by Lillian Lark
“Asa…” Greg growls but he doesn’t continue. He appears torn between wanting to protect me and wanting to be inside of me.
Asa pulls me into a sitting position, keeping his cock seated deep. It’s impossibly hard inside me but the longer he’s there the less intense it feels. When his hand slides up to my pussy, I flinch. Asa doesn’t stop his hand wandering though. Instead, he massages me. I ache to move my hips from the sensations but my cheeks heat from the wet sounds it makes.
“I think you rather like me inside your ass, little bird. Your poor little pussy is drenched. I think it must feel as empty as Greg suggested.” It almost sounds like a reprimand when Asa says it like that.
“Please—” It’s hard to continue.
“Please what?” Asa is almost playful in his patience. Greg doesn’t look as playful, he looks hungry.
“Please, fill up my pussy.” I flush when I say it out loud. Greg’s impatient huffs are gratifying but he stays where he is. I don’t know what he’s waiting for until Asa speaks.
“Well, Gregory, shall we give what the little bird asked for so prettily?” Asa asks as he circles my clit. My hips tilt, pulling at his cock in my ass. The friction is raw, and a moan escapes my throat.
“Please,” Greg pleads, eating me up with his eyes.
Asa nips at my neck, making me yelp. One of these days, I’ll bite him back.
“No coming.”
“What?” It bursts from me, but Greg just nods eagerly.
“Not until I say, Zephyrine.” Asa sounds like he’s smiling, the controlling bastard.
“Please, Zeph.” Greg gives me a puppy dog look. If the puppy dog were a wolf bent on devouring an elk that is.
I whimper and Asa gives a loud laugh. “You’re not manipulating me about this, little bird. Do what I say, and you’ll thank me for it.”
I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but I also want whatever he’s promising me. I pause but Greg rocking his hips helplessly makes up my mind and I nod.
“Use your words, Zephyrine.” Asa’s face is in my hair and his hips give a little thrust that makes me fully give in.
“No coming until you say,” I grit out.
With my agreement, Asa moves me, impaling me on Greg’s erection slowly. I cry out at the invasion and both men groan. The stretch is immense and my hands scrabble and claw at Greg’s chest before he grabs a hold of my wrists. Asa doesn’t stop working Greg’s cock into me until it bottoms out. I want to thrash but the men hold me still.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” It’s too much. Everything is too much. Tears come to my eyes. I could use my safe word, but I long for this. It’s a soul deep compulsion to be connected to both of them.
“Breathe, little bird.” Asa kisses my neck softly.
I whimper, “It hurts.”
Greg groans in apology but Asa stays firm in his conviction.
“You can take it. Just breathe. You’ll see,” Asa says.
I itch to snap at him because he’s not the one being stretched into oblivion, but I try to breathe.
Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. Asa is using a thumb to rub circles on my back, releasing tension in places I didn’t notice were tense. Slowly my breathing isn’t deafening, and I can hear the men sandwiching me. Can hear them trying to keep themselves still for me.
I open my eyes and Greg is barely holding on.
“Oh God, Zeph honey, you’re so tight.” Greg tilts his hips in a small motion and the interior drag in me lights me up like a Christmas tree. I moan in surprise and Asa gives a breathless laugh when I do.
“Fuck yourself on us to start, little bird,” Asa whispers.
I don’t think about it, craving the surprising pleasure that accompanies the too-full feeling of my body. I start with small motions, more grinding instead of full friction, but it’s enough to make me want more and soon my body is seeking out the thrusting motion that only comes from them moving.
“Please fuck me.”
“Well, when you ask like that, how can we say no?” Asa’s voice is deep, but his control is a distant thing when he thrusts his cock into my ass and I cry out.
Greg responds in kind and I’m suddenly being pummeled in a way that makes my body feel owned. Claimed.
“Perfection. You’re both perfection.” Asa sounds worshiping and urgent, punctuating his words with the thrust of his hips. As if this base action fulfills a soul-deep wish.
