Geva smiled ruefully up toward him, her head shaking, and in return he grinned back, and drew her closer. His eyes again angling toward where Abjorn was now squirming in earnest on the bed, nearly escaping Sigarr’s powerful grip — at least, until Sigarr yanked off Abjorn’s belt, and then his trousers, too. And in a flurry of movement, Sigarr had wrapped the trousers’ fabric around Abjorn’s wrists, followed by the belt, yanking it firm and tight.
“Answer me,kærasti,” he hissed now, with another sharp slap at Abjorn’s bare arse. “What were all thesehintsyou gave me? Your wounds? Your recklessness? Your constant sniping at me in my fear for you?!”
Abjorn was still moaning and squirming, even as he blatantly arched up for the next stinging slap of Sigarr’s hand. “Ach, and if this vexed you so much,” he gasped, “then why did you not offeryourcare instead? Why was it only snacks and pets and grumbling? I thought you did not wish for this, so ach, I sought it elsewhere!”
There was a moment’s stillness from Sigarr above him, his head bowing — but then he grasped for Abjorn’s thighs, yanking them up and apart, so he was kneeling spread-eagled on the bed. His upper body still pressed flat, with his bound hands out before him, while his arse was up and out toward Sigarr, his legs wide, exposing everything dangling between.
And that was another slap from Sigarr, as his other hand reached down between, and squeezed. Grasping it all in one big clawed hand, while Abjorn thrashed and moaned beneath him. And Sigarr was moaning too, his eyes fluttering, as his free hand flicked down to his own trousers, shoving them down just far enough to release the huge, waiting grey length behind them.
“Henceforth, then,” Sigarr growled, as he finally released his grip between Abjorn’s legs, and stepped closer behind him, “you shall not seek it elsewhere, my deviouskærasti. You shall only come forme.”
Abjorn was already nodding and moaning again, perhaps even seeking to part his legs wider, to show Sigarr what was his, to tempt him closer. And yes, Sigarr was moving closer, closer, until he’d settled himself gently into Abjorn’s wide-open crease. Just waiting there, watching Abjorn spasm and shudder and preen, and then pressing himself slow and smooth inside.
“Ach,” Sigarr moaned, guttural and low, as that hard grey flesh at his groin pushed in, and in, and in. “Ach. Suck me deep, my pretty littlekærasti. You shall welcome my good Ash-Kai prick, you shall swallow all of me, ach —”
Beneath him, Abjorn was fervently nodding, his body now shot to utter stillness, but for his dragging gasps, and the visible shudders racing up his spine. As Sigarr kept pressing in more and more, filling Abjorn with him, closer and closer, until Sigarr’s hips were grinding tight against him, his claws digging into Abjorn’s arse.
For a brief, dangling moment, they just held there together, locked in place, gasping and trembling — and then Sigarr drew out, and slammed inside. Making Abjorn choke and flail at the impact, his body arching up even more, and Sigarr plunged in again, and again. Driving with such vicious, furious force that it was surely painful, but the look on Abjorn’s face as he reared up was all raw, angelic pleasure, his body one smooth silvery arc, meeting Sigarr again and again and again —
And then Sigarr shoved him down, crushing him against the bed, burying his face in Abjorn’s exposed neck, as he clamped his hand over his mouth. And then he bit down, hard, his growl muffled and thick, as Abjorn kicked and writhed and cried out into his fingers — and then stilled all over, his eyes rolling back, as Sigarr pinned him down even harder, his hips grinding fierce and deep, one last time —
And then they shouted together, held together, as Sigarr surely poured out inside, his big body gone rigid, his muscles standing out stark against his skin. While Abjorn strained down in furious, shaky little trembles beneath him, his eyes wide and rapt with ecstasy.
But then, finally, Sigarr sagged down heavily onto Abjorn, and Geva could see him gently kissing at his neck, just the way Rathgarr had done with hers. And oh good gods, they’d indeed just stood here and watched all this, and her flushed-feeling glance up toward Rathgarr found him looking decidedly smug, his arm circling even tighter around her waist.
