Polaris Skies: Ch 26

Polaris Skies: Legend of the Bai Book 3 by Chapel Orahamm, Mobile home in snow with green glow against storm clouds

NSFW: Erotica

Inside the double-wide, the group found sparse living quarters. Basic couch, table, chairs, cabinets hanging off their frames. The flooring had rotten through in a few spots in the hallways. The walls were free of black mould, though, and the group was thankful for that. Dust settled thickly on all the surfaces, casting a fine white sheen against the walls.

“I think we’ll be safe in here for a little while, guys,” Deck said as he checked all the rooms on either side of the main living area. He returned to the group, rubbing his hands along his arms to warm up.

“Probably for the best.” Sun Hee puffed, wiping sweat accumulating under her beanie. Her cheeks splotched in rosy hues. Glassy, her eyes flitted from the room to roam over Deck’s form in frenzied inconsistency. Zola leaned her head on Sun Hee’s shoulder.

Nat watched them, unease slipping down his spine. Deck, Benj, Yeller were all cold by the way they were huddling and shivering. The women and him, though, were warm and panting. The space felt like the central heating was on full blast. Maybe they had caught a cold of some kind, come down with a sickness. It hadn’t been that far of a walk they covered that day, ten – fifteen miles at most.

The wind set to howling as they settled in for the afternoon. They wiped away as much dust from the main room as they could bear while the metal roof shook under the onslaught. Windows rattled in their sashes as a wave of sleet bore down on the side of the building. The group cowered nervously, suddenly not entirely sure if the mobile home would stand up against the storm.

Nat crouched into himself with the next nerve-shattering blast of wind. He had been fighting a headache since the beginning of their morning walk. It was leaving him light-headed. He stumbled, trying to reach the couch. A weird buzz in the back of his brain, and the fire in his stomach told him he was probably going to puke. Yeller and Hana reached to steady him. She flinched away, leaving Yeller to support Nat.

Deck sighed. “Hana, Yeller, you guys take Nat and get him comfortable. The rest of us’ll see ’bout getting this place warm and maybe some food.” He held up the bags of cans they had pilfered out of the old gas station, “We’ll let you know when we’ve got something put together, ‘k?” He waved the three towards a pair of doors at one end of the mobile home. The doors turned out to lead to a small bedroom and a questionable bathroom.

Yeller and Hana eased Nat down onto the mattress in the little bedroom they were assigned to. The trailer house seams were curling from the walls. A halo of tobacco tar ran along the ceiling edge. The queen mattress and frame sat beneath the window, looking out at the old gas station. The blinds had collapsed into a disintegrated pile of dust and metal years ago.

Nat stared vacantly at the floor, trying to calm his stomach. He was burning up. The wolves were restless under his skin. He reached for them to find out what their deal was. They neglected a response, only growing more agitated at his interference.

“Here, come on, Hana.” Yeller motioned the woman over. “Help me get these bandages off.” They slipped Nat’s pea coat off, his shoulders stiff to the movement.

Deck and Benj, during their stay in the cave, had snuck back into town and rummaged warm clothes for everyone. Where they found the winter gear was anyone’s guess.

Following the coat, with work, Yeller and Hana stripped off Nat’s waffle weave long sleeves. It had been the warmer option versus a button-up. It wasn’t hurting him as much to raise his hands above his head recently. Lastly, a compression tank top was used to help hold all of his bindings in place. This one took more effort to get on and off, but it had been well worth the extra time Deck and Benj had spent searching for it.

Freed of his overclothes, Nat looked like a wrapped mummy.

Conas atá tú?” Yeller inquired.

Nat traced the baseboard with his eyes. He wasn’t cold like he thought he’d be. His skin practically buzzed. The loss of the compression top hadn’t helped him like he thought it would. “Te.” He licked his lips, uncertain how to describe the suffocating constriction in his chest. He rubbed at the bandaging on his bicep that held his left spica on.

“We’ll see if we can help that.” Yeller unravelled the wraps around his ribs. Hana gathered up the cloth and rolled them back into their little bundles. “The blizzard might be rather fortuitous. He needs to rest more than we’ve been able to let him without these things on,” Yeller mumbled to her. She nodded a mute reply.

The holes in Nat’s shoulders were steadily improving. Many of the bruises had yellowed. The hand print on his throat had turned a sickly green shade, and the fist-sized mark on his side was still taking its sweet time dissipating. The red zigzags on his ribs had lightened considerably since the first day.

With the bandages around his ribs removed, Nat finally inhaled fully, releasing the tension in his neck giving him most of his headache. His stomach still burned. It ran up his skin, prickling and irksome, demanding his attention fall on glimpses of muscle and curves. “Thanks,” he whispered. Hands settled on both of his shoulders, one small and dainty, the other large and calloused. He didn’t dare look at either of them, lest he burn away to nothing.

“It’s okay,” Yeller and Hana said in unison, flinching as their skin made contact. They snatched their hands away from Nat’s shoulders as heat reddened the tips of their ears. Nat sighed, sinking to the edge of the bed. His chest tightened, and frustration constricted the back of his neck below his skull. Tears threatened at the corner of his eyes with his desire for everything to be normal again. The timid dance everyone had been circling him was getting old. With some work, he was able to quiet his emotions while waiting for Hana and Yeller to figure out what they were doing.

