Amorous Overnight (54 page)

“Quit teasing, Hastion,” Shelley said, crawling off the bed and standing beside him with her arms crossed.

He grinned as he pulled the tab down between his legs and shrugged out of his uniform, tossing it over a chair. “I don’t remember asking to be dominated by you, Shelley-Belle.”

“That’s because I’m good at giving people what they need without their having to ask for it,” she said with a too-sweet smile. “In fact, I think you need a special reward for bringing our children home safe and sound.”

“Oh?” This ought to be good.

She looked at Cecine. “I think it’s time we both claimed him, don’t you?”

Hastion started, staring back and forth between them. “But you’ve both… I mean—what exactly do you mean by
claim
?”

Ignoring him, Cecine rumbled, “I don’t know, szisdagya. I was rather hoping to finish what we started last night.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that later. You don’t mind, do you?” she asked seductively, peeling her shirt over her head.

“Not if you don’t.” Cecine slid to the edge of the bed and took off his boots before rising to open his wrapsuit.

In a matter of seconds, both his mates were naked and stalking him with a predatory look that made his cock stand at ripe attention. He stood absolutely still as Cecine moved behind him and nuzzled the exposed nape of his neck, while Shelley stepped up to run her smooth, cool hands over his chest.

“You smell delicious, my pet,” Cecine murmured, sliding his hands down Hastion’s ribs to his hips and around to cup his sac.

Hastion shuddered with excitement. “Thank you, sir.”

Cecine gave his balls a rough squeeze and then let go. “Get on your knees and pleasure your female, pet.”

“Yes, sir.” Kneeling as gracefully as he could, Hastion looked up at Shelley with heavy eyes before focusing on her cunt. Peserin, she was so lovely. Pale-blonde curls did little to shield her pink plumpness, and his thumbs met with slick moisture when he opened her for his mouth.

“Mmm,” she breathed, clutching at his hair as she leaned into him. “I thought we were going to claim Hastion.”

“All in good time, szisdagya.”

Hastion tasted her sweetness with delicate touches of his tongue, tracing her hot inner lips with the tip before laving them with longer, stronger strokes, and drinking up her moaning sighs with delirious satisfaction.

A hand slid under his jaw, pulling his head around, and he opened eagerly for Cecine’s cock as he looked up.

“That’s right, my pet,” Cecine murmured, gazing down at him with enough love in his eyes to send Hastion’s heart slamming against his breastbone.

He devoted himself to pleasuring both his mates, sliding his hands up between their legs and toying with one while he tasted the other. Their contrasting textures and flavors—Cecine’s smooth, hard musk and Shelley’s hot, velvety tang—were a source of endless discovery for his lips and tongue as he alternated between them. When Cecine leaned down to suckle at Shelley’s breasts, he lapped at the surge of her moisture with a moan of delight.

But before he could bring either of them to the pinnacle he sought, they both pulled away and he swayed drunkenly on his knees.

“Up onto the bed, Hastion,” Cecine ordered. “On your back.”

Obeying blindly, he rose on unsteady legs and collapsed onto the mattress in the prescribed position.

Cecine spoke again. “Armitran, full neural restraints for Ensign Hastion.”

“Oh Peserin,” Hastion moaned, closing his eyes as his head drifted off to the side, his cock throbbing so fiercely he suspected it must be pulsing visibly.

Joining him on the bed, Cecine and Shelley tormented him with pleasure, kissing and sucking and biting at his skin until he broke into a sweat.

Just when he feared he would orgasm from the thrill of it, Cecine said, “Perhaps that’s enough of that for now. Why don’t you ride him, little dragon?”

“That’s a marvelous idea,” Shelley purred.

Hastion opened his eyes to watch as she swung a leg over his hips and mounted his achingly hard cock. She smiled like a siren as she rode him slowly, her hair in a tumble around her body until Cecine gathered it into his hands and held her still with it.

“And now, my szisdagya, I believe it’s your turn.”

“What are you talking about? My turn for what?”

Shelley’s drugged eyes widened as she went limp over Hastion, and Cecine guided her forward until she lay on his chest.

“Hold her in place, Hastion.”

Grinning when he realized his restraints had been released at the same time Shelley’s were activated, Hastion reached up to stroke her back while Cecine left the bed. When he returned and knelt between their spread thighs, he held a bottle of lubricant, which he promptly put to use. Hastion’s breath left him when he felt a sliding sensation against his still-rigid cock and realized it was the minister’s finger—or fingers—inside Shelley.

She gasped once, and then squealed. “What are you doing?”

“Preparing you,” Cecine informed her evenly.

She sounded almost fearful when she asked, “For what?”

“For my cock.”

“I don’t do anal,” she cried.

“I beg to differ.”

“I don’t! Ow, that hurts!”

“Then relax, my szisdagya. You forget, I had access to your probe, and you were always very relaxed when you took both of us in your erotic adventures with it.”

She moaned again. “That was none of your business!”

He closed the bottle and dropped it on the bed. “All parts of you are my business, Shelley. I observed you quite often, you know,” he added, watching what he was doing to her ass with lust-darkened eyes. “Not just when you used the probe, but when you exercised or meditated or cared for the babies.”

“Dammit, I knew it,” she gasped.

“And you love knowing I watched you, don’t you, my beloved?”

She hesitated for a long moment. “Fine, yes, I love it, you sneaky bastard.”

Hastion’s cock surged within her. “And still you surprise me, my Shelley-Belle.”

“I suspect our little mate has always hungered for adventure,” Cecine said as he withdrew his fingers. “It just took us to draw it out.”

With that, he leaned forward, braced both hands on her shoulders, and took her.

