“Oh God, yes, that’s fine by me!” She gripped his head and held him at her breast, trying to coax him into taking more. “Damn, you make me so wet!”
“Are you wet, honey? Let me see!” Jon rooted through the limp chiffon of her dress, found the slippery opening to her vagina and ran his fingers through the flooded channel. “Mhmm! You’re good and wet. We won’t need much foreplay for you.”
“She can have her play before, during and after,” Jason promised, lifting the dress out of the way so he could watch his brother’s fingers pumping in and out of her clinging pussy.
Jon glanced down too, loving the look of her swollen labia glistening with the dew of her desire. “Jas, help her lose the dress. It’s ruined anyway. Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he promised when Chelle bemoaned the loss of her beautiful frock. “This one did its job well.” He chuckled.
So did Jason. “We’ll buy you a hundred more just for the privilege of ripping them off you or fucking you in them.”
Chelle lifted her arms and let Jason remove the dress. It floated away, sheer as moonlight, light as swans down. Naked, she drew her shoulders back and presented her breasts to the brothers’ avid stares.
Jon felt her shiver as their four hands pampered her flesh, petted and plucked her nipples, delved between her vaginal lips to play with her clit and spread her butt cheeks to prod her puckered sphincter. “One day soon, you’re going to beg me to take you here. But not tonight,” he added when she stiffened and stilled.
“Chelle, I want you to straddle me, now.” Jon held her steady as she turned her back to his chest and lowered herself over him. “No, honey, I don’t want you to mount me yet. Just sit on my belly so my cock rides between your legs.”
“Okay, now what?”
“Now use your hands and pull your vaginal lips apart so Jason can see your clit and the sweet meat of our pussy.”
Chelle licked her lips. Under his hand, he felt her stomach muscles jumping. “That’s it. Can you see her, Jason? Doesn’t she look sweet?”
Jason’s head was bowed, his gaze riveted to the dripping morsel between Chelle’s wide-spread legs. “I see her. You’re making me hungry, Jon.”
“That’s the idea, brother,” Jon whispered, capturing Chelle’s arms by looping his over hers from the back. His legs came up and over hers, stretching them obscenely wide. In effect, she was spread and held immobile, unable to struggle. “Try to escape, Chelle.”
She did, with no success. Breathing hard, she subsided, letting her head fall back onto Jon’s chest.
“How does it feel, being held captive, love? Do you like it? Doesn’t it heighten the thrill for you?”
She tilted her head up toward him, met his knowing gaze. “Hell yeah, it’s a rush. How the hell did you know, when I didn’t?”
“You like dominant men, babe. Stands to reason you’d like being dominated.” He looked over at Jason. “You haven’t tasted her, yet, bro. I want you to eat her pussy.” Jon waited until Jason had moved into place between Chelle’s legs. “Not like that, Jas. Change to wolf.”
“Huh?” Chelle bucked in his grasp, her attempt at escape no more rewarded than the prior ones had been.
“Hush, sweetheart. You said earlier your ‘yes’ covered everything. If you can’t accept Jason as the wolf, knowing he’s still your husband no matter what shape he wears, then you haven’t accepted him at all. Or me.” His eyes met Jason’s wary ones. “Do it.”
Chapter Twelve
Chelle’s entire body moved with her panting breaths, the pounding of her racing pulse. She shook her head frantically from side to side, eyes wide and frightened.
His voice more a growl than a whisper, Jason stared at her pussy, not her panicked face. “I can smell your arousal. I see the cream you just gushed. You want this -- you simply don’t want to admit it.”
Jon exchanged a knowing glance with his brother while he spoke to Chelle. “I’m holding you so you can pretend you have no say in this. But you do. If you want us to proceed, simply stop shaking your head. If not…”
Chelle’s head movements came to an abrupt halt.
“Thank you for your honesty,” Jason rasped, even as his body began to change and shift. Soon he hunkered between Chelle’s legs, the tip of his muzzle slowly inching toward her exposed pussy. Just before he made contact, he drew back and lifted his massive head to make eye contact with his mate. Staring into her eyes, he whined.
