Chapter 26
Raye stared at Gaelfr, while her mouth fell open, and her heart skipped a beat. She would what? What? Now?
But Gaelfr’s eyes were hard and flinty on hers, his hand now caressing slow and possessive around the front of Kalfr’s spasming throat. “You heard me, woman,” he said. “Kneel, and tend him.”
Raye’s heartbeat kicked up, thundering in her ears, and she shot an alarmed glance across the table toward Kalfr. But his face was still hidden behind his hands, though surely he’d heard what Gaelfr had just said… right? Surely he could say no? Surely he would?
But Kalfr didn’t move, didn’t look at her, and Raye’s thoughts flailed back to that bond again. Because to all appearances, Kalfr was still affected by their bond, too. And he hadn’t even had Gaelfr to tend him, like she had. And he hadn’t resisted the touch of her hand just now, either, as if…
“You both need this, woman,” Gaelfr’s firm voice continued, his brows rising. “And you have not already forgotten your vow to him, have you? Or how you told me, just last eve, how you yet long for him?”
Gods damn him. Raye’s face burned, and if Kalfr hadn’t still been sitting there, she might have argued that point, or at least snapped back some kind of retort. But Kalfr wasn’t moving, still just sitting there with his hands over his face, his grief so palpable that she wanted to weep, too.
“But what about,” Raye finally croaked, “what about Svein?”
Her eyes darted toward that nearby closed door, where Svein was liable to burst out at any moment, but Gaelfr’s expression cleared, his head shaking. “I can scent he has fallen asleep,” he replied. “For he was up before dawn, was he not? I shall warn you, if he awakens.”
Well. Raye’s mouth opened and closed, and she again glanced back at Kalfr. At his long fingers still hiding his face, at the way Gaelfr’s hand stroked downwards over his collarbones, his chest. Showing her, maybe, that he had Kalfr’s permission for this. That Kalfr… wanted this.
Gaelfr’s brows rose higher, and his other hand pointed purposefully toward the floor. The floor, beneath the table, between Kalfr’s thighs, and he meant it, they really meant it…
“And you… you’ll tell me?” Raye breathed, searching Gaelfr’s eyes, wiping her sweaty hands on her dress. “If he wants me to stop?”
Gaelfr glanced down at Kalfr, drumming his claws lightly against his skin, as if passing along the question. And if Raye wasn’t mistaken, that might have been an infinitesimal nod of Kalfr’s head in return. Saying… yes. Yes.
Raye’s stomach swooped, her heart kicking and flailing, but she nodded back. Because yes, she wanted to do this. She would do her best to make amends to Kalfr. Even if it was… this. Tending him, servicing him, under his damned kitchen table.
She grimaced as she shoved her bench backwards, and awkwardly ducked down beneath the table’s solid wood top.
The light was dim, the space small, the floor hard and unforgiving beneath her knees.
And when she blinked forward, she twitched at the sudden, incongruous sight of Kalfr’s long legs, slightly spread apart, and still covered in sturdy black trousers.
She couldn’t see anything else above Kalfr’s waist, let alone his face, or Gaelfr still standing there behind him. It was just her and his legs, good gods, and what was she supposed to do now? Was she allowed to touch him, to pull down his trousers, what if he — what if he —
But then something shifted above, settling down on the bench beside Kalfr.
Gaelfr. And now that was… Gaelfr’s hand.
Gaelfr’s large, familiar hand, easing into view before Raye’s blinking eyes, aiming for the string at the top of Kalfr’s trousers.
And with a deft, familiar tug, Gaelfr’s hand loosened the trousers, and then slipped smooth and easy down inside.
Raye’s mouth went dry, her eyes frozen on the sight.
On the ease of Gaelfr’s hand, already gently squeezing and caressing beneath Kalfr’s trousers, as if in a silent, secret greeting.
A greeting Kalfr was clearly responding to, his trousers swelling out fuller beneath Gaelfr’s touch, a tantalizing scent now furling through the air.
“Good,” came Gaelfr’s murmur, almost too quiet to hear, but it still fired something hot and strange into Raye’s belly. “This is better, is it not?”
