NSFW, Erotica; Trigger Warning – Managing flashbacks of SA
Yeller emerged from the bedroom and flopped down in the living room. He was tired in a content way. The sun slowly burned off the clouds. It cast harsh golden shadows through the slats of the blinds, illuminating the dingy interior in brilliant oranges and browns. Yeller glanced out to watch the rising fireball against the cold desert. The sharp tang of snow was dissipating.
Deck and Benj emerged from their respective rooms, closing their doors quietly. They were startled to see Yeller already comfy in the room. “Morning,” Benj yawned as he rummaged through their sacks. He tossed a bottle of soda to Yeller, who caught it, flashing an easy, fanged smile.
“Maidin mhaith,” he greeted, cracking the seal on the cap.
“You’re in a good mood.” Deck pulled out a box of stale toaster tarts. He peeled the packaging open and handed the three of them each a foil bag of the pastries. Yeller dug into his, shrugging at the comment. “Ready to make a run for it?” Deck sat down next to him.
“Think it’ll be pretty empty. Haven’t seen much in the way of humans since we left out of that town,” Cashia muttered, brushing flaking crumbs from his t-shirt.
“Michael’s been following us.” Benj’s gaze swept the trailer. A red feather wavered in the window screen. The others glanced at it in trepidation.
“He’s not here right now. Priority is to get these pups to Hana’s godfather,” Cashia devoured his breakfast, ignoring the message. The bastard could wait one more day. Nat had slept comfortably for once since the cave. He shared Yeller’s opinion that rest was the best plan for the porcelain man.
“He’s messing with us,” Dietrich stepped in.
Cashia glanced up at his commander. The golden wolf’s eyes gleamed in the morning sunlight. His fangs practically dripped. “Host’ll let me off the leash this time.” Cashia’s teeth clicked together sharply.
“You’re not alone.” Benj smiled slyly.
“Is Sylvi ready?” Dietrich asked the question they had been needing the answer to for weeks.
Yeller relaxed back against the wall and waved the question away. “I’ve left Sven and Sylvi to their morning. They should have been reincarnated as turtle doves,” he sighed dismissively.
“Glad to hear that’s finally fixed.” Benj finished the last of his tart.
“You and Tereza?” Deck hedged.
Cashia pinned him with a glare, drinking his soda. “She’ll come out one of these days.”
“Is she ignoring you?” Benj popped open a can of mixed veggies and drained it down the sink. He pulled a spoon out of a draw and rubbed it against his jeans to clear it of dust. He ate the cold veg, ignoring the glare he knew Cashia was throwing at him.
“It’s her way, and both my host and her new host have talked about pain they have in lettering her out. She always stepped to a different tune,” Cashia muttered.
“Heinrich has explained to me in not exactly modest tones exactly what you and she are together.” Benj leaned against the counter to look down on the man.
Cashia didn’t drop his gaze, returning it inch for inch. “I’ll not apologise for who I am.”
“Didn’t ask you to. Tereza can’t take on the transformation in Nat’s body. It’s too much of a change on his organs,” Heinrich mused around the spoon in his mouth. He pulled the spoon out of his mouth and jabbed it in Cashia’s direction, “but you and your mate need to get this shit figured out before we get going again. The Heat is debilitating and distracting as hell, and with him still hosting your mate…” he shrugged and stared at the mixed carrots and peas unsatisfied. “Her smell is everywhere. How you’re ignoring it is anyone’s guess right now. We have to run, and the fact we only got ten miles yesterday ’cause of the women isn’t something we can be repeating.” He chomped down on another spoonful of the mix, a sour note crossing his face. “How can he eat this crap?”
“You telling me off of pursuing her?” Cashia bristled.
“Ne. Wanting to know what your plan is to tame your,” Benj pulled the spoon from his mouth and motioned it up and down at Cashia, “predicament.”
“Not that there’s much of a way to fix this at the moment with her being a tease and not talking. She seems to only come when Nat is being unguarded or indecisive.” Cashia glanced away from Benj to the bleak landscape out the window. He was not partial to the knowing look the human was giving him.