Sven? Nat reached for the wolf, accepting the creature’s comforting brush when the abyss threatened at the edge of his being.


What should I do? Nat tried to crawl into himself. The cold darkness beckoned and promised a solution. It was terrifying, but it was the demon he knew now, and maybe it was better than the world outside. He couldn’t navigate the light much longer with the heat building and frustration threatening to squash him. His skin tingled at every brushing glance of fabric and hands. It was singing, demanding, rolling, and he couldn’t take it.

Well, first thing first, don’t go climbing in here; it’s already crowded and hard to get you out when you turn into a miserable little ball of self-pity. Sven bit back, pushing Nat to stay away from the starless black.

Why did I even bother asking you? Nat collapsed into the comment, his frustration washing into a haze of need. A hug. A brush of a hand along his back in reassurance. A shoulder to lean on.

Good question. Why don’t you go embarrass yourself? That always seems to help the tension in the room. Maybe you should have asked Tereza? Sven badgered. Nat, done with the creature’s grouchy mood, turned his attention to the other wolf.

Tereza? Nat reached for her.

Dijete? Tereza returned, her fur brushing under his skin, raising the heat another degree. Her voice rippled along his nerve endings as shattered glittering glass and punctured his joints.

Why do you have to hurt every time I talk to you? Whatever. Do you have any guidance? Nat implored, a throbbing line of electricity running from his left eye to the back of his head with the conversation.

With Sylvi still here… Hmmm. Can’t for long, but want me to take over for a while? Tereza offered. Nat blanched at the thought, the concept of pain uppermost as he pursued this conversation. He remembered what had happened last time. With Yeller and Hana studiously avoiding eye contact with each other, he figured it might not be such a bad idea. Tereza was Cashia’s mate after all, and maybe Hana would feel more comfortable at the moment talking to another woman.

All right, take the reigns; maybe I can get some rest. Probably coming down sick. I can’t take the pressure in my chest anymore. Nat let Tereza forward, and he receded into the background to watch. Pinpricks shot through his skin and dug into his organs as Tereza took the proffered perch.

Yeller and Hana sensed a shift in Nat and looked down to find his general demeanour changed. He settled his shoulders to sit more squarely, elongating his neck slightly. Yeller held a startled gasp, watching as Nat’s wolf ears grew out. Sure, the women had their fun playing with that change back in the cave, but why was Nat doing it now? They weren’t his usual white, indicative of Sven. They were reddish-brown. Yeller cringed as Cashia went silent at the sight. “Nat?” Yeller slipped a finger along Nat’s middle finger to draw his attention.

“Cashia?” Tereza asked, turning with a smile.

Yeller landed with a thud in the blackness at the back of his mind.

“Tereza, it has been some time.” Cashia kissed her hand. She used the leverage to rise, smoothly manoeuvred around him, skimming across his abs to his back. Rising on tiptoe, she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“It has been too long, my dear. You know, it’s the end of winter? Poor human stuck with the last of Sylvi and me. He’s not feeling too well,” she cooed. Both Nat and Yeller blinked in the back of their minds as they parsed her comment. Yeller was distinctly aware, though, that Tereza’s words were causing a myriad of reactions in Cashia and in himself in return.

Well, what did you expect? Sven asked Nat as he settled himself into a ball to fall asleep.

What is she doing? Nat gulped.

Playing with your emotions. Sven answered back languidly.

You knew she’d do this, didn’t you? Nat seethed.

Oh, yeah. She’s the perfect individual to settle situations like this. Sven shrugged.

Should I stop her? Nat asked, trying to ease the radiating pain running down his spine while Tereza was front.

I’m gonna leave that up to you. I think it’s more fun to watch. Though, the way she works, you might get slapped in the process; just warning you. Sven shifted deeper into the dark corners. Nat sat stunned in the back of his mind, a tremor running through his subconscious.

“Tereza?” Hana asked, touching her hand to draw her attention. Tereza swivelled to study the woman. Hana shrunk back at the whirling eye colour, her lungs fighting to drag in air. Her heart hit the inside of her rib cage. Heat flushed her body, electricity tracing whorls under her skin.

“I wonder, Cashia?” Tereza eased around her partner and purposefully stepped toward Hana. Tereza reached out to her, gently gliding thin fingers into Hana’s hair. She pulled Hana forward until they fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces. Every curve moulded against hard muscle. Hana, not sure how to respond, melted as lips nuzzled her neck and cheek. Tereza turned a piercing eye on Cashia over Hana’s shoulder. “I wonder who’s having the most difficulty now?” she whispered, nibbling Hana’s lips until she opened to the pressure and their tongues could dance.

Please don’t kill me, Hana, Yeller! Nat screamed in his personal abyss, razors dragging parallel lines below the skin covering his shoulders. The heat in his stomach was melting into a familiar tingling numbness that made forbidden promises. A roar at the back of his head he had originally thought was a headache resembled something else more clearly now that he found himself dragged along by the creature.

