Wren pulls back from me, unwrapping himself from Chiron’s arms and walking to the stone table to fill the final cup in the well.
Wren does not hesitate to bring the cool waters of the mountain to his lips and bear the weight of our pain. In truth, when his eyes close as his head tips back, Wren’s face remains completely serene. If he feels the anguish of the lost child that was Chiron, or the discomfort of my injury, and fears, he does not show it. Wren appears to berelieved.
Moments pass between us, hushed and hallowed. The bonds at my shoulders lifted, but not released. We are bonded in the way we were always intended to be, at our souls. The tugging at my heart moves in two directions, but neither pulls more than the other. I understand now that if I were to see the great beacon that rises out of the peaks of Caelestis, the braziers would be aflame.
We walk back the way we came in, through the stone arch and into the large open cavern. Delirium sets in from hunger and exertion, as well as the emotional experience in the cave.
The cavern is lit now only by moonlight. It casts icy beams down into the hollows of the mountain, turning the deep reds silver in its glow.
Chiron takes all of our cloaks and lays them out for us, and we cast off our woolen layers with great relief. I cannot claim to understand everything that occurred this day, as the fog inside of my head reasserts its claim on my consciousness.
…
Bodies moveslowly next to me, rousing my own before my mind is fully awake. I open my eyes, still hazy with sleep. I am not fully rested, but I cannot ignore the draw of them even from my unconscious state. Chiron’s moonlight-carved form moves over Wren, locked in a kiss so heated I am instantly captivated. Is this how Wren feels when he watches Chiron and me?
The roll of their hips meeting one another is like a crash of thunder. Two storms that meet one another and fight for their survival. A deep groan resonates in the chamber, and I gasp. The noises are so carnal they send aching deep into my core. Chiron lifts his head, releasing Wren’s mouth from his onslaught. His grin is wicked, an indecently beautiful thing.
“I think we woke our wife, Wren.” He whispers to us both.
Wren turns his face to me, his eyes are hooded and dark, his skin glistening in the heat of their exchange. He moves a hand from Chiron’s yet clothed backside and reaches for me. I pull myself across the rumpled cloaks, closer to them. I am on my side, viewing them for my own intense curiosity, unashamed.
“Have I interrupted you?” I ask of them both, burrowing further into the fabric beneath me.
“Not at all,” Chiron says, sliding himself down Wren’s body, leaving kisses in his descent. His movements reveal a softly lit Wren to me. His skin looks like pale velvet, dappled with flax and gold hair from his chest to his navel…and farther still.
Chiron works Wren’s breeches down his legs slowly, uncovering the silken skin inch by inch.
Wren’s cock springs free from the confines of his pants, and my mouth dries. Up close as I am, I can see every stunning inch of him with clarity I did not have in the forest the other night. His length is thick and veined on the side, nestled with short, blonde curls at the base. The crown is wide and stretched, shining with pearlescent moisture. His arousal.
My mouth is dry, watching as Chiron positions himself between Wren’s knees and leans forward, coasting his tongue up the length of Wren’s shaft. I have seen many things in my time on the Isle, but never anything that heated my blood such as this. Chiron’s dark eyes are closed as he takes his fill of Wren. His tongue swirls the tip of Wren’s cock, Wren arching up into his mouth with a gasp that echoes in the cavern. A throaty chuckle vibrates from Chiron before he lowers his mouth fully onto him, filling his mouth and throat with Wren.
Chiron moves, the sounds wet and sharp with each pass. I am fascinated by his work. Wren’s eyes are pressed shut with concentration, and his face is tortured ecstasy bathed in silver.
Wren groans and pants with each lowering of Chiron’s dark head over his lap.
“I’ll come…I’ll—” He whispers, reaching out for Chiron’s hair, curling his fingers in the messy locks. But he does not stop him. I do not believe anything could tear him from his feast right now.
On instinct, I reach my hand out and coast it across Wren’s glistening chest, feeling the velvet skin for myself. I let my hand slide down his slick stomach, ribbed gently in muscle but still soft.
The muscles tense and spasm under my fingertips as his hips lift from the floor, and Wren releases himself into Chiron’s throat. Gasping and moaning languidly amidst the breaths and the “Fuck….fuck…Chiron…” that escape him.
Chiron, for all of his efforts, does not pull away from Wren’s release. Wren pumps into his throat with short and vicious thrusts, and Chiron takes every one in stride. I am mesmerized. I am so viscerally empty right now that it’s near painful. Chiron slowly raises his head from Wren’s cock, a popping sound flowing through the cave before wiping his shining lips with the back of his hand. His grin is wide and proud—a victor over Wren’s usual restraint.
Wren is languid, lost still to his release and the ecstasy of it. His eyes are hooded and unfocused.
I look back to Chiron, whose skin glistens in the broken light that pours through. Half darkness and half specter, a god crafted from pure light. His breeches hang low on his hips, his own erect cock straining against the fabric. His head is tipped back, enjoying the cooler air and pushing his fingers through his tangled hair. When he lowers his chin and looks down at me, his eyes are once again devious and unsated. They say to me,next, I will devour you.
Chiron meets Wren’s eyes in a silent conversation between them. Whatever is conveyed, I am the subject. In unison, they move. Wren remains on my left, and Chiron slides out from between Wren’s legs and settles on my right. Both of their mouths land hot on my own, taking turns exploring my tongue with theirs.
In a cooperative dance, they strip the clothes from my body, nipping and sucking at each inch of supple flesh they expose. Wren takes a nipple between his teeth, and I cry out at the mixture of pain and pleasure. Chiron moves between my thighs, stroking and kneading the silken and wet skin there. He moves my knees up over his shoulders, a trail of kisses up my right thigh, and then up the left. I watch him with hunger so intense I cannot name what I would do for him to fill me now. His fingers part me, at first tenderly, rubbing at the swollen place he finds there. I gasp; I cry out. I writhe. His wide fingers work themselves slowly into my pussy, and my hips rise up to meet him, taking them and seeking the friction of his palm. Wren’s long fingers and heated palm push my hips down to the floor.
“Let him work, Netta. I want to see this.” Wren whispers into my flesh, pressing a reverent kiss to the side of my breast before sucking at the skin once more.
Chiron lowers his mouth to me, using his tongue to part the wetness there and licking a slow and languorous path from where his digits fill me to the very top of my clit.
I will unravel from this. I will have no choice. Chiron feasts, and I am the meal.
His fingers plunge slowly in and out of my center, pressing up where Wren’s flat palm pushes down on me and dragging back out. I writhe under his licks and the thrusts of his fingers. Wren brings his face to my own and bids me to turn my head to him. My consciousness is addled, unable to form words. I am only sensations now.