“Talked to Yeller or Nat ‘bout it?” Deck eased into the conversation.
Cashia flicked a dismissive glance at him before returning to watching the desert winds fluff snowflakes off of banks. “Not much to talk about. Sven and Sylvi are finally together again. Yeller seems to have calmed himself. Not like Nat can take me on the way I am. I could tell what happened to him when you brought him back to that cave. My mate, if she comes out, which she would if I pushed. I would scare him like we did last night when she popped out for that split second. Tereza and I will have to wait to change hosts. Deal with her Heat until it dissipates. A week probably.” Cashia rubbed at his forehead, a throbbing beginning at the base of his neck. How could Heinrich even consider he was ignoring the smell when it practically coated his body from the night before when he had given Yeller back his body? His gut burned, and his skin practically itched from the pressure. He was barely contained and only civil at that moment because he was managing to let his host’s satiety ride over his needs.
“Think it’s still possible to change hosts at this point?” Dietrich asked.
Cashia’s head snapped up, a cold pick driving into his gut. “Why wouldn’t we? Sylvi’s fully shifted to Hana,” Cashia baulked at the implication.
Dietrich waved off the comment. “Just an annoying nagging feeling at the back of my mind. I don’t think it’s safe for us to stay combined for too much longer. I’ve noticed my thought patterns beginning to reflect my host more and more as the days go on.”
Cashia turned into himself, asking, questioning if he and Yeller were becoming more than one body, but one mind. He ran from the idea. He shook it off, though the inkling put there by Dietrich stuck, at the edge, out of reach. “Your mates?” Cashia turned the tables.
Benj drew his shoulders in a shrug. “Better, more settled now…The last few weeks have been difficult for her. With some luck, this doc’ll be able to help us,” Heinrich answered. Deck nodded in agreement.
“Should we get everyone and get out of here before dead-bird-flying comes to interrupt us?” Yeller pulled himself up and set his trash on the counter. Let’s talk to Nat, he drove at his wolf.
Cashia turned to his host, glaring. I’ll help get him wrapped for the walk, he offered offhand, not wanting to have a full conversation this early in the morning.
He’s more resilient than you know. He’s also pretty damn selfless. A pit dropped into Yeller’s stomach and calcified.
Cashia raised an eyebrow at his host. You sure you know what you’re doing? You’ll see things that you may not wish to know about. Cashia promised.
‘S why I said talk. Yeller shrugged, pulling in a deep breath.
“Probably a good idea.” Deck followed suit, snapping Yeller’s attention back to the living room. Benj took another moment for a yawn before easing off the counter to wake Zola. “Get it figured out,” Dietrich demanded from his end of the hallway.
Yeller walked down the opposite hall to the bedroom and rapped on the door gently. “Come in!” a light female voice called out softly. Yeller twitched at a painful jab to his chest and understood it to relate to Cashia’s knowledge.
You all right? Yeller hesitated.
Just glad Sven and Sylvi got some time. Cashia muttered.
I’m reading between some lines here… Yeller admonished.
Keep reading, and you might learn a thing…or two… Cashia forewarned, already on edge with his pack leader to be taking more commentary from his host. He eased the doorknob and pressed the door in.
Nat had managed to pull on his pants. He held one boot by the laces, getting ready to put his shoes on. His silvery skin gleamed in the morning sunlight, though his crimson shoulder wounds were angry, and the inflamed line of his cracked ribs was unimproved. He was waiting for help getting the spica and wraps on, along with the compression tops. He looked up with a bashful smile. Curled around his back on the bed was a massive pitch-black wolf.
“Sylvi,” Cashia greeted with a courtly bow.
“Cashia. It is lovely to see you again in the flesh. Chose a rather fine human.” The wolf eased off the bed fluidly to sniff at Yeller.
“Did I give you and Sven enough time to yourselves?” Cashia rose from his bow to regard the wolf with relief. The others would also welcome the arrival of their cherished friend.
“Mnogo. You smell like food. Is there more? I’ll step out and get breakfast.” She eased around him and let herself out.
Cashia closed the door behind him and flipped the lock. Nat looked up at him, startled. “Yeller?” he asked, puzzled. Goosebumps ran down the side of his face and raised the hairs on his arm. “Cashia?” he reassessed.
