by H. E. Trent
She nodded and, to Trigrian, said, “I find that incredibly difficult to believe.”
Trigrian shut off the water. “That’s because you’re thinking with a Terran’s perspective. You don’t know enough about our culture to understand our home lives or what our relationships look like.” He reached over the top of the door and made a gimme motion. “Could I have a towel, please?”
“Get it yourself.”
“My hair is unbound.”
“So is Murk’s.”
“That’s…different.”
“Why?”
Trigrian sighed. Shifted.
Murk returned with the tea, and Court couldn’t help but to notice that Murk made no moves to get the man a towel, either.
“It’s…”
“Right, right,” Court interjected. “The reason is complicated, right? A Jekhan thing I wouldn’t understand because I’m just a cop from Earth with no culture of my own to speak of and wouldn’t understand the intricacies of a foreign planet’s societal mores. Gotcha.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t have culture, only that explaining ours is difficult. I need to use a lot of words to explain simple things and I’m not…I’m not used to that.” His voice went soft. “Murk would tell you.”
“I want you to tell me because Murk can’t.”
“Could I have a towel, please?”
Scoffing, she tossed him one.
He wrapped his hair, not his body, and stepped out. He reached for another towel, and didn’t meet her gaze or Murk’s as he dried his skin. “Murk letting his hair down for you is expected,” he said.
“He lets it down for me?”
“Yes. He’d pin his hair in public, unless he were feeling defiant.” Trigrian added in a mumble, “Which used to be often.”
Murk grunted.
Trigrian padded out of the bathroom. Court started to follow, but Murk took her hand. Held her still. He pointed to his hair and pantomimed styling it. Give him a minute, he seemed to be saying.
“Okay,” she said with a shrug.
He pulled her between his legs and pressed his cheek against her belly.
She sighed. “Is he always so reckless, or are you two—three—conspiring to give me an ulcer?”
He slipped his hands up the front of her shirt and skimmed over her belly and up to her tender breasts.
Gasping, she nudged his hands away. “Definitely a conspiracy.”
He stood, took Trig’s hair ties from her, and led her to the bedroom.
Trig was sitting on the bench in front of the bed tucking the ends of his dark auburn hair into a dense knot. He held out his hand and Murk dropped the ties into his palm.
“Just so you know, we’re not done with our discussion.” Court climbed onto the bed and lay facedown, exhausted. She needed to get up in a few hours so she could barf her way through another day of work. If she were lucky, Brenna had some good news for her about acquiring a flyer. Court’s gut was tied into knots more intricate than the one in Trig’s hair at the moment. The baby wasn’t the only thing inflicting turmoil on her body. She wished that were the case, but she was braced for the worst. She had the same feeling she always got just before shit hit the fan. The last time she’d felt so ill at ease was the night before her brother Michael died.
The bed sank on the other side, and she turned her head to see Murk climbing in. He left a curiously wide space between the two of them. He’d made a habit of sleeping so close to her that he could take a deep breath and probably inhale her hair, but she understood why he did it when he snapped his fingers, pointed to Trigrian, and then pointed to the gap.
Trigrian looked at the space, then Court, then Murk.
Murk snapped again.
“You don’t need to block me in as if I were a toddler,” Trigrian said.
Evidently, Murk didn’t agree. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Trigrian.
“You’ve slept beside me before,” Court said.
“Once.”
“Are you telling me there’s some taboo against that, too? Some Jekhan cultural rule that you can’t lie next to a woman following a disagreement?”
“There’s no such rule.”
“So get in the bed. I’m exhausted and my brain is mush right now. I promise not to touch you. Does that make you feel better?”
He drew back with a flinch, his violet eyes comically wide. “I’d never ask you to make that promise. You can touch me all you’d like.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I never said you couldn’t.”
“You’ve never expressly asked me to, either,” he said.
“Murk does, and he can’t even talk.”
“Murk’s better at it,” Trigrian said.
“At what?”
“At…” Trigrian’s forehead furrowed and his mouth flapped wordlessly for a few beats as he stared at Murk.
“No. Don’t look at Murk. Look at me,” she said.
He immediately snapped his face back toward hers.
Interesting. He seemed to respond better if she left no room for interpretation in her statements—gave him no reason for rebuttal.
“Get in the bed. Right here,” she said softly, pointing to empty space between her and Murk. “We’ll keep you from gallivanting around Buinet in the middle of the night, and when I’m not so pissed at you, I’m going to touch you.”
He didn’t move immediately. He seemed to be waging his own battle of wills in his head, but he climbed onto the bed between them and brought the covers up to his chin.
Murk propped himself up on his side, glowering, and stared down at Trigrian.
“What?” Trigrian asked.
Murk’s jaw hinges shifted as he grated his teeth.
Courtney hadn’t seen him do that much, but she was starting to recognize when Murk neared his limits. Apparently, Trigrian had pushed him to one.
Murk threw back the covers and grabbed Trigrian’s wrists.
He pushed them together and pinned them over the other man’s head, then looked over at Court.
