Page 30 of Delinquent Dette
The Drakes lined themselves up along the paddock leading toward the woods on his property. Eight Drakes this year, including Sten. Sile, wearing the traditional undergarments for the Viking men, stood tugging at the thin straps at his hip and ass. After all, even Dettes liked to stare at a pretty ass sometimes. Several yards away, Frikka stood wearing what amounted to a long tunic, the front and back of it split at his hips as it hung down to his knees. Shui and Dettes he didn’t recognize—a slang, a Vritra, and one he couldn’t pinpoint with raven hair, dark eyes, and skin darker like a Vritra’s but with more red to it. Likely one of the South American dragons, or their northern variant. They were elusive and had almost bred themselves out by the time the new world waited for them.
One of the Drakes called out, “We Drakes gather here today not to honor the gods but to honor our Dettes! Today is a day they can choose the Drake they lie with. And if the mood is right, they may unite in the spring, to give their heat freely.”
The new Dettes knew that if a clutch resulted from their frolic, they would be cared for. Shui was not ready for another clutch but fiercely happy to chase and claim his mate. Frikka? He wasn’t sure what he wanted. The spring would soon be upon them, and Sten had a glorious knot that he would share time and time again.
“What say you, Dettes? Will you catch your Drake?” Ingjald, who had partnered with Knut in their time together, two Drakes in love, in search of a Dette, called out, holding a horn in his hands.
“Drakes, if I am fortunate!” The South-American Dette called out.
Laughter spread among them as the Dettes readied themselves to run barefoot into the fray. The horn sounded, and memories of two hundred years ago carried Frikka’s feet swiftly to his mate.
Sten turned to the woods and ran fast, not giving Frikka an easy catch. Sten was strong, but Frikka was lithe and agile, crossing the distance as he left giggling Dettes in his wake for only a moment. Shui shot past him, his feet tearing apart the earth as Sile bolted. Laughter echoed from all around them, but Frikka had eyes only for one Drake.
A slam of flesh to body, a crash of twigs and leaves preceded a litany of laughter and breathy noises somewhere behind Frikka. A Dette had staked their claim.
Frikka couldn’t help himself, running harder, dreaming of a Dette’s freedom to choose. Sure, he’d laid with Sten before, had back then, too. He’d had few lovers, but Sten made him feel special. Wanted, even.
Another slam of body to body, a tumble of two lovers wrestling amid the forest sounded out. Still, Sten ran and Frikka chased.
Spring green leaves whipped by, twigs snatching at his hair and tunic. Frikka’s feet, bare and soft from leisure, picked up dirt and moss as he went. No running was ever a clean one, for they were meant to be primal.
Sten hopped a small creek, feet splashing into mud on the other side as Frikka poured his wild Dette magic into his step and gained traction, shooting ahead as Shui had done.
Flesh collided with flesh as Frikka tackled Sten face-first at the creek bed and scrabbled to roll him over, staking the last claim with a kiss.
Fresh perspiration flooded Frikka’s nostrils, adrenaline finishing the rest.
Mouth met mouth, lips seeking familiar purchase as tongues glided warm and slick against one another.
“I’ve loved you since we were pups, you know?” Sten rested his hands on Frikka’s hips as he whispered against his mouth.
Frikka pulled back, giving Sten a hard stare. “Because I was the fairest of the Dettes?”
“Because you never ceased to make me smile. My first raid, I left with the older Drakes, knowing not all of us would come back. I knew I had to live, to earn and do well to impress you, to see you again.” Sten pulled Frikka back for another kiss, a nip to his lower lip and suckle, parting with a slick noise between them.
“So I am not the fairest?” Frikka gave Sten an imperious glance that he couldn’t hold as Sten’s hard cock rose to the occasion, as any good Drake ready to burst some seams in his undergarments.
Sten lifted his hips, bouncing Frikka against his hardness. “I never said that. That’s the least important thing.”
“And the most?” Frikka adjusted his tunic, pushing the draping of it away before wrestling it over his head.
“That you’re as happy as you make me.” Sten offered a wide grin that earned him another smooch before Frikka reached to his hips to pluck the ties of his underwear. They were only a hinderance. The run would have been better if they were nude, but the illusion of modesty and maintaining choice was key. It was a Dette’s decision to disrobe, to take their chosen Drake. Frikka made that choice with delight as he lifted his hips and reached behind himself, fingers at the ready.
A gentle touch yielded slick over his fingers, his opening tender and aching for penetration. Two fingers slid into him, gentle at first then rougher, spreading slick and stretching himself. He was accustomed to taking Sten, but preparing before taking a Drake was always a wise decision. Especially if they weren’t preparing you.
Sten had always been a generous lover, licking Frikka to his heart’s content, using his hands in unspeakable ways. But the running of the Drakes was about a Dette choosing what they wanted, taking control, and having the Drake they desired. So, when Frikka felt himself ready, he settled down, pushing Sten’s hard heat into his core with a slow grind. The burn of pleasure soaked into his belly as it always did, thighs tingling with threat to come just from penetration alone. “Oh gods, you feel so good.”
The jerk of Sten’s hips, the flex of his cock and the gentle pressure on Frikka’s hips told a story of a Drake wanting to fuck, but knowing better. Frikka nearly purred with pleasure, humming under his breath as he lifted and seated himself a few times to ease the way. Spreading slick up and down Sten’s shaft made Frikka mad with desire to have more, and more he took—greedily.
Sten snarled and flexed his hips, careful of his grasp as Frikka rolled his ass, rode Sten’s hard heat, and let his insides devour him. Sex with Sten was good, always had been, and claiming the Drake for the second time—that was so much better.
Frikka sighed in pleasure as his body took control, rising and falling like the stormy seas on an intercontinental journey. They crashed together like waves on shore—with nearly as much splashing. Frikka leaked profusely, slick generously glazing his ass and Sten’s thighs, every thrust downward punctuated with a wet slap. Each roll of Frikka’s body, amid the turbid motions, drawing Sten closer and closer to his peak, made their hearts sing.
In their hearts they united, the whole world around them nothing but the darkness of thought, and as one they came, Sten’s knot filling, locking Frikka down. It didn’t stop the Dette from bouncing his hips, only incensed him to knock that bulge against his innermost spot, where Dettes found their pleasure.Hot Drake spend flooded Frikka’s insides as Sten cried out, and Frikka couldn’t distinguish the pulse of his channel from the kick and spurt of his cock until he pitched forward.
Their lips met, tongues entwining, and it wasn’t until Sten’s cock softened and slipped free of Frikka did they cease, staring at one another breathlessly. “I have chosen you, Drake. For this heat and all my others, until my fire burns no more. I swear to you.”
“And whether our union brings pups into this world or not, I will treasure your body and choice. You have deemed me worthy, and I will wear your approval on my body into the next world, where I will tell theworsttales of our conquests.” Sten grinned and Frikka laughed, a full, chest-shaking thing that he’d not felt in full since he was young. “Do you know why Tyr released me? Let us come together?”