“Jason says, ‘You are my mate. Accept me.’ He’s only going to lick and suck your pussy. When he brings you, it’ll be my turn to fuck you.”
The wolf swiped his tongue over both nipples, one at a time, paying homage. Then he lowered his head.
The first tentative lash bathed her from anus to clit, igniting a path of fiery sensations that almost blasted her head off her shoulders. Michelle bucked in Jon’s hold, secure in the knowledge she wouldn’t be able to gain her freedom.
She didn’t want it, not really.
Oh God, I’m such a nasty bitch! I can’t deny I want this! I want Jason licking and sucking my pussy, gnawing on my lips and worrying my clit.
Oh glory!
The second tongue swipe targeted her nether lips. Teeth nibbled delicately. Fangs that could rip out the throat of a deer daintily caught and almost pierced the plump bundle of nerves seated at the apex of her sex. Her nipples were so hard, they ached. The top of her thighs hurt where Jon had them stretched so far apart, held open to accommodate his brother’s ease. Her mate’s ease.
Chelle raised her head, strained her neck to see Jason rooting in her vagina, his giant wolf form crouched on the bed between her splayed thighs. The sight made her heart skip a beat. Made her pulse pound. Made her wet.
He stopped licking, stopped lapping up her running juices. He speared her flesh, rammed past her fluttering lips to impale her pussy with his rough animal tongue.
She screamed. Oh God, the pleasure, the pleasure!
So intense it burned, so overwhelming it shredded her nerves. It went on and on, never ending, never letting up. She never felt Jason backing away, shifting back into his man form. She did feel Jon lifting her, impaling her on his cock.
Facing away from him, it was easy for him to enter her deeply. His cock rode up inside her, pushing its way past tight, elastic tissue that gave way under the determined advance.
Then he was retreating, pulling out only long enough for him to surge back in with such force her breasts bounced on her chest.
Her jiggling breasts caught Jason’s attention. Pressing close to her front, he took a nipple in his mouth, rolled the nub between the roof of his mouth and his still rough tongue.
The pressure, the heat… too much, not enough!
Jon freed her arms. His hands swept down and cupped the full globes of her ass. His fingers gripped her hips, used that hold to slam her down on his rigid cock repeatedly. Moaning and grunting with the effort of each mighty thrust, he mercilessly worked her pussy on the pole of his upstanding manhood.
“God above, Jonathan, you’re so deep I can taste you in my throat!”
On the tail end of that cry, Jason gave her his tongue and she sucked it in, desperate to have something of her own to work.
“That’s good babe,” Jon panted. “I’m about to taste you in mine!”
One hand came up to hold her neck extended. Still fucking her, he lifted until his chest leaned against her back. Holding her immobile, he opened his mouth wide. His fangs flashed, bit deep.
She felt him drawing against the vein, felt the blood flowing out of her on an erotic pulse that throbbed way down in her pussy. Lightning flashed, sensual thunder boomed. Torrential rain flooded the cavern of her sex. Electricity sparked along her nerve endings, setting fires in her blood. Fireworks flared in the night sky of her inner soul, splashing sparkles and light throughout her spasming body.
Her tongue dueled with Jason’s. Below, intimate muscles clenched, clamped down on the male organ splitting her in two. Needing to feel the
hot wash of his seed bathing her womb, Chelle began a rhythmic constricting action to milk every drop of come from her Vampire lover.
With a roar of triumph, Jon surrendered, gave her his seed. And he hadn’t lied. Jon hadn’t exaggerated the pleasure, the ecstasy, and the sheer, unmitigated joy that screamed through her. Voices whispered in her head, telling her how loved she was, how needed, how adored…
We love you, our mate, and our woman. You complete us. You make us whole…
Chapter Thirteen
“Michelle Rios, wake up. You have a choice to make.”
Something brought Michelle awake with a start. Heart pounding with fear, she turned in a full circle, eyes scanning every inch of ground for something, anything that looked familiar.