Sven‽ Nat demanded the white wolf’s attention.

Something wrong?

Is Tereza? Nat gulped, fixated on Tereza’s antics as red hot pokers dragged his scapula.

Is she what? Sven rolled over.

Don’t make me say this… Nat begged. The image of Sun Hee and Zola flashed through his head. Red cheeks, feverish. They hadn’t been paying much attention to the road either. Were they suffering the same feelings? Sven snorted in the darkness. Is Tereza in heat? Nat’s voice cracked in his head.

Wow, and I thought there were no brains up here. Sven wiggled, his paws flipping.

Tension gathered through Nat’s subconscious. What’s going to happen to me if she’s in such a state?

If Yeller doesn’t take over soon, Cashia’s probably going to fulfil some of your fantasies instead. Sven replied.

Cashia pulled Tereza away from Hana at about the same time Hana landed a solid slap to Nat’s face. To add insult to injury, Tereza pushed Nat forward and went to recede, his wolf ears changing to his typical white.

“Tereza!” Cashia demanded.

“I’m so sorry, Hana!” Nat begged at the same point. Cashia pushed against him hard, a fierce kiss crushing his lips.

“Damn it,” Cashia spat, “Nat, give me back my mate!”

Nat stalled against the tower that was Yeller when possessed by Cashia. Dripping acid. Blackness. Hands pulled at his skin. Other memories flooded in uninvited. He pulled at the sensation of rope slipping along his wrists. “Ruben, tóg go bog é!” Nat pleaded, hoping that might push Yeller forward.

“Not happening this time. Give me back my woman,” Cashia growled, fighting both his own emotions and the battle Yeller was putting up, trying to come forward. An acrid punch of fear permeated the room.

A bang at the door startled all of them. They looked up to find Deck, a displeased frown knotting his brow. Hana was close to tears, her face red, and Yeller, his hands were wrapped around Nat’s shoulders in a death grip. Nat’s eyes had sunk into the hollows, his face pale, white wolf ears laying flat to his head. “What the hell is going on in here‽” demanded their leader.

“Give me Dietrich,” Cashia demanded, retaining possession of Nat.

“Let go of him, Cashia.” Dietrich barred his fangs.

“Not until I talk to my woman again,” Cashia hissed.

“Cashia, you and Tereza might enjoy an s/m relationship all you want, but you’re scaring him. You have better control than this, and you bloody know it.” Dietrich pointed to Nat. Cashia’s gaze dropped to Nat’s large green eyes. He was chewing his lip, trying to keep from sobbing. Red blotches covered his cheeks. He was shaking. Exasperated, Cashia released his grip. Nat tumbled back to the edge of the bed.

“Now, I want an orderly explanation of what’s going on here. I know you don’t go for humiliation,” Dietrich demanded.

“Hana and I got Nat’s bandage off when Tereza took over. She proceeded to greet me and kiss Hana before disappearing again. I’m just trying to get him to give me Tereza back,” Cashia summarised.

“Figured Tereza was going to butt in soon. The others are in the same boat right now; I hope you realise that. So, as it is, Heinrich and I have our hands full. I have enough to deal with here,” Dietrich chastised. “You three,” he pointed at Yeller, Nat, and Hana, “need to sort your emotions out. And Cashia, Tereza, Sylvi, and Sven, it’s not nice to play the kids’ like this. Talk about a hormone problem.” He slammed the door shut behind him.

Yeller pushed past Cashia’s crumbling defences. “Nat?” he knelt in front of his love.

“Um, I’m…I’m okay,” Nat bit out, trying to suppress the shaking in his shoulders, the pressing numb desire in his gut, and the slime of cold concrete rubbing against his memories.

“Damn it, that wasn’t a good idea. Why did Tereza come out? You never let her out,” Yeller demanded.

“It hurts.” Nat pushed the heel of his hand against his eye.

“What hurts? Are you okay? I’m sorry for letting Cashia get away with what he did.” Yeller lifted his hands to make sure he wasn’t touching Nat’s skin.

“Tereza. She feels like acid when she comes out. I don’t let her out because it feels like my skin is getting pulled off me with a pair of tweezers, and it doesn’t go away quickly.” He tightened one arm around his other, balling up on the bed.

“Oh, Nat.” Yeller settled a hand on his knee.

Nat dragged in a harried breath, fighting the swamping heat trickling sweat down his back and the restriction threatening to strangle him. He took in the rattle of the metal roof in the snowstorm, counting the reverberations to centre himself and escape the pain. Four hundred later and he dislodged his hands to settle one on Yeller’s fingers, able to drag in a full breath without crying. The itch of need scrabbled about under his breastbone and at his hips, and he dearly wished that he wasn’t falling into a million pieces.

“Nat?” Hana whispered. Trembling fingers pressed swollen lips.

He sighed, trying to gain some sense of self-preservation. “I don’t know how to act when I’m around both of you at the same time, so I went and asked Sven for some help, and he said Tereza could fix the situation. She said she didn’t have a lot of time but could see about helping, so I let her out.” He looked up at both Hana and Yeller beseechingly. “Honest. I didn’t know she was planning to do that. I didn’t know she would do that. I should have after last time. I’m such a moron. I’m so sorry, Hana. I know I promised you that I wouldn’t let Sven do that to you, but I forgot about Tereza.” His fingers fumbled at a wrinkle of his pants. His ears had lowered balefully. “Can I talk to Cashia, Yeller?” Nat asked, his nail catching in a loose thread in the hole in his jeans.

