by T. S. Ryder
The queen, however, had only one king and it would be him. If she desired more than one man, they would have to discuss lovers after they were wed.
But it would not be Maskin.
With a roar, the warrior-slave leaped forward, holding his knife in his clenched hand. He was quicker than Bjorn anticipated. The prince ducked but still received a blow to his skull. With a flick of the wrist, Maskin neatly cut into his scalp. It stung and hot blood began pouring instantly. Bjorn took advantage of his opponent's closeness to drive two knuckles into his sternum. Maskin stumbled back, gasping for breath. His eyes burned.
"Stop!" Cheryl cried.
They leaped at each other again. Bjorn moved quickly, jabbing stiff fingers into various nerve bundles. Maskin's left arm dropped, useless, the knife sliding from his hand. With a laugh, Bjorn sliced at his chest. His rival punched him hard in the face with his other hand.
"Stop it! Stop!"
Both Maskin and Bjorn punched at each other as Cheryl darted between them. Two ham-sized fists caught her in the abdomen and back. She gasped, then stood choking on air.
"No!"
Both prince and warrior-slave shouted at the same time. Bjorn dropped his knife and caught the human as she swayed. His heart stopped and he couldn't breathe. The queen pulled in a single gasp as her skin turned ashen. He turned and ran, ignoring the blood that continued to pour down his scalp. Maskin caught him quickly and pulled Cheryl from his arms.
"What are you doing?" Bjorn cried as he laid her on the ground.
"She is suffering a diaphragm spasm," Maskin replied, checking her pulse. "She needs to have room to get her breath back."
Bjorn dropped to his knees and clung to Cheryl's hand. He had known the moment he saw her that she was the woman he had been waiting for all his life. He hadn't expected to love the queen he was paired with, but the moment her sweet blue eyes met his own green ones, he knew. No other would ever hold his heart.
And now his determination to beat Maskin might have cost him her love.
The human's back bowed as she gasped again. This time her lungs continued to work and she coughed, then groaned. A little color came back to her face.
Bjorn grabbed Maskin's wrist when the warrior-slave reached for Cheryl's naked breasts. Seeing him fondle his queen had been strangely arousing, but he wasn't going to let the slave take advantage of her now!
"I'm checking for broken ribs," Maskin said with a glare. "And you need to take care of that wound."
"I'm fine."
Maskin rolled his eyes and tore a strip of cloth from Cheryl's skirt. He wadded it up and pressed it to Bjorn's head. It stung so badly Bjorn had to grit his teeth to stop from grunting. His nanite armor had been snaking after him, and now it coiled up his body and returned to its place.
"I have seen many battles," Maskin said. "If you don't get an acolyte to regenerate the cut skin, you'll lose half your scalp. And then how will you look so pretty?"
"Don't fight," Cheryl said weakly as he angrily opened his mouth. "Please. Don't fight."
The men glared at each other but nodded. Bjorn held the cloth to his head as Maskin scooped up the human into his arms again.
Bjorn was feeling light-headed and woozy by the time they made it back to the healing pavilion. The acolytes immediately retrieved an ancient regenerator, a boxy bulky thing in comparison to the sleek inserts that were used these days. A red glow pulsed onto his head wound, stitching the flesh back together.
He didn't move his eyes away from Cheryl. The acolytes buzzed around her and declared that she had suffered a diaphragm spasm, as Maskin had said. They used a regenerator on her as they started to patch up the warrior-slave himself.
"I'm sorry for striking you, Cheryl," Maskin said.
"That's okay. I'm just glad you two stopped fighting."
"I'm sorry as well." Bjorn reached for her.
Cheryl shied away from his hand.
He looked away, rage bubbling in his gut. When it mattered most, he hadn't known what to do with his queen. He always knew what to do. But this time he hadn't, and now his human feared him.
From the time he was a young boy, he had been planning how he would change things once he was king. It was only a matter of time before the slave system that the houses built themselves on would break, and he needed to change it, both for their sakes and for the slaves themselves.
But Maskin? He decided to become king to prove that he could. He was after the power, the prestige. A man like him knew only brute strength and force. He knew nothing about navigating the subtle currents of court. If he became king, then everything Bjorn had dedicated his life to would be gone, and the Demante System would be ruined by civil war.
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 telling 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. Wha
t 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.