She couldn’t hear Kalfr’s reply, but Gaelfr’s hand gave him an approving pat. And then, with another familiar movement, Gaelfr reached down further, and drew Kalfr’s hard cock all the way out of his trousers.
Raye’s throat spasmed, her memories skipping and blurring backwards, because oh, gods, it looked just the same.
Just the same as it had all these years ago, and in all her dreams, too.
Long, smooth, and impossibly graceful, just like he was.
With a deep grey shaft, a silken sliding hood, and a rounded hidden cleft so richly shaded it was almost pure, gleaming black.
And from within that cleft, a small, glossy bead of white was growing, and the sight of that, the smell of it, oh fuck…
Raye’s gasp escaped before she could bite it back, and from above the table, Gaelfr let out a low laugh.
“Taste my ástvinur, woman,” came his taunting order, complete with a slow, possessive stroke of his audacious fingers all the way up that long, silken shaft, and back down again.
“Tend him for me. Deep, and sweet, and thorough.”
Gods damn him. There was no refusing, not with the way Gaelfr’s hand was already guiding Kalfr’s gleaming crown downwards, directly toward Raye under the table. Making her lashes flutter, her mouth water, and she needed this, she needed it so damned much…
She shifted closer on her knees, took a breath, leaned in…
and oh, Kalfr was there. Here. Blasting through all her awareness at once, so hard the room spun, the floor tipping beneath her.
The taste of him, so rich and familiar and impossibly sweet.
The feel of him, so strong and hard, sheathed with such softness.
The smell of him, musky and dizzying. And the sight of it, in the shadowed light beneath the table.
The dark curls on his groin, the swell of his furred bollocks beneath, the straight, firm shaft.
And even Gaelfr’s big, capable hand still curled easy and familiar around its base, as if it belonged there between them.
Raye gasped as she drew Kalfr’s jutting crown a little deeper between her lips, tentatively brushing her tongue into the sweetness at his slit.
And in return, he… shuddered. Kalfr shuddered, responded, to her — and oh, that was more sweetness, pooling out hot and succulent onto her trembling tongue.
Raye swallowed hard and eager, her hunger flaring hot, while flashing impressions whispered behind her fluttering eyes.
He tasted even better than Gaelfr, even richer than she remembered, and he was smoother, easier to swallow deeper.
All silk and sweetness, just the perfect size to stretch her lips around.
And how would it feel if he delved into her throat, just like that, deep enough that her lips just brushed against Gaelfr’s still-present hand around his base, oh gods…
“Good, ach?” came Gaelfr’s distant murmur, as his hand before Raye’s eyes slipped away from Kalfr, in favour of curling smooth and possessive into Raye’s hair. “Better than that foul lying harpy, is it not?”
If Kalfr answered, Raye couldn’t hear it, but that silken length again shuddered in her mouth, and squeezed out more slippery seed into her spasming throat. Enough that she betrayed a choked groan as she swallowed, and in return, Gaelfr’s hand patted brief but decisive against her hair.
“Good,” he said again, and she couldn’t tell if it was meant for Kalfr, or for her, or both. “Now, deeper.”
Deeper. Kalfr again shuddered in Raye’s mouth, sputtering out more sweetness, while Gaelfr’s hand on Raye’s head drew her forward.
Guiding her gentle but inexorable, prodding Kalfr’s spasming head harder into her equally spasming throat.
Deep enough that she had to drag in air through her nostrils, fight down the rising, overpowering urge to gag…
“I said, deeper, woman,” came Gaelfr’s cool, merciless order. “My ástvinur deserves your best. Deserves to feel you choking upon him.”
Gods damn him, and damn the way Raye was responding to him. Desperately hauling in more air, fighting to relax and soften her throat, to swallow Kalfr deeper. To welcome his invasion, his ownership, his test.
Her jaw was aching now, her eyes streaming water, but when Gaelfr’s hand drew her still closer, she didn’t resist. Not even when her occupied throat betrayed a gulping, audible gag. And oh, Kalfr was shuddering again, and he gasped above her, his thighs quivering, his hips bucking up —
“Drink him, woman,” Gaelfr hissed. “Gorge yourself upon my ástvinur’s good strong seed. Every last drop.”