Yeller glanced at him carefully. Cashia. Do you wanna explain exactly what is going on? And you better apologize for terrorizing my lover or else I’ll find a way to draw and quarter you when I get you out of me. Yeller demanded.

Heat. Cashia responded, low. He sounded guarded, almost in pain.

Heat? Yeller asked, not following.

Two females in a male. Who would have thought? Cashia asked.

Cashia, you cryptic bastard, stop talking in riddles and tell me what the hell is going on with Nat and don’t you dare dodge this apology or else I’m taking a long walk into that blizzard out there. Yeller hissed.

Tereza and Sylvi have gone into heat. Cashia curled around to sit with his head down. Yeller regarded the beast in his subconscious with barely restrained fury. The creature continued his explanation, but Yeller had given up on the frustrating monologue and the tornadic demand building in his gut at the flitting images Cashia failed to keep hidden. He forcibly pushed the wolf forward.

He hadn’t expected such a steep reaction from Cashia or himself. The wolf ears. He had never thought of such a thing before. A blowtorch lit in his gut when he first saw Nat’s ears. He never thought he was that kind of a person, but it had a certain draw.

Cashia stood up, easing his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight to create a more powerful, nonchalant stance.

“Cashia? You and Tereza…?” Nat swallowed. He rose, challenging, uncomfortable at being looked down on.

“We’re not the most conventional of lovers.” Cashia shrugged, avoiding Nat’s eyes, aware that several spots of blue bruising on his arms were his doing.

“I don’t know why she did that or why she suddenly went and hid. Sven and Tereza are avoiding me now. At least the running needles have stopped. I promise to let you talk to her when I can get her to come out again.” Nat crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing a thumb along the tender spots under his collarbone. He couldn’t shake the burning, heady sensation drowning his senses and rendering his decision-making skills useless. The more he fought it, the more the cactus-barbed memories dug under his nails and into the soft spot at his lower back. Relaxing into the warmth and giving in to the numbness was a trip in trusting himself. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of that yet.

“And I promise to restrain myself better. I apologize for scaring you and hurting you.” Cashia pushed his hair out of his face. Nat studied the floor and nodded, a sense of foreboding and relief mixing in his gut, his ears drooping.

Hana eased onto the bed next to where he stood. Nat held himself from touching her, aware of her proximity. She had regained her composure. “You don’t know how to act around us when it’s the three of us?” She asked, her voice soft under the beat of snow on the window. Nat’s ears flipped toward her. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Do any of us?” Yeller supplied, covering for Nat. They had come to some kind of mutual agreement. Nat glanced away, his ears continuing their twitch. Yeller, intrigued, skimmed the furry softness.

Nat met his eyes, drowning under the new nerve senses. His breathing shallowed, cheeks flaming red, and leaned into the touch. It felt too good not to.

“Are they soft?” Hana whispered. Nat, enraptured under the touch, melted as her voice climbed up his spine.

When he wanted to shy away and hide, Yeller captured his gaze, rubbing a spot more firmly. “Very.” Yeller’s pitch lowered, smouldering. His gaze flicked to Hana momentarily. Though she didn’t have all of Sylvi, she too was probably going through the same feelings. Her cheeks were flushed, only adding to his suspicions. Her glassy gaze was focused on Nat’s wolf ears. “Touch them,” Yeller commanded quietly.

A pit dropped in Nat’s gut at the tone. It slithered over him, rubbed against him. Heat skittered up his face. She crept behind him. Resting a hand on his shoulder, as if reassuring him she was there or asking permission, she ran her fingertip along the soft fur. Yeller’s hand massaged one side. His ear flicked as Hana tested the tip of it, watching it bounce. He relaxed into the attention. Nat let out a harried breath, unaware that he did so.

A throb ran through Yeller. Nat’s eyes had glazed over under the onslaught. He swallowed at the sight.

“They’re so fluffy,” Hana admired faintly.

“Mm,” Yeller grunted. He watched Hana’s other hand settle on Nat’s side, below his spica. Yeller’s gaze wavered across his chest. He was having his own distinctive problems. Cashia mercilessly fed the fire burning in his gut. Yeller slid fingers into Nat’s silvery-white hair, down to his chin.

Nat closed his eyes, enraptured, yet nervous as a slight black fog tried to dash across his brain. He turned into the hand, lips grazing Yeller’s thumb. Yeller’s breath hitched as he watched Nat’s tongue dart out to taste the saltiness of his skin. Heated breath bathed his hand. Yeller leaned in, gently pressing his thigh into Nat’s crotch, enjoying the groan that escaped his muffled throat. “Tá tú go hálainn1,” Yeller whispered in his ear, rubbing suggestively.