Yeller’s eyes almost glowed in the dim shadow of the door’s alcove. “Shouldn’t be transforming too often, human. We’re going to be going shortly, and we’re planning on running. Now that your woman has taken Sylvi, we’ll be capable of covering greater distances. I can either wrap you as human, or I can wrap Sven. If I wrap you as human, you’re riding someone’s back today.” Cashia remained standing at the door, his back hiding his hands that held tight to the handle in a death grip.
Screw the smell of Heat smeared across his skin. The room was overwhelming in the scent. The throb at the base of his skull pushed at his senses, igniting them. How did we not resolve Tereza’s Heat from last night’s interactions? Cashia demanded of Yeller. He fought to keep his incisors from sharpening under the pressure. Yeller flitted at the edge of Cashia’s mind, aware of the internal fight his wolf was trying to still. He had no answer for his wolf. Sylvi’s Heat had been overwhelming in the early dawn as Hana took her form. The smell of it had driven Cashia to seek refuge in the living room.
Nat fidgeted with his bootlaces for a second. He set the shoe down and folded his hands in his lap to still his flicking nerves. He rubbed at his fingers for another second.
He’s about to offer you the world, beast. Don’t fucking break him. Yeller growled.
Da. Cashia swallowed.
Nat stared at the pack Yeller had brought in the night before, spacing out as so many thoughts flashed across his face. A chickadee chirped at the windowsill, disturbing the quiet. He glanced up to meet Cashia’s gleaming gaze. “I heard what they said out there. You gave Yeller and me and Hana time.” Nat couldn’t keep his focus on one object in the room. He sucked in a breath. “You also gave Sven and Sylvi their time-” his eyes came up to meet the man suddenly towering over him. Nat wrestled with the pounding of his heart. He had heard what they had been talking about in the living room. They had not tried to be quiet about it, and the mobile’s walls were paper thin.
You’re playing with fire, mali, Sven cautioned languidly, having also been party to the conversation in the living room.
You threaten that frequently. Nat shot, trying to force his heart out of his throat.
Sure you wanna do this, brat? You haven’t seen those two really together yet. Sven mused.
Have you? Nat was hoping that maybe they boasted a lot.
On more than several occasions, being as old as we are.
Will it be like –
Absolutely not, Sven bit back fast, cutting off Nat’s memory. He rubbed against his host apologetically, reassuringly. What I see from them…what will happen to you in the position you hold…think of it like you’ve been fed raw meat in the last few days. Add some seasoning and fire to it, and it becomes exceptional. What he does is like adding salt and heat. His type of pain is a seasoning, modest and masterfully timed to enhance the experience, not subject her or you.
I don’t have that kind of a relationship with Sylvi, as you saw this morning. We are quite bland in our perusal of each other if you must, but I’m happy with that kind of a relationship. I’m glad to have my mate back. It’s not bad or wrong, just different. Sven admitted.
I can’t let Tereza continue doing this to him, running and hiding like she’s been doing. He’s been waiting as long as you have. Nat bit down on his lower lip. He rubbed his hands along his jeans, trying to anchor his nerves.
Oh, she’s not running, Sven slunk off.
Nat sought the female wolf napping at the edge of his consciousness. We have time, Tereza. Wanna come out? Nat offered, hopeful. With some luck, he could let her take over and throw his mind to the outer edges.
Tereza’s glowing eyes watched him intently, but she made no move toward him. You realise I can’t that easily, right, dijete? There are those rare moments when I can slip through you when you are defenceless, but your mind is such a tangle of thoughts… Tereza clipped her fangs together dismissively. She had figured it out last night when the most she could handle were the pair of ears. Heinrich’s suspicion was her reality.
It…you don’t… Nat shifted his weight, his heart dancing in his chest. You don’t have to take over my body physically like Sven and Sylvi if it means you can see him again, he offered.
