The Donovan tradition was alien to her, their names for the divine Powers not the ones she knew, but the principles were familiar and she could figure out what she needed to say. “I honor your bodies as I honor the God, the male principle in all life.”
“As we honor each others',” Paul and Tag said, this time in perfect unison.
They weren’t here simply to share pleasure. Her future rode on the magic they could work together.
But the way she saw it, the more they enjoyed working the magic, the more likely it was to succeed. And how could a kitsune, even a cursed one, not enjoy herself with two such magnificent men?
Between them, Akane sank to her knees with a grace she had forgotten she possessed. She reached out, taking one cock in each hand, and began to stroke.
Even in this human form, locked away from most of her magic, she sensed silver cords of love binding the two men, sensed the energy passing along that cord between them. If only she’d looked for that kind of connection between Hiro and Masao…but no, she’d been too sure of herself. And since they’d been in denial about their true feelings, she might not have seen anything anyway.
Energy streamed from both men into her, streaming into the foul black weight she’d been carrying around in her spirit for two hundred years.
She didn’t want to hope too much, but it already seemed a little lighter.
Not surprisingly, Paul’s energy was the more directed of the two, a focused ray of scarlet passion and white healing that might be aimed by his cock, but seemed to come out of his soul and cut into the curse like a katana. What she felt from Tag was a wild river of positive energy: lust, caring, love and support for Paul, protectiveness like a wild animal might feel toward its mate.
And mixed in with it all, a degree of affection that humbled her.
Tag genuinely liked her.
Many men had desired her; some had fancied they loved her and a few perhaps had. But Tag knew her for what she was and understood her terrible mistakes and liked her anyway.
It touched and troubled her in equal measure. A fox dual like Tag was the closest thing to a potential true mate a kitsune would likely find. But he already had a husband, and she knew better than to disturb that bonding. Not to mention that pesky mortality.
This was why kitsune rarely found a true, lasting love, unless they were of a disposition to love another female.
No. Negative thinking would affect the magic. She must take what they offered and no more, and think positive to let the magic flow. Once her curse was broken and she wasn’t trapped in the physical realm, she wouldn’t worry about foolishness such as a permanent partner. Life, after all, was mutable, and so was she.
To distract from the pull of Tag, she turned her attentions to Paul.
She took Paul’s long, slender cock, throbbing with heat and human magic, into her mouth, working up and down until he made a strangled noise and she tasted a hint of tangy pre-come.
She would have continued, with pleasure, if Paul hadn’t pulled back and said, “No. Tag’s turn. Got to keep it balanced.”
He was the witch, the one who knew how to set her free.
It was playing with fire, but she’d always liked dangerous games. Sure, it was how she’d ended up in this fix, but there had been many other bits of fun, risky business in her immortal life, and most of them had worked out fine—in the long run, at least.
And what female could resist a gorgeous man telling her to do exactly what she wanted to do anyway?
Better yet two men, because while Tag wasn’t saying a word, his body language and even his scent told her he was in need.
Tag’s cock was redolent with a lighter version of a fox’s musk, and it tasted like home in a way no male ever had. What was the witch phrase—hearth, home, heart? A kitsune had no hearth, no fixed home.
But they had hearts, hearts that they normally kept closely guarded.
Akane was perilously close to losing hers to this fox and to the long, lean witch who loved him.
No. That couldn’t be. She couldn’t be falling in love so easily after more than a thousand years of resisting it. Must be a heady combination of gratitude, hope and raw lust. She focused on the moment, on the taste and texture of his cock and the weight of Paul’s in her hands, on the heat in her belly as her own arousal grew. She swore the curse was already melting, and the outline of her human form wavered and softened.
Or maybe she was drunk on lust. Moisture dripped down her thighs, and she ached for fucking, but at the same time, she didn’t want to stop what she was doing.
Paul moved closer to his lover, offering up his cock along with Tag’s. Akane’s eyes widened, but she took the hint.
