“Hmm. I may have an idea,” Ström says then, as he gives me a little squeeze. He unwinds from me, then takes me by the hand, his bright green eyes imploring me to trust him.
Ström leads us into a small circle beside the table now, as Bjorn rises to join us.
“Okay, so we’re all being pushed by the Black Dragon’s curses.” Ström begins with a humorous chuckle, though he’s intense as he gazes around at us. “It makes what we’re up against with figuring out our big dragon egos during group sex that much more difficult; I think we all realize that now. We’re all adults, however; we’ve all had sex before, and each of us has done threesomes, some of us more. I think what we need to do now, rather than just jumping into this again, is to get into our human sides, rather than our dragons, and see where things go.”
“How do you suggest we do that?” Mikkel asks before I can.
“I believe we need to talk about what we’re feeling, and air a few things out before we jump right into this again.” Ström’s chuckle is dire now as he lifts a blond eyebrow. “Because this dark magic, being pushed by the Black Dragon’s curse-work, has us fighting like we’re not bonded, thanks to the things we’re not voicing. But wearebonded; all of us to each other, though Rikyava’s power cements it. So, let’s talk—let’s get real and dig in, airing what we’re most concerned about here. Let’s start with the worst first: let’s go around the circle, and talk about what our biggest fears are, about all of us doing this, right now.”
“I fear nobody’s going to get along,” I say at once, my words just tumbling right out because it still burns in my heart, thanks to the irritation I’m feeling with all my drakes.
I try to shove that feeling down, but it won’t go; like the last time my blackest nature rose and chastised Bjorn and Mikkel at Chambord, it’s like I’m feeling preemptive irritation now, thanks to the Black Dragon’s curses infecting us, as I run my hands over the back of the nearest chair, tense.
“Rikyava’s fear is valid; we’re all alphas, possessive, and more or less have history together that causes friction. That, plus the Black Dragon’s curse-work, is a potent combination for strife.” Ström smiles at me in recognition of my sharing, then looks at Mikkel. “Mikkel? What about you?”
“I fear that Bjorn is going to wallop me if I even touch her. So I have to strike first, because he might do something with his mysterious abilityto amalgamate our powers that takes me out of the game. Or out of the running entirely, as a contender for Rikyava’s bed. Something I’m really not keen on.” Mikkel growls as he flashes a look at Bjorn, though no chartreuse poison stands out on his skin now, or in his eyes.
“A wise fear.” Bjorn grumps back as he crosses his arms. There’s no love lost between him and Mikkel, though I can tell he’s trying to rein it in for my sake.
“Not helping, Bjorn.” Ström reminds him of what we’re all doing here, as he plays mediator for us, so we can figure this out and not erupt into a shitstorm again. “What are your actual fears, Bjorn? Dig deep and tell us the truth. Don’t be a dick about it.”
Bjorn stares hostilely at Ström for a moment, before heaving a deep sigh and coming unwound. As his arms uncross, I feel the gargantuan effort my First Drake is putting in here, to do this.
As we fight the Black Dragon’s curses pulling at us, pushing us into our worst natures.
“I fear…” Bjorn scowls, though his scowl is thoughtful now, rather than mad. “That if I allow any of you to touch Rikyava, then she’s going to prefer your lovemaking to mine. That she’ll want both of you, and Baldur, rather than me. And not want me anymore, at all—in her bed or in her life. Maybe even releasing me as her First Drake, because I’m just not special to her anymore. That hurts.”
My heart melts then, as Bjorn takes an enormous leap and admits his genuine fears to us, his deepest truth about why he’s so possessive of me, and possessive in general. It makes the darkness inside me vanish. As I feel my true heart now rather than just my irritation and fear, I go to Bjorn, melted by his sharing.
In half a moment, I’m in his arms, cinching my arms around his strong waist as I gaze up at him. I feel his soft smile as he gazes down at me, petting back a lock of my hair that escaped from my braid. We kiss, slow and tender, rather than angry.
It’s everything I needed, as a big breath of relief sighs from me, at last.
“Well, that’s a good start.” Ström is pleased as he watches us. I can feel my Second Drake beam through our bond that we’ve made such progress. I glance over and give him a smile, grateful he’s here to navigate all this for us.
Because someone needs to, and I am so not that person.
“May I?” Ström moves over to us now, getting close. As Bjorn nods him in, I do also; he moulds around me from behind, leaving Bjorn at my front as we cuddle, then kiss.
Ström kisses my neck as Bjorn’s kiss takes my lips. At first, Bjorn is hesitant to be doing this in front of Mikkel. Then I feel his decision to do this firm, as he devours me more avidly.
Letting his natural dragon-heat take over, at last.
Ström, Bjorn, and I have done this before as a trio; it’s a place Bjorn is comfortable with now, as Ström kisses my neck and kneads my waist. Even as Bjorn’s and Ström’s hands touch on my waist, Bjorn doesn’t flinch. He’s getting into it now, feeling more comfortable as we heat up together.
Until Mikkel steps in, trying to touch me as well.
Bjorn growls, and it’s not a nice growl, as his all-gold drake blazes in his eyes. Though I can tell he’s trying, he and Mikkel still do not get along, as people or as dragons—and it shows.
As Mikkel gives a warning snarl in return, putting a hand on me anyway and threatening to make us go right back to where we started, I suddenly feel that all-black sensation surge up inside me again, livid.
Pushed by the Black Dragon’s curses, which haul hard at my veins now as another conflagration looms, making my wrathful irritation with my drakes deepen even further, it seems like all our progress is about to be undone.
When Ström pushes a blazing storm of eros, right through all our hearts.
“Bjorn, share. Mikkel, don’t push.” Ström is firm now, though compassionate, as he warns us all to remember what we’re doing here. Hisbeautifully erotic magic calms our contentiousness, though I can feel us still churning beneath it, still needing to figure things out.
“I know, it’s just… him.” Bjorn gestures irately at Mikkel now, frustrated and seething with anger as his gold eyes burn.
