Cyn

by Cari Silverwood

  Rutger bit the inside of her thighs, making her squeak and buck. Then he plastered his mouth over her pussy and sucked, then twirled his tongue around exactly the right spot.

  Oh god. There.

  Her head flopped back onto the lounge, and her body tightened, and she squirmed as much as she could while both of them applied tongues and teeth and lips to those delicate places.

  Inevitably she climbed toward orgasm, her muscles flexing, sweat rising, her undulating—more exercise than with a whole class of yoga.

  Then Rutger wormed his thumb into her ass.

  That made her even wetter, which was saying a lot considering the come Vargr had pumped into her. She was surely dribbling it from her entrance, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  When she tried to hump his mouth, he held her down efficiently, as did Vargr, who’d taken on the task of covering her belly and breasts with kisses and nibbles. The tiny spikes of pain multiplied. Her nipples became taut mouth-wet buttons, and that seemed to tempt him to torture them even more.

  It was exquisite torture, the pleasures multiplying second by second, piling up, overwhelming and strong. She was going to come soon, and she gasped out a squeak and a shudder. She must. She cried another fuck while greedily watching Vargr release her skin… from between his teeth. Her skin slid, popped into place, and he smiled. The orgasm taunted her. She loved being held down or tied up and fucked, and these two knew it.

  With that hot tongue lapping at her pussy, she lost track of who was where or doing what and tried to clutch at Vargr, only to be surprised by him wrapping cord about her wrists, stretching back her arms, and tying them behind and above her head to the coffee table.

  She wriggled her fingers—tested the tie.

  They stood looking down at her, both of them, with her legs still hanging over Rutger’s shoulders.

  Panting, she scowled at up the slope of her belly at this beaster who’d ceased to do his magic to her clit. Did she have to wait forever, aching, sweaty, and all horny, until the two of them had studied her body to their satisfaction?

  “I suppose,” she croaked, “kicking you in the teeth or balls to get you moving would be bad manners?”

  One eyebrow on Rutger chose to rise. Nothing else moved. “I think she wants her ass fucked. What do you think?”

  “For sure.”

  “Have we found a dildo here?”

  Her frown deepened and she muttered curses. “I am not having a used dildo in me.” If it’d been in someone else…

  “She has a point,” Vargr agreed. “So we’ll use something—this.” He stooped then held up the beer bottle she’d emptied.

  How fucking dirty could they get? Her eyes were surely round. Her swollen clit ached harder. “Ummm. Wait. Stop. Stop. I…”

  “And if we do it anyway? You like dirty, Cyn. What’ll you do, if we do it anyway? If I fuck your ass with this? Hmmm?” Rutger twirled the bottle then stroked the opening of it from under her butt and around over her thigh. He slid the neck back and forth between her legs, over her slit, lubricating it, then retraced a cool pathway over thigh and beneath to find her ass, again.

  She wriggled and held her breath. That might as well be a snake he was aiming to put inside her—he couldn’t hurt her, but her imagination made this filthy as fuck.

  Tempted, she swallowed slowly, fascinated. Tied down or not, she could protest more than she had. Mouth parted, she eyed the beaster as he circled the area he was threatening to violate.

  “At least take the label off, you bastard.”

  That made Vargr snort-laugh. He pulled her leg aside, spreading her wider.

  Watching her face, Rutger pushed the bottle into her, but it was the wrong hole. It went in hard and deep.

  Squeaking, she writhed away, and the two of them held her until she relaxed, and she found herself breathing fitfully, her back arching.

  “I think you got her cunt.”

  “Ahhh. Wrong hole? A pity.” He pulled it fully out, and she made herself be silent. Mostly silent—she whined softly, and her leg muscles twitched, as he probed for then slowly twisted the bottle into her asshole. “This isn’t big enough to open you wide enough for me. But I can have fun.”

  “Need some spit on that?” Hand under her ass, Vargr leaned over her and spat between her legs then bestowed a wet kiss over her clit, sucking on it enough to make her keen and strain her wrists against the ties. “Oh she likes that. BYO dildo next time?”

  “Hell yes. Did I not say it last time? Make a damn note of it.”

  It amused her despite her desperate, aching need for cock, or for tongue, or both.

  Both, yes.

  Then Rutger put his mouth on her again, and everything went nuclear.

  He thrust the bottle in even deeper, pulling it out, sticking it into her, as he licked and sucked at her.

  And with Vargr helping to hold her, and her not being able to escape… or wanting to…

  Fuck.

  Ripped to near-orgasm in seconds, stiffening, she lifted her butt from the lounge bridging her body from her shoulders all the way to his mouth. Her body was writhing iron, taut, ready... A deep gutter-edged cry escaped her, and her eyelids slammed down.

  She whispered a litany of soft fucks then ruptured into a mind-obliterating orgasm that roared through, destroying her until she lost count of the seconds. She subsided, caught in an aftermath of panting so rough she could not possibly calm herself.

  When someone turned her to her belly again, she flopped over as prompted and lay with arms pulled taut by the cord. That same male plunged his large cock into her. The spiked one. She moaned, no longer playing the victim, being it. Taken as he willed it. She couldn’t have run away or resisted if she had wanted to. She was done.

  It seemed forever for her to break from the exhaustion and be sane and sensible again, forever for her to truly measure his grunts and the smack of his body into her butt. Though Rutger had never stopped fucking her, his erection reamed her, and already via their flare and swell, the spikes on his cock were making themselves felt.

  She tensed and pulled at the cords on her wrists, straining her thighs as if she could make herself more accessible when they already had her head down, ass up and spread. Vargr was holding her right leg down along the very top of the back of the lounge. The other was left flailing in the air as Rutger rocked into her, fucking her hard.

  He drove at her again and again, forcing her to slide, her face surfing the sofa. Vargr freed her hands, and she knew the second that Rutger was about to climax and savored the pleasure, gripping the cushion in her fists, as his spikes erected fully. The walls of her cunt pulsed onto them, spasming, riding the wave as he rammed into her to impossibly far limits and roared out his victory.

  She shut her eyes and savored the sensations of submission, of bliss, of being taken to the abyss of exhaustion and thrown in, of being loved to the limits.

  She’d be spitting come out her mouth after this, he was surely that far in.

  He humped at her again, teeth baring as he caught his breath, riveted by her own dishevelment then he leaned over her and collapsed, and Vargr dropped his ass on top of the sofa and leaned in too. The three of them made for a sweaty, smelly, messy tangle.

  She sighed and smiled, reaching about to feel for them both. They curled up and shifted about, Rutger falling onto the cushions and pushing her legs down, making room. Somehow the three of them found a way to cuddle in a big heap, and they stayed that way, recovering, and simply being together.

  Showering together was more than caring for each other that day. It said love, Cyn decided, burying her face in their chests, soaping up their bodies, wings, horns, and all the stonelike bits on them, as they soaped hers. They let the water run longer than they should, and she held them and watched the soap bubbles swirl and disappear into the drain hole.

  Nirvana, this day, she thought later in bed.

  She was mostly asleep when Vargr asked her a question. “What was the reason you w
ere avoiding us?”

  He’d noticed? Should she tell? “Maura said something important… Later,” she murmured.

  “Okay.” He kissed her ear.

  Chapter 14

  Vargr woke to a stomachache, a chest ache, generally a whole lot of ache. He slipped from the king-sized bed, smiling at the look of Cyn buried under both pillow and Rutger’s bulging arm.

  Then he saw the red on the sheets where he’d been, looked down and saw it on his naked body too, smeared and trickling. The splits in his skin, the small holes, and all of them were bloody. His arm chose then to gush a little before it settled and merely leaked.

  “What the fuck,” he whispered.

  Hurting, but staying quiet because he needed to figure this out first before he alarmed the others, he padded into the bathroom and stood before the floor to ceiling mirror. Already his chest was rising and falling way too fast.

  Trouble.

  The beaster before him was impressive in many right ways—dark blue-and-gray wings curved above his back with paler blue streaks outlining feathers, the stone of his shark-fin hair and the changes on his shoulders, his brilliant blue eyes.

  Impressive in one very wrong way—the blood pulsing from him. Wounds were widening as he watched. Holes in his chest gaping more, ragged cuts on his arm that parted and showed flesh. Pain tore into him. Groaning, he slumped.

  “Fuck!” He gasped and clutched at his chest as if to tear away the pain.

  He fell to one knee, head bowed, spilling more red down his thighs. The blood dripped from his cock and leg, puddled under his foot. His vision blurred and he slapped a palm to the floor.

  What was this? Why? Had he been attacked in his sleep?

  In that same moment, Cyn came skidding into the room with Rutger behind her.

  “Crap.” Fear and rage flared in her eyes. Rutger stiffened.

  “What is it?” he asked them, trying not to be weak and beg for aid.

  “I know what it is.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, which did not bode well.

  “What? I’m not dying today. What is it!”

  “Your wounds from the stinker have come back.” She bit her lip. “Your demon nanites were dropping. I think… they’ve failed you.”

  “Maura did say that.” Rutger stooped, dropped to one knee beside him. “He must need more. If we leave now, Mo will take a day to return to War Quarter.”

  “Too late.” The wounds were worsening quickly. He shook his head. Think. How? He needed more nanites to heal and they had none. “Bandages will slow it.” He heaved to his feet only to slide in blood and fall sideways. Hand outstretched, he twisted. The floor was coming, and this would hurt.

  Rutger lunged and caught him. “Uh!” He shoved an arm around Vargr’s back, skin slipping on blood, and helped Vargr stagger with wet, bloodied feet toward the bedroom. “Cyn! Yell to Mo, Kiko, and Vincent. We need to go. ASAP. We’ll bandage you once we’re in Mo. Fuck, we’ll have to go down the side of this tower again.”

  “No. Stop. He’ll die before we get back.” She ran both hands into her black hair. Her face was paler than he’d ever seen—like an avenging pissed-off vampire.

  He grinned sloppily, found his mouth difficult to work. “What do you have…” He coughed, spat blood that spattered on the bed as they approached. “In mind?”

  Dying was on the cards today.

  Grunting, Rutger helped him sit. “This had better be good.”

  “You need demon nanites, well I have them. I’ll cut myself, and you get to drink it.”

  He barked out a laugh. More blood spattered. “Damn it, Cyn, always with the gory answers.”

  “You don’t get to say that. Not when you’re... that.” She winced, looking at him. “Lie him down and I don’t know… a cup? I have a knife.”

  She found a pile of their clothes, a pack, pulled a sheathed knife from the mess and unsheathed the blade.

  It was daylight out there still, and pricks of brilliance lanced from the shuttered window, bouncing off the flat of the knife.

  Cyn looked from wrist to wrist, frowning, clearly looking for somewhere to cut.

  Surely a needle was—

  She sliced the knife tip along her wrist, stony-faced, and he heard Rutger swear.

  Before she bled, he’d turned away. God, she wanted him to drink her blood. Dizzy, he stared at his feet. What the hell. Minutes later a full cup arrived before him, in Rutger’s hand. He took it, brought it shakily to his mouth with the help of someone else’s hand, and he began to drink.

  It tasted… wrong, and he grimaced.

  “If this doesn’t work...” The voice faded out. His voice. Nothing around him seemed in focus or real. He swayed, licked his lips.

  “I know. I know. Fuck it had better. I don’t like wasting my blood.”

  “He’ll be fine.”

  “I think he needs more. Hold that cup under me, there.”

  “Cyn—”

  “Do it! I’ll heal. You know it.”

  He drank the second cup without looking up, then a third. By then he was feeling stronger, and he breathed once and long, and he looked up, a little fearful of what he might see.

  She was on an armchair, perched on the arm with flames dripping from her fingers, as only rebel demon-girls do. The flames extinguished as he watched. Rutger was sitting next to him, he realized.

  “It’s working.” He swallowed. “Thank you.”

  “Fuck.” She swiped at her eyes and Rutger placed a hand on his shoulder, gently.

  “Stop crying over me. Besides, it was me who did all the bleeding.” Then he shook his head. “Sorry. Correction. We both did. You okay?”

  “Me?” She giggled. “Course the fuck I am.” There were red-stained bandages on both her wrists.

  “Good.” He nodded. “Good. You’d do anything to turn me into a vampire, you two would. Come here.” He beckoned to her, and she came over and sat on his other side. They ran arms around each other, and he hugged her, then rested his head on hers before he hugged Rutger also. “Thanks, man.”

  “Thank you for the hug, you asshole. I thought I was going to have to think up a damn funeral speech. Cyn, we have to get Maura to figure out a better way than this.”

  “We do.” She nodded. “Wow, do I agree. Messes up the sheets.”

  The bed looked half red.

  “Eh.” Rutger shrugged and smacked him, lightly, on the back. “I think we’re past needing cleaning done. Ready to leave anyway? We still need to get back as soon as we can. He may need more nanites.”

  “Talking over the top of me is done.” He stood, stamped his feet. The demon nanites were firing up for sure. That aggressive fizzing need to stick sharp things into the world had returned. “Let’s go. You’re right, we should get back soon, and it’s dusk anyway.”

  They packed up quickly, and exited to the corridor where Mo waited, told him to start the engines and plot a course back. While he and Cyn threw bags and packs into Mo, Rutger went off to make sure the others were ready. Their first meal of the night could be on the move.

  Kiko and Rutger jogged out the door opposite theirs that led to the other half of the penthouse. Concern was written on their faces, and Kiko waved a note, shoved it at Vargr.

  “Here. Read it. By the hair on my beard he’s gone and done an experiment I’d never have let him do.” Nervously Kiko eyed the window they’d smashed through on arrival, and Vargr saw what the problem was.

  A figure stood out there, on the wide balcony, unmoving, stone still. The pale sky cut him out like a cardboard toy.

  “Oh, fuck.” The note was shoved into his hand, but he didn’t look down. “He’s gone into the sunlight? For how long?”

  “We don’t know. Kiko didn’t know he’d left until I woke him.” Rutger took a step toward the light. “Another five minutes, and we’ll get him in. I gather the experiment was to see if he could turn back into flesh once night fell.”

  “Another fool.” Cyn was beside him. She sighed. “We
don’t have to wait. I’ll drag him in. Mo, how do we get Vincent inside you? Have you a larger entrance? He’s stone. He won’t go through that door.”

  “I will open the rear ramp.” The hydraulic noises coming from the vehicle intensified and further back a door lowered, becoming a ramp.

  “I just hope Vincent hasn’t put on too much weight.” She marched off. “Be ready to grab him… the idiot.”

  Why would he try this? “Is this a complicated sort of suicide?”

  “He spoke of being curious.” Kiko answered in a measured voice, as if he were still thinking this through. “I think maybe he wanted to know what the future would be, for himself and the two other trolls. He wanted to know if they had to hide in the dark forever.”

  Cyn was already towing Vincent backward across the glass-littered carpet, making loud rumbling and squealing sounds, leaving a gouge in the elegant rug. A stone troll and yet she was managing his weight quite nicely. He reminded himself not to arm wrestle her, unless he had her drugged. The woman was strong.

  Feeble rays of light painted stripes on the floor and on Vincent.

  “I get that. I do. Living in the dark like roaches, it worries me too.” He jogged forward, willing to risk a bit of sunburn, after all, the nanites he’d eaten would help him heal. How long would Cyn’s donated snack of blood last him though?

  A day should be possible, but he didn’t want to contemplate falling apart again like he had. He was ravenous, and likely that was due to the lost blood. The demon nanites must get energy from somewhere.

  They maneuvered, hauled, and shoved Vincent up the ramp, and he prayed the small stone bits ground off his edges were nothing important. They laid him down in a corner, on his back with blankets packed around him and heavy cargo straps holding him flat. No one knew when, or even if, he would change back into being alive.

  He thought he saw some brighter brown patches appearing but wasn’t certain.

  The doors were shut, and everything was locked down. Kiko and Cyn had gone forward already. It was time to forge onward, down the scraper, and back to War Quarter.