It was a long, dark, dismal night. Broken only by Rosa’s choked, muffled sobs, erupting out of her without pattern or warning, while she fought and failed to find some semblance of sleep on the hard stone floor.
Salvi returned sometime in the night, bringing both Tristan and Simon huge chunks of raw meat, and once they’d finished eating, Salvi had pushed Tristan down, and licked the blood from his lips. And then they’d lain there together, whispering and casting occasional meaningful glances toward Rosa, until she’d finally fallen asleep again, her body curled tight in her cloak.
When she next awoke, there was a faint stream of light shining through a distant crack in the ceiling, and Simon was sitting up beside her, drinking from a waterskin. He was still coated with a thick layer of crusty-looking blood, but he otherwise looked well enough, and after gazing at Rosa for a moment, he actually passed her the waterskin, his eyes unreadable.
Rosa couldn’t help giving it a dubious look, but shewasthirsty, so she drank her fill, and even managed a nod of thanks. Earning a nod in return that seemed almost approving, before Simon leaned back against the wall, and purposefully flicked his eyes across the room. Toward where Tristan and Salvi were wrapped together under a cloak, Salvi’s bare shoulders rippling as he rocked over Tristan, their faces buried in one another’s necks.
They hadn’t seemed to notice that Rosa had awoken, and her bleary eyes couldn’t seem to move away from the sight. From how Salvi’s throat was slowly, leisurely swallowing, pulling gentle draughts from Tristan’s neck, while Tristan’s long eyelashes fluttered, his claws softly scoring Salvi’s bare back, his breath coming in hoarse little gasps.
“Kind teacher so sweet, in his joy,” Simon said to Rosa, with surprising mournfulness. “Wastedon loud, rude healer.”
Salvi’s hand snapped out of the cloak to give Simon a lewd gesture, even as he kept sucking on Tristan’s neck — but Tristan’s eyes had flown open, his ears rapidly turning pink, his head jerking toward Rosa. Again being so considerate of her, as always, and Rosa’s rueful smile at him felt warm, surprisingly genuine.
“Don’t you dare stop on my account, Tristan,” she said. “Simon’s right. You two are lovely together.”
Beside Rosa, Simon let out a loud, disapproving growl — to which Salvi raised his head from Tristan’s punctured neck, and dragged his bloody tongue against his swollen lips, slow, deliberate, taunting.
“He’smine, Skai,” he said, with vicious satisfaction, rolling his hips against Tristan’s under the cloak, wringing a harsh, hungry gasp from Tristan’s throat. “Watch, you great ass, andweep.”
Simon snarled back at him, but he didn’t actually argue — not even as Salvi hurled away the cloak altogether, baring their lean, powerful bodies to the room’s cool air. And as Rosa watched, oddly breathless, Salvi’s hips again ground between Tristan’s parted thighs, while Tristan arched up toward him, meeting him, his arms and legs clutched tight against the rippling lines of Salvi’s back, against his rounded muscular arse.
“This pleases you, ach,sæti minn?” Salvi murmured to Tristan. “You like being fucked slow and deep by your bonded mate? By the first prick you ever had, and now your last, also?”
This was said with a dark glance toward Simon, but Tristan’s clawed hands turned Salvi’s face back to his, their long black tongues twining together as Tristan’s hips arched up, meeting Salvi’s circle down, again, again, again. As though this were an easy, fluid, familiar dance they’d long ago learned, their joined bodies rocking, rising, flowing as one.
And when Salvi drew back to his haunches, dragging Tristan’s lower half up onto his lap, they didn’t miss a beat, still circling, parting, meeting again. Though the sight of it was far more vivid now, with Tristan’s bare front entirely exposed, his lean muscles flexing and relaxing, his long, slim, dripping cock flaring straight up with every thrust of Salvi’s hips.
Beside Rosa Simon had let out a strangled groan, his huge hand clutched against his own tented groin, and in this moment Rosa could almost feel it too, the longing licking hunger, lighting the room as a flame. Sparking higher and stronger with every breath, as Salvi’s strokes became harder, longer, as Rosa could now see his slick, thick length, plunging with depth and power beneath Tristan’s thighs.
“Fuck,sæti,” Salvi gasped, his half-lidded eyes roving up and down Tristan’s bare front, lingering on his smoothly flaring cock, then on his reddened cheeks, his parted lips, his long-lashed blinking eyes. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. Feels so fuckinggood.”