It made sense. She needed both the fox’s wild energy and the witch’s power to see the curse broken. The two men were bonded, practically one soul, magically speaking.
And besides, if she worked both of them into her mouth at once, it would be a new experience. As an immortal with over a thousand lusty years under her obi, it wasn’t often she managed to have those.
Akane rearranged the men a little so they were at what looked like a better angle, then wrapped a hand around the base of each cock.
She swirled her tongue over the head of Paul’s cock first, welcoming him back, then did the same for Tag. Amazing how they tasted so different and yet were both so delicious.
Then she stretched her mouth open wide and took in as much of both cocks as she could.
This wasn’t going to be the best blowjob she’d ever given. It was hard to get too artistic when she couldn’t do much in the way of licking or swirling or even moving her head because her mouth was so full, and her jaw was going to be sore before long, and because of the odd angle, she could barely get the heads into her mouth. For the moment, though, it felt amazingly powerful to feel herself so filled.
And to know that they were getting additional pleasure from their cocks touching.
The flavors of their pre-come mingled on her tongue. The flavors of their energies mingled as well and jolted through her. Something unclenched inside her.
For the first time in two centuries, she felt her tails. They weren’t there in any sense someone not well-versed in magic would recognize. She doubted even Paul could feel them, though she tried to flick one of them against him. But the base of her spine didn’t feel truncated and naked, and the merest hint of soft fur swept against her legs.
Something prickled against her scalp as her proper ears made themselves known. The shushing of the surf grew louder. She heard a wood mouse scurrying around under the pavilion, even over the surf and the rain. Tag’s musk and Paul’s smell of cloves and Ivory soap were sharper, but so were all the other smells—rainy Oregon fall, ocean at high tide, a touch of mustiness and mouse in the cabin, lingering hints of Tag and Paul making love here several days before and the scent of fresh linens they’d put on afterward, a lingering trace of the coffee someone had enjoyed there earlier in the day, the candles and even the flame itself.
She pulled back long enough to say “It’s working. Paul, Tag, it’s working.”
Then she threw herself into sucking with renewed lust, turning her sharper senses to the wonderful panoply of tastes, smells, sights and sounds the two men offered.
As she sucked, they kissed. She felt their tongues meeting hers, dancing in her soul.
This time, Paul was the one to pull away. “Time for the bed,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire and his control obviously strained. “Now.”
Chapter Ten
Paul made it only partway to the bed. Tag waylaid him, drawing him for a deep kiss, rubbing his body against Paul’s, letting their cocks press together as they had in Akane’s mouth, but more fully.
One of Tag’s hands tangled in his hair. The other cupped his balls.
Even after eight years together, every time Tag touched him like this, it seemed miraculous. His witch-sight kicked in, showing him multicolored lights—the lights of his magic—dancing on the
surface of his skin and reaching out to embrace Tag as well.
“I feel it,” Tag whispered. More than most duals, Tag was sensitive to magical energy, able to feel its movements and patterns even if he couldn’t manipulate it.
A pair of smaller, softer arms slipped around him from behind. One of Akane’s little hands circled his nipple. The other joined Tag to play with his cock.
Paul saw red, the color of blood, of passion, of sex magic and Valentine hearts. His cock surged as two hands, one large and square and familiar and beloved, the other small and soft and deft, new yet entirely right, caressed him. The ripe scent of Akane’s arousal surrounded him. It reminded him of a female version of Tag in some ways, with a similar musky, wild earthiness, but it had a hint of peaches as well. Utterly enticing. He couldn’t wait to taste her, except he didn’t want to stop touching Tag, or break away from the double caress, the decadent joy of being sandwiched between two bodies.
“Paul,” Akane whispered, her voice full of wonder, “something’s happening. It’s like fireflies and moonlight are dancing in my blood and no one’s touching my sex, but oh…”
She cried out sharply, almost a bark, halfway between a woman and a fox, and bit into the muscle of his back.
Paul didn’t come, but he felt the echoes of her orgasm surging through his cock.
