Page 110 of Feast of Sparks (Thornchapel 2)
His eyes flutter closed as his cock finishes its work and gives a final, gentle throb. “You are love to me,” he says, opening his eyes. I’m given a kiss then, a soft, thorough kiss, and he slides free and kicks his jeans all the way off. Then he moves to his back, pulling me into his arms. “You are love to me.”
* * *
***
* * *
My wild god makes a noise of need a few minutes later, though, and I look up at him, still dazed from being fucked into a holy stupor. “Where’s my other one?” the god asks unhappily. “I want my other one too.”
And like magic, St. Sebastian knows he’s wanted. He leaves the fire, where the other three are still laughing and drinking, and comes to the platform.
The god reaches for him. “You belong at my side,” says the god, and Saint shivers.
“Of course,” he whispers and crawls onto the platform with us, tucking himself on the other side of our May King.
For a handful of minutes, we cuddle this way, content simply to touch and to be together. St. Sebastian and I lace fingers over the god’s chest, and we can feel the god’s heart beating firm and steady along with the drums.
“We’re a three now,” the god says. “Isn’t that what you wanted, little bride?”
“Yes,” I say, smiling up at the sky. Stars sparkle everywhere. The forest sighs and rustles in the breeze.
“I’m glad that it’s here,” Saint says. “Where it started.”
The god hums his agreement, stroking his hand along my bare shoulder. I’m aware that my dress is still bunched around my middle and my breasts are bare, but I kind of like how it feels to be this exposed. Naked with the Thorn King’s orgasm still wet between my legs.
“Do you really think we can do this?” the god says after a minute. “I don’t know anyone else who has.”
“We do a lot of things other people don’t do,” Saint remarks. “And it seems to work out.”
“We will have to have rules,” the god muses. “You can’t belong to me without rules.”
“You’ll be our king,” Saint promises.
“And we’ll be your priest and priestess,” I add, rising up on an elbow so I can kiss the god’s chest. His mouth hooks up in pleasure as I do.
“My priest and priestess,” he says to the sky. “I like that.”
“What will the rules be?” Saint asks.
The god thinks for a moment. “No fucking without my permission,” he says. “I don’t think I can bear it if I have to leave for the city and you two are still together.”
“Jealous?” I tease, and he turns to look at me with complete and unmitigated honesty.
“Always,” says the god simply.
“What else?” Saint asks, after I kiss the god’s chest again to appease him.
“I’ve been thinking, and I don’t want us to do full-time kink, but I also don’t want not full-time,” he says. “I don’t want twenty-four-seven submissives; I’ve never wanted that. But I also can’t promise I won’t want . . . well, stretches of it. And spontaneous bits of it. Is that too much? I’m worried it’s too much.”
“It’s not,” Saint says at the same time I laugh a little at my sweet baby Dom.
“It’s never too much for me,” I volunteer, and the god heaves a pained sigh.
“I know,” he says. “That’s what worries me.”
“Anything else?” Saint asks.
“Yes, one more thing. I want you both at Thornchapel, in my bed. We’ve wasted so much time, and I won’t waste a minute more. You both have your safe words, and if it gets too much or if I get too much—I really mean it, Poe—then you use them. Because until you use them I want you both to be totally mine.”