Tristan replied with a quivery flick of his fingers, the movement at total odds with the fluid thrusts of his hips, the steady ooze of white from his pulsing cock. And at the sight Salvi groaned, his grip shifting on Tristan’s thighs — and then he rolled onto his back, drawing Tristan’s arching body up with him. So that Tristan was now the one straddling him, shaking loose his long black hair as he settled his hands to Salvi’s heaving chest, their hips still rolling, meeting, writhing in their fluent, unbroken rhythm.
But the sight of this was even more obscene, especially with Tristan’s flushed, steadily leaking length now bobbing blatant and rock-hard over Salvi’s rippled abdomen — and with how Salvi’s hands were sliding down into the pooling liquid with something almost like reverence. As one slick, clawless hand then caressed all the way up to Tristan’s mouth, slipping two fingers between his parted lips, while the other hand circled familiar, gentle, around the base of Tristan’s pulsing prick. And then sliding up, milking out more spluttering white, in perfect time with his own slow, smooth, sensuous thrusts inside.
Tristan’s back had arched, his mouth sucking on Salvi’s fingers, his face reddened and rapturous — and Salvi kept going, working Tristan with his hips and his hands, his hooded gaze glittering, intent on Tristan’s face. And when Tristan’s eyes fluttered fully closed, Salvi swiftly curled himself up, bending his upper half almost double, so he could somehow — impossibly — suck Tristan’s slick, leaking cockhead into his mouth.
Tristan’s shocked, guttural moan hissed through the room, his eyes flying open, drinking in the raw, thrilling sight of his lover fucking him, sucking him, stroking him, and plundering his mouth, all at the same time. Not once losing their rhythm, their own mesmerizing dance, and beside Rosa Simon muttered a low, frustrated curse, his eyes fixed on Tristan’s bobbing cock, now plunging in and out between Salvi’s tight sucking lips.
“Braggart healer,” he said, with deep disapproval. “Skinny body make easy.Spoilpretty teacher thus.”
But Rosa couldn’t at all begrudge Tristan’s being spoiled, not if it made him look like this, sound like this. His body lean and smooth and rippling, covered with a faint sheen of sweat. His thick black hair swinging out behind him, falling long over his shoulders. His cheeks and pointed ears brightly flushed, his mouth desperately sucking on Salvi’s fingers, his hips rocking to meet Salvi’s with such fervent, fluid grace. And his throat moaning, dark and deep, as his cock swelled fuller between Salvi’s lips, his hands sinking into Salvi’s hair —
And suddenly Tristan’s moans rose, sharp, almost a scream — and the rhythm paused, frozen in place, as his whole body seemed to light up, crackling with warmth and fire and sheer sparking craving —
His shaft abruptly, visibly pulsed, clearly flooding Salvi’s mouth full of his hunger, while Salvi’s throat thickly, greedily swallowed, his own hips wrenching up once more, hard, vehement — and then he was moaning too, frantically swallowing, even as his groin shuddered and strained against Tristan, pouring himself out deep inside.
There was one last instant’s stillness, held there, hanging — until finally Tristan sank down, as Salvi deftly uncoiled, quick enough to catch Tristan’s limp-looking weight in his arms. And then they sagged to the floor, Salvi on his back and Tristan sprawled on top, their heavy breaths rising and falling together, like a sweeter, softer dance that still belonged only to them.
Salvi’s hands had begun stroking Tristan’s back, his hair, his face — and when Tristan made a soft whimpering sound, Salvi bared his own neck, and gently bent Tristan’s head toward it. A silent offer that Tristan immediately accepted, his teeth clamping down, his eyelids fluttering as he swallowed.
“Take all you like,sæti minn,” Salvi murmured, his hands still stroking, soothing, caressing. “Anytime you like. You sweet, stunning creature. Fuck, I adore you.”
An answering shiver rippled down Tristan’s back, hard enough that Salvi’s visibly softened length slipped out of him entirely. Exposing first Tristan’s used, stretched-open body, and then a thick stream of white, streaking down his muscled arse-cheek.
Tristan didn’t even twitch, as if he didn’t even care that Rosa and Simon were seeing such shocking things. As if there was truly no shame in being fucked, flaunted,satisfied. And Rosa couldn’t stop staring, suddenly, while beside her Simon huffed out another low, strangled-sounding groan.
“Wasted,” he said again, voice flat. “Though I grant this to healer, he know how to please teacher. Hecherish, as he should.”