She’d fallen asleep wrapped in the arms of her two loves, yet she stood now in a vast field of summer flowers, a soft breeze blowing through her shoulder length hair.
“Where am I? Where are my…” She didn’t know what to call them.
“Your husbands? They are sleeping. For that matter, so are you.”
She could buy the truth of that statement. Nowhere on earth had she seen a sky the color of ripe mango, or clouds pastel green. Nor had she ever seen -- and never wanted to again -- gamboling beasts that resembled a sick child’s nightmare image of the monster-under-the-bed.
“You still haven’t told me who you are and what you want with me.”
“I am Jonathan Jason Corelli’s mother, my dear, and what I want with you is simple. I want you to make my boys whole again.”
A mist, gray and thick, swirled in the middle of the field. The voice seemed to come from there. Michelle peered into the dense cloud, trying to pierce its secrets.
“Why are you hiding? Come out where I can see you.”
“Do you see with your eyes or with your heart?”
“Do you enjoy speaking in riddles? Because I’m fast growing tired of it. If you don’t show yourself and stop dog-dicking me around, I’m going to pinch myself and wake up.”
A musical tinkling laugh rose on the warm summer air. “What a marvelous sense of humor! No wonder my boy loves you!”
“How can you claim to be the twins’ mother and keep referring to only one of them?”
“Because I have only one son.”
“Bullshit.”
“So do cows, but that’s neither here nor there. Allow me to tell you a story. To explain, I guess we’ll need to start at the beginning…
“Jonathan Jason Corelli was a single egg embryo. Healers in the Realms now conjecture he became lonely while in the womb and created a playmate. He was born Siamese, attached by one spinal cord to his make-believe friend. That there were two bodies meant nothing. He was still only one person, born with one soul. I knew this, and tried to make my husband understand, but he was too Human, too Neanderthal to grasp the concept. I named our boy Jonathan Jason, but his father mistook my meaning and gave one of the names to each of the bodies.
“My son stayed whole until his tenth birthday. At that time, thanks to advances in your Human technology, the doctors felt he stood the greatest chance of surviving the separation operation. I was against it, of course. I knew the boy would eventually outgrow the need for his imaginary friend. As soon as his magic caught up with his maturity, he would reabsorb the golem and everything would return to normal. My husband, who never believed I was not as Human as he, did not agree with me. Thanks to the backwardness of this world -- no wonder Earth is not a member of the Realms -- his word held sway with the doctors. I couldn’t bear to watch the agony and suffering Jonathan Jason was about to undergo, and so I left.”
“What a bitch! A mother with a heart would have stayed through that time, if for no other. That’s when they needed you the most.” Chelle minced no words in her anger.
“Hear me out before you judge, Human.”
“Fine, but why do you keep using the word Human as if you aren’t one, yourself?”
“I am not Human. Neither, for that matter, is Jonathan Jason… well, not much. May I continue?”
Chelle shrugged. “Sure, why not? I’m not doing anything but sleeping, after all.”
“By Human standards, the operation was successful. Jonathan Jason had been split into two separate bodies. Both bodies suffered from the rending, and they endured untold pain and agony. He will probably never tell you he underwent the operation without anesthesia. The primitive doctors needed to know which nerves worked which sections of the body, where the pain receptors were. My son felt every burning slice of the surgeons’ scalpels. Even with the technology available and the international team of doctors and specialists involved, he barely survived the operation. It was a historic event. I believe the doctors involved are still dining out on the notoriety.
“You can’t imagine what he went through, how he suffered. You should have seen him… split into two ten-year-old bodies reduced to taking sustenance through an NG tube. He couldn’t even eat a French fry or potato chip. He spent that year poring over magazines -- the closest he could come to actually living -- and fell in love with all the food pictures in the Good Housekeeping magazines. I think he decided to be a chef while he argued with his other self over what he would do to make the pictures look even better.