The way they move into me is like a covenant. A lasting promise that they are here with me. Their love pushes me higher and higher, recklessly driving me forward because I know they’ll be here to catch me when I fall. I’m on the precipice of climax.
“I-I’m close.”
Asa snarls, all patience gone as his fingers dig into my hips. “Come for your mates then.”
My climax hits as a wave of sensation and I scream. The waves crash over me as my mates continue to move inside me. My orgasm makes everything tighten and I hear Greg grunt. Asa lets me fall forward onto Greg’s chest.
“Asa—” Greg says, body tight in restraint.
“Together, Gregory,” Asa answers.
The relief on Greg’s face almost looks like agony. Asa leans forward as they thrust deeply and grabs Greg by the hair, crashing their mouths together before the harsh kiss is broken by their separate shouts and warmth fills my core and ass.
I can only lie on Greg and gasp for breath. Clean up and everything that comes after that blurs past. I only exist in a fuzzy state of half-asleep contentment. I’m truly out of it by the time we’re cuddled together, and the lights are turned off for the night. My mouth opens in the darkness.
“I love you.”
I fall asleep surrounded and comforted.
✽✽✽
Morning light makes its way past my lashes and I’m slow to move. The singing of birds outside our window is a signal that the day has truly started. There is a heat at my back, and I reach out in the other direction, needing physical reassurance of both my mates before I can do something as frivolous as sleeping in. My hand skitters across the sheet, but the side of the bed is empty and cool.
Has Greg already gotten up? I turn and see the big man still knocked out in his position as my big spoon. It takes several beats of my heart to grasp that Asa is gone. I sit up then, wincing at the soreness of my body. A different ache makes itself known. The house feels empty. Echoey in all the places that should be full.
I’m shaking my head, goose bumps rising in a precursor to grief. My actions were manipulative last night. I’d attempted to give up my heart and my body in a measure to tie us together. And now Asa is gone. A breath shudders from my lips, a sob making its way from my chest to my throat. I lie back and try to calm myself, but it isn’t any use.
He left. I put everything on the line and he still left. Rejection stabs me and my lips won’t stop trembling. I grab a pillow and curl into it, trying to muffle my sobs. I must fail because Greg wraps me in his arms. He doesn’t say anything, no excuses for the third in our group. He holds me as my heart breaks.
Chapter 20
Asa
Three women glare at me from across the glossy conference table. The location of this meeting had been their choice, not mine. As had the time of our meeting. I doubt that they usually held harpy business before eight in the morning.
Hester had called me in the early hours about the request I made of her last night to arrange this meeting. The matriarchs probably wanted to inconvenience me or even discriminate against Hester. The purpose of the meeting isn’t threatened by their posturing. Mace had already come through with the information I needed; the email in my inbox was a welcome sight.
The biggest inconvenience had been that I hadn’t wanted to wake Zephyrine or Gregory before I left. Yesterday had been a rough day for us, especially Zephyrine. They should get as much sleep as they can.
It was still dark outside when I snuck out. Leaving my mates in our bed had been difficult. Difficult but necessary. I have transgresse
d. I hurt Gregory and undermined Zephyrine’s authority in front of her aunts. I have an obligation to make amends.
Last night had been—worth facing down the harpy matriarchs for. It is worth whatever I can do in my power to make reparations with the people I love.
“I don’t think you have anything to say that would interest us, Mr. King.”
Matriarch Choi gives me a look meant to make things shrivel. I itch to fidget with my impeccable suit. Having countless business meetings under my belt should offer some level of jadedness in the face of the most senior harpy matriarch. It does not.
The old harpy appears in her fifties, has Asian features, and wears a business suit sharp enough to cut. The power coming off Matriarch Choi would put my guess of her age to be at least 400 years old. An impressive age no matter the paranormal being. It is no surprise that she is the main authority for harpy society.