“I have chosen such a gifted Ash-Kai mate,” he said, with complacent satisfaction. “This was good work, my clever poppet. As always.”
From the bed, both Sigarr and Abjorn groaned at this — but then Sigarr pulled back from Abjorn, tugging up his own trousers with a shaky hand. And then he reached for Abjorn’s bound wrists, loosening them with obvious care, and checking them over for injury before releasing them.
“Are you well,kærasti?” he murmured, his voice thick, as he leaned over, and pressed another gentle kiss into Abjorn’s neck. “Was this too much? Do you feel any pain?”
But beneath him, Abjorn was giving a fluid, catlike stretch, and then twisting and hopping up to his feet, while also swiping for his crumpled trousers, and fishing a rag from the pocket. “Ach, no,” he said brightly, as he flashed Sigarr a swift, stunning grin, his face flushed, his hand rapidly wiping at his still-bare, sticky-looking front. “I have never felt better in all my life! What do you say to a sparring-match, Sig? Or mayhap a spell of hunting? I ken I could eat a whole moose!”
Sigarr’s smile back was slow, and fond, and also exasperated, and he plucked the rag from Abjorn’s hand, and took over the wiping himself. “I have brought you some sweet-buns, should you like these,” he said, though his voice was still a little hoarse. “And you ought to have some water, also.”
“Oooh, sweet-buns,” Abjorn said, with palpable glee, as he bobbed up, and pressed a furtive little kiss to Sigarr’s cheek. “Thank you, Sig.”
Sigarr’s eyes had gone rather blank, an unmistakable blush creeping up his neck, but Abjorn had already whirled away again, pulling on his trousers. “Sorry about the bed, you two,” he said over his shoulder toward Rathgarr and Geva, as he shook out his hair, his fingers visibly lingering against the fresh bite-marks on his neck. “But I should have been very happy with the floor, also, so I ken this is allyourfault, sister.”
He’d spun back around again, winking at Geva, and then clutching easily at Sigarr’s big arm. “Sweet-buns, then, Sig?” he said eagerly. “And then a sparring-match? And then, mayhap” — his glance up at Sigarr’s face had gone a little shy — “I ken I may need more firm handling, ach?”
Sigarr’s still-creeping blush had finally reached his cheeks, but he gave an unsteady little nod. And then they strode out together, leaving Geva and Rathgarr again wryly smiling at each other, though Geva’s face still felt very hot, too.
“You damned Ash-Kai and all your secrets,” she said, with a shake of her head. “How many years have those two wasted dancing around each other like that?”
Rathgarr’s smile softened, and he drew her even closer, his mouth pressing against her hair. “It is not… easy, to bare yourself for another thus,” he murmured. “We have all long ago learnt the dangers in this, ach?”
Right. Geva’s thoughts had again flicked to Rathgarr’s mother, and perhaps he was thinking of it too, his hand tightening around her waist. “But… do you ken,” he said, a little offhandedly, “you might ever wish… for this, from me?”
Wish for this, from him. And Geva wasn’t quite following, searching his uneasy eyes. Seeing how he was purposefully glancing away, and shifting on his feet, just the same way Abjorn had…
But she had to know, damn it, and she kept searching him, now stroking her hand against his back. “How so?” she asked, very carefully. “What do you mean?”
His breaths were dragging deeper, his body stiffening beneath her touch, but she kept stroking, kept waiting. Until his throat audibly convulsed, his eyes darting a glance downward that looked almost… afraid.
“Should you wish to… have me, thus,” he whispered, his voice thick. “To… bare me. Teach me… a lesson.”
Geva’s mouth dropped open, her thoughts suddenly whirling back to that day in the schoolroom, to that challenge that she hadn’t quite forgotten, ever since.Do you wish to teach me a lesson, my prim little schoolmarm? To punish me?