Hastion’s arms tensed around Shelley, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sudden tightness gripping his cock. The mind-bending pleasure of it burst through him in waves, pulsing in shades of scarlet behind his closed eyelids. Cecine’s thrusts grew heavier, deeper, the weight of his spread thighs forcing Hastion’s even wider, and their testicles slapped together with increasing force, punctuating the erotic chorus of cries rising on the air. Under his hot palms, Shelley’s back grew slick with sweat, and Hastion inhaled deeply as he clasped her tighter still, memorizing the moment—her pheromones filling his nostrils, her hard nipples and soft breasts scraping against his ribs, her belly sliding over his abdomen, her tender pussy grinding on his pubic bone…

Hastion’s throat grew tight even as his arousal spiked. Had any male ever been so privileged as he?

His poignant thoughts scattered when his spur suddenly emerged and pushed deep into Shelley’s nook, searing away his awareness of everything but the need to come violently. He released her to clutch at the blanket and ground his head into the mattress, clenching his teeth against the urge to scream, to go wild beneath her. He would
not
come before his mates did.

His mates had no such concerns—Shelley groaned and yelled and sighed and cursed them both as she came no less than three times, while Cecine drove them both up the bed with the strength of his final, frenzied thrusts. By the time Hastion finally allowed his own orgasm, his need bordered on madness and his vision went black with the force of his release.

It could have been moments or hours later when he roused from a deep sleep to find himself tucked against Cecine’s side, facing Shelley across his broad chest.

“You’re awake,” she observed with a sleepy smile.

He smiled back. “So are you.”

“I’m happy.”

“I’m happier.”

Cecine’s arms tightened around them both. “Neither of you is as happy as I am. I never thought I could be this happy. Hastion…”

His tentative tone made Hastion look up, and the serious look Cecine gave him made him tense a little. “Yes, sir?”

“I want to claim you, if you’ll allow it. Formally, in a public ceremony. Have you any objections?”

Tears burned in Hastion’s eyes, and he turned his face away as his heart began to beat unevenly. He could hardly credit what he was hearing. “I—”

“Look at me, my mate,” Cecine commanded with a hard squeeze.

Hastion obeyed reluctantly, looking up at him as one of the tears got away and streaked down his cheek. And to think he’d once imagined he had no future.

“Have I offended you?”

“
Offended
me?” Hastion choked out on a laugh. “Hardly.”

Shelley pulled out of Cecine’s embrace and sat up on her knees facing them, her hair rioting around her like a cape. “I think that’s a freaking awesome idea,” she said eagerly.

“Truly, sir? Are you sure?”

“Very sure. I want every male on this planet and every other to know that you’re both irrevocably mine in every way.”

Hastion hesitated before saying, “There may be repercussions…”

“I hope there
are
repercussions,” Cecine declared. “I hope our males will see that there is no shame in loving—either a female or another male. No shame in finding beauty in whatever form it takes.”

“Amen to that,” Shelley said.

“And I want them to see there is no shame in either submitting to another male or dominating one,” Hastion added.

Pulling him closer, Cecine kissed him reverently. “Thank you, my ensign.”

Shelley sighed. “That is so beautiful.”

Hastion smiled, his heart still pounding with emotion. “And what would you have our males see, Shelley-Belle?”

She searched both their faces for a long moment before saying, “That if they face their fears rather than clinging to what’s safe and familiar, they can live extraordinary lives and be happier than they ever thought they could. Like I am,” she added with a shy smile.

“
You
are extraordinary, my little dragon,” Cecine murmured, sliding a hand behind her neck and reeling her in until their lips met in a kiss so tender it made Hastion’s throat tighten again. Cecine was right—Shelley
was
extraordinary, the very embodiment of what courage could achieve.

And
he
wanted to be such an example.

“Sir,” he said after their kiss ended, “would you consider permanently marking me as yours, with either tattoos or piercings…or both?”

Cecine stared at him. “Are you certain?”

“I can think of no greater honor you could bestow upon me, sir.”

“The honor would be all mine, Hastion. I’m…” he swallowed audibly, “…humbled.”

“Oh my God, tats
and
piercings?” Shelley lunged across Cecine’s chest and kissed Hastion soundly. “I’m getting hot just thinking about it,” she breathed against his lips.

“I would be happy to mark
you
mine too, my mate—with nipple or genital piercings, since you already have a tattoo,” Cecine said, his voice still rough but his eyes sparkling with humor.

Shelley reared back. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“Only half-serious,” he admitted with a grin, pulling her stiff body back down to his side. “I
would
like to have you marked mine, but only if you permit it.”

“Thank you.” She snuggled into him once more. “No piercings, but we can talk about more tats after I see Hastion’s.”

“Fair enough.”

Hastion gave her a mischievous smile. “And what about you, sir?”

Shelley’s eyes widened. “Yes, what about you?”

“What about me?” Cecine asked warily.

Looking up at him, Hastion said, “Wouldn’t you like to be marked ours too?”

Cecine stared back for a long moment and then reached up to rub his scarred cheek. “I wouldn’t mind having this tattooed over, if you can think of something appropriate. I’d much rather wear the marks of mates I love and respect.”

“That would be perfect,” Shelley said, blinking back tears as she stretched up to kiss the scar.

“I agree.” Hastion pressed a kiss against Cecine’s chest and then laid his head against it with a sigh, already contemplating possible designs. Perhaps the scar shouldn’t be covered completely but incorporated into the tattoo. It should be emblematic, transforming something once painful and ugly, inflicted in hate, into something beautiful and hopeful—a visible symbol of their love. And perhaps, he hoped, of their culture.

He sat up abruptly, struck by inspiration.

When he climbed off the bed, Cecine seized his wrist and rumbled, “Where are you going, my ensign?”

“To get a tablet and stylus,” he said eagerly.