Thank you.
~
Shrike never tired of watching Wren experience new things.
From the Wild Hunt to the Moon Market, to Ostara and Mabon, it remained a delight to witness his mortal companion’s newfound wonder at everything Shrike had taken for granted over the centuries. The way his dark eyes flew wide, how his bespeckled lips would part, the soft gasp escaping his throat, and the quickening of breath and pulse alike—all filled Shrike’s heart ‘til it brimmed over with affection for his gallant Wren. The unexpected arrival of a mortal acquaintance to join them on Samhain intrigued Shrike with the chance to give his Wren something else he’d never yet had.
But this Samhain in particular was new to Shrike as well.
He’d never seen Wren quite like this. Wren who, unlike Shrike, had never lain with another mortal man before. Hands trembling, hardly able to speak for nerves, brimming with not just want butneed. And looking to Shrike to guide him through the dark forest of his own desires.
A charge which Shrike happily accepted.
To slide his hands up Wren’s shirtfront and feel his heart pounding against his palm beneath the shuddering ribs, every gasp and choked-off moan echoing in Shrike’s ears. To have Wren’s pulse fluttering like moth’s wings under Shrike’s lips as he kissed bruises onto his throat and collar. To hold him as a most willing captive in his embrace. To carry his slender weightthrough the storm-tossed waves of his own passions. To feel him come undone in his arms and Jack’s mouth alike.
And again, to see him shudder with illicit pleasure as he slipped inside Jack. To watch him fall apart in the throes of ecstasy. And to lavish him with well-deserved affection afterward.
Jack hadn’t shirked his duty, either. Shrike had thought him handsome at their first meeting so many months ago beneath the shadow of Achilles. He found him no less comely now at his unexpected return. Yet he watched him tonight not just for the pleasure of gazing upon a well-formed face and body, but to make sure he gave Wren all the courtesy he deserved. Even if Jack couldn’t possibly know how much this moment meant to Wren.
And Jack had risen to the challenge admirably.
The three men lay entangled in bliss for some time after their fuck. Shrike felt content to remain so all night, if the other two were willing.
Wren, however, began to shift uneasily. He slipped out of Shrike’s grasp and crept out of the bed.
Shrike raised his head to watch him as he went. A touch of concern clouded his mind. Perhaps Wren hadn’t enjoyed himself quite so well as he’d thought. Perhaps some lingering regrets as to how the evening had gone had forced Wren to withdraw. Perhaps this long-awaited moment hadn’t been all Wren wished. Shrike readied himself for the chance he might need to leave the bed likewise to comfort him.
But, as Wren crossed the cottage, his face came into the candlelight, and Shrike beheld the same serenity as before on his bespeckled features. He halted at the hollow stump, picked up the linen hanging over its rim, and turned on the copper tap. Shrike belatedly realised he was, after all, merely washing himself off.
Shrike lay back again, satisfied. He let his head loll across the furs to see how Jack got on.
Jack hadn’t roused at Wren’s slipping away. His contented sprawl displayed his body to advantage. Sinewy arms, broad shoulders tapering to narrow waist, and well-turned legs all dusted with dark hair. At the sound of the running tap, however, his blue eyes opened and fell upon Shrike’s face. His gaze swept across the length of Shrike’s frame. When he met Shrike’s gaze again, he cocked an eyebrow.
Shrike no less admired Jack’s body. Still, there was more than the two of them to consider, and so he looked again to Wren at the hollow stump. Wren hadn’t minded sharing Shrike with their partners at Mabon. However, they had all been fae. Jack was mortal, and perhaps this would cross some mortal boundary Shrike hadn’t yet discovered.
Wren didn’t seem to dislike the idea. On the contrary, as he glanced between Shrike and Jack, his dark eyes shone with intrigue. The grip of his hand around his freshly cleansed prick subtly altered. His bespeckled lip caught between his teeth as he granted Shrike an almost imperceptible nod.
And so Shrike reached out to twine his arm around Jack’s shoulders and drag him into an embrace. Jack kissed with a well-practised ease, cocksure and bold. His moustache scraped against Shrike’s face in an intriguing contrast to his slick tongue betwixt Shrike’s own lips.
Shrike had fucked a few mortal men before Wren. None since, save Wren himself.
And now, to have Wren watch him as he claimed their shared bounty made the claiming all the sweeter.
A few words dropt in Jack’s ear sufficed to entice him to turn himself over. He braced up on his knees whilst burying his face in his arms amidst the furs. Shrike knelt behind him. A splashof oil went over his cock. Then he lined it up with Jack’s hole, already slick with Wren’s seed, and slowly sank inside.
The low groan of deep satisfaction that rumbled up from Jack was echoed in Shrike’s own throat. The hot, tight, wet sheath surrounded Shrike’s sword in pleasure which only increased as he drew himself out almost to the tip and, with a snap of his hips, slammed into the hilt again. Jack moaned and rocked back against him. Shrike indulged him with another snap, and another, building into a frantic rhythm that brought both men to the brink. He let his hand slip from Jack’s waist to stroke his cock—much to Jack’s evident delight, as further muffled moans resounded from the nest of furs he’d made for his head. He spilled over Shrike’s hand. Shrike lifted his gaze to meet Wren’s. The sight of him losing himself in ecstasy whilst he watched sufficed for Shrike to sow his seed into the furrows Wren had already ploughed.
Shrike collapsed atop Jack. With his lips flush against his skin, it felt only natural to kiss bruises onto his shoulders and the nape of his neck to match the ones adorning Jack’s front. Low murmurs of appreciation resonated beneath him.
Yet move he must. And so he slipped out of Jack to join Wren at the hollow stump. Washing up quickly turned into an embrace between them; then Wren led him by the wrist back to the nest, where Wren settled in between Jack and Shrike as if their embrace were moulded for him alone. Shrike stroked Wren’s chestnut locks in one hand and Jack’s walnut strands in the other, both leaving fairy-knots in their wake.
It seemed to Shrike that Jack had granted not just Wren but both of them a splendid evening. He deserved something more than coin for his troubles.
And Shrike had an intriguing idea of what form that reward might take.
~
All told, Jack felt he’d had a very satisfactory evening.