She would never admit it if she could help it. She may have to, though. It was a struggle to navigate the man’s mind enough to take over his brain as easily as Sven did. With Sylvi there, it had been a fraction easier. Now that the black wolf was gone, there were too many paths for her to navigate on her own. It was tiring at best, and she could only maintain it for short moments of conversation when Sylvi was there. Make it truly convincing for me to take it over again; otherwise, it’s too much work. She yawned dismissively. I’d rather be there for the climax than the foreplay.
It sounds rather one-sided if you get to have the orgasm alone. He flushed at his own brashness.
Says the guy who had a threesome last night and then Sven and Sylvi. I vaguely remember being referred to as a peanut gallery. Join me if you can figure it out, dijete. Just forewarning. I take longer than Sylvi to find relief, and there’s more involved. Make it convincing, such that your very senses are on fire and drowning with desperation to reach an end. You will find an opening there, where your mind goes numb, and your thoughts unwind. Then I will come out. She supplied him with her demands. If you have reservations, say no. Cashia respects it and won’t press you.
Convincing, huh? Fire and desperation?
He rose to stand in front of Cashia, though the man stood so close that he brushed up against his chest. Nat stilled the tremble in his legs and heart. He swallowed. His tongue darted out to moisten his bottom lip. His hands, held loosely in front of him, coated in sweat. Nervously, he flattened them against his chest, willing himself to calm down.
Why is this a struggle now? Last night was easy. Giving you your body for Sylvi was easy. Why is this terrifying? Nat grabbed for Sven.
The wolf caught him. Because you have nightmares, and Cashia’s energy brings them back.
I didn’t mean for you to be that blunt. Nat let go.
You’re scared that he won’t go with ‘stop’.
Nat went quiet at that.
He will. I will. Dietrich will. Tereza’ll tear him a new one. You say it, say it now, say it in the middle if things start not going how you like. You aren’t in the garage. You’re here, and I can help you now.
Cashia’s burning gaze didn’t leave his eyes. Heat crept into Nat’s face as he slid his hands down to the waistband of his jeans. He looked away from Cashia as he flipped the buttons of his fly, his knuckles grazing Cashia’s proximity.
Carefully, Cashia brushed the line of Nat’s jaw. Nat looked up at him, his lower lip trembled. “Gently. You’re okay. Dietrich and his son can eat mud, Nathaniel.”Cashia’s finger feathered across Nat’s lip. He pressed gently, the tip of his thumb rubbing along the edge of Nat’s bottom teeth momentarily before his hand crept behind his head to tunnel into his hair. He twisted the strands in his fingers, pulling Nat’s head back slowly. Red blotched the alabaster man’s cheeks. “Is this alright?”
“She’s there, right at the edge, always at the edge.” Nat tried to still the tremble running through his shoulder blades. Cashia reached for Nat’s fumbling fingers, pulling them away from his jeans when the last button came undone. “I…” Nat hiccuped apologetically. “I can’t transform into Tereza for you,” he tried to meet Cashia’s steady gaze and failed. “She won’t let me.” He swallowed hard again.
“You can’t let her out because you are you. Her mind will come. And I have to be okay with that; if you are?” Cashia brought Nat’s hand to his lips. He nibbled along the thumb pad and down the wrist, following the scar line. Releasing Nat’s hair, he traced a nail down Nat’s chest and stomach. A red welt followed the sharp line.
Yeller stood back, fighting to give Cashia room. He and Cashia had walked out that morning to distance themselves, but he couldn’t distance himself from seeing this now. What Nat was offering, Yeller was not sure if his heart was breaking or overflowing.
“She,” Nat willed the words to stop clinging to his throat, “she said to make it convincing enough for her to come out; otherwise, it’s too much work. That’s what’s scaring me right now. I don’t know what to expect, and I-the nightmares keep coming back. You grabbed me, and now…” He wanted to hide at that statement.
“And for that, I will apologize every day for the rest of my life.” Cashia rested his head against Nat’s shoulder.
“You’ve been strung out just as bad as Sven, and if I was in your position with Yeller, I’d probably have done the same.”
“It’s no excuse, though,” Cashia seethed.
“She’s shown me some of what you do, when you were able to shift. All I can taste is concrete at the idea.” Nat swallowed, inky hands grasping at his subconscious. “I don’t want to be bound to this flashback.”
