Page 81 of A Subtle Scar
I looked over to the bed. Chandler had made his way under the covers. Fuck. Cradling my cock on an ice bag to make it calm down was not an option, but it should be.
“Options, sure. Patchouli will do.”
I grabbed the clear bottle and went to join Chandler on the right side of the bed while Ronny put the basket on his vanity and approached from the left.
“Why do you have such a huge bed anyway? Do you have threesomes regularly?” Chandler asked when I slid in next to him.
Ronny put a hand on his hip, standing a foot away from the bed. I rolled my eyes because I knew what was coming. The damn show-off.
“I am very picky about my threesomes. In fact, I am so picky, I will only allow one configuration from here on out. I prefer you and Hermes to anyone else now. I do on occasion like to sleep with my wings out, however.”
He unfolded them, shaking the feathers a little before stretching them out so the diffuse light from the curtain made them shimmer, showed the dark hues of purple and blue that came out only when the all-black feathers were hit just right with the light. It was like a pretty oil spill in moonlight.
“Huh. Lucifer has wings too. Yours are kind of fluffier,” our boyfriend said.
“Well, I do a lot more flying and less fighting with them,” Ronny said and finally joined us, his wings still out. “I also do cuddling with them.”
“You’re distracting Chandler from getting all his tense muscles loosened,” I said. “Baby, turn around. Perfect. Uhm. I’ll just straddle you. You know. So I have the better angle.”
Chandler sighed. “I already said I was down to fuck. I meant that.”
“But baby—”
“You only have until midnight,” Chandler said. “And you’re both rock hard. Better get to it before your time runs out.”
Ronny and I exchanged looks, and Ronny brushed my back with his right wing.
“Let Hermes make you feel good, and then we’ll see,” Ronny said, which was confusing. I had no trouble admitting that I was out of my depth when it came to fully understanding Chandler’s pain though, and Ronny probably did know best. I squeezed some of the patchouli oil into my palms and warmed it before I began.
In taking care of our boyfriend tonight, I would do what Ronny told me, without question.
Chapter Twenty-One
Hermeswasreallygoodwith his hands, I had to give him that. I couldn’t stand massages, especially the ones that went really deep. That’s what I liked about a good flogging: it brought a similar release, but in a context where all the steps were planned out before, where I could set my boundaries, and move on. And flogging usually involved a lot less touching.
I was failing in the boundaries department, and when Hermes moved from not just spreading the oil to pressing into spots that released tensions I’d not even known I was holding, that became doubly clear.
I balled my hands under the pillows but found another set of hands pull them out and gently unfurl them with steady force. Charon’s fingers, soothing the muscles in my palms and wrists, were slick with oil as well.
I was doubly exposed, it seemed, instead of getting doubly fucked. If I’d had the energy, I’d have…I had no idea. Feeling their magic all around me all this time must’ve lulled me into submitting more totally than I ever had, and while Charon forced the tension out of my arms, Hermes moved from one knot to the other, meticulously releasing, releasing.
A skilled massage could lay bare deeper things than tight muscles and sinews, and I was feeling that now.
If it had been just sex it would have been a transaction in a way. The fee I had to pay the ferryman and his buddy for being a crybaby. But they wouldn’t take my currency. They wanted more.
I smiled against the sheet. This? It would end in disappointment for them. I had nothing more to give, and they’d find that out eventually.
Right now, there was nothing I could do to stop what was happening, not with the deal hanging over my head. I cried some more, or maybe it was my eyes, watering from being so close to the sheets. Charon moved toward massaging my scalp and cooed.
And I was so fucking tired, physically, emotionally. It absolutely didn’t bother me that I could occasionally feel Hermes’s tight balls as he moved along my body because his hands demanded all my focus, strong and sure. Had I ever been touched like this, with such care, without it being sexual?
I didn’t think so, and as much as I waited, a sexual touch didn’t come.
I could tell I was falling asleep, and I was having less success with keeping my thoughts in order, so when I imagined a life where I would be held like this, between these two immortals, held and…cared for, the image stuck. It wouldn’t leave me.
Over the scent of the warm oil, I could smell them, cloves and cedarwood. Charon’s feathers touched me, Hermes’s hands held me. It was a dangerous dream, a dream I shouldn’t be dreaming, but sleep took me, and I did.
“Vin! Come catch me if you can!”
