Shades of Werewolf

by T. S. Ryder

  Well, no matter now. Maskin wasn't going to be king. Bjorn needed to worry about Cheryl, not his rival.

  "Fixed," the acolyte working on him said. "Your scalp will be a little tender for a few days, but you'll be fine."

  Bjorn nodded. Maskin was also healed by this time. Cheryl looked much better, although still a little pale. She took both of their hands when they offered them, and the three of them walked silently to her little cabin. Bjorn could see the tension in Maskin's arms. When they got to the step of the cabin, Cheryl stopped. She pulled her hands away and turned to the two men.

  "I made a choice. From here on, if one of you has me, so does the other. Always together. Neither of you will be alone with me. And if you fight each other again, you might as well kill one another, because that's it. You fight, and I won't have either of you."

  Her face paled as she spoke and her hands trembled, but she looked resolute. She looked between them and nodded before entering the cabin and shutting the door firmly behind her.

  The two men stared at each other. As much as Bjorn would have liked to punch the warrior in the face, he was mindful of what Cheryl had just said. He turned on his heel and marched away. Maskin growled and followed.

  "She has made her choice," the warrior-slave said.

  "Yes."

  "And what is yours?"

  Bjorn stopped and looked the warrior in the eye. "I am going to claim my queen. If that is her pleasure, I am more than glad to give it to her."

  The warrior grinned. His teeth were sharp, genetically designed that way to give him an extra advantage in battle. "Then we are in agreement. But her rose is mine."

  "Not if I return to her first," Bjorn vowed. "Whoever cleans himself up and returns to her cabin first—"

  Maskin sprinted off without another word. Cursing, Bjorn chased after him.

  Chapter Five: Cheryl

  Even though the acolytes had reduced the bruising from getting caught between Bjorn and Maskin, Cheryl still felt a little tender. It had hurt more than anything she had felt before, but at least she had stopped them from fighting. She didn't mind the pain that much.

  She lay naked on her bed, her torn dress lying in a puddle on the floor. Her holographic reader was resting on her pillow, projecting her story above her head, but she wasn't reading.

  Had she really told them that if they didn't share her, they wouldn't have her at all? What had she been thinking? Men didn't like to be told what to do. She knew that from Priest Quincy. It was her position to be submissive, to do as her king wanted.

  But it was true. The thought of either of them dying for her had her heart hammering, but if they weren't going to give it a fair shot and share her… then that was their choice.

  She had made her choice, and she was going to stick with it.

  The door opening made her jump. Bjorn and Maskin, both wearing only light cotton trousers, walked in. Cheryl instantly rolled up and grabbed a pillow to cover herself, her cheeks flaming red.

  "Drop it," Maskin growled in a husky voice.

  "Drop?"

  "The pillow," Bjorn said, moving forward. "Drop it."

  Her heart pounded, but the human did as she was told. Apparently, they had taken her words to heart. And they were here to…

  "Beautiful." Maskin's eyes roved over her naked form. "Perfection."

  The flush in her cheeks deepened as the heat rose in her body. She had thought this would be the worst part. To have them gaze at her naked body and declare, as Quincy had often done, that she was unfit. That she had too many extra pounds on her.

  And yet, from the looks on their faces, they were thinking no such thing.

  Her gaze flickered between them, taking in the strong, muscle-bound bodies. The scars on Maskin's arms. Bjorn's hairless chest. They were so different, and yet so similar.

  "We've decided to honor your request," Maskin said, his voice still a growl, as he moved forward. His gaze lingered on her body, making her heart rate increase even more. "Both of us, together."

  Cheryl's mouth went dry. She wanted it so badly, but now that they were approaching on either side, it was also frightening. She pressed herself against the headboard.

  "But… I can't decide who gets me first."

  "We're going to take you together. One in front and the other behind."

  "You mean… anally?" Cheryl's heart nearly stopped. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought that she would actually be able to experience that, though it was one of her favorite fantasies. Not only two men, but the two of them at the same time.

  "Yes." Maskin ran a hand down her arm. "You want us to share you? Well, that's what's going to happen."

  Cheryl bit her lip. It was wrong to smile, wasn't it? She was supposed to be timid and meek…

  No.

  She was going to be queen, and she would not shy away from her own desires.

  "Good. Now who goes where?"

  "We've already decided that." Bjorn leaned over her and pressed a light kiss to her shoulder. Everything tightened at that single action and Cheryl moaned. "But I don't think I want you to know."

  "What?"

  Maskin rose a brow, but Bjorn only grinned at Cheryl. He snatched the ruined dress off the floor and tore it into three strips. The human watched with wide eyes, not understanding what he meant. Even so, seeing the predatory gleam in his eye only excited her more.

  Bjorn tossed one strip of cloth to Maskin. "Blindfold her."

  The warrior narrowed his eyes. He looked at Cheryl. "Do you want this?"

  "What exactly?"

  "We are going to blindfold you and tie your hands to the headboard," Bjorn said. "And then take our pleasure with you while you're helpless to our passion."

  The idea hit Cheryl harder than she expected. It felt like her skin was on fire and she nodded eagerly, unable to breathe, her arousal was already so high. "Yes! Yes, I want that!"

  "The queen has spoken."

  Maskin looped the strip of fabric around her eyes, shutting out everything. Cheryl giggled as Bjorn tied her hands individually to the slates of the headboard. Both retreated for a moment, murmuring to one another. The human strained her ears to hear what they were saying, but she couldn't make it out. She bounced in excitement.

  The temple acolyte's warning that she does not expect too much from her first time having sex came back to her. Cheryl dismissed it. She was already enjoying the experience. Nothing could change that, could it?

  Their hands came to her body at the same time. Cheryl shivered feeling her skin tighten where they touched. Both hands were calloused, both hands huge. She moaned when they moved in sync, one hand from each of them fondling her breast while the other moved to her thighs, parting them. She couldn't tell who was who. The sensation was even more heightened than it had been near the lake.

  All her muscles relaxed as their hands ghosted over her body. It was like the massages the acolytes would often give her, only these fingers lingered and probed in places the acolytes' mechanical, cold touch never drifted near.

  The bed sagged as they both laid down next to her. Cheryl heard a jar being unstopped, and then a cool liquid dribbled on her lower stomach. She jumped.

  "That's cold." She sniffed. "Rosewood oil?"

  "You recognize the scent?"

  "It's often used in fertility rites."

  Twin chuckles answered her. The oil continued to pour onto her skin, making its way up between her breasts before going back down. The men got to work at once, massaging it into her skin. One set of hands brought it between her legs, the other turning her on her side to work it into her ass.

  Cheryl shivered and groaned as the tightness already inside her twisted pleasantly. It was so good she almost couldn't take it. She clamped her thighs shut, but as soon as she did so, two hard hands grasped her leg and pulled it up. She yanked at the restraints holding her hands in place, crying out as a finger slid into her from either side.

  She turned her head, biting her own arm to keep from t
elling them to stop. It felt so good she didn't want it to stop. At the same time, it was so overwhelming that she wasn't sure if she would survive it. She panted for breath as everything was concentrated in her core, the fire so hot she was sure she was going to burn her two men.

  "Please," she begged.

  "I think she's ready," Maskin's husky voice said from somewhere at the end of the bed.

  "She is a lovely sight, isn't she?" Bjorn chuckled. "Look at that delicate flush in her neck. Have you ever seen anything more erotic?"

  "Stop talking!" Cheryl thrashed her head back. "Please, I need you."

  They both chuckled, their voices rich and deep like the dark of the night. Cheryl moaned in delight, not sure she would survive if they delayed much longer. Her hammering heart felt like it was about to burst. Her lungs seized as both pressed against her from either side. They pushed in together, her leg still held up high in the air until her thigh burned. The human cried out, the feeling of them entering her together painful… but so, so good.

  "Don't stop," she panted as they paused. "Don't stop!"

  Twin moans surrounded her. Tears flooded Cheryl's eyes as they continued, filling her until she thought she was about to split in half. She fought against her restraints, sobbing because she didn't know what else to do. Two hands stroked her hair, two lips kissed her shoulders and neck. Neither stopped until they were both inside. It hurt more than Cheryl had expected–but felt so much better than anything she had imagined.

  They started moving in an alternating rhythm. Whatever pain there was drowned in the floods of pleasure that ripped through her, filling her with an almost violent, throbbing need. Her ears were full of the sounds of her two men grunting and groaning in pleasure. Every nerve ending in her body was on fire, her own cries mingling in the air.

  One of them gave her ass a sharp slap. Everything exploded inside her. Her body writhed every which way, her legs kicking out. They held her tightly as she rode out her completion. First one and then the other followed her. They lay together for a long time, all three of them panting.

  "That was amazing," Cheryl said. She wiggled her body between the two men, trying to figure out who was who. "You can untie me now."

  Both men withdrew.

  "Where are you going?"

  "We're not going anywhere, Lapis Lazuli," Bjorn said, his voice soft and tender. There were sounds of them moving, the bed dipping anew as they climbed back on. "We're staying until you're screaming our names."

  Cheryl didn't think she could take any more, but her protests died in her throat as they both entered again. The pain and pleasure were both there again, but the human bit her tongue to keep from screaming–she wasn't going to give them a reason to leave. Not now. Not ever.

  This was what she wanted. Two kings working in harmony. And she would have it. Somehow.

  Chapter Six: Maskin

  Bjorn's hands ran down Cheryl's back. During the two weeks since he and Bjorn finally seduced her for the first time, they had been splitting their days between keeping her company and sharing her bed at night. The prince clutched at the queen's dress as though he wanted to rip it off. Maskin didn't blame him. It was difficult spending time with the sweet, beautiful human and not want to enjoy her pleasures.

  Make that impossible. What was hard was not giving into the desire to make love to her, no matter the situation and setting.

  The warrior-slave smirked as he watched Cheryl's head fall back, her blonde hair twisting in curls, as Bjorn moved to her neck. It was the prince's go-to move, Maskin had discovered. Kissing at the sensitive place right at the human's jawline. It always elicited a throaty moan from the beautiful queen.

  Maskin had expected to feel more possessive of her. He hadn't thought that watching Bjorn kiss her passionately like he was at the moment would have his loins stirring. There was something incredibly arousing about it.

  Probably because of her obvious enjoyment. It had nothing to do with Bjorn, and everything to do with Cheryl, and the little noises she made and the flush in her cheeks and the way her starry blue eyes rolled with pleasure.

  Because of Cheryl's enjoyment, not because of Bjorn. It had nothing to do with Bjorn.

  The warrior-slave strode over to the other two, so engrossed in each other that it wasn't until he pulled Cheryl out of Bjorn's grasp that they even noticed he was there. The human wrapped her arms around his neck, beaming, but the prince scowled.

  "You get to spend time with her tomorrow. Today is my turn."

  "I'm going to the ship, to check communications. I won't be back until nightfall," Maskin told Cheryl.

  Her lower lip pushed out in a pout. "I was hoping that the three of us could go swimming in the lake."

  "I can take you swimming," Bjorn said.

  "Not the way I was hoping."

  Maskin laughed as his loins tightened. From the darkening of Bjorn's eyes, he was feeling the same.

  She was so receptive to everything, half the time Maskin didn't know how to handle her. As she was growing bolder and expressing her desires more and more, it only became clearer that he was out of his depth with a woman like her. But if he was going to drown, drowning in Cheryl was the best way to do it.

  "We can go swimming tonight," he promised. "We'll take a few sunrods so that you don't get too cold."

  He kissed her lightly and returned her to Bjorn's arms. Their ship was outside the grounds of the shrine, a four-hour hike up steep mountain trails.

