Chapter 278: Tying Up Loose Ends

"Watch," I tell her, and her jaw tightens, green eyes blown wide and glassy, locked on where Cherry’s taking both my cocks with a kind of desperate hunger written all over her face.

"I am," Lyra breathes, voice cracked, "I am watching."

I turn my attention back to the girl currently trying to scratch new patterns into my chest, and pick up the pace, slamming her down harder, faster, no mercy in it at all, and she’s not even forming words anymore, just a string of broken yes-yes-yes-yes that spills out of her like she can’t stop it even if she tried.

"That’s it," I growl, "take it, take both of them, you wanted to ride me so bad, now you’re gonna finish what you started."

"I can’t, I can’t, it’s too much," she gasps, even as her hips keep grinding down to meet every thrust, contradicting every word coming out of her mouth.

"You can," I say, "and you will."

Her tail smacks against my balls again, harder this time, almost punishing, and the sting of it mixes with the tight clench of her pussy around both cocks in a way that has heat coiling low in my gut, building fast, faster than I want it to, but there’s no slowing down now, not with the way she’s writhing on top of me like she’s trying to fuse our bodies together through sheer force of want.

"You feel that?" I ask her, voice rough, "Feel both of them stretching you out, filling you up?"

"Yes," she sobs, nails raking down again, "yes, fuck, yes, I feel it, I feel everything—"

Her wings snap and flutter behind her, out of control, some deep instinctual reaction to the overload, and her whole body starts shaking in a different way now, tighter, more desperate, building toward something that’s about to break her wide open.

"Look at Lyra," I tell her suddenly, and her glazed eyes struggle to focus, turning toward the headboard where Lyra’s watching with her whole body strung tight, wrists straining against rope, thighs pressed together like she’s trying to physically hold herself together.

"She’s watching you take both my cocks," I say, low, right against Cherry’s ear, "watching you scream for me, watching you fall apart. You want her to see how good you take it?"

"Yes," Cherry chokes out, "yes, watch me, Lyra, watch me—"

Lyra makes a sound that isn’t quite words, something raw and frustrated and turned on all at once, hips shifting against the sheets like she’s chasing friction that isn’t there, and the sight of her like that, desperate and denied, sends a fresh wave of heat straight through me.

I slam Cherry down one more time, deep, hard, holding her there, grinding up into her while she screams, and that’s what does it, that’s what finally breaks her, her whole body seizing up around both my cocks in a clench so tight it drags me right over the edge with her.

"Fuck," I groan, hips jerking up, both cocks pulsing at once as I fill her, and she just wails through it, nails scraping one last time down my chest, tail smacking weakly against my balls in some kind of instinctual aftershock she doesn’t even seem aware of anymore.

She collapses forward onto my chest, boneless, wings drooping, breath coming in short broken gasps, and for a second the only sound in the room is the three of us breathing hard, the smell of sex and sweat and ozone thick enough to taste.

"Holy shit," Cherry mumbles into my collarbone, echoing Lyra from earlier, and I huff out a laugh, brushing sweaty hair back from her face.

"Yeah," I say, "that seems to be the general consensus tonight."

I ease both cocks out slowly, feeling her twitch weakly at the sensation, and she just kind of melts further into me, completely wrecked, all that dominant energy from earlier burned clean out of her.

"You good?" I ask, because I mean it every time, no matter how many times I’ve already asked tonight.

"So good," she slurs, "so, so good, I might actually die."

"Don’t die," I tell her, "that’d be very annoying."

She laughs weakly against my chest, and I glance over at Lyra, still tied to the headboard, still trembling with unspent tension, eyes wide and wet and absolutely wrecked from having to just watch.

"Your turn," I tell her, and the look on her face is somewhere between relief and pure desperate hunger.

"Finally," she breathes.

I move over to her, but instead of untying her wrists like she’s clearly expecting, I just brush my smoke tendril thumb along her jaw and leave the rope exactly where it is.

Her brows pull together, confused, mouth already opening to complain about it.

"Not yet," I tell her, and her whole face falls a little, like a kid told to wait for dessert.

I scoop Cherry up instead, still boneless and mumbling nonsense into my chest, and carry her over to the other side of the bed. She barely reacts when I start looping a spare length of rope around her wrists too, too fucked out to do anything but blink slowly up at me.

"Wait, what," Cherry mumbles, "why am I getting tied up now? I already did the thing—"

"Because I’m not done," I say, and something in my voice makes both their heads turn toward me at the same time, one confused, one curious, both very much paying attention now.

Old Mate, if he were talking right now, would probably say something about efficiency or multitasking, but he’s gone quiet, which honestly worries me a little because that guy never shuts up. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got a plan, and I’m feeling generous with myself tonight.

I close my eyes and reach for that ability sitting in the back of my head, the one I’ve been saving, the one that’s honestly a little unhinged even by my standards.

Miniature Multitude.

It’s time for the girls to really experience the real me.