“Yes,” Geoffrey chanted over and over. “Yes yes yes yes.”
Perfect. My god, he’s so perfect,Matthieu thought as he sank into the tight embrace of Geoffrey’s body. He was fucking a dragon. An actual dragon. And he did it while another scored his nipples with nails that were just this side of not being talons, and biting him with teeth that were not quite fangs. It was, indeed, perfect.
“You’re both perfect,” Ian agreed, crooning the words as if he’d plucked them from Matthieu’s mind. “Mine, and perfect. Come for me, Matthieu. Come inside our dragon.”
Those words, the tight heat of Geoffrey’s body, and the endless emotional feedback loop he was caught in tumbled Matthieu over the edge. He came inside Geoffrey, and when he shouted with his pleasure and triumph, Ian swallowed it down, taking possession of Matthieu’s mouth.
When he pulled back, Ian kissed Matthieu again, but this time on both cheeks. “Thank you,” he said. “Now cuddle your dragon. He needs you.”
“But what about you?”
“Come here,” said a satisfied-sounding Geoffrey. “He’ll find his pleasure. He always does.”
“But—”
“I gave you an order, omega. Obey me,” Ian pressed. There was power in his tone that Matthieu might have been able to disobey, had he tried hard enough, but he didn’t want to fight the compulsion. He lay down on the bed beside Geoffrey and found himself rolled and underneath the dragon faster than he could blink.
Matthieu looked up into Geoffrey’s face, which was slack with sated desire, his violet eyes luminous. “Will you fuck me now,monsieur dragon grincheux?”
Geoffrey rubbed his hardening cock against Matthieu’s still-drained one, then stilled for a second. Pleasure, but not his own, flooded Matthieu’s bloodstream.
“No, pet,” Ian said. “Now I get to fuck him. But don’t worry. We’ll get around to you eventually, in good time.”
Geoffrey bit Matthieu’s lip, and Matthieu, surrounded by gratitude and love and pleasure, wondered if it was possible to expire from it all.
“No. Never,” Geoffrey whispered. “You’re mine now. Ours.”
There was another word there, unspoken, but still felt.
Forever.
15
Ian
Brandy eyes looked up at Ian from over Geoffrey’s shoulder—eyes that had never belonged in his bed before, but from now on, would be a fixture. Emotion thrived within their irises, layered and nuanced in ways not even the finest da Vinci painting could emulate.
Fear. Hope. Passion. Anger. Acceptance.
The longer Ian looked, the more he saw, and the more his heart came to understand the truth. Matthieu was every bit as trapped in this situation as he was, and, much like Ian, he was doing his best to take it in stride. Where Ian had given in to momentary anger and despair, Matthieu had maintained a level head. For as young as Matthieu was, Ian could stand to learn a thing or two from him. All of them were having to come to terms with the situation in their own way, and until a clear path forward was found, it was uncouth to act from blind emotion.
Like Matthieu and his brandy eyes, what Ian felt, he stored inside. His lovers deserved him at his best. He tore his clothes off and shed them on the floor in a heap that would have made Geoffrey sniff had he seen it. Naked, he crawled onto the bed behind Geoffrey, his knees straddling both men’s legs.
“Are you comfortable?” Ian asked. Matthieu blinked, and some of his coarser emotions became less severe. The anger and fear in his eyes, once buried like insects within amber, disintegrated. What remained was strikingly clear and beautiful—thankfulness, attraction, contentment. Ian itched to kiss him, to reward him, and to praise him for his efforts, but there was someone else who needed him—someone to whom Ian owed a great apology.
Geoffrey.
With that in mind, Ian corrected his previous question. “Are you both comfortable?”
“Yes,” Matthieu said and, by all appearances, meant it. He kissed Geoffrey’s cheek, then settled so his head was nestled among Ian’s pillows. Despite the bond Matthieu shared with Geoffrey, Ian did not feel excluded. The weight of Matthieu’s gaze connected him to the men below him in strange but thrilling ways. For years, he’d known Geoffrey—had learned his skin inch by inch, memorized his scent, and had come to appreciate the currents of his mood. In bringing Matthieu into their relationship, Ian hadn’t lost anything that was already his. Rather, he’d gained an understanding of Geoffrey that he’d never had before, and in doing so, deepened his appreciation for the gorgeous man beneath him.
“I am,” Geoffrey replied. He lay on top of Matthieu as if to shield him from the outside world, and Ian took a moment to appreciate him as he might a piece of fine art. Well-shaped, creamy calves led to slender thighs. Small, dainty hips gave way to the slightest dip of a waist. Sometimes, especially when the council had worked itself into a tizzy over some trivial political drama and poured a deluge of superfluous work on its delegates, Ian could count Geoffrey’s ribs by sight. Now, blissfully, was not one of those times—his Amethyst lover was taking care of himself, and the radiant glow of his skin told Ian that, despite the struggles they’d encountered since the experiment had begun, Geoffrey was healthy and happy.
A month ago, what would have happened to monsieur dragon grincheux had you repudiated him?
Ian hadn’t answered Matthieu’s earlier question, but in his heart, he knew. Geoffrey would have shriveled—would have gone still and silent and forlorn. It broke Ian’s heart to imagine it. As long as he lived, he would champion Geoffrey’s happiness. Whatever growing pains they went through while their relationship evolved would be worth it as long as Geoffrey continued to glow.
“If that changes, tell me.” Ian fell into place behind Geoffrey and ran an exploratory hand down his side. Geoffrey, pliant and obedient, lifted his hips and presented his ass. Had Ian not known better, he would have thought Geoffrey could read his mind. “I want you to be comfortable. Is that understood?”