The ethnic diversity in harpies had amazed me when I started digging into the research I had about them. Their population may be small, but their ancestors traveled wide and the results are seen today. Though the original legends about harpies are Greek, their people have influenced lore all over the world.
Zephyrine’s Aunt Fairuza sits on one side of Matriarch Choi and a Nordic-looking woman sits on the other side. My files identify her as Matriarch Vegadóttir, who is startling at first sight. With white-blonde hair and a chill-inducing gaze, she looks forbidding and annoyed.
Fairuza, or rather Matriarch Shirazi, is the youngest among the group, being near my age, but the intense way she eyes me isn’t as removed as the other two. This is personal for her and I think she’d rather roast me alive than give me an audience. I hadn’t known that Zephyrine’s aunt is one of the three matriarchs that represent the harpy kind to the Council, but I should have. The standing in her community that Zephyrine is sacrificing to be with us is a tangible thing.
When I had asked Hester to arrange this, she had asked if I was sure. Now I know why. It is not an easy thing to stand in front of these women. But I am here for a reason and I will not let my faint heart be the reason I fail.
“My mate has told me some things about the harpy community, and I wish to offer some humble suggestions that may one day benefit my daughters.”
“We have heard about the abomination that you call a mating. We are not interested in acknowledging it.” Matriarch Choi’s tone grows even colder.
I think of Gregory and Zephyrine, warm in bed, or maybe they are teasing each other over breakfast now, and it gives me strength.
“There are issues facing your community. The modern world holds dangers for the future of harpies. Am I correct in my understanding that you want more clutches to be raised by harpies that are not relying on males?”
“Yes, we want clutches, such as yours, raised in the way of our people,” Fairuza states. Hester huffs behind me; her presence had been required for me to get an audience with the matriarchs.
“I have witnessed this pride and independence firsthand and have great respect for it.” My hands move in a flourish. “But I understand it has led to your population growth declining and instances that have made individuals vulnerable when they don’t want to appeal to their own relatives for help.”
For a single moment, the look on Matriarch Vegadóttir’s face cracks. Grief lines her features before she resumes her neutral mask. Matriarch Vegadóttir’s daughter is the one they lost to domestic violence. The matriarchs shift uncomfortably.
“And you want to fix this how? With money? We have tried to support our own, but it hasn’t yielded the desired response. Young harpies still do not want to be helped.” Matriarch Choi doesn’t sound quite as dismissive as before.
“I’m not merely talking about a support structure for harpies in need. I’m proposing an incentive system, a stipend for every harpy raising a clutch without a male. From my research, that is the vast majority of current clutches.” I stand and slide over a formal copy of my presentation to each matriarch.
“The expense would be extraordinary,” Matriarch Vegadóttir mulls.
“I’ll touch on numbers soon. What works about this system is that it can ensure the safety of harpies without making those who truly need the funds feel as if they have failed. Simply put, they won’t have to ask for help. This will be something available for all.”
The matriarchs look at each other and start to flip through the hastily put together pamphlet. I’d done many last-minute business meetings. I’m confident that they can’t tell this was done in mere hours.
“This system will also allow for more harpies to choose to begin clutches who might never have the required funds. To speak on this subject, let me present Dr. Elizabeth Williams.” I gesture to the black woman who has been waiting on the side of the room with Hester.
The matriarchs straighten collectively, obviously surprised that I am handing this presentation off to one of their own. I had gone over this presentation with Hester, who had helped to coach me in what methods might be most effective. No matter how experienced I am on the topic of moving around money, my word does not hold the weight that another harpy’s will.
Fairuza’s mouth gapes. Dr. Williams is a part of the branch related to Zephyrine’s. Williams is a friend of Fairuza.