Court didn’t know the plan. All she knew was Trigrian was deliciously nude and that his breathing had gone ragged.
Murk leaned over him, almost touching their lips together before rolling his gaze up to Court again.
What does he want me to do?
His gaze darted to Trigrian’s clamped wrists.
Oh. She could help with that. Although she hated dragging her weary body from the bed, she had exactly what Murk needed in the dresser. Belts and scarves.
She held up one of each.
Murk cocked his head, pursed his lips, and pointed to the scarf.
Court took it along with two others to Murk.
Straddling Trigrian’s chest, he bound his wrists tightly with the long, gauzy black scarf and used a shorter tie to attach his wrists to the horizontal bar in the headboard.
Trigrian squirmed, tugging at the restraint as if the gravity of the situation had finally settled into him—as if he finally understood what was about to happen to him.
“You deserve this,” Court muttered. “Everything you get, you deserve.”
“I—”
Murk pressed a finger against Trigrian’s lips and gave his head a slow shake.
Trigrian stilled.
Murk’s gaze tracked over to Court, who was about to climb under the covers and enjoy whatever show they were about to put on as she dozed off. She wasn’t actually expecting to be a participant in the scenario until Murk held out his hand to her.
“Me?”
“Mmm.”
She crawled over and knelt next to Trigrian’s supine body at Murk’s side.
Murk grabbed the bottom of her pajama top and pulled it carefully over her head.
Reflexively, she folded her arms over her chest, gasping at the pressure against her tender breasts. She’d never taken to sleeping in bras before, but her pregnancy would likely prompt a change in habit. Her breasts were so heavy, so full.
She suspected the aching would eventually dissipate, but having no prior experience made guessing when that might be impossible.
Murk gently pried her arms away and cupped her breasts. A long exhalation passed through his parted lips as his thumbs skimmed over her taut nipples.
Trigrian shifted between Murk’s legs, his arms straining uselessly for freedom as he watched.
Murk dipped his head and pulled one beaded nipple into his scorching mouth.
Trigrian echoed Court’s sigh, and again when Murk turned his attention to the other breast.
Murk pulled and plucked, dragging his hot tongue down the curve of her neck as her belly quivered and legs weakened beneath her.
He hooked his fingers into her waistband and nudged her pants past her hips.
There, she had to stop him. Pressing her hands to his eager ones, she asked, “Murk, what are you doing?”
She had to get up early, and she was starting to suspect that Murk was always up. Right then, his thick cock strained against the front of his sleep trousers. Undeniably aroused. She’d known him barely six weeks, but she’d already figured out he wasn’t the kind of man who wasted erections. The question at hand was just what he planned on doing with that erection.
She’d never actually seen the two men fuck, and wouldn’t mind having a front-row view, but she didn’t need to be naked to be a witness to that.
Murk leaned in again, rasped, “Off,” and gave her shorts a demanding tug.
She gave him a long blink. She wasn’t yet sure how to feel about Murk’s evident bossiness. When Trigrian had accused the other man of being such, Court had thought it was just sour grapes. That didn’t seem to be the case. The stronger Murk got, the stronger certain other traits became as well. He was so hard to peg. Even Trigrian seemed easier to read compared to Murk as time went on.
“Okay.” She wriggled off the shorts, anyway, keeping her gaze locked on Murk’s. “Is there a word for what you are in your language?”
“Hmm?” He reached for her waist.
She tossed the shorts over the bed’s edge and scooted closer to him so her front pressed against his side.
He reached between her spread legs and stroked her cleft.
She bit back a moan, and leaned in to say, “Sexual dominants. Tops.”
He grunted and shook his head.
Trigrian squirmed. “There’s a word for that?”
She chuckled. “There’s a word for what you probably are, too.”
“What am I?”
“Really? You don’t have terms referencing sexual preferences in Jekhani?”
Murk shook his head again, tickling his lips over her neck in the process in a way that made her gasp.
“Such terms don’t exist likely because the Tyneali only have sex when they want to procreate,” Trigrian said.
“I bet that makes for a hell of a lot of awkward wedding nights.”
“They don’t have weddings, just as we Jekhans don’t. They don’t even commit for more than a year or two at a time. Our women are more like theirs. Our men’s preferences toward stability in relationships always seemed to confuse them.”
“Must be the human part of you.”
“Maybe.”
Murk let out a little frustrated huff.
Simple enough to interpret. Enough talking.
He guided her in front of him, having her straddle Trigrian’s thighs. Murk slid his hand up her spine and pushed her shoulders down. She let out a small moan as her breasts flattened against Trigrian’s body.
Trigrian arched his hips up, seeking her core, but behind her, Murk pinned down Trigrian’s thighs.
Trigrian grunted his frustration and pulled at his restraints. “Murk,” he groaned.
“Shh.” Murk pressed his palms to Court’s sex, parted her lips, and eased himself in slowly.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
He leveraged himself against the bed, pounding into her with well-controlled rhythm as Trigrian swore beneath them.
“Courtney…” he hissed.
“Okay. I’ll…” She bit down on her bottom lip. The slick of sweat between her and Trigrian made her sensitive nipples glide over his chest, teasing her, sending electric prickles down to her pussy.
