Page 32 of Delinquent Dette
When Sten got to the foyer and opened the door, Sile strode in, dressed casually in a shirt and shorts, two of his pups in tow, followed by one of Hallr’s, Ulric. He and Lei, one of Sile’s Drake pups, were thick as thieves.
“Go on, I can smell it up here.” Sile waved his hand. “We’re staying the night. Leicester is coming and Sacha will be here come morning to take their pups.”
Sten sighed with relief and waved him on before navigating the maze of their house to the basement where Weston had built theirbombproofand certainly termite-proof vault.
When he opened the vault doors, the scent of heat and nestblossom oil drew him in, and Frikka sat up from his spot in their cozy nest, glancing away from his phone. “Was waiting for you.”
“Reading something sexy?” Sten gave Frikka a flick of his brow.
“The stock market. So, yes.” Frikka stuck his tongue out and threw his phone to the side before sliding free of a flattering dark-blue cotton shirt that bore the darkened stains of sweat. The nesting room’s temperature had been set to a coolness that would be more comfortable to him, but sometimes it wasn’t enough for Dettes in the throes of ecstasy.
They were from colder climates, too, so there was that.
Frikka opened his arms, welcoming Sten into them with a warm smile. “How are the pups?”
“As content as ever. As long as there are adults around and pups to play with, they’re happy, well-adjusted runts. Ours were never that easy.”
“Ah, what I’ve noticed is that the more there are, the more they police themselves.” Frikka hummed as Sten slid into their nest, caging him in with his arms.
“Mmm… I see.” Sten leaned down to give Frikka the lightest of kisses. “Are you sure?”
“That they police themselves?” Frikka pulled his head away and raised a brow.
“That you want pups.” Sten pushed up and held himself at arm’s length.
“What kind of question is that? Of course I want pups.” Frikka pulled Sten down so their mouths met, breathing one another in. Pesky things like pants got in the way of them grinding against one another and migrated to the outer edge of the nest with a few awkward shuffling kicks and wiggles, half-hard cocks brushing as they came back together. “Do you?”
“Of course, but not if you don’t. It’s your body that will grow them and your hole that will suffer.” Sten chuckled as Frikka blanched.
“Suffer? My hole is going to enjoy every minute up until the hour or two of pain. And then, as the Dette’s mind works, the curse of forgetfulness will tell me that it never hurt.” Frikka waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not like blanks are painless, either. They’re easier.”
In all his years, Sten didn’t know that part. Dettes tended to lay their blanks in private. “Perhaps in time, the doctors can figure out a way to stop it.”
“Perhaps. But for now? Knot me, Drake.” Frikka swept a leg over his hip and ground their groins together, bringing Sten back to the moment with another kiss and wandering hand with sharp nails dragging his flesh.
Sten kissed Frikka for a moment longer before sitting up and flipping the impatient Dette onto his front. He liked having Frikka face-to-face, but Dettes needed to be bred from behind for the best chance of slaking their lust. That, and staring at Frikka’s ass was glorious in heat. His pale cheeks spread, pinkhole slick and dripping. He opened so easily for Sten’s fingers—one then another, breathily praising him the entire time.
Beautiful noises. Always beautiful, with Frikka. His whimpers and moans were like song, a chant and cry to the gods, praying for glorious release. And Sten was the answer. He pulled his fingers free of Frikka’s pliant hole, rimming them around the opening before slicking his cock with the excess. He was open, but Frikka could be so very tight when on edge, and it was no different than when Sten lined his cock up and pushed forward, breeching him. Every inch drew a noise of soft pleasure from Frikka until Sten bottomed out with a satisfying slap.
Frikka clawed at the soft blankets in the nest, ones that Sten realized would be a chore to clean by the end of everything. Frikka could get messy. Perhaps it was all Dettes, but Sten only had experience with the one.Plenty of Drakes at sea, though.Frikka might have had other Drakes, but they didn’t discuss it. He was Sten’s whole world from the moment they first played together as tots.
Hundreds of years of love went through Sten’s heart, pumping blood to the one place a Dette needed it most.His cock.He pushed deep, pulled back, and sawed in and out of Frikka with a few agonizingly slow thrusts, making him whimper and beg just the right amount. Not too much—no, just enough to make him curl and push back, wanting more. “Easy, Dette.”
Frikka panted and halted, mostly because Sten tightened his grip, keeping him from moving. “I’ll give you what you need, Dette.”
Frikka made a whine of protest that abruptly turned into a howl of pleasure as Sten slammed home and broke into an eager pace. The noise squelched into a choked cry of pleasure when Sten reached forward, grabbed Frikka’s hair, and held his head back, immobilizing him to take everything he had to give. Witheach tug of his Dette’s hair, he clamped tighter, body shaking. Sten knew what was polite. “Dettes first, my love.”
Sten rode through a shaking spasm, Frikka’s orgasm beginning almost on command. With his hand now free, Sten circled around, grasped Frikka’s leaking cock and pumped in time with his thrusts until glorious streaks of cum coated his fingers and the blankets below. And, with permission given, Sten let himself go, too, knot swelling over a few seconds, stretching Frikka until he could move no more, locking in as hard, generous pulses of cum coated his insides.
Frikka groaned and ground his ass back, cock still bucking and pulsing in a prolonged state of release the likes of which Dettes only achieved in their deepest throes.
The scent of nestblossom oil rose about him, mingling with the heat, and Sten found himself ready for the challenge within moments of his knot softening. Almost as if he were in heat, himself.
Three times, he took Frikka from behind before he finally took the Dette from the front. Every sticky pulse rubbed between them, the damp friction creating raw spots against Sten’s chest. “Dette. Do I ever tell you how much I love you?”
Frikka drunkenly wrapped his arms over Sten’s shoulders, around his neck as he joined in the gyration of their hips, the mating dance as old as time itself. “Every day. But I do not tell you enough. I call you stupid Drake, but it means I love you. It means I do not fear you. I trust you to hold the key to me, to protect me when vulnerable, and to dry my tears.”
“If I were better, there’d be no tears to begin with.” Sten threw his head back and groaned, his heart beating with hard pulses that thundered in his head.
