,” Caz scoffs, leaning back conspicuously against the cedar shingles of the cabin wall.
Frank lets out a low growl of dissent but lets it drop quickly, his head lolling back over the side of the wooden tub as we wait for his knot to deflate enough for us to separate, my weight shifting slightly to ease the pressure on my knees.
In a matter of seconds, Seb ducks through the cabin doorway and out into the cold dregs of twilight; his eyes instantly drawn to Frank and I woven together.
“Ah, stuck in the hot tub I see,” he snickers, passing Caz an open flask without looking, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Hopefully not for long.” I shiver—my shoulders, the tops of my breasts, my damp hair—all above the steaming water line, my skin turning icy in the winter air without the benefit of so much exertion.
A few minutes pass—the water slowly cooling as the fire below begins to fade; the embers barely glowing beneath a feathery layer of ash.
Eventually, Frank’s knot goes down enough for us to separate; Sébastien lifts me out of the water and wraps me in a flat sheet—carrying me in his arms through the doorway of the cabin so that I don’t have to walk barefoot through the snow to get inside.
As soon as we make our way to the nest—I can smell him; Quentin—his sweet scent hanging in the air—his long, lithe body visible through the parted bed sheet canopy curtains; his hands moving in slow-intense motions.
One fist pumping around his hard cock, two fingers pumping in and out of his slick asshole.
“I need everyone,” he whines plaintively—and all of us spring into action.
Sébastien and Caz shuck off their boots and the rest of their clothes while I drop my damp sheet to the ground. Frank, who still sits outside in the cooling tub finishing a cigarette, will have to join us when he can.
I’m the first to crawl into the nest, reaching Quentin as he desperately levers his hips upward—pumping his throbbing erection with one hand, feet tucked under bent knees—legs spread shoulder width apart as he fingers himself.
I close my mouth around his cock head, and he lets out a loud whine.
“Do you need a knot, cher Tin-tin?” Sébastien rumbles as he walks on his knees toward us.
Tin-tin nods—frazzled and distracted by his frenzied need.
“No lock?” I can’t keep the disappointment from my voice or the frown from my lips—even though I know it’s hardly fair. If he doesn’t want it—he doesn’t want it. Heat or not, boundaries are boundaries and no still means no.
Quentin’s luminous chartreuse eyes widen with a wild gleam that almost looks like fear.
“Lucifer, I need your lock—” he blurts out on a breathy moan before adding, “I want you—and Frank to…” he trails off just as Frank’s head pops into the nest, all of us moving slow and syrupy under the influence of Caz’s psychotropic scenting.
“What a greedy thing you are, Quentin Beckett,” Frank growls as he makes his way toward us in the blankets and bedsheets.
Q can’t even form words, but he makes a helpless sound of ascent that stirs something in all of us.
“How do you want us?” Caz purrs warmly—lazily stroking his hard, pierced cock as he looks over the four of us.
Quentin’s eyes travel around the nest, his stroking and fingering slowing as he runs his mental arithmetic.
“Sebby, lay down,” he instructs first—pulling his index and middle fingers from his slicked hole.
Seb does as he’s told, then Quentin crawls his way to Seb—kicking one knee over Seb’s hips so that Quentin kneels over Seb’s monster—standing at attention, his knot full and dark purple-red.
All of us watch in wrapt silence as Q reaches between his legs, helping Seb’s length sink deep inside his slick asshole until Q reaches Seb’s knot.
Tenderly, Seb reaches up to support Quentin’s lower back, helping to guide him up off of his knees and onto his back—Seb’s length clutched tightly inside Q.
Quentin reaches his arms out to me—inviting me.
I crawl on all fours—clamoring on top of Sébastien and Q—using my fingers to spread some of my dripping slick down Quentin’s length before I mount him—sliding down his massive length an inch at a time until he’s entirely sheathed inside me.
I’m so sensitive, so aroused by Quentin’s needy proclamation of desire for all of us at once—almost as if we’re a pack; as if it were written in the stars—like the fabled ‘fated mates’ Frank spoke of earlier—that I almost start to lock him right then and there.
Instead, I lose myself in the color blooms behind my closed eyelids, Caz’s scent making each sensation feel like the ripples made by a stone dropped in a still pool—echoes of feeling amplified into larger and larger swells as each ripple breaks against the shore.
I press myself against Quentin—welcomed by the circle of his arms—his hands in my hair; the whisper of his lips against mine as he says.
“Kiss me, Louie.”
The sensations have me so enraptured that I haven’t sensed Frank making his way behind us until his warm, rough hands close around my hips—the pressure of his cock against where my slick pussy and Quentin’s cock meet.
My eyes flutter open to find Caz—suspended by his own upper body strength above Q and Seb’s faces—his cock slipping free of Seb’s mouth just in time to pass between Q and I.
Both of us lap greedily at Caz’s cock—the thick gold ring through his cock head flopping this way and that as Q and I flick our tongues in alternating rhythms, much to Caz’s delight.
Behind me, Frank’s breath catches as he manages to press his cock inside me—his girth struggling to slip deeper against Q’s sheathed length.
I moan against Caz’s cock as Frank pushes deeper—Quentin’s abdominal muscles rippling against my stomach as he feels Frank stroke the underside of his cock inside of me.
“I don’t know if I can get my knot in here with the two of you,” he grunts out, drawing back a few inches before his hips lurch forward again.
“It’s not easy—but, mon dieu, it’s worth it,” Seb grits out, sweat beading along his brow as he struggles to pace himself deep in Quentin’s tight omega ass.
Caz pants as his legs twitch—his eyes greedy for the sight of us as we all move in and against one another. I close my mouth around his cockhead and his eyes roll back until only the whites show for a few glorious seconds before his breath hitches into speech.
“Knot in lock,” he huffs, the muscles in his right cheek tic-ing as he struggles against cumming. “That’s the triple black diamond forbidden cum, isn’t it?” He’s working against his whole body now, trying to give a smirk when he can’t fully control the muscles in his face.
Evidently Caz’s comment is enough to properly inspire Frank—who pushes inside me up to the knot—Quentin and I moaning loudly as the tightness and friction threatens to drive us mad.
“When even one of ‘em tightens around me like that, it’s heaven,” Frank rumbles, his grip on my hips squeezing as he rocks back, then forward again—Quentin and I wailing in pleasure.
“Just you wait for Louise’s lock,” Q gasps as Seb makes all of us undulate with an upward pump of his hips—Seb’s knot pressing fervidly against Q’s slick asshole.
We continue like this, our bodies writhing—moaning and sighing until Q makes a high, thready sound—and then there’s a wet sucking noise and Seb’s knot is inside him.
As if an electric current travels through all of us in a circuit—I can feel everyone quicken with orgasm like falling dominoes across our shared connection.
Seb goes first—his hot seed spilling deep inside Quentin’s ass as his facial features twist in beautiful agony.
This sends Caz careening after, blowing his pearly load over Quentin and I’s faces—as he crumples back onto his knees—watching through his post orgasmic haze as Quentin’s body begins to shudder and spasm between Seb and I.
Q cries out in wordless ecstasy as Frank’s knot slams inside of me—my cunt locking both of them inside me with such violent intensity that Frank howls his orgasm above the rest of our breathy cries—his and Quentin’s love filling me, hot and thick.
Exhausted, I fall asleep—Frank and Quentin still joined inside me; Seb lying beneath—strung together like a chain of flowers; Caz already snoring softly—his fingers knit together with the sleeping Sébastien’s.