“He gradually recovered and healed, enough to win free from the doctors’ care. But the uncertainty of his life took a toll. As the years went by, he became more and more schizophrenic, believing he was actually two different people.”
“I thought you’d left,” Chelle interrupted. “How could you know what was going on in their lives while you were gone?”
“There were… certain circumstances I had to rectify before I could return and claim my son. When I did, it was too late… Now, where was I before being rudely interrupted?”
“Let’s see…” Chelle propped her finger at her chin. “Making lame-ass excuses for abandoning your sons?”
The being’s voice chilled. “No. I remember. Eventually, Jonathan Jason came to realize there was something very different about him and learned his heritage was not Human. He no longer wanted to live with an exaggerated sense of his own mortality. He longed for some reassurance of permanence, of longevity. To that end, he sought out a sorcerer, who immediately recognized Jonathan Jason as my son. He attempted to help them by teaching them an object lesson. The sorcerer turned one body into a Vampire and the other into a Werewolf. The exercise failed horribly.
“Even though he had not gained his powers, my son -- through a great feat of determination the realms are still gossiping over -- managed to find the sorcerer a second time. This time, he demanded the curse be lifted. The sorcerer did better than that, but he didn’t tell Jonathan Jason. He left him a riddle both bodies had to solve to overcome their problem, but the idiot boy has yet to attempt it.”
“What’s the riddle?”
“The couplets go something like this: ‘The darkness within shall hold no sway; you’ll walk, henceforth, in the light of day’.”
Chelle nodded. “That must deal with Jonathan. He’s the Vampire.”
“The second one says: ‘You need no longer heed Moon’s call; for during her reign you’ll walk man-tall’.”
“And that one obviously is meant for Jason,” Chelle concluded.
“The sorcerer’s spell was broken, but he… they… interfered with the power.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve done nothing but confuse me.” Michelle clenched her fists. “You say you want me to help Jonathan and Jason but you’re not telling me anything worth hearing.”
“You can help them reverse their magic and make them one again. With you as the focus, my son can undo what the physicians did so long ago, but better… Jonathan Jason can be one man in one body -- complete and whole.”
“At what price?”
“I don’t understand.”
“At what cost to them? Who remains? Who gets wiped away? Who is the persona that is expendable?”
“They are on
e!”
“Listen to you! Even you are calling your son ‘they’.” Michelle looked through the mist and saw the woman.
She floated off the ground, encased in a clear bubble, her beauty so pure and shining Chelle felt blinded by her light. Her eyes were pure gold, her hair the darkest night black. She looked a lot like her sons.
“I want to wake up now. Let me wake up!” Chelle demanded, stomping her foot.
“You must make a decision. Choose wisely!”
“Fuck you and the bubble you rode in on, witch!”
“I love him.”
“No you don’t! You love your perfect ideal! I suppose, if they had turned out gay, you’d be begging me to make them straight!” Chelle yelled into the heart of the bubble, so angry she hadn’t noticed the changes in the dream scene. She’d somehow come right up against the Faerie’s shield -- or bubble or transport or whatever the hell it was -- and splayed her hand across the skin. It felt thin and membranous and vibrated under her touch, seeming almost alive.
“You needn’t think you’re ever getting an invitation to come visit your grandchildren, either!” she added when the woman -- really, she was too pretty to be called a woman, but Chelle couldn’t think of anything else. Alien? -- sat quiet and stoic, enduring her harangue without further attempts to justify her long ago actions.
“Michelle, I shall send you back in a moment…”
“Send me back right now! I want to wake up!”
“Tell my son… tell the boys I love them.”
Chelle put her hands over her ears and started making noise. “La-la-la-la-la… I can’t heeeear yoooou! Wakey-wakey time!”
After several tries to talk over Chelle’s noise, the Queen of the Underworld rose to her feet, her golden robes falling in a glittering cascade of loveliness about her dainty person. “I cannot believe you are the fulcrum around which my son’s future will be built” she spat. “You are the most stubborn, hardheaded Human it has been my misfortune to deal with! Wake up!”
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