Kalfr’s breath choked, his hips snapping up again — and then he spewed out, hot and hard, so forceful it stung deep in Raye’s throat.
Pouring out straight down into her, filling her up with him, and she couldn’t hide her moans, her frantic attempts at swallowing.
Even though there was no need, because she was already wide open for him, a willing waiting receptacle for him, desperate for whatever he might deign to offer her.
Even if it was choking her. Even if it was… punishing her.
When Kalfr’s cock finally stopped pulsing, Raye found her mouth and nose mashed against his groin’s coarse hair, her throat burning, her jaw aching.
But Gaelfr’s hand still held firm on her head, keeping her in place, and when she darted a searching glance up, she found…
she could see them. Maybe due to the closer angle, or maybe they’d pushed the table back. But now, now she could see…
Kalfr, with his cheeks flushed deep, his head tipped back, his throat bare and exposed… for Gaelfr. Because Gaelfr’s face was buried deep into the crook of his neck, and Gaelfr was… swallowing. Drinking, in long steady gulps, while a trickle of red oozed down Kalfr’s collarbone.
Something dipped and swerved in Raye’s belly, but Gaelfr’s hand kept holding her in place, and his fingers gently patted against the back of her head. As if he knew full well what he was doing, what he was making her see. Flaunting it before her, even, silently shouting at her, saying, He is mine.
Raye’s mouth tightened around the softened flesh still filling it, hard enough that Kalfr’s eyes fluttered open, and blinked down toward her.
Looking at her with strange, hazy intensity, his dark eyes glinting beneath his lashes, as if drinking up the sight of it.
The sight of Raye, kneeling here sweaty and red-faced before him, her face pressed into his groin, with his soft cock fully enclosed in her mouth.
Just how he’d found her the night before, when he’d walked in on her and Gaelfr — but now it was Gaelfr holding her there, keeping her in her place, making their positions excessively, painfully clear.
When Gaelfr drew away from Kalfr’s neck, licking his lips, he spared an unreadable glance down toward Raye’s flushed face, her still-occupied mouth — and his other hand grasped Kalfr’s jaw, and turned his face toward him.
So he could lean in and kiss him on the mouth, fitting their lips together so easy, so familiar.
And Kalfr moaned as he returned the kiss, their mouths greedily biting and tasting, Kalfr’s black tongue slipping out to swipe at the red still streaking down Gaelfr’s chin.
And as Raye blinked up toward them, she realized it was… more punishment. It was them making a statement, or even putting her in her place. And Gaelfr had never kissed her on the mouth like that, had he? No. Not once.
Raye’s heart clenched, something prickling behind her eyes — and with a jolt, she wrenched backwards, away. Shoving back against Gaelfr’s hand, and releasing Kalfr’s softened bulge from her mouth with a humiliating slurp.
They both instantly broke their kiss, glancing down toward her with equally inscrutable eyes.
And only now did Raye notice that Kalfr’s hand was on Gaelfr’s groin too, and Gaelfr’s other hand was around Kalfr’s neck.
The two of them clearly fully invested in each other, picking up exactly where they’d left off, while they used her, and punished her.
I should never have dreamt he could find worse than you.
The miserable rage surged in Raye’s throat, the words bubbling up sharp and bitter. How dare you use me like this. How dare you treat me like a worthless plaything. I can’t trust you, I can never, ever trust you…
But just in time, she glanced toward that closed door at the back of the room, and forcibly clamped her mouth shut. Svein. Svein. If she started yelling, if she lost her temper and ruined this, he would be devastated. And she’d made a vow, she’d promised to make amends, she needed them…
It took far too much effort to shove to her feet, and it still involved brushing against Kalfr’s knees, and banging her already-pounding head on the tabletop. But she finally did it, lurching out and away from the table, away from them, blinking back the sudden water blurring her eyes.
“I just — need some air,” she gritted out. “If Svein wakes up, please tell him I’ll be back shortly.”
And without another look toward them, she staggered toward the door.