Nat glanced up, embarrassed. “Tá tú ar cheann chun labhairt2.” His voice hitched at the friction Yeller was causing. Hana’s hands wandered on his side. It swept up, barely brushing his already sensitive nipples. Swallowing, he averted his eyes from Yeller’s prodding gaze. He nipped gently at Yeller’s thumb, nicking it with a fang.

“You know,” Hana’s voice poured over him like honey, “Sun Hee and Zola figured out how to grow out their tails too.”

Yeller’s met her eyes at Nat’s shoulder. He didn’t need to know that. Damn it, I want to see it. No. Yes. The images infiltrating his brain brushed against already sensitive nerve endings. Cashia chuckled in the dark spaces.

His gaze flickered back to Nat’s feathered eyelashes. He did not need to have that picture in his head. Cashia laughed indulgently as swirling images flashed in and out of his desires. Yeller’s breathing shallowed out as a sweet numbness settled across his gut, a pinpoint throb interrupting him. He quaked, trying to regain his voice. It came out rough. “Show me.”

Nat, lost in the heady high of heat, reached for the button of his pants. He fumbled, his fingers shaking. Yeller, impatient, flipped the buttons for him. Nat shivered as a separate pair of hands rubbed against the v of his hips, easing the waistband of his jeans down. A shiver ran up his back. The material pooled around his feet. He stepped out of them, flicking them to a corner. A tightness crawled through his chest, and his lower gut as the heat abated for a moment, letting his mind connect to that abyss perpetually floating at the edges. “Don’t look at me,” he pleaded, trying to cover dark spots lingering around his hips and thighs.

“Do you not want to do this? We can stop.” Yeller drew Nat’s fingers into his. “You’ve already dealt with Cashia going off the deep end; I can’t see this as good for your mental health right now.”

“I want the burning in my chest to stop.” Nat pulled Yeller’s hands closer, placing one over his heart, one on the hip Hana wasn’t brushing. “Make it stop.”

“I can’t quite make the room dark if you don’t want us seeing you. Want your clothes back?” Yeller crowded closer, giving him a tower to hide within.

“No. I want to not be reminded of them.”

“Them? Sex might do that, Nat. We probably shouldn’t. Even if the wolves are being horny brats.” Yeller eased his arms around Nat’s waist to draw him closer as Hana backed up to give them space.

“Do you not feel it? I’m strung tight. You could pluck me, and I’d probably vibrate a clear c right now.” Nat drew in a breath to fight the shaking in his fingers.

“Cashia’s not playing fair, and my imagination is having a field day, but you’re setting the pace. If you don’t want to, we won’t, and the dogs can live with it.” He tucked Nat’s head under his chin, the white wolf ear flicking against his jaw.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be clean enough that I’ll feel like you can touch me without being disgusted.” His voice cracked in Yeller’s shoulder. He gulped, “but we need Sylvi whole, and I really need the burning to stop.”

“The wolves can eat mud. This is you. I can say it until I’m blue in the face: you will never disgust me, not for being you, not for what happened to you. If this is something you can’t or won’t do, then don’t. Stop sacrificing yourself for everyone else,” Yeller demanded.

“Maybe getting her out of my system will make this easier.”

“Is that something you want to do right now?”

“I’m being pulled in too many directions, I’m horny as hell, and I want to feel like I can be normal for a hot minute,” Nat confided.

Yeller regarded him sceptically before sweeping the room and the window with his eyes and sighed. “Why not?” Yeller’s low voice slid along Nat’s shoulders, sending heat spiralling. “Where’s that tail I’ve heard so much about?”

Nat’s ears flipped back at the question, a note dancing through the quiet of the room. In a couple of seconds, a fluffy white tail wagged well to the floor. Yeller’s breath caught in his throat. Heat wrapped around his gut and pooled low, throbbing an unending demand.

Nat relaxed into Hana’s massage down his back to the root of his tail. New nerve endings. She kissed the hollow spot between his shoulder blades. Yeller eased a hand behind his head. Nat leaned into the soft touch. Yeller tunnelled his fingers into his hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck. Nat swallowed, fire racing through his limbs. Yeller eased closer, towering over him. He feathered kisses along his chin until Nat’s gut tightened around a coiled spring.

Yeller rested his head against Nat’s shoulder, his gaze falling on Nat’s stiffness. He was trying to regain some level of control, but a translucent bead of liquid had gathered at the tip. Yeller feathered his thumb along it, spreading the liquid. Nat uncertainly swayed, assaulted from both sides. Yeller, aware of Hana’s hands, reached for one. Hana stiffened instinctively before relaxing, allowing Yeller to direct her. He led her to Nat’s base, encouraging her to encircle it tightly. Nat’s audible groan burned through all of them.

She rubbed carefully, testing. Yeller almost buckled under the mewls rising from Nat’s constricted throat.

Yeller had not released his hair. He was strung out, nerves on fire. Thin, translucent dampness allowed Hana’s hand to glide over his shaft, ringing him out.

“What are we going to do with you?” Yeller kissed the side of his mouth. Nat was panting, unable to control his breathing. Heat, a ticklish prickling, lashed out through Yeller’s insides, burned at him, numbing his skin. “Hana?” he asked, courteous of the other person in the room. She looked up at the man, beseeching. “Do you want to do this?” he asked for Nat, knowing he would at least have afforded her such a courtesy.

“Where do you want me?” she stammered.

“You know what we’re doing?” he inquired, his mouth inches from Nat’s ear. His breath was warm on his fur. Hana’s hand hadn’t stopped its incessant movement.

“I think so. You going to be alright with me in here?” she hesitated.

Nat hissed, a frustrated moan escaped him with the loss of her hands as they relented. “Behave,” chided Yeller. Nat’s knees buckled when Yeller nipped his ear. “Easy.” Cloth rustled behind him. A creak of the bed told him Hana had found a perch. “You ready?” Yeller nibbled at the corner of Nat’s jaw. A stifled groan answered him. Yeller let go of Nat’s hair, turning him to face Hana.

Her cheeks were burning as brightly as his. Creamy skin against pitch-black hair made Nat’s breath hitch. Sven rose in his gut, demanding. He thought he was hard before. He glanced back at Yeller imploringly. Yeller nudged him a step forward. Nat stumbled, tumbling onto Hana, pinning her to the bed. His breathing was harried, his gut burning. His tip brushed against the curls covering her warmth.

“Ha-Hana?” he tried to say between controlling breaths. Her skin burned against his arms. She reached between them, stroking him. He moaned, his back curling up. His ears twitched down under the pleasure.

Yeller watched, entranced at the buckling of Nat’s hips. Maybe it wasn’t completely bad that Tereza and Sylvi had gone into heat, he conceded to himself. He left them to get comfortable, making for his pack. He had stowed a vial of lube he’d lifted from the old house, knowing now was a good time to put it to use.

Hana pulled her legs up, leading Nat to her entrance. His throat clicked as he tried to swallow. He eased in, and the world stopped spinning. The sweet heat, the tightness that gripped him, her soft inner thighs against his hips. He lost himself to the starburst. She arched back to meet him as he slid his full length into her. Both of them gasped at the sensation. A tremble ran through his legs. The bittersweet numbness of pleasure that had been wrapping around his gut spread to his chest, scattering to the back of his head. Gently, he slipped a thumb against her nub to watch her breath catch.

What are you doing?

Something you clearly never read up on. Poor Sylvi.

What do you mean by that? Sven hissed.

Look, this may be my first time having sex with a man and a woman, doesn’t mean I haven’t watched porn or read up on what to do with a person. She’s not going to get much out of this other than a faked orgasm if I don’t give her a bit more attention than whatever this little warm-up was. Going and poking her a few times is only going to leave her feeling like a third wheel, and after that experience back in the garage, I swear, no one I ever go near will come out of something with me feeling used. So, back off and let the humans have their fun, wolf brain. He pursued his fixation until her nails dug into his shoulders, and a sigh told him she found heaven.

A hand brushed his tail. He flicked it away for a second, startled from his fascination. He glanced to find Yeller’s possessive gaze meeting his. The throbbing in his lower gut pushed through to his shaft. Hana’s gasp told him she felt his reaction. He didn’t know how much more he would be able to take.

Yeller’s power mark burned unsteadily. A different sensation emanated from it from the usual. The warm emotion from Nat was warped, almost sharp, like a sword wrapped in fleece.

Lust burned at him. The white-haired man had lost his sense of embarrassment. Yeller grabbed the root of Nat’s tail, gently pulling from the base to the tip, admiring the sensation of long, silky fur. Nat quivered under the onslaught. He went to turn to look at Hana’s more than alluring breasts, but a distinctive squeak of a cork against glass caught his attention. He swivelled his head back to Yeller.

The golden-haired man had a cork between his teeth, a tiny vial in one hand. Nat watched Yeller pour half the content along his backside. The waif shuddered at the cold viciousness of the oil. His breath hitched, suddenly nervous. Hana’s warmth around his shaft convulsed, gripping him tightly. Nat’s eyes closed involuntarily at the bubble of ecstasy bursting in his limbs.

Yeller poured the remaining half of the oil along his length while Nat was distracted. The drummer kneaded his lover’s butt gently, rubbing his shaft at the same time. Nat shifted away from the delving fingers for a second, startled and uncertain. He was feeling too good, though, not to relent to the wandering digits.

Nat relaxed as Yeller blanket him, one of his hands snaked across his chest, supporting him gently. “An ndéanann sé dochar duit3?” Yeller whispered, worried, in Nat’s ear. He wasn’t entirely certain of how much weight Nat could support yet on his ribs and shoulders.

Nat turned to face Yeller’s close mouth, kissing it lightly. He had entered into some level of neutral numbness, the ecstasy that coursed through his body diluting the pain of his chest and shoulders. “Beidh mé ceart go leor4,” Nat responded in stuttering breaths, aware of Yeller’s other rubbing fingers. Nat’s skin burned under his touch.

He kept his hand over Nat’s heart as he eased a single oiled digit into his tightness. Nat gasped, his body fighting, yielding to the intrusion. His heartbeat accelerated. Yeller slowed his invasion. He took his time, considerate of Nat’s varying reactions. His ears, his gasping breaths, the ever-persistent twitch of his tail all stacked together to lull Yeller into a state of bliss.

Nat’s couldn’t help but move in Hana, the tight heat encompassing his shaft stirring him, teasing him. He leaned in, enjoying Hana’s spicy scent, nipping at a gloriously aroused nipple. She arched up to meet him, his shaft driving into a sweet spot.

A second digit pushed its way in, easier than before. He moaned pleasurably. Hana’s hands brushed at his cheeks. Her eyes were closed, the sweet ache of euphoria spread across her face. Yeller found a spot Nat had never been aware of before. He practically crumpled as white stars burst into his senses. It was all he could do not to cum under that beautiful pressure. He throbbed; his body tightened reflexively around Yeller, drawing him in. Gingerly, Yeller pulled out of him. Nat stiffened as a different, larger heat pressed against him, suddenly scared of the fog that pressed in. Repressed memories flashed up. Yeller waited, sensing a cold sweep across his power mark. He lingered, not wanting to press his vantage.

Nat’s breathing was shaky as Yeller waited on the power mark to warm again. “Ar mhaith leat dom a stopadh[5]?” Yeller breathed in Nat’s ear.

Nat gritted his teeth, hating himself for turning coward so suddenly. He wanted this. He tried to throw the flashbacks away. He wanted to give Yeller everything. “Tá mé réidh, ach a bheith milis. Tá roinnt tromluí orm6.” Nat bit out as he moved back, not only to encourage Hana’s grinding hips but to encourage Yeller.

Ní féidir liom iarracht a dhéanamh ach. Anáil, mo ghrá7,” Yeller whispered in Nat’s ear as he pressed in. The oil made it easier, but Nat was so tight, Yeller could only hope he was doing as he had promised. It felt like an eternity, but finally, he buried himself to the hilt.

Nat was losing to the sweet numbness, knowing he was so close. Then Yeller began gently moving. The golden-haired man pressed his sweet spot mercilessly. Nat arched into the feeling, accentuating it, deepening it. Yeller pulled his hips to him, accelerating his speed, thrusting forcefully. Nat’s sweet mewls only stoked his fire more.

Nat no longer could quite meet up with his ability to think. “Pl -plea…huh, please,” stuttered the waif stuck between two heavens, begging for the release he was so close to reaching. That simple admission sent shock waves rippling through Hana. Her grip tightened around him spasmodically. She curled into him, her nails biting at his flesh as pleasure swept over her.

The roaring in the base of his head, the numbing, tingling spring wrapped in his chest, the heat that encompassed his body tightened painfully until he felt something snap, like a rope pushed beyond its tension. Wave after wave coursed through him, spilling himself into Hana’s heat. Yeller buried himself once more as Nat’s body constricted around him. Rough hands pulled Nat’s hips firmly. He rolled into the feeling. Warmth filled him. Hot, shallow gasps fluttered against his back where Yeller rested his head.

They stayed there a minute, breathing, trying to find themselves. Yeller pushed once more, ringing himself dry. Nat was left with a sense of loss as Yeller extracted himself. Hana stared up at him, sultry contentment hooding her eyes. He ran his tongue along her breast, gently nipping at her nipple once more before pulling himself from her warmth. She shivered at the movement.

He rolled to his side, curling around her, his tail limp, his ears shifting contentedly. He watched Yeller out of the corner of his eye. The man had somehow managed to extract a couple torn-up clothes to clean themselves with from his pack and handed them to Nat and Hana before laying down on the other side of Nat. He sighed, content.

“You alright?” Hana traced a nail across Nat’s spica.

“Tired now,” he muttered against her hair.

“Your shoulders? And the wolves?” She straightened the bandaging that had bunched in their fervour.

“Sore. Think I’m going to be out for a while. Wolves seem to have backed down. You going to be okay? We didn’t have a condom.” A flash of fear pinged from Nat’s soles to the top of his head.

“Curse of being a bird mutant, I have pretty inconsistent cycles, so I’m not worried.” Hana shrugged, but her hand went to brush at her stomach in thought.

Yeller tensed by Nat’s side. “That was a bad idea.”

“You seemed into it,” Hana teased.

Yeller weaselled his hand between Nat and Hana to rest a hand around the man’s lower stomach. “No, well, yes, I enjoyed myself. But, yeah, should have had a condom on hand for something like this. Didn’t even think about it.”

“If something happens, it happens. Where the hell would you find a condom in this day and age? One that isn’t dried out and gross?” Hana brushed at Nat’s arm where it lifted her breasts.

“If something does happen, tell me. I don’t want you hiding it for some reason. We’re here, and this would be my fault for not pulling out.” Nat rose on an arm to look down at the woman next to him.

“And if something did, and I told you?” Her brows furrowed a fraction, giving away a touch of anxious fear.

“I don’t know? You’re leading on that, your body. I don’t know where you’re at in keeping it or getting rid of it and after what happened with Raphael…but we’d find you what you need, whatever you decide.” Nat brushed hair from her cheek.

“Not having a hospital around or a good supply of food makes me nervous, but I really would rather not bleed out from something done at home. Hah, home. What home? We’re in a freezing trailer with no clean water or sanitation. We’ll play it by ear. Again, I’m really not nervous about this. I’ve probably only cycled twice in the last ten months. I don’t think there’s anything to worry for.” She gave him a small, reassuring smile.