My ambassador smiles warmly at each matriarch, and when she speaks there is a touch of accent to her smooth voice. “Honored sisters, some of you know me and the work I do with refugees. I am at the top of my field and love the work that I do but the income from it will never be enough to support a clutch while I keep working. I am passionate about the cause; I feel it is necessary. I cannot justify leaving it for a larger income elsewhere. But I am also a strong believer in upholding the standards of only having a clutch if I can support it. Because of this, I have resigned myself to not having a clutch.” Her voice cracks on the last statement and Dr. Williams looks down for a moment.
The harpies around the table are not unaffected. The doctor continues.
“A clutch is something that I greatly desire but will not be able to have without the kind of measures that Mr. King is proposing. I wish to have the harpy community grow in numbers and strength and believe that this can happen best if harpies are free to pursue the careers that they excel at, regardless if their future income can provide for the clutch they want.”
Finding a harpy in Dr. Williams's situation, who can speak on the subject and is well respected, is the most compelling thing I could think of. I marvel at how quickly Mace had found such a harpy.
“We thank you for your words here, Dr. Williams. Mr. King, please tell us about how this would work,” Matriarch Choi says.
I smile at the women and describe the system of how to move around the money I know they currently have into investments that would yield a greater profit. There are many spreadsheets describing this same thing in the pamphlet. At the end of my lengthy talk of numbers, I end with the cherry on top.
“I implemented a similar system two decades ago for the selkies and it has worked wonderfully.” Selkies have intricate breeding practices that make things complicated. Harpies are simple in comparison.
“What about in times of market collapse?”
“The selkies set aside a portion of funds in a trust for an agreed on amount from those selkies who were past breeding age and over an income bracket.”
There is silence now. I want to make the argument that with the success the selkies have had they haven’t needed to delve into that fund, but this is important. In the face of failure there needs to be a stopgap to support the clutches spawned from this.
To my surprise, it’s Fairuza who responds, “That sort of fund should be easy enough for our branches to agree on. But what do you want in exchange for this sort of plan?” She raises an eyebrow.
I pause before answering, not wanting to mess this up. As much as I want to, I can't demand for them to accept Zephyrine.
“This is the sort of plan that will benefit my daughters should they choose not
to take a mate when they start a clutch. My only aim is to give more choices to the harpy community. Since this will require us working together, it would be nice if my mating isn't referred to as an abomination.”
Matriarch Choi’s lip twitches at that. “We will confer about this matter, but we are interested in this plan.”
I nod and turn to Hester and Dr. Williams to make our exit.
Fairuza’s voice stalls us. “Mr. King, if we are to work with you on this project, what will this mean for your mate’s edict that Jasmine and I aren’t welcome into her home?”
Though it has nothing to do with my presentation, the other matriarchs appear to be watching this interaction closely.
I crave to question her about her intentions. Control this. Protect Zephyrine. But I will not undermine my mate and make the same mistake as I have before.
“It is not my place to say anything about that. My mate is the one who made the edict and she is the one you will need to talk to if you want to take part in the lives of our clutch.”
I must give the right answer because all the matriarchs are nodding. Ah, a test I’ve passed.
Now I can get back to my mates.
Gregory
I pull the car up to Asa’s house and look over to Zeph. This hasn’t been a good morning for her. Her eyes are still red. Every few moments Asa’s absence appears to hit her all over again and more tears escape. It’s slightly better than the sobs I had woken up to and leagues better than the nausea that had followed.
Hester had told me that harpy pregnancy symptoms are connected to the emotional state of the mother. Something about how the connection from mother to clutch can influence the innate magic they have. Zeph’s unhappiness makes the babies uneasy and the babies being uneasy makes things go from bad to worse. Being told about it and seeing it are very different things.
Sometime during the transition of holding a sobbing Zeph in bed to holding Zeph’s hair back while she vomited, I decided that something needs to give. I whipped up some honey lavender muffins and coaxed Zeph into eating a couple. They seem to please both mother and children but not before Zeph had dropped every item she tried to pick up. Two plates and one cup had been broken this morning before I convinced Zeph to sit on my lap while I fed her.