"I can do pretty." His smile widens, his fire flaring beneath his skin as I work myself open with spit and determination and not nearly enough prep. It stings when I sink down on him, enough to make me wince, his hands immediately flying to my hips.
"Slow down, you'll hurt yourself—"
"What happened to not treating me like glass?" I throw his words back at him and take another inch. The burn fades into something that borders on good, his cock thick and hot inside me.
"That was about me, not—oh fuck." His protest dissolves when I drop the rest of the way, taking him fully. His fingers dig into my thighs, his fire flaring hotter. I feel it through my whole body, warmth that sinks into my muscles and loosens the knots I've been carrying since Dante's message.
I try to move and immediately lose my balance, catching myself on his shoulders. "This is harder than it looks."
"You literally just said you'd control the angle—"
"I'm working on it." I shift my knees wider, find a better position, and try again. The second attempt is better. The thirdis actually good, the angle hitting something that makes sparks shoot up my spine. "Oh. There." My partners have always been a little more dominant with me and even then, we were never really doing anything sitting up against a cave wall.
Each movement also pulls against muscles I had no idea I was using, making this whole experience slightly more daunting as I take control without truly knowing how.
"There?" He rolls his hips experimentally, matching my rhythm from below, and the combined motion drags a moan out of me that I feel in my teeth. "There."
We find it together, clumsy and imperfect. I set a pace that works for me and Stellan meets it, his hips snapping up to match mine, his hands guiding without controlling. When I lean back too far he catches me. When he thrusts too hard I shove his shoulder and he adjusts. It's a negotiation happening in real time, both of us learning each other's rhythm without the rest of our mates to guide us.
"You feel incredible," he says, the surprise in his voice making me laugh.
"Don't sound so shocked."
"I'm not, I just—" He pulls me down for a kiss, swallowing whatever he was going to say. His hand wraps around my cock, stroking in time with our rhythm, and the laughter dies in my throat, replaced by something much more urgent. His fire pulses through his palm with every stroke, waves of heat that make my cock twitch and my toes curl.
I brace my hands on his chest and ride him harder, chasing the building pressure. Our essences tangle without either of us directing it, pink and flame weaving together in patterns I've never seen before.
"Close," I manage, and he nods, his jaw clenched, his hand moving faster on my cock. His other hand grips my hip hard enough to leave marks, anchoring me while I lose my rhythmentirely, grinding down on him in jerky, desperate movements that have no finesse at all.
"Come on," he grits out, fire blazing beneath his skin. "Let go, Skye."
I come with his name on my lips, spilling over his fist and stomach, clenching around him hard enough that he follows me over almost immediately. His fire flares so bright the cave wall glows orange for a second, and the sound he makes is the best thing I've heard all day.
I collapse against his chest, both of us sweating and panting. His cock softens inside me, and I should move but I don't want to. His arms come up around my back, his fire settling into a steady warmth that seeps into my bones.
"That was—" he starts.
"Messy."
"I was going to say good."
"It was good AND messy." I lift my head to look at him. His hair is plastered to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright with something I don't see often from Stellan. "We should do that again. Once I can feel my legs."
"Next time I want you on your knees," he says, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "I think the angle would be better."
"I'd like that." I turn my head and kiss his palm. "Having five mates, it's hard enough finding time alone with any of you. I want more of this."
"Then we make time." His arms tighten around me. "I'm not sharing you tonight."
"You'll have to eventually. Ambrose will have opinions about it in the morning."
"Ambrose has opinions about everything."
That pulls another laugh out of me as I twist around to see which of my mates noticed what we’re doing. It’s no surprise that there are four sets of dark eyes pointed at us.
9
Skye