“And you’re hoping I’ll be the one to get you through it?”
“No. I’m hoping to not be afraid of who you and Tereza are just based on my flashbacks trying to eat me alive.”
“Stvarno? Are you all right with me pursuing my mate for a bit?” Cashia slowly, with meticulous care to not startle the young man, turned him around, his nail tracing the edge of his jeans. Nat’s power marks flashed in the early morning light. Yeller could not tell if the question was for Nat, or himself.
Cashia eased the white-haired man’s back to his chest, one hand smoothly, firmly kneading the curve of his oblique. He followed the line he was creating with his mouth from the back of the man’s shoulder blade to the base of his neck. “Da ili ne?” Cashia nipped at his flesh, testing, tasting.
Nat released a harried breath. This was different from last night. “Ruben?” Nat let his hair curtain his eyes. He trembled beneath the onslaught as his skin went cold.
Ruben? Cashia turned his attention inward as he pulled with exquisite slowness Nat’s outstretched hand around behind the man’s back to brush against his t-shirt. He allowed Yeller to shift forward for a moment.
Yeller kissed the middle of the back of Nat’s neck. His lover shivered as a chill ran down his spine. “Is breá liom tú. Tá mé anseo. Deir tú an focal1.” Yeller rested his head against the back of Nat’s head as he fought with his raging body. Cashia pressed to take back his position.
“An bhfuil ceart go leor2?” Nat leaned into Yeller and closed his eyes. His heart rate slowed when Yeller moved to rest his head on his shoulder momentarily.
“Chomh fada is atá tú go maith3,” Yeller wrapped one of his hands around Nat’s chest, hugging him gently. Nat nodded his understanding, swallowing. “I’m going to let Cashia take over again. Ceart go leor4?” Yeller asked once more before giving Cashia back the reins.
“Tá5.” Nat’s body quivered as his nerve endings lit. Cashia’s nails scratched, pulling down to cup below his pecs and slide along the line of his ribs. Cashia was gentle enough to not press hard on them. His fingers still sent flashes of pleasure across Nat’s skin.
“I need a yes or a no.” Cashia’s deeper voice resonated through his back. “I’ll stop if you tell me to. Dietrich can fuck off if this isn’t something you’re comfortable with. Tell me if you want me to stop, and I will,” he added tenderly.
Nat trembled at the care in the man’s tone. “Yes,” he whispered so low that he was sure Cashia would not have even heard him.
“I’m starting. Klečati6,” Cashia ordered, his voice no louder than the twang of a spider’s thread. Cashia fed Yeller’s fire with every nerve ending, allowing his host to drown in the high. With infinite slowness, careful to support the now unbalanced man, Cashia pressed Nat down till he knelt under the blonde’s bulk, repeating his demand until the meaning crystallised in Nat’s brain. Cashia stabilised his position over Nat, boxing him in near the bed frame.
What do you speak? Yeller watched, wide-eyed. A shiver ran down his spine at Cashia’s raspy voice. It was persistent, demanding, undeniable. The position, the power there was shameless. He says no one damn time, and you stop! Yeller bellowed, fighting his rising alarm, his rising fever.
The last tongue I used before acquiring yours. There have been many. The last place I remember living in with the pack along the Sava and Una, Jasenovac during the early time of the Unabhangiger Staat Kroatien. We were caught when they came in with construction equipment.
Nat’s power marks burned across his back. The rawboned man eased at the reassurance. His heart spattered into a different pattern as he allowed his senses to tune to the indomitable man above him.
“Say the word,” Cashia breathed in his ear. He ran a hand down Nat’s supporting arm until he could entwine their fingers together. He pulled gently at the appendage and helped Nat shift his weight to his knees. He brought it back to meet the other, pinning the wrists with one hand.
Tereza? Nat called out to the wolf as Cashia’s free hand moved along his chest to patiently press lower.
Human? She answered dismissively.
Cashia wants you. He gulped as a piercing intensity washed across his core. He shifted, flexing his hand slightly. He bunched Cashia’s shirt in his hand, his balance precarious. Cashia eased off him momentarily, waiting, watching. Nat’s feet and shoulders shifted to keep himself upright while his arms shook with effort. Cashia nudged the lanky man, splaying his base wider to return his balance. “Nizi,” he pressed.
I see that. She rose from her nest and shook herself.
He’s here for you, not me. Do something about this! Nat demanded, hoping that she would switch out before the flashbacks dropped him into an abyss he wouldn’t come back from. Tereza mutely regarded him. He released Cashia’s shirt, bowing his head dejectedly. Nat slacked his arm, breathing through the stretch of his muscles.
Cashia bent farther into the stretch, listening for the faint changing in breathing, for the tell-tale hitch. He was honoured that Nat would allow himself to be debased for Tereza and his relationship. The Glendweller was determined to not take the mild-mannered man’s emotions for granted.
Like what? Tereza murmured, rubbing up against Nat’s inner self softly.
God, I hate you…Nat spat at her.
Enjoy this learning experience. You don’t have a lot of it. Try not to lock up your shoulders. She paced around him. Dominance radiated off of her, and her frustration as she sought the path she had found with more ease the night before. Keywords to remember, dijete: Yes or Da, No – Ne, Stop – Stop, and Keep Going – Nastavi will all be respected if you use them. If you don’t like something, say it. Communication is a magical word. You’ll end up a lot lower before I feel it’s time for me to come out.
Damn it. “Who the fuck is ‘S’ and who’s ‘M’ in this relationship, Cashia? You’re both bein’ really ‘S’ right now,” Nat muttered, shifting his shoulders restlessly to assuage the draw in his tendons. “Ye’r wife’s bein’ a complete cuckquean.”
Cashia’s fingers travelled to the waistband of his jeans, brushing the heat that peeped out of the fly. “I could stop?” His accent intensified. The golden man’s voice echoed through Nat’s chest.
Nat inhaled sharply and shook his head. Cashia eased the material from his hips, taking plenty of time. He pressed and pulled at Nat’s joints and tendons, enough to inflame and tantalise, but not too much to cause his existing wounds harm.
Nat knew that his arms, though pressed up high behind his back would be released the instant he wanted them to be. He knew Cashia was waiting patiently for him to baulk, to stop it all, and the man would back off again. Nat shivered as a zipper unfasten. A cold sweat broke out along his back. Cashia’s body was hot and insistent against his.
“Just say ne…or da,” Cashia whispered, trailing fingers along his shaft. Nat quivered as Cashia’s hand encircled him tightly, pumping a momentary question. Nat’s breath hitched at the intense wash that hit his system. Cashia shifted his hand to bite into the hollow of his hip. The golden man drew him more fully against his girth, eliciting another involuntary hungry gasp.
He slowly traced the line of Nat’s thigh to his knee, pushing material away from his skin. Cashia ran his nails up the length he had trailed down, leaving behind red lines. He eased from the alabaster man’s thigh to gently hold Nat’s balls, sweeping the sensitive skin that rested behind them to bring back his tight grasp on Nat’s throbbing length.
“She’s voyeuristic and likes it when I’m the ‘s’.” Cashia nipped at the tips of Nat’s fingers for a second, letting his comment sink in, giving Nat all the time in the world.
Nat swallowed, drowning in his nerve endings. “-es…” Nat’s breath caught on the word, barely audible in the space.
“I didn’t hear that.” Cashia nicked Nat’s palm.
Nat shuddered. “Nastavi.” He surrendered, his head falling into the carpet as Cashia pressed him lower.
Cashia trailed fire along Nat’s hips. He ran a nail up Nat’s backbone over the power marks and down his shoulder to circle his jaw, bringing his fingers to brush at Nat’s lips. “She taught you something interesting.” He smiled, all teeth gleaming. “Poliži,” he demanded, pushing his index finger and middle finger into the warmth of Nat’s mouth. Nat’s tongue twisted around his fingers obediently. He moaned at the firecracker of heat that burst in his gut.