  His position was more than just a low-ranking warrior-slave, after all. He commanded a ship, and even though he was stuck on this moon, it didn't mean he could simply forget about the defense of the Demante system. There were plenty of species out there that would gladly invade the rich resources of the outer planets or attack Thoutle itself. It was his duty to keep abreast of the information and ensure that his men were up to date on the possible threats they faced.

  Still, leaving Cheryl with Bjorn–leaving her at all–was a difficult thing to do. Hopefully, the reports he would have to listen to would only take a few hours… then, if he ran back to the Shrine, he'd return in time to tear off Cheryl's clothes and throw her into the lake before dark.

  ***

  His lungs burned, legs pumping as he charged down the purple-paved path, grateful that he had elected to stop wearing his heavy armor–he would have had to leave it behind on the ship anyway. He needed to get back to the pavilions as fast as he could.

  If he wasn't too late.

  Maskin didn't bother checking Bjorn's cabin. The sun was low in the southern sky, indicating it was mid-afternoon. Cheryl always slept at this time of day, and Bjorn would not have left her side.

  He burst into Cheryl's cabin. As expected, the human and the prince were lying on the bed, fully clothed, although from the way Cheryl's clothes were disheveled, Bjorn had 'helped her to relax' before she took her nap. The prince started at Maskin's entrance. The queen cried out as the warrior-slave scooped her out of the bed, jostling her awake.

  "What are you doing?" Bjorn demanded.

  Maskin thrust Cheryl into his arm. "Put your armor on her."

  "What?"

  "Our ship was sabotaged. Communications and navigation both destroyed. There is somebody on this moon that is after us. Your nanite armor can protect her." Maskin palmed one of the prince's knives and ran back to the door. His chest was heaving from the strenuous run and sweat glistened on his brow. Nothing moving was in sight. He cursed. "I should have checked the ship every day. This is my fault."

  "What is? What do you mean, somebody is after us?" Cheryl's voice was pitched with fear.

  "The armor is ceremonial," Bjorn said, joining Maskin at the door. They kept Cheryl behind them, their bodies blocking any potential attacks. "Effective against bladed weapons, but not blasters and the like."

  "It's forbidden to bring blasters to the shrine," Cheryl babbled. "It's against all the sacred rules—"

  "We don't know who sabotaged our ship and why" Maskin interrupted.
"We don't know if they're Temadian. It could be that they are another species, trying to kill you to destroy our government. It could be that they're here to ensure that neither Bjorn or I are able to impregnate you. We don't know."

  Cheryl clung to his arm, her eyes wide, her face ashen. The ruby-red armor of Bjorn's nanites made her skin look all the paler and her hair all the more golden. If the situation wasn't so dire, Maskin would have suggested that they tie her up and pretend that she was an enemy soldier that they were interrogating–Cheryl liked playing that game, especially when he would 'torture' her until Bjorn would suggest alternative means to make her talk.

  But now was not the time for sex fantasies.

  Maskin turned to Bjorn. "Do you have any other weapons?"

  "Two swords. I expected to be forced to challenge you to death outside the Shrine. They're in my cabin. And your armor?"

  "My cabin. Weapons first." He considered for a moment and shook his head. "There's an ancient communication center on the other side of the mountains. If we can get there, then we can call for help. The armor is too heavy for long-distance speed. We leave it behind."

  Bjorn nodded and turned to Cheryl. "We'll carry you when we can, but you have to be strong."

  "She is strong," Maskin growled. "The strongest woman I have ever known."

  Cheryl was still pale, but at his words, a determined look came over her face. Now wasn't the time to tell her that she was one of the few women he had ever met. She would be stronger if she believed herself strong.

  They made it to Bjorn's cabin and retrieved his weapons without incident. They headed off at once, moving around the Shrine to a back path that was indicated on the map on Cheryl's holoreader. It would take longer, but hopefully, it would buy them some time.

  Darkness fell, and they continued, Bjorn and Maskin taking turns carrying Cheryl when she was too tired to walk anymore.

  "I need rest," Bjorn said halfway through the night. He sat, head sagging. "I was not genetically programmed for this like you were."