The dancing magic had reached out to embrace Akane as well.
Ghost-fur caressed him where they were pressed together.
Later he’d worry about what the dancing magic meant. He’d always been told that would happen with one person, and one person only, in a lifetime.
Then again, Grandma Josie always said matters of the heart were more complex than Donovan law made them out to be. To prove it, there was his cousin Elissa and her two hunky dual husbands, and the baby they were expecting, the baby that by all magical and scientific logic shouldn’t exist.
For now, he’d revel in it. Revel in the man he loved and the beautiful, wild spirit he’d been drawn to even in his dreams making love to him.
“Bed,” he repeated. “Now. There’s some fucking to be done, but first I want to taste you.”
“Make that we want to taste you,” Tag added.
She was tiny, but her aura was big, and when she opened her thighs, the trapped power, struggling to be free, nearly stunned him. For a moment Paul was abashed by his own arrogance—who was he, a mere human, to think he could release a curse powerful enough to hold such a being?
But a human had cursed her in the first place, and he wasn’t in this alone. He had Tag by his side, and together they could do anything.
“You first or me first?” Tag asked. “Because if I have to wait much longer to lick that beautiful wet cunt, I’m going to lose my mind or shift.”
Akane chuckled the deep, throaty chuckle of an aroused woman. “Both of you at once,” she said. “Like I did to you.”
Oh Lord and Lady, yes.
Paul lay between her legs, Tag sprawled across her body. Akane’s scent of musk and peach dizzied Paul. It wasn’t anything that could be mistaken for human, and he wondered how she’d fooled previous lovers. Wondered how it must affect Tag’s keener senses until Tag drew him into a kiss and he felt a fox’s sharp teeth in his lover’s human mouth and knew Tag was barely holding on to control.
Which was what they’d need for this exercise. Akane would need Tag’s wild nature in full, would need to feel those sharp teeth in her borrowed flesh to be free of it. He, on the other hand, would need all the control he could muster as he fucked the lovely Akane through Tag’s more than willing body.
But first, there would be pure pleasure. Pleasure for Akane, definitely, but also for them. “Now, Tag,” he said, or maybe he only thought it. Both their tongues darted out in sync and licked at the bare, slick, quivering center of Akane.
So good. She tasted so good, with that wild tang he loved in Tag’s come, but with a flavor all her own. She didn’t taste like a human woman, but intensely female and, yes, there was a hint of peach and something else.
“Green tea,” Tag whispered and kissed him again with lips that tasted like Akane, their tongues darting together and entwining on the swollen flesh of Akane’s clit.
“Please,” she moaned, and her voice took on tones it shouldn’t, not in the body she currently wore. She didn’t yip or bark, but her speech was strained. He’d heard Tag sound that way when he tried to talk mid-shift.
Her body didn’t change, but under his hand, her thigh sprouted soft phantom fur that faded as quickly as it appeared.
More. She needed more. He slipped a finger inside her and, seconds later, Tag followed his cue. Powers, she was tight, but so slick they moved easily inside her. More luscious juices flowed, and the two men licked them up, creating more as they licked.
The gazebo sparkled and throbbed with magical energy: white, scarlet, blue, green and, behind it all, another energy, as yet invisible to Paul’s witch-sight, that danced on his skin like a warm breeze.
She writhed under them, her body arching and scrambling against the dark green sheets. She yipped, dug small but surprisingly strong fingers into his shoulder, bucked against his face.
Paul closed his eyes against the onslaught of colors, now joined by silver and brilliant tawny orange. Even through his lids, Akane’s orgasm shimmered like a rainbow of power to his witch-sight.
Had that orgasm, that rush of power, changed anything? He opened his eyes, studied her. Her form was still solid—and flushed with pleasure and beautiful enough to make his already throbbing cock ache with need to be in her, in Tag, in someone—but if he squinted and glanced away, making Tag the focus of his physical senses and looking askew at her with witch-sight, the dim outline of a fox appeared. Wavered. Vanished.
It was progress.