“She’ll come out when she thinks you’re close.” Cashia bit down on his shoulder, dominating him. Nat gasped, his incisors clamping down on Cashia’s fingers. He tasted copper on his tongue, but Cashia did not move to take his fingers back yet. He lapped at the digits. His imagination rode him hard. He rolled back, pressing against Cashia, begging.
Yeller drifted with the sensations, disintegrating in the heady numbness burning his gut. He fell into the lust swamping Cashia.
Cashia shifted around, releasing one of Nat’s arms. He sat back against the bed frame and pulled Nat’s hips in and around. Nat rested his weight on his arm, blanketing himself over Cashia’s dick, one arm still pinned up behind his back. He arched as Cashia’s fingers dragged along his spine and down along his backside. His view was all-encompassed by a pair of muscled legs sheathed in a pair of blue jeans and a cock that was almost impermissible in length bulging from the open fly.
“Sisati ga,” the voice that whispered the demand behind him splintered. Nat leaned into it, tasting experimentally. Heat filled his mouth, the duality of soft yet firm texture was fixating as the curve eased over his tongue perfectly.
He tuned into a pair of fingers rubbing across his vulnerable entrance and down the soft spot to cup his balls before circling back up. The hand came around and pressed his head away from Cashia’s shaft, demanding they be licked. He obliged. He curled his tongue around the fingers, drawing them into his damp warmth. He bobbed his head up and down their length, pleased with a hitch in Cashia’s breathing. Two could play this game. Thoroughly soaked, Cashia pulled his fingers away and pushed Nat back to what he had been doing. He shifted and eased, trying to relax under the pressure of the invading digit. He took up his fixation with Cashia’s length as a second digit joined the first to slowly loosen him.
He pushed himself with the invading pressure until Cashia’s length practically touched the back of his throat, cutting off his breathing for a short moment. His heart skipped a beat. His free fingers burrowed into the carpet. He drew back to work over the head more readily.
Yeller brushed against Cashia’s awareness, a state of worry digging into his nerves. Nat had tensed up over something. Maybe though, as Yeller sunk deeper into Cashia’s preoccupation, it was his own fretfulness.
Nat’s heart rate abated with the change. He felt Cashia’s shallow breathing pressed up against his side and took pride in bringing the man to that point. He moaned against Cashia’s length when fingers pressed a particularly luscious spot.
Cashia’s hand squeezed down on Nat’s wrist tight for a second before releasing it to brush at his hair, thinking it might reduce Yeller’s worry. He collected Nat’s hair up into a loose knot around his fist, trying to help keep it out of the way.
Nat’s heart stuttered.
Cashia gently caressed, easing Nat’s mouth around his begging cock.
Nat took the full length, bobbing along the length once, twice, a little too far as his throat closed off. A freezing dark flashed across his senses. Nat faltered, gasping, swallowing, choking. His nails scraped against the base of the carpet. The room’s temperature plummeted. His shoulders tensed. He tasted bile. A field of darkness rimmed his vision.
Brat? Sven’s ears pricked up.
Dijete7! Tereza rose from her spot.
Cashia pulled Nat’s head off of him and extracted his fingers. He rolled Nat over onto his back on the floor in one swift movement. “Damn it, I knew this wasn’t a good idea.” Cashia spat a slew of profanities at himself. Nat stared up, tears glistening in his eyes. His pupils were taking over most of his irises, leaving his eyes almost black. His skin chilled, growing clammy and pallid in a matter of seconds.
“Sto se dogodilo, Medeni8?” Cashia leaned over Nat, pinning his arms across his chest. He wrapped his hips and thighs up to circle Nat’s shoulders and head, trying to bring heat back to the white-haired man’s chest. He placed a hand over Nat’s heart, feeling the stuttering beats struggling under his skin. Nat’s hands trembled. “Do you want me to give you back Ruben?” Cashia knit his brows. His own heart was in his throat. He replayed every move he had made in his head. Not one particular movement over another stood out in his head. They all could have done this.
Nat dragged in stuttering gasps as he fought for his lungs to work properly. He rested his quivering fingers over Cashia’s hand, waiting, begging for the half memory to dissolve. He leaned his head back against Cashia’s thigh and stared up at the ceiling, contending with his body’s reactions. His hearing drifted, and his sight tunnelled. Saliva and nausea made him gag.