Nat wasn’t keen on leaving the conversation this way, but he nodded and lay back.

They lay for a time, exhaustion ringing out their strength. Nat tucked Hana’s head under his chin, pulling her small frame into his embrace as he rested his back against Yeller’s chest.

Yeller wrapped an arm around his waist, curling around him. Nat’s tail draped over his leg, warm and soft. Yeller discovered he was stroking the fur unconsciously. Nat smiled, fulfilled.

Nat shifted at a burn down his spine but was too exhausted to pay it much mind. He knew what it was, though. “Power mark, Ruben?” Nat whispered, trying not to disturb the sleeping woman in his arms.

“How’d you guess?” murmured Yeller happily.

“It’s complex,” Nat purred, trying to identify it. He could visualise it as many small lines, but it wasn’t an image like Hana’s collar or Yeller’s Celtic dogs.

“Do you want to know?” Yeller asked, a little embarrassed.

“I want to guess,” Nat played.

“Okay, try,” Yeller laughed quietly.

“It’s a pattern of some kind,” mused Nat.

“Sort of,” Yeller avoided.

“There are…three of them?” Nat asked, realizing suddenly that three different emotions ran the length of his spine.

“You’re doing pretty good,” admitted Yeller.

“The middle one is warm…reassuring. I feel… comforted,” Nat stated, curiosity lacing his words.

“Protection,” Yeller supplied quietly. He was becoming embarrassed, actually having Nat analyze the marks.

“The lowest one is like the middle one, reassuring, but softer, hopeful,” Nat mused. It was right at the base of where his tail met his spine. The whole set of power marks ran the length of his spine from his lowest cervical vertebrae to his sacrum.

“Devotion, I think,” Yeller whispered, leaning his head more fully into Nat’s back, pulling to him tighter.

“The top, I’m having difficulty understanding,” Nat admitted. He couldn’t place it. It felt like…like warm water, like a relaxing shower. It washed over him. The constriction in his chest he had felt since the events in the town were…lesser.

Yeller hesitated. “They’re ogham fewsets.” Nat nodded. It was almost inevitable that Yeller would know at least a couple. He shivered from the cold at his back as Yeller moved back from him. Fingers gently traced his spine near his tail at his sacrum. He was giving Nat a sense of the shapes. The first was a heart shape, a twenty-four-pointed star radiating out of it. Hooks and a type of lined box sat in the centre of it. “This is an open heart,” he elaborated. Nat shivered at the ticklishness of the act. It was small, not much larger than his middle finger and thumb forming a circle.

Yeller trailed his finger up Nat’s spine to trace the next one. This one was significantly larger than the open-heart ogham. It ran the length of his lumbar, stopping shy of his thoracic. It spread out towards his obliques and down, only a finger width from mingling with the open heart. It was cross-shaped, the middle inscribed with a circle. Cross-hatching occupied the circle, while each of the arms of the cross contained many small lines. His tail twitched, out of ticklishness or impatient eagerness, he wasn’t sure. “This is considered a ‘major’ protection fewset. I can’t say that the mark itself will protect you, but it is my promise that I will keep. You will be safe,” Yeller’s voice hitched in his throat.

“Ruben,” Nat protested quietly. He turned his head toward Yeller. He caught the sight of a tear escaping Yeller’s guarded gaze.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Yeller bit out, trembling.

“You’re here now, Ruben. I couldn’t ask for more.” Nat rested his head against Yeller’s shoulder, trying to comfort him.

“Nat,” Yeller squeezed him, his emotions a wreck.

“What’s the last one?” Nat asked, hoping it would distract. Yeller traced it once. Again, it was a finger length from the last ogham. This one ran to his neck, shy of where his shirt collar would lay. Most of it was hidden under the spica, but Yeller traced it, assured of its complete shape. It took up much of his shoulders. A large rectangle with lines slashing out towards his shoulders and cross-hatching contained a symmetrical line full of small markings. A sideways cross extended out towards what felt like the shape of animals. The feeling of Yeller tracing the shape of this particular ogham fewset seemed to release the last of Nat’s tension, lulling him into a sense of security, unlike the protection shape. “It’s a combination of three fewsets. The primary is a consecration fewset. A cleansing energy, purity,” Yeller murmured, kissing the centre of it. “The one on the left of the rectangle is a guardian, the one on the right is a warrior,” he traced the smaller set of lines that extended from the centre.

Nat’s back was covered in dark brown lines, like henna. “Thank you,” Nat murmured, pulling Hana’s resting form closer to him with one hand and grasping Yeller’s arm, still wrapped around his waist, encouraging him to curl closer to him once again. He closed his eyes, exhausted and happy.

[1] You are beautiful

[2] You are one to talk.

[3] Does it hurt you?

[4] I’ll be alright

[5] Do you want me to stop?

[6] I’m ready, just be gentle. I have some nightmares.

[7] I can only try. Breath, my love.

Chapel Orahamm (C) 2022-2023. All Rights Reserved.

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