“I thought,” Akane said, her voice slow, “the pleasure…needed to be shared. But I feel…different.” The words came out measured and careful, as if she was retrieving them from someplace far away. Paul guessed that was close to the truth. Tag, normally so articulate, almost lost words during sex, and Akane was a lot further from human than Tag was. Add that English wasn’t her first human language and the way a good orgasm derailed anyone’s brain, and he was impressed she could string a few words together and halfway make sense.
Tag laughed and nipped at her mound, a typical fox response. She’d translate the animal message in that. But Paul needed the words for himself, needed to say them, needed both Akane and Tag to hear them, even if they might not make sense until later. “Who says this pleasure isn’t mutual? I love my husband—never doubt that. But I thought I’d never taste a woman’s juices again, or have them slick on my face, or feel a woman convulse as she came. I didn’t know how much I missed it until now. You think there’s no pleasure in this for me? Think again. And there will be even more when I fuck my husband while he’s inside you.”
Tag nodded, grinning a sharp-toothed, feral grin. “Oh yeah,” he managed to say around the fox’s teeth.
Akane’s eyes widened.
Her irises expanded until the whites vanished. Her pupils changed shape. The effect was startling in the delicate, lovely human face—startling, but incredibly sexy.
He leaned across Akane’s body to kiss Tag once more. Tag tasted of Akane, but underneath that lay his own wild flavor. Paul’s hands tangled in Tag’s hair, and he made the kiss more demanding, nipping and biting at Tag’s tongue and lips. Tag’s teeth were sharper than his anyway, and all the more so now with the fox fighting to break loose, but Tag didn’t use them. Maybe he understood better than Paul did what he was doing, because whatever was going on inside Paul’s body and his heart felt raw, animal. He wanted Tag’s lips swollen, even bloodied. Marked as his.
No, not his lips. He kissed down Tag’s throat, and again Tag seemed to grasp what he needed. The fox arched his head back, letting Paul’s teeth close around his Adam’s apple.
He nipped down barely hard enough to let Tag feel his strength. He caught
himself growling, a sound he’d never expected to make.
Then he shifted position and sank his teeth into the meat of Tag’s shoulder, biting harder than he’d ever bitten a lover. Akane gasped, a small, delicious sound, and put her hand between her own legs.
As Paul bit, Tag tore into Paul’s back with nails turned claws.
A hint of blood teased Paul’s tongue. Paul, who didn’t eat red meat, thought he’d never tasted anything more delicious. He was pretty sure his back was bleeding too. “You’re mine,” he said hoarsely, staring with a combination of shock and arousal at blood welling in a set of deep tooth prints. “Mine forever.”
“Mine,” Taggart said. His voice shifted from honey to smoke and whisky.
One small hand twined in Paul’s hair, the other in Tag’s. Akane didn’t need to say anything. The nature of the touch said it for her: they might belong to each other, but for the moment she was laying claim to both of them.
Paul didn’t normally think in terms of possession. He aspired to be the civilized man, the perfect gentleman that the family elders liked a man to be. The biting and marking and “mine” was Tag’s thing, and yeah, it was hot as hell sometimes, but not something a Donovan witch did.
Except right now it was. It needed to be.
“There’s a beautiful woman waiting for you, my heart,” he said, and he hardly recognized his own voice, gravelly with lust and power. “Go fuck her. And while you do, I’m going to fuck your sweet ass so hard you’ll feel me for a week.”
“Promises, promises,” Tag said and laughed a barking laugh. Then he shifted position to lie over Akane, his cock teasing at her cunt and making her roll her hips in search of fulfillment.
“Your tail,” Paul said, trying to get into position behind his husband. It tickled, but in a very sensual way. Tag draped it to one side, where it caressed Paul’s flank. So strange and yet so hot. In the years they’d been together, they’d never had sex with Tag half-shifted. The few times Paul had thought about it, the idea, edgy and sexy though it was, made him uncomfortable enough he’d never suggested it to Tag. But right now?
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