“Mirovati, Medeni. Mirovati9. Dah. Easy, easy, you’re okay.” Cashia rubbed one of Nat’s forearms rhythmically.
Nat dropped into a deep blackness, the only hope a sharp dot of white beyond the roll of his eyes. Cement. Cold. The tang of oil and decades of leaf dust. His wrists and ankles ached beneath ghostly ties. Hands reached up into the drowning darkness, pulling him farther down. He thrashed and baulked. He grabbed and pulled with every instinctive breath to come out of that pit, wrestling with snarled rope and grasping hands.
The struggle lasted an eternity before he found the phosphorescent circle widening to reveal the trailer’s bedroom. He dragged in a full breath. He was barely able to force his throat to swallow properly. He closed his eyes and relaxed against Cashia’s warmth in relief as the memory dissipated. He smiled weakly, tears still staining his eyes, heart still too slow. He looked down to see Yeller watching him expectantly. “I’m okay,” Nat reassured, pressing Yeller’s hand on his chest down hard against his skin. He watched the man counting beats. It took what could have been minutes, could have been hours to finally see Yeller counting faster. His heart retreated to its rightful place in his chest.
“You sure?” Yeller looked over his lover in trepidation.
Nat nodded. His hearing recovered slower than he would have liked. It took longer for his hands and, subsequently, the rest of his body to stop shaking. He snatched at his fraying pieces, trying to keep from flying apart.
“Tá brón orm. I shouldn’t have let this happen,” Yeller apologised. He brushed the hair out of Nat’s face and tucked it behind his ear. His love stilled in Yeller’s palm, closing his eyes for that one sweet moment. Yeller leaned in and rested his forehead against Nat as they waited.
I am going to butcher that winged bastard. String him out and let the vultures tear out his eyeballs. Castrate and feed it back to him. Cashia growled, pacing off restless energy at the edge of Yeller’s conscience. To ruin someone so completely? Cashia fangs dripped, his hackles rising. He and his flock are going to bloody pay for this. I thought what I was doing was going easy, enough to satisfy Tereza and get her to come out, but not enough to scare off her host. Fuck it. That colony is going to burn. Cashia shook with rage.
“I’m sorry, Ruben. I didn’t want that to happen,” Nat tried to speak, his voice strained and broken. His throat felt raw and swollen.
Cashia stilled, his rigid anger burning a hole in Yeller’s heart.
Nat extracted one of his arms from being pinned. His fingers still ticked rhythmically. He ran his hand along Yeller’s cheek and down the line of his neck. He reassured himself Yeller was real and right in front of him. “I’m sorry, Cashia,” he apologised as more tears threatened to fall.
Yeller was startled to be thrown back from his perch. “Never apologise for this, Nathaniel, Medeni mjesec10, ever. This was not your doing.” Cashia’s accent was throaty and rough, his teeth clipping his syllables. He fought his instinct to change into his full wolf, and he felt like he was on the losing end of the battle. “For all your yesses, I should not have pushed you into this. I pressed to sate my own selfish appetite. We will find a way to switch Tereza. You should not have to suffer for my mate and me. Even when you agreed to it, I should have paid more attention to what your body was saying also. Forgive me.” Cashia leaned forward, kissing Nat on the forehead apologetically. He slowly unwrapped himself from around Nat when he was confident the white-haired man no longer appeared to be falling into a state of shock. He rearranged himself and pulled the zipper on his fly.
Nat sat up on his elbows, watching Cashia’s restless movements. His heart beat painfully. He laid back and pulled up his jeans, buttoning himself back in. He curled up on his side away from Cashia, disappointed and irritated with himself. Then he thought better of it. He flipped the buttons on his jeans and shucked himself out of them. Sven, you’re taking over. I need some time. He yanked the shift forcefully.
Sven shook himself, trying to ease the tension in his body. Cashia and Yeller watched, both frustrated and angry they had let things get so out of hand.
 I love you. I’m here. You say the word.
 Is this alright?
 As long as you’re good.
 What happened, honey?
 Breath, honey, breath
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