God.
And he couldn’t move. Couldn’t help. Couldn’t touch.
“I’ll help you,” she said breathily.
Murk’s hard smack to her ass disabused her of that notion. Gasping, she arched back for him.
He rubbed her, tenderly, and continued his dominating stokes. Filling her again and again, but so carefully. Pleasure without his usual enthusiastic taps to her cervix. He was holding back, and knowing why made her smile.
She didn’t need to tell him to take it easy. He just knew. Considerate and forward thinking like any good Dom. He may not have known the word for what he was, but he was one through and through. Realizing that put many things about him into perspective for her.
He twined a length of her hair around his fist and pulled her head back.
He kissed down her neck, nipped at the flesh of her shoulder—sending a shudder through her—and pulled a shout from Trigrian as their combined weights pressed onto him.
Murk fucked her farther and farther up Trigrian’s chest, until she was within kissing distance of Trigrian’s lips.
So, she kissed him.
She danced her tongue over the delectable curve of his lips, and he parted them for her. His body quaked for her and his mouth devoured hers. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, by any means. His was the kind of kiss he’d give to another man—rough and desperate—but Court didn’t mind. All that mattered was that he kissed back and that he responded to her.
“Courtney…” he whispered against her lips as she snuck her hands up to his face, to his elegant jaw and the satiny hairs at his nape.
“Shh…” Her turn to quiet him. “Kiss me.”
He did. Just as hungrily, just as desperately.
As Murk’s thrusts changed to pleasurable rocks and circles, her head swam. She was being pulled toward that dimension of oblivion where nothing mattered except touch and feeling and breathing.
“Courtney, I’m going to go crazy. Want you. Please.” Trigrian whispered.
And sound.
His pleading voice—his need of her—tipped her over the edge.
She’d barely had time to recover from the orgasm when Murk tugged her up by the hips, and she peered back to watch his fist work up and down his shaft, and his cum arc onto Trigrian’s belly.
Painting the man with ejaculate was excessive and unnecessary, and that was probably why he’d put it there—a reminder that Trigrian hadn’t been a participant, but just a surface for them to fuck on.
“Evil,” she whispered.
Murk gave her ass a playful smack before he rolled over and moved to the edge of the bed. He grabbed his tablet from the nightstand, scribbled for a couple of minutes, and held up the message for both her and Trigrian to see. Unfortunately, the words were printed in Jehkani, which Court couldn’t make heads or tails of.
Trigrian groaned.
“What did he say?”
“He’s telling me that if I want to start taking unnecessary risks on my own, then perhaps I should be an afterthought in his decisions, too.”
Trigrian rotated his body to keep the viscous liquid from sliding off his belly as Murk eased off the bed.
Murk padded to the bathroom.
Court fixed her gaze on still-bound Trigrian and grinned.
Straining though he was, the way the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his pecs flexed made her want to run her fingers along the ridges. To lick. Suck.
Perhaps I’m not as tired as I thought.
He let out a breath. Tensed. “Courtney…”
“You pushed one of his buttons, didn’t you?”
His shoulders bobbed in something approximating a shrug. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to help. I thought getting the information would help.”
“It may, but I don’t like the idea of you creeping around Buinet any more than Murk does. How do you think he would cope if something happened to you?”
Trigrian mouth opened and closed without any words having come out.
“Tell me.”
“He’d still have you.” His accusing tone raised her hackles, but that damned tortured look on his face made her sigh.
“I don’t believe Murk thinks you’re replaceable.”
“Do you?” His voice was barely more than a whisper. He closed his eyes and turned his face away from her.
“Of course I don’t.”
Murk returned with a moist cloth and cleaned the spill on Trigrian’s belly.
Trigrian looked toward Murk, who lingered between his legs, trailing the cloth around Trigrian’s sac.
The bound man let out a hiss and tried to arch up when Murk took Trigrian’s cock in his hand and fondled the head.
Court settled into the bed on her side next to him and pulled the covers up to her shoulder.
“Murk…” Trigrian let out a pleading groan, squirming under Murk’s touch.
Court just watched, captivated by Murk’s darkly leveled gaze and his skillful hands.
Trigrian kept squirming, thrusting his hips to impel Murk’s speed, but every time he did, Murk slowed.
“Stay still for him,” she whispered into Trigrian’s ear.
“I…I can’t.”
“You can. You just don’t want to.”
“I do! I just…”
She nipped his earlobe, and then treated the sure sting with her tongue.
He gasped, but stilled.
“You two have been playing together for a very long time. You should know what he wants.”
He drew in a long breath between clenched teeth and tipped his head back.
Court looked down to see that Murk’s mouth was on him, his fingers hidden between Trigrian’s spread legs.
“Ma-maybe I’m not that smart,” Trig ground out. His body tensed, strained, as if fighting the compulsion to buck. To disobey.
She drew his earlobe between her lips and swirled her tongue around it. He smelled of some potent combination of soap, Jekh, and man that made her want to pull more of him into her—more than just his ear.