Page 24 of Randall
“We should wait,” Darvon tried to stop Flynn’s prowling advance, but Randall said, “No.” Fuck, he wasn’t even inside the carriage with them, yet he was telling them what to do. Darvon wanted to disagree, but as Flynn stripped off the single piece of clothing he wore, the words died in his throat. Their mate wasgorgeous. Sleek, sun-drenched skin, burnished gold from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. His long black hair glittered with strands of grey. He wasn’t tall like Darvon and Randall were, but shorter, with compact muscles earned from working outdoors with his hands. Darvon felt small in comparison with his mates. Foolish that he didn’t put all the years of his life into more study. More training. Unless you counted his art projects…
“Enough with the self-reflection, Darvon,” Randall said, opening the door of the carriage. Darvon hadn’t even realized they’d stopped moving. No, theyweremoving…How?
Randall smirked, stepping into the compartment and pulling the door shut. “Clothes off, mate.” He yanked at his own, quickly disrobing, giving Darvon his first peek at the long, thick cock jutting from a dark nest of curls. “Flynn, help him.”
Flynn scurried to lift Darvon’s tunic over his head, while Randall plucked at the strings of Darvon’s leggings. They dragged the clothes from his body, laid him down on the cushion and spread his legs. Their hands smoothed over his skin, brushed across his nipples, and carded through the silver-blond hair at his groin. Ripples of pleasure raced across his flesh, and the noises he made were foreign to his ears.
They touched him everywhere, drawing out strange sounds from him, sounds he’d never before made with the few Fae he’d kissed and petted to orgasm. Except they kept skipping past his cock to brush his inner thigh, to kiss behind a lifted knee, to slide a finger along his crease and taint, to fondle his balls.
“Touch me already,” he growled, thrusting his hips and shaft into the air. “Please.” Darvon hissed at the light brush of Randall’s fingers. He moaned as Randall shot him a cocky grin, curling his fingers around Darvon’s length. His groan became a broken curse with the first upward stroke.
“I think he likes it,” Flynn teased, leaning over to lick a long stripe across Darvon’s nipple before sucking it into his mouth.He left off only to silence Darvon’s moan with his own mouth. “Sweet,” he murmured, breaking away to trail a line of kisses along Darvon’s jaw.
A slick finger swirled around the puckered entrance to his body, and when Flynn nipped his earlobe, Darvon captured the back of his mate’s head and held him there while he panted through the raging flood of euphoria. He caught Randall’s gaze and whimpered, “Please… I… I’m… new…”
Randall’s breath stuttered. He shuddered, his body freezing for a moment before he nodded. “I’ll try to be gentle, but—”
“No, I know. It might hurt.”
Flynn, who had stopped moving during the exchange, caressed Darvon’s cheek, turning his head so they could kiss again. He plucked and teased Darvon’s body, distracting him somewhat from the pulse of Randall’s finger in his ass, filling him in a way he’d never allowed anyone before.
When a second finger joined the first, Darvon tensed until Randall’s soothing voice and the maddening strokes of his hand on Darvon’s cock won out. His body wanted, his mind wanted, and so he relaxed and let his mate drive him mad with pleasure.
“Mate,” Darvon begged, “please.”
Randall lifted Darvon’s legs to his shoulders, then withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the tip of his oil-slicked cock, pushing slowly. He didn’t rush, allowing Darvon to let him in, inch by inch. The tight expression on Randall’s face, teeth gritted, holding himself back, did more to ease Darvon than words could. His mate was on edge, and Darvon, wanting to see him lose control, relaxed, and Randall filled him to the hilt.
“By the gods,” Flynn whispered, “you’re… beautiful.” He coasted his palm across Darvon’s flushed chest before sliding his fingertips into Darvon’s hair and holding him fast as he melded their mouths together.
Randall gripped Darvon’s waist as he started rocking his hips, entering Darvon’s body at a maddeningly slow pace that quickly escalated. Their voices rose as neither could keep their elation quiet. A glance at Flynn stroking his cock as he watched them escalated his joy another notch.
“Mate. Mate,” Darvon chanted, grabbing for Flynn with one hand and Randall with the other. He pushed Flynn toward his bouncing cock, gasped when Flynn swallowed him, and shouted as he crested the wave of pleasure. His cry was followed by Flynn’s muffled burst, mouth filled with Darvon’s release. Above him, Randall cursed and shoved deep inside him, his whole body shaking as he filled Darvon’s ass with his cum.
They collapsed in a careful sprawl. Flynn rested his forehead on Darvon’s shoulder as Randall curled over both of them. Darvon carded his fingers through their sweaty, disheveled hair, loving how they’d come together, even if it hadn’t included a bed like Randall wanted. This was better. This was them.
The horses nickered and slowed, startling Randall into movement. He pulled his softened cock from Darvon and magicked a damp towel to clean them, then a blanket appeared to cover them both as he quickly pulled on his clothes, telling them to rest and take their time. Not listening to their arguments, he opened the carriage door and swung up into the seat.
Darvon pushed aside a curtain and stared out, opening his senses. A steady beat carried to them on the wind. Scents of horse, leather, and sweat tickled his nose. “Riders approach.”
“Can you tell how many?” Flynn asked as he pulled Randall’s tunic back on. “Here.” He held out Darvon’s clothes.
Darvon shook his head as he pulled on his trousers and tunic. “More than two. Randall, the ravens?”
“Already sent. Wait… Six soldiers, and they seem… frightened. They’re pushing the horses hard. I don’t know if they’ll stop.”
“I’ll do it. They shouldn’t harm their charges.” Darvon pushed open the door and jumped out, landing lightly on his feet.
“Darvon!” Randall hissed, dragging on the reins to slow the horses. He directed them to the side of the road, and once stopped, descended.
Flynn stood in the doorway of the carriage, or well, Flynn’s cat did. The sleek beast leapt to the ground and strode alongside Randall. This wasn’t some feral city cat, but a true shifter, able to vary his height. His long legs put his head at Randall’s knee. His ears were swiveling, whiskers twitching, and his sleek tail was still except for a slight swish of the tip. Flynn brushed against Randall’s leg as he stroked their mate’s head and neck.
Beneath Darvon, the ground trembled. Once Randall and Flynn were behind him, he opened his arms, gathered air, fallen leaves, and the dust of the road, and pushed it forward, forcing those approaching to slow as their vision was obscured.
“More magick,” one of the men cried, spinning his horse.
Darvon circled his hand, and the air he directed followed, enclosing the men until they settled. The horses heaved, and several of the men had their swords out. The rest had their hands on their hilts, ready to draw.
“Hold!” Randall called out to them. “We are not the enemy. We’ve come from the court of King Sulter.”
