Capítulo 84: Beginning of Chapter 27
Rue
She woke up steaming—sweat all over, pinned nasty against the sheets, a cock wedged inside her, pulsing hot cream, euphoria roaring in her belly. An Alpha was ghosting over the nape of her neck, breathing hot and crazy. There was a finger trailing over her nipple. A hiss and she had her palm slapped against open lips—his tongue was out like a petulant little puppy wanting a lick, incisors nicking her thumb.
The Alpha kissed her pulse.
Halcyon? He whined, hands slotting over her waist, hips gyrating, second cock slotting over her clit, the other fucking deep in her folds. Both with a steadily subsiding knot. What the fuck? Her heart was stuttering too fast from the smells. Rue was scent drunk on Alpha, high on cum. Valentino and Altair were swinging in their sleep, cocks half-mast— just a little limp.
Fucking hell.
She'd lost it maybe an hour ago, entangled in Valentino's flying dicks. The nets had been swaying as if they were out at sea, all erotic bondage and shibari kind of annoying. Altair had called it a sex swing when he'd finally dislodged from her after an eternity, boneless and slack against the ropes, holding on for dear life. He'd sank like a marionette with snapped strings.
"Sorry," he'd wheezed weakly, "I need to catch my breath."
The Alphas waiting had snapped teeth for a chance to fuck her, practically begging for it when her Heat had continued strong and potent. Altair had laughed and had promised to go again, coaxing her back with a thumb on her hipbone. He promised cunnilingus first and then round two. But they knew he couldn't do it, not with the drip of his feathers, practically melting to the ground, the agonising slow deflating of his knot, and the twitching in his groin as if her pussy had sucked the life out of him.
Plus, he was still cumming, weak ropes that spewed all over his body.
She agreed to Valentino because, well, if Altair was fucking with her about the soulmate thing then Valentino would be the fail-safe. And he looked good, all dewy, and needy. He smelled better—stinking the room with spicy, smoky honey. Her Omega found him fucking delectable, and the ache started all over again just seconds after Altair's cum had slipped sloppily out of her. Her insides had been throbbing, cunt drooling.
Altair barely helped.
Maybe she needed the Poseidon.
In his desperation, Valentino had shown her his soul tattoos lined up on his dick like bad golden ink—her handwriting. And it was long as fuck, stretched all over the shaft, underlined by a pulsing vein. She'd looked at it, stifled the need to laugh because for fuck's sake, what the fuck?
"You said it was on your collarbone," she'd drawled, toes catching on his cock, teasing the frills of his frenulum, rubbing the drooling tip. "It wasn't this fucking long." His cock stretched the length of her feet. She felt high on endorphins, crazy with the loss of her virginity.
"C-can't flash my dick in school—" He'd sucked his lower lip, stared at her toes hard. "A-and…"
"Val's a late bloomer," Altair's laugh bubbled from his swing. He looked like he was dying, but still, a smile twitched on his cheeks. "His dick was smaller. The tat grew with his cock after his first Rut. It started with an F for failure." Rue choked back a snort.
"I'm a grower," Valentino had flashed, a scowl inky in blue eyes, curls like a waterfall, halo at the tips. Altair landed a kiss on her cheek like an idiot, stealing more pecks in her hair as if they were genuine lovers. And maybe her heart would grow warm if his cock weren't already swelling to its full mast—slobbering and chubby with the need for more. And his smile wasn't all devious and greedy—palms meandering over the slope of her breast like a brute.
She batted him away with a fist and a snarl. "A fake tattoo, temporary, rubs out with water—"
"Wanna rub it out?" Valentino had growled, weaponised the situation with too big hands. He pried her legs apart, the pad of his thumb tapping against her throbbing, swollen clit. Two slow, heavy circles and she squirmed, slick spurting, juices glossy on his nails. He licked his lips, nervous tongue pressed to the side of his cheek. "You can fuck it and see if it'll wear."
She let him because she was horny, spitting curses and swearing like a sailor.
But he cried when they fucked, started sobbing when he slid his cock into her, buttery smooth and sinking deep into her suckling core. It was all fat tears down angry cheeks and a darkened scowl because he loved it too much. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide the adoration that grew from him — eyes starry wide and galaxy-holding as if struck by Cupid's arrow, unable to tear his gaze away as if he thought he might lose her.
He might.
Valentino rammed into her, desperation-driven as he would be to his first fuck toy fresh into puberty. His cock was longer, whereas Altair's was girthier. And his hands were always sliding, fingers over her throat, circling nipples, then meandering down to stroke her clit—two fingers pinching. He knew what to do, knew where to touch, to cause the spasms and the squirt, to turn her cunt suckling and open, reeling him in deeper to kiss her cervix.
He was fucking amazing.
But there were the sniffles, the drool and the wobbling lips when it got too good. He flushed like summer, cried like rain, so warm he radiated heat, and there was a wildfire inside her which he stoked and coaxed to grow with each thrust. His tails curled over her body, stroking sensitive skin, curling over the back of her head—soft, warm, like a lover.
Gentle.
It was hard not to tell him that it was good, hard for her to not moan and twist, eyes squinting through the haze of an impending orgasm. Because were his pupils switching colours as if possessed? And the others were so oddly quiet in the room, staring slack-jawed as if seeing something else, feeling something else.
Halcyon would never be this quiet, he should be wailing—
A sob and she was creaming all over his dick, soaking the curls on his pelvis, mouth open as the head of his cock punched, pulverised, and destroyed the sweet spots inside her. She kicked and his tails snapped to her ankles, pushing her legs apart. The stupid shit took it as a chance to ravage her, had his flying dicks spreading her thighs, twisting her nipples, flicking her clit.
He turned her on his cock, hitched her up higher and pushed her apart. Thighs spread, he had her blushing and on wide display for the other two to watch—speared by his dick, folds parting, clit swollen and glistening. He had her bouncing on him like some kind of broken Omega. Halcyon and Altair were both watching, cocks in fists, rubbing themselves raw. And Rue was blushing so red she'd felt lightheaded, sliding sweaty over him with each nasty squelch of his cock fucking into her cunt.
He cried, and yet he didn't fucking cum like a champion.
Rue must have orgasmed three times before he was done. His hips finally growing clumsy with each stroke, crammed deep as if it might be their last. Pleasure roared, and then Valentino's body curved, spine arched into a deep 'c', balls slapping against her ass cheeks. Two strokes and he wailed, spasming deep long streaks of melting white.
"R-Rue," he'd screamed, "hah—Rue." His hips were jerking, a crown of sweat beading crystals on his forehead.
It was enough to get her squirting juices all over him, another orgasm that pulled his cock deeper, his growing knot deeper. When he finally knotted her, he was wailing through it, eyes scrunched shut and lips pressed together as if it hurt. But he didn't fucking stop playing with her clit, tried to press his lips to her throat, gnawing at the air to claim her.
She punched him in the neck. And when he finally dislodged from her tender raw pussy after what felt like hours of pumping his cum into her, it was with a big wide grin because the tattoo remained glowing and pretty on a ruddy red cock, wet and juicy from their lovemaking.
It was real.
Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder