#lanx writes

--

“Larissa?” Vesper asked, not turning to look at her as they balanced on a fallen log, nimbly walking across it.

“Yeah?” She followed a step behind the vampire, her paw pads noiseless against the forest floor as she trailed behind.

“I have a question about something. But I dunno how to ask it.”

Larissa tilted her head to the side. “Oh, okay. Well… if you don’t ask, I can’t answer, you know,” she said, the corners of her lips quirking up in amusement.

Vesper snorted. “Fair!” They jumped off the edge of the log, turning on their heel to face her. Their pale features glowed softly under the crescent moon. Instead of the usual mirth Larissa found in Vesper’s gaze, apprehension met her instead.

Larissa frowned.

“Earlier today, when we were hanging out near the Mess Hall, I saw two of your, uh, pack do something weird? With their faces,” Vesper said.

Larissa tilted her head to the side, her large ears bouncing as she did so. She scrunched up her nose in thought. “Weird? With their… faces…?”

“Yeah!” Vesper said, a little louder than before. “Like, they were putting their lips together. And just standing there doing that—”

Before Vesper could finish their thought, Larissa burst out in laughter.

Vesper scowled at her, crossing their arms. “It’s a serious question!”

“Oh, I’m sorry—!” Larissa said between bouts of laughter. “It’s just—” she snorted again. “—do vampires not kiss each other?”

Vesper tilted their head to the side, their curtain of blonde hair catching in the wind as they did so. “No?” But they did not sound so certain, their brows pinched together and mouth twisted to the side in thought.

Larissa stepped closer to Vesper, her peasant dress swaying around her ankles. She gestured for them to sit as she flopped onto the log, stretching her legs out in front of her.

Vesper sat with more grace than Larissa, perching on the edge of the log like they sat at the head of a table rather than on something growing multitudes of white mushrooms.

“It’s a way mates show affection,” Larissa said with a shrug. “At least, that’s what Momma said. When it’s on the lips. But wolves also kiss each other on the cheek or on the head, too. At least my momma does.”

“To you?”

“Yeah. Like here,” Larissa pointed one of her claws toward her forehead. “But!” Her voice dropped to a whisper. She scooted closer to Vesper, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Although that’s what the adults say, that’s not reality.”

“How do you mean?”

“What I mean is—” Larissa licked her lips, her warm brown eyes alight with mischief. “—Some of the older pups kiss each other, too. On the lips, I mean.”

Vesper, still staring at where they watched Larissa’s small, pink tongue dart back inside her mouth, forced their gaze back up to her eyes. Heat pricked their face. “So, it’s not just something wolf mates do,” they muttered.

Larissa shook her head, her ears bouncing as she did so. “No. I haven’t talked to any of the older pups about it, but there’s no way they’ve already met their mates yet. The pack would have made an announcement and celebrated. And I’ve only ever seen it when about in the woods,” Larissa said, gesturing to the forest around the both of them. “Probably so no one else can see them.”

“Then why are you watching them?” Vesper asked, amusement coloring their voice.

“It’s not like I look for it. I’m looking for herbs and reagents for my apprenticeship. Not just meandering around for the fun of it,” Larissa said with a huff, her cheeks glowing pink. “It’s not my fault they’re not paying attention.”

Vesper nodded, still thoughtful.

Their parents did not kiss. Certainly not on the lips. But also not on the face, or on their head either. But their parents were also not a love match.

“Maybe it’s because vampires don’t really have mates like that,” Vesper said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well… some vampires choose one another to stay with each other. Those are called love matches. But most of the nobility are not love matches. They’re… arranged?” Vesper frowned a little. “Yes, arranged.”

“Arranged? By who?” Larissa asked.

“By the head of the family, whoever that is,” Vesper said. “Two families will join and will offer their progeny to the other. A contract is written up to bind the families, I think. Then the two vampires will join.”

“That’s… so weird,” Larissa muttered.

Vesper snorted. “Weirder than saying a goddess determines who you’ll be with for the rest of your life? If the arrangement does not work out, I think it can be broken off. There was this one vampire who broke off his arrangement with another. Quite the scandal. Mother was quite unhappy when I questioned her about it.”

“So, even then, it’s frowned upon….” Larissa murmured, more a statement than a question.

Vesper nodded. “Something like that.”

“So, how do vampires show affection?” Larissa asked.

Vesper cast their gaze upward, toward the twinkling stars above. Lazy, smoky clouds drifted across the indigo night.

Their father would offer his arm to their mother when they walked together, but only in public, typically.

Infrequently, and only at home, their mother would walk by their father, drifting the tips of her fingers across his shoulders.

He would sometimes wrap his arms around her from behind.

And often, Vesper would see them sitting together before the fireplace. Both would bathe in the warmth and orange light beside one another. Their mother would read a book, keeping her legs on the love seat, tucked against their father while their father smoked his pipe, eyes lost in thought.

“Hugging?” Vesper finally said, their voice pinched with uncertainty. “And they spend time together, I guess.”

Larissa hummed in thought. “Wolves hug too. But I guess it still counts.”

Vesper chuckled. “Well, your kissing does sound weird. Putting mouths together… doesn’t the other person’s breath stink? I mean, with all the meat and food you eat.”

“Better than having blood breath,” Larissa shot back, but there was no heat behind her words.

Vesper rolled their eyes.

Larissa snickered to herself. She kicked the soft ground with her bare paws, dragging small grooves into the soil with her claws.

Staring at her profile, Vesper bit their bottom lip. One day, Larissa would find out which mate her goddess had sent her. And then—and then what would happen? Would they both still run and explore the woods, pushing the boundaries of her pack’s territory? Climbing trees, poking their heads into old dens and foxholes long forgotten?

Would she still write to them for the rest of the year? When they both were miles upon miles apart?

Vesper shifted, uncomfortable with the thought. Their chest felt tight, and their muscles tensed despite the lethargic night which surrounded the two of them.

They had no mental image of what Larissa’s mate would look like. No idea on that wolf’s ideals or truth. Yet, the idea sickened Vesper.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” Vesper found themself asking. Heat flushed across their cheeks, up to their ears. Why did they ask that?

But Larissa was looking over at them, her paws still swiping through the forest soil. Her ears were perked up, her own face pink as well.

“No,” she said, her voice soft. “I haven’t.”

Vesper nodded, their tongue darting out to lick their suddenly dry lips.

Larissa’s brown eyes followed the movement before tearing away. She sucked her bottom lip inside her mouth, her small fangs poking out.

Before Vesper could think of something else to say, something that would not sound weird or strange or anything at all, Larissa asked, “Do you want to?”

Vesper froze. Their heart thrummed in their chest, too hard and too fast. Their budding fangs, which still had not dropped yet, throbbed.

“I mean! Unless that would be weird, right?” Larissa suddenly said with a gasp. Her ears flattened, her tail tucked close to her body. “I was just thinking, I mean, I’m just curious, right? And—”

“Sure,” Vesper interrupted. “I want to know what it’s like. I mean, isn’t that the point of us coming to these diplomatic visits, or whatever? To, uh, learn about each other and stuff?”

Larissa bobbed her head in a nod. “Yup! Exactly. So, this is just part of that, right?”

“Yeah.”

The two preteens turned to look at one another, staring at one another in uncertainty.

Vesper breathed in deeply, allowing Larissa’s scent to wash over them. She smelled of cloves and patchouli; a sweet and spicy scent that Vesper had only scented when near her. They ran the tip of their tongue across their teeth, wincing at the throb of their fangs.

Their fangs always seemed to throb now.

The other vampires always scrunched their noses around the werewolves. The vampires did not opine to said werewolves, but when Vesper stayed with mother and father in the cabin given to them for their stay, their parents would always complain of the scent. Comparing such smells to feces, musk, and skunk.

Vesper never noticed such smells on any of the werewolves. But especially not Larissa.

Shifting closer to her, Vesper dug the tips of their claws into the soft wood.

Larissa sucked in a deep breath. “Okay,” she muttered to herself. Her brow furrowed with determination. With her ears still pressed back with uncertainty, she leaned forward, her eyes closed, and quickly pressed her lips against Vesper’s cheek.

Her lips were warm and a little moist. But she pulled away quickly.

Vesper blinked slowly.

Larissa threaded her fingers together, rubbing her palms together. “It’s- it’s something like that.”

“Okay,” Vesper said.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“How was it?”

“Different,” Vesper admitted. “But not bad. You’re so warm.”

Larissa’s tail swished a few times as she perked up. “You’re chilly,” she challenged.

“Is that bad?”

“No. Just… different. Like you said.”

Vesper nodded. After a moment of silence, they asked, “Can I try to kiss you now?”

Larissa nodded. “Okay.”

Vesper shifted even closer to Larissa, the sides of both their thighs touching. He could feel the air being displaced across his spine as Larissa wagged her tail slowly.

She was so warm. Like being near a small fire.

Vesper’s eyes darted across Larissa’s face. From her wide, brown eyes to her sloped snout and wet black nose. Fine, thin tan fur covered her entire face and neck.

It looked so soft.

Larissa’s lips were full, and she was sucking her bottom lip into her mouth again, the tips of her canine fangs poking out.

They leaned forward and found their eyes closing.

“Oof!”

Vesper’s nose collided with Larissa’s. Her nose was wet against theirs.

Vesper quickly pulled back, embarrassment washing over them.

Larissa stared up at them and snickered, her eyes alight with amusement. “That didn’t quite work.”

“Well, I’m not sure what I’m doing,” Vesper said with a huff.

“Neither am I. Here, let me try,” Larissa said. She tilted her head slightly to the side.

Vesper did the same in the opposite direction. They stared into Larissa’s warm brown eyes as they leaned closer to her.

But as their noses brushed against one another, their lips a hairbreadth apart, Vesper’s eyes fell closed.

Larissa’s lips were just as warm as before. And a little moist.

Vesper’s heart raced in their chest, energy surging through their body. This close, all they could smell was Larissa. Her cloves and patchouli scent. They could hear her heartbeat, racing just as fast as their own.

Her tail swished back and forth so fast.

Gently, Vesper wrapped their fingers around her biceps, resting their palms against her.

Her breath did not smell of food or meat. It was simply her. All her.

Larissa, their best friend. Their only friend.

Larissa pulled away first, her chest heaving for air.

Unlike vampires, werewolves could not hold their breath as long. Vesper had not realized they had stopped breathing too.

Vesper stared down at her, their hands still wrapped around her arms. Larissa’s ears flicked, her entire face red with a blush. Vesper knew their own face glowed just as red.

“You don’t stink like blood,” Larissa said quickly. Her tail stilled, and she shifted back and forth. “Well, a little like blood. But not bad! Not- not blood breath.”

Vesper snickered. They gave Larissa’s arms a squeeze before pulling back themself. “And you don’t smell like meat. Or food.”

Larissa grinned. “Good! So, uh, what did you think?”

Vesper flushed. Suddenly unable to sit still, Vesper rocked themself up onto their feet.

The night still surrounded them; dusk wrapping its warm arms around the forest, tempting the nocturnal animals to chatter and sing. The crescent moon grinned down on the two of them, ever watchful.

But the stars, somehow, seemed to twinkle brighter. The small wisps of clouds looked so soft; almost as soft as Larissa’s brown hair and fur.

And Vesper’s heart continued to beat hard against their ribcage. It refused to slow down or stop. And their skin still flushed red, the heat from Larissa’s touch lingering on the palms of their hands and on their lips.

“Perhaps vampires need to take up this werewolf custom,” Vesper finally said to Larissa, shooting her a grin over their shoulder.

Larissa snorted. She hopped up, her tail swishing back and forth. “I think so, too.” Her ears flicked back and forth; her cheeks still glowed pink. “C’mon, the night’s still young. And I bet the fireflies have come out near the lake now.”

--

“Karla.”

She peered over at Amell. Despite the levity, his golden eyes still burned and the tip of his tail flicked back and forth, not unlike that of a cat hunting a particular juicy mouse.

“Yes?” she responded, purposefully dropping her normal sir.

Amell rolled his shoulders in response, his ears flicking back as his tail gave a rough lash.

“You are teasing me.”

“You just now noticed?” Karla could not keep the slight simper out of her words. She knew Amell could still scent her arousal, just as she could scent his, but she was still grateful her tail was tucked beneath her clothes and out of the way. It was still perky, standing straight up and at attention.

A low warning growl reverberated in Amell’s chest. “Tease,” he hissed.

Karla merely quirked the edges of her lips in response, pinching her expression in one that most would label “infuriating.”

For Amell, the heady scent of his arousal only grew stronger; a deep, almost salty scent that reminded Karla of the ocean. Vast. Sharp. Cold. But all too tempting to sink into and disappear within.

“How about I propose a different game than you playing with me,” Amell all but growled, prowling closer. Circling around her.

“I thought you liked it when I played with you.”

Amell snapped his fangs at her, his tail lashing out behind him again. His perfectly primped hair fell out of its hairspray and his dedication, flyaway black hairs falling across Amell’s forehead. His claws went to the buttons of his suit, and he swiftly unbuttoned them with practiced ease, his eyes never once leaving her own. Unblinkingly. Obsessively.

It would not take long for Karla to push him over the edge. Just a few more simpers and teasing, closed-lipped grins. He may have pulled a few gasps away from her lips earlier. He may be able to scent her soaked panties. But he would have to try much harder for it to show on her face.

“Are you going to say it?” he asked, his words nearly drowning in his rumbling growl.

He was talking about the safe word. But Karla merely tipped her head to the side, widening her already round eyes. “Say what?” she asked, fluttering her lashes.

Amell’s fingers spasmed around his tie as he ripped it off, tossing it onto his desk along with his once pressed suit jacket.

His growl was so loud now, it deafened Karla’s racing heart.

--

On the day of her fated mate’s death, Larissa said goodbye to her apprentice, and traveled to the edge of the pack’s territory.

That morning, the sun shone brightly in the sky without a single cloud in sight. A slight breeze fluttered through the trees, causing them to ruffle against each other; leaves whispering among themselves.

Larissa packed up her leather satchel with supplies; a water canteen, dried meat, and all the tools she would need to carefully harvest her ingredients not found in the pack’s gardens.

Larissa had a bounce in her step and a smile she could not put down.

She told her apprentice they were out of morels. Which was true. They also lacked a decent amount of hawthorn and lichen.

Larissa also lacked several herbs and plants unknown to her apprentice.

Nightshade, for instance.

She would be gone all day as Larissa also planned to harvest several seeds to plant in the pack’s greenhouse now that the expansion to it had finally been approved. This meant she would be out for longer than she typically was; most likely till nightfall. After all, foraging needed a soft, careful hand.

--

Distant

This word does not appear in the document at this time! So I will share a different snippet that I like instead!

Usually, Larissa found herself peering around the wide corridors. Despite many of the tapestries and drapes having stained blood, those sins did not fully taint the beautiful artwork on display. But now, Larissa found herself tucking her chin in, eyes darting from the floor to the back of Sapphire’s head as the vampire led her through the palace. Nerves roiled in her stomach. Larissa’s tail kept lowering, brushing against the back of her overskirt. Beneath her layers of clothing, her hackles kept tensing, brushing against the tight bodice of her dress. The uncomfortable sensation continually distracted Larissa. The last time she had been in that room, she was flung forward, burdened by chains. A sword had been pointed to her throat, ready to end her life.

Dirt

The three vampires, two men and one woman, were dressed in leather armor. They had metal pauldrons and gauntlets strapped to their shoulders and forearms respectively. Each had a similar amount of dirt and grime coating them; greasy hair hanging down low over sharp features and eyes which glowed with hatred between the strands. Shackles kept their arms behind their backs and prevented free movement of their legs, forcing each to awkwardly shuffle forward.

Gruesome

With each heavy step, their cape flared behind them. The dark fabric caught the light from the sconces, and the satin gleamed a deep crimson. The Emperor had their helmet on and the visor pulled down, hiding their face. Two metal horns curved out from the helmet. Small horn-like structures lined the sides as well. The slit that allowed them to see out of such a gruesome helmet was dark, and Larissa could not hope to see the icy blue gaze inside.

Ground

A long rug, one that was once a beautiful orange, stretched from the doorway to the South of the room. Larissa immediately stared at it. There were more bloodstains on it before. Especially at the end closest to the dais along the Southern wall. The blood stains were so thick that the tassels hemmed along the edges of the rug were now crinkled and tangled, pointing out in odd directions. Larissa’s eyes traced upward from the rug to that same throne perched in the center of the dais. It was made of a dark, wrought steel and jutted from the stone floors like a deadly blade sunk into the ground. It did not look comfortable.

A soft moan parted Ophiel’s lips, and Iarilan pressed her own against the angel’s, a soft smile gracing the demon’s lips. Ophiel wrapped her arms around Iarilan, pulling her closer.

Iarilan hummed against Ophiel, her clawed fingers stroking Ophiel’s hips with the pads of her fingers. Iarilan’s painted blue lips moved slowly and sensually across Ophiel’s. She gently swiped her tongue across the bottom of Ophiel’s lip, not seeking entrance, but to caress her.

Ophiel shifted in Rhareth’s lap. She currently sat with his arms wrapped around her middle as he pressed ardent kisses against the nap of her neck. His bare chest brushed the back of her graying wings. In contrast, Iarilan sat perched like a mischievous cat in front of her.

Shifting in Rhareth’s lap, a small whine built up inside Ophiel’s chest. She didn’t want to leave Rhareth’s lap or his sensual kisses, but she needed more of Iarilan’s soft lips and softer touches against her pale skin.

Iarilan pulled back slightly, her pink eyes flashing. Ophiel pouted.

Iarilan’s soft smile curved into a pointed grin, and her fangs glittered in the dim light. She cocked a finger at Ophiel, tempting her with a come hither.

Ophiel’s wings twitched. She leaned forwards, slipping from Rhareth’s lap, and captured Iarilan’s blue lips with her own pink ones. Ophiel melted like ice beneath Iarilan’s warm kiss.

Perhaps Ophiel was being tempted. Had been tempted. Was tempted. Was currently tempted. In that moment, between the two, Ophiel could not bring herself to particularly care whatever the case was. Between the two of them, her usual fears and uncertainties fled into dark corners where she could no longer see them.

As Ophiel slipped further from Rhareth’s lap, the firm hands holding her waist tightened. Rhareth’s fingers splayed across her ribs and navel, and he pulled the small angel back into his lap, breaking her and Iarilan’s kiss.

“Where are you going, princess?” Rhareth asked, his chest rumbling with a purr. He pulled Ophiel back so her wings pressed flush against his chest.

Iarilan leaned back, away from Ophiel’s yearning grasp. She uncrossed her legs and stretched them out on either side of Rhareth and Ophiel with a dark smirk.

Ophiel gulped at the sight, her cheeks flushing with a rosy blush. Iarilan’s legs. So smooth and strong. Even with them relaxed as they were, Ophiel could still see the thick muscle which lay beneath her beautiful sepia skin. She yearned to run her hands across Iarilan’s thighs, to touch her and see her eyelashes flutter.

“Rhaaareth,” Ophiel whined, dragging out the a of his name. She straightened her spine and tilted her head back to pin him with a small glare. He was the one stopping her, after all.

A wide grin met her gaze.

Ophiel huffed, blowing a stray curl out of her face. “You’re no fun. And not fair.”

Rhareth and Iarilan cackled at that. Ophiel’s flush deepened, but her pout never fell.

“Princess. I’m the last person in Hell that’s no fun,” Rhareth said, snickers bleeding between each spoken word. He dropped his hand from Ophiel’s waist to her milky thigh. His long fingers stroked upwards. Rhareth pulled a small gasp from Ophiel as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her panties to stroke her hip-dip.

His reverent touch addled Ophiel’s mind. Still, she choked out, “well… still! You’re being—you’re being unfair!”

Rhareth shook his head and peered over Ophiel’s curls at Iarilan.

Her black tail, tipped with a heart-shaped ice-blue spike, flicked back and forth in amusement, similar to that of a cat’s. Iarilan held Rhareth’s gaze for merely a moment before shooting another grin at Ophiel. She shifted, tucking her knees back beneath her body in a singular, smooth movement.

Ophiel’s pout deepened as Iarilan’s beautiful legs disappeared beneath her. She reached out to her, but Rhareth captured Ophiel’s wrists with ease in one hand, bringing them down into her lap.

“Oh, don’t listen to him,” Iarilan said to Ophiel. She crawled forward, her tail still flickering back and forth. Her ears twitched in anticipation and her fanged grin remained in place. “He’s just being a jerk,” Iarilan whispered to the angel, leaning forward to brush her lips against Ophiel’s ear.

“I can still hear you, you know,” Rhareth said, a whine behind his words.

Ophiel giggled at that. She reached out to Iarilan, wrapping her arms around the succubus’ neck. Iarilan’s skin was cool to the touch, but as smooth and strong as stone. Ophiel could not stop herself from caressing Iarilan’s bare back, her fingers tracing the powerful dips and curves of her muscular back.

With one fluid motion, Iarilan had her arms wrapped tight around Ophiel. She pulled her from Rhareth’s lap and leaned back, claiming the little angel for her own. Her flickering tail wrapped around one of Ophiel’s ankles, tightening and leashing the angel to herself.

“Hey!” Rhareth protested. “Princess! Come back!”

Ophiel laughed shook her head, her curls bouncing around her rosy cheeks. She shot him a devious look as she wrapped her wings around Iarilan, holding her close.

Finally, Ophiel thought to herself. She had Iarilan. She was hers.

Iarilan met Rhareth’s wanton look over Ophiel’s shoulder. Her devious eyes sparked, and she pinched her expression into a smug look, flashing her fangs in the process. She held Rhareth’s gaze as she tilted Ophiel’s head to the side and claimed the angel’s lips in an aggressive, demanding kiss. Ophiel moaned, opening her mouth to allow Iarilan to claim and dominate her mouth.

Rhareth’s cheeks reddened as he stared at the two. Iarilan’s tail wrapped higher around Ophiel’s leg, the heart-shaped spade of her tail now resting on the angel’s milky thigh. Her claws tangled in Ophiel’s hair as she somehow managed to deepen the kiss, pulling an absolutely dirty sound from Ophiel; a moan so needy and desperate it instantly hardened Rhareth.

Iarilan continued to hold his stare, unblinking, all the while.

Rhareth pressed his hands between his thighs, right over his groin.

Ophiel broke her kiss with Iarilan and peered over her shoulder, between the feathery curve of her soft wings. “Rhareth, you’re so far away. Come baaaaack!” She drew out the a again.

Rhareth shuddered at her pleas; his tanned skin prickling in response as his own wings twitched.

But that continued, predatory stare from Iarilan kept him at bay. She placed two fingers beneath Ophiel’s chin and tilted her head back towards herself, forcing the angel to meet her gaze.

“He was being mean to us, Ophiel. Are you sure you want him to come back over here and take you away from me?” Iarilan cooed, her voice as cool and smooth as ice.

Ophiel frowned at that and tilted her head to the side, contemplating Iarilan’s words. At the sight of a slight wink from Iarilan, a new mischievous grin worked its way to her lips.

“Ophiel?” Rhareth asked slowly. He wrapped his hand around his cock, unable to help himself from pumping it slowly.

Ophiel shook her head and snuggled closer to Iarilan.

Iarilan’s laughter was like bells as Ophiel hid her face between Iarilan’s breasts, which were pushed together by a lacy black bra.

Rhareth eyed them cautiously. His tail thumped against the bed as he waited impatiently. They were planning something. He knew it.

Ophiel could not hide her excitement. Not from him. Definitely not from Iarilan. And not even from herself. Her feathers puffed in anticipation.

“Maybe if you apologized for being so mean, we would be more apt to allow you to return,” Iarilan purred.

Rhareth met her challenge with gusto. He could not keep the smirk off his face or out of his voice. “Oh? An apology? Is that all it takes?”

Ophiel peeked out from Iarilan’s chest. “It has to be meaningful,” she said, continuing the game that had started around her. Curiosity had nipped her, more so than any worry. Between Rhareth and Iarilan, nothing could creep up on her. Nothing could harm her. Here, between the two of the, wrapped up in their warmth in their private and quiet place inside Rhareth’s bedroom, they all hid from everyone that could do the three of them harm.

Rhareth nodded sagely at her interjection. “Of course it has to be. But I think I can do better than a measly apology.”

Ophiel cocked her head to the side. She shifted in Iarilan’s lap, leaning her back against one of Iarilan’s muscled arms, her legs draped across Iarilan’s thick thighs. Finally, Ophiel thought as she ran her fingers unashamedly up and down the smooth expanse of Iarilan’s skin.

“What do you mean?” Ophiel finally asked after a lengthy pause, forcing her eyes away from Iarilan.

A sly smile crossed Rhareth’s full lips. He leaned back on his forearms, spreading his bare legs out across the bed. Although relaxed, Ophiel could still recognize the hard, taunt muscle beneath his smooth skin.

And no one could ignore his hardened cock, which stood at full attention, a bead of pearly precome on the pretty tip of his head.

Despite seeing him like this before, Ophiel still flushed.

“How about I show you,” Rhareth purred. It was not a question, but a promise. He placed his hand against his neck and slowly slid the back of his hand down the length of his body, his claws paused at his perked nipples, and he dragged the tip around the circumference. His wings shuddered under his own touch and a deep moan peeled its way between his lips. He pinched his other nipple at the same time, and his own ministrations caused Rhareth to arch into his own touch, his eyelashes fluttering as his gaze darkened.

Ophiel followed the movement with her eyes, her mouth parted slightly and her brows drawn together. What is he doing? she thought.

Iarilan chuckled soundlessly. She played with one of Ophiel’s curls mindlessly, twirling it around her claws as she watched Rhareth as well. A smirk played on her painted lips, her eyes sparking deviously.

Rhareth’s fingers fell to the buttons of his tight leather pants. He popped the single button out of its home.

“O—Oh!” Ophiel squeaked. Her flush crept down her neck, but she could not rip her eyes away from him. Curiosity still had her in its clutches. With Iarilan’s minty breath cooling her neck, and her arms around her, Ophiel relaxed rather than tensed.

Rhareth’s eyes slid from Ophiel’s to Iarilan’s as he unzipped the zipper. He ghosted his palm across his hidden cock before freeing it from his thong’s clutches. He was not fully hard yet, but the two ladies recognized the twitching vein along its shaft. 

Ophiel stared at him, and without realizing it, one of her wings rose, blocking the sight of the incubus before them. the other wrapped around Iarilan tighter.

Iarilan pressed her lips to the top of Ophiel’s head. She pressed a hand against the curve of Ophiel’s wing, pushing it back down. Although the downy feathers felt like silk against her palm, Iarilan recognized the surprising strength and power those wings held.

“No need for that,” Iarilan said, her voice caressing Ophiel’s curls. “He wants to apologize for being such a jerk.” Iarilan’s pink eyes twinkled with mirth.

Ophiel allowed her wing to be pushed down. She didn’t glance up at Iarilan, but relaxed against Iarilan once more. Her touches soothed Ophiel’s thoughts before they could form, reminding the angel where she was and who she was with. With a steadying breath, Ophiel sunk back into the sight and heat which swirled around her, allowing both to caress her, inside and out.

Rhareth’s heated and hooded gaze flickered between Ophiel and Iarilan. He barely blinked as he ran his fingers up the length of his cock, willing it to rise.

Ophiel stared owlishly, her jaw still slack, as Rhareth trailed his fingers down to his testicles before dragging his index finger back up the length of himself, tracing along a protruding vein. He circled his claws around his foreskin as he fully hardened. A small groan rumbled in Rhareth’s chest.

Ophiel pressed a hand over their mouth and clamped their thighs together. Iarilan purred softly at the sight of both Ophiel and Rhareth, but said nothing. She merely held Ophiel closer, her eyes trained on Rhareth’s ministrations.

Rhareth thumbed his head, teasing the slit of his cock with the pad of his thumb. His hips twitched, and his tail wrapped around one of his thighs. The black spike tipping his tail still twitched, tapping against his ankle as Rhareth gathered his cock into the palm of his hand, pumping himself slowly. Drool pooled on Rhareth’s forked tongue.

Ophiel couldn’t tear her gaze away from the sight of Rhareth breaking apart under his own hand. Although she sat clothed on Iarilan’s lap, Ophiel was sure her flush rivaled Rhareth’s. Her skin prickled with bumps despite the warmth which surrounded her.

In her long life, she had seen many glorious sights. Of the rolling cloud bank over a rising sun. The way sunlight splintered the jeweled sky at night, leaving long tears of orange and yellow within the deepening indigo. Of thousands of stars, thousands of angels surrounding her, radiating with a stern, monolithic power that couldn’t be contained.

Of those that had passed floating into God’s arms, home at last. joyous morning birdsong. The wet eyes of a babe. Smiles of jubilation and adoration.

And yet, none of those sights compared to the one before her as she sat perched in the lap of a succubus, surrounded by dusty darkness and smoldering candlelight, peering at an incubus spilling himself for her eyes. 

Rhareth continued to pump himself at a steady pace. He rubbed two of his fingers against his split again, peeling another moan from himself. His shoulders shook as a few drops of sweat trickled down his temple. His wet tongue darted out to catch one of the salty droplets.

His eyes bore into Ophiel’s as he let go of himself. His cock, fully hardened, stood with ease. Rhareth shot Ophiel a grin before dragging his tongue across the palm of his hand in a long, wet lick.

Ophiel squirmed under his heated gaze.

Iarilan leaned forward, licking her lips, her smirk never fading. Her eyes, alight with amusement, tracked Rhareth’s every twitch, like that of a predator.

Rhareth grabbed his cock again, this time pumping it harder and faster. “Princess…” he moaned.

Ophiel flushed and pressed a palm against her cheek, gasping. She rubbed her knees together, unable to deny or contain her own heat flaring within her navel.

Noticing the angel’s squirms, Iarilan caressed Ophiel’s thigh idly, starting on the outside and working her way upward, toward the apex of Ophiel’s thighs. Each brush of her icy touch brought another tinny moan to Ophiel’s lips. Her flesh prickled again.

Ophiel couldn’t quite keep track of everything going on around her. From the sinful and delicious sight splayed out before her, to Iarilan’s sensual touches that had her wanting to beg for more, Ophiel found herself frozen. If she could, Ophiel wished to stay within the moment forever. A timeless bubble filled with feasts for the eyes and pleasure across the skin. A place where no one could ever find the three of them.

Rhareth’s hips twitched as he thrust into his own palm. His forked tongue lolled out of his mouth as he picked up speed, his eyes widening.

Ophiel startled, recognizing the precipice Rhareth was currently on. His motions were nearing erratic, beads of precome weeping from the tip of his cock.

Ophiel could not hold in her soft moan at the sight.

Rhareth’s ears pricked at the sound, and suddenly, a loud snarl echoed from his mouth as he came. His burning orange eyes squeezed shut as he rode out each wave of his orgasm, ropes of his seed splattering across the silky red sheets. Ophiel’s name died on his lips as he slumped down. He laid back across the sheets, his head hanging off the edge of the bed. His tail fell slack from around his thigh and he spread his arms out.

Rhareth’s chest rose and fell with hard pants. Ophiel watched his Adam’s apple bounce as he sucked in gulps of air.

“What a good show, my king,” Iarilan purred. Her arms fell from Ophiel.

As soon as Iarilan released her, Ophiel scrambled over to Rhareth. She ignored the mess on the bed, and the fact his cock still hung from his unbuttoned pants. She leapt into his arms, her knees pressing against his sides as she nuzzled into his neck.

Rhareth hugged Ophiel close, a purr rumbling in his chest as he nuzzled her golden curls. His crimson hair fell behind him in a tangled mess, crashing to the obsidian floor like a bloody waterfall.

“So. I guess you accept my apology, Ophiel?” he asked between pants.

“Mmmm?”

“My apology,” Rhareth said with a purr. “Do you accept my apology for being mean earlier?”

“O—Oh. Yes. Yes, o—of course I do!”

Rhareth chuckled at that. He sat up with a groan, tucking Ophiel against his chest. His hair crashed down against the sides of his face, and he shook his mane back.

Rhareth peered over Ophiel’s head to Iarilan. She sat back, her eyes still alight. She twined a lock of her blue-and-black hair around one of her fingers, her ears twitching with interest as her tail continued to flick back and forth.

“My queen?” Rhareth asked. He proffered a palm.

With a small chuckle, Iarilan crept forward on her hands and knees.

Shifting Ophiel to his left side, as soon as Iarilan placed her hand in Rhareth’s, he had her pulled close to him. He sat Iarilan on his lap as best he could, tucking her into his right side.

Rhareth tangled his tail with Iarilan’s as he snuggled both ladies close to his chest, a content purr vibrating in his chest.

Both Rhareth and Iarilan gasped when large, graying wings flared around them before wrapping around all three of them like a blanket. Ophiel watched the two of them through heavy eyes burdened by sleep. A soft smile played on her lips as she lolled her head against Rhareth’s shoulder.

Iarilan chuckled and reached out. First, she pressed a finger pad to Ophiel’s button nose, booping her, before lacing her sepia fingers through Ophiel’s pale ones.