Page 137 of Gemini Kings
“Honestly, there’s nothing to discuss.” Lucius sounds breathless but determined as I ease down his zipper. “I regret your unfortunate history with him. Truly, Vasili, I do. But you must strive to forgive him for the sins of his past. Zara needs him in the harem. When the full moon rises, shewillshift and rise, no matter what she thinks with her rational mind she wants. She’s already perched on the very brink of her superheat. We simply must have a dragon to break it.”
“Must we?” Lucius is wearing paisley silk boxers under his houndstooth. I purr over the discovery. Truly, he issucha delicious Old World gentleman under that savage beast. “Any dragon will do?”
“Well, Maxim is the only fully manifested male dragon shifter—that we know of—to be extant.” Lucius frowns. “If it were absolutely necessary, his wyvern brothers could possibly suffice—”
“No, they couldn’t. They’re horrid.” I shudder with a moue of distaste and tease open the slit in his boxers.
He’s trying to concentrate on my question and probably deliver a lecture like the dutiful professor he delights in being, but his thick cock is outlined so delectably under the silk that I’m determined to distract him.
Still, there is the little matter of my question to address.
“Once upon a time, the Russian shifters were all dragons. Firedrakes, ice dragons, lightning dragons, sea serpents, and others whose gifts have been lost in the crumbling pages of our histories. And they were a mighty race indeed.” Lucius’ brow furrows as my naughty fingers dip into his boxers. “A plague killed many of them in antiquity. Then, in the last century, the Marxists hunted them down relentlessly and chained them in the gulag and worked them to death.”
“Yes, that fate befell some of my own ancestors,” I say. “That’s how the full shifter branch of the Romanov line was extinguished.”
“Oh, indeed?” The history professor buried under my wolfish mate looks attentive. “Finally, Anastasia Rasputina—Maxim’s unfortunate mother—well, she herself did the rest, mating and then murdering every sire who rose to break her heats. Almost as though she herself were determined to eradicate the last of her own race. Now… Blood of Christ, Vasili, I’m… trying to concentrate…”
“Yes, pet, I know.” While he’s distracted with his history lesson, my terrible hand has dipped past his paisley silk to circle his luscious thick cock, his pulse throbbing under my fingers in his veiny girth, his length jutting hot and eager from the thicket of dark curls between his thighs.
Typically, he likes to be used rather crudely—oh, he’ll deny it, but it’s true, he loves when I debauch and despoil and debase him. Tonight, out of deference to his bruised and tender feelings, I’m determined to cosset his fine sensibilities like a medieval virgin on her wedding night.
While I tease out of him all the little historical secrets I need to disentangle in order to resolve our queen’s current dilemma.
So my cool fingers stroke his eager length as reverently as the rare treasure he is, this lovely mate of mine, while my free hand slips between his restless thighs to cradle the hot tight bulge of his balls.
With a gasp, he parts for me, one hand circling my wrist as though his priestly conscience is begging me to abstain.
Even as every carnal cell in his body is begging me to ruin him.
“Take off your trousers for me,” I whisper, ignoring his modest attempt at protest. “So I can ravish you properly. And tell me more about our little queen’s superheat. Does it have to be a dragon that breaks it?”
Obediently he abandons my corset, which he’s largely unlaced by now in any event, slips his trousers and boxers down his thighs, and neatly folds them at our feet. “It has to be a shifter… who flies.”
“Hmmmm.” Now this is all very interesting.
But my mate is sweating with mating heat, and the alpha in me is becoming rather distracted by all this mating heat myself.
It really does require considerable discipline on my part (and notthatkind of discipline, darling,dotry to elevate your mind) to orchestrate my little inquisition as I nudge Lucius onto his back and eel my way between his parted and now quite deliciously naked legs.
“And does it require a mating bite to break a superheat?” I inquire. Just before I swoop down to lick a long stripe from Lucius’ base to his tip, which makes his dick jump and his wolf whine for more.
“Vasili…”Lucius’ sensitive scholar’s hands flutter about in distress before he cradles my head.
“Yes, pet?” I lick a slow circle around his flushed and eager crown. “You were saying?”
“The—the mating bite.” The poor darling sounds half-strangled as I nuzzle and kiss his slit. “Typically, yes, an alpha will bite during a mating flight. The difficulty is that… Zara herself may be alpha… she’s already bitten Neo, even though—merciful Christ—”
Of course, I already know she’s bitten Neo. I saw the bite this morning in the shower when he bolted past me (blushing, of course) to ensure he’d be well away from his horrible rival by the time I stripped down myself. Lucius leaves twin punctures when he bites, but Neo has a pretty half-moon on his shoulder.
And it surely wasn’t that dragon who bit him. The two have barely interacted.
Well, this entire development certainly explains why Neo wantedmeto bite him last night. He simply wanted a bite.
Anyone’s bite.
Even mine.
If I’d been thinking clearly, I would have bargained the bite he wanted from me for the fuck I want from him.
