“Good. I don’t want you to.”
Two hands were spanning her waist. Those hands belonged to the man standing in front of her. She put her palms against his chest, smooth and hard and damp with sweat. She breathed him in, inhaling the salty smell of his skin. The hands that moved up and down her hips belonged to the man behind her. She could feel his cock, erect and eager, poking at the cleft of her bottom.
The sauna had become their favorite place to pass the long cold nights. As the steam curled around them, she became lost in the sensation of their demands. And the demands of being shared by two incredibly strong men were beyond anything she ever could have imagined wanting, could have ever imagined even being possible.
The hands on her hips now pulled her back and bent her forward. As her head lowered, the man in front of her guided her mouth down onto his cock. Her slim hand smoothed down the foreskin as she slipped her lips over the ruby head. She could taste the first drop of his pre-cum, salty like his skin. She breathed deeply through her nose, inhaling the steam now slightly scented with the smells of sex.
She could feel her pussy clenching, could feel the slick sheen of arousal coating the inside of her thighs. The man behind her was parting her bottom cheeks, and she expected to feel the head of his cock probing the tight crinkle of her anus. But no. He had moved to his knees and it was his tongue she felt instead, moving up and down her slit. She moaned around the cock that filled her mouth and felt the owner’s large hand fisting her hair.
She was wriggling and the mouth fastened to her pussy growled a warning to stay still, the wordless command reinforced by a proprietary squeeze of her buttocks. The flat of his tongue moved across her inner labia, lapping away the wetness that continued to flow. The tip of his tongue teased her clit from under its fleshy hood just as the cock she was sucking hit the back of her throat. She massaged his shaft with her tongue, feeling it pulse. She prepared to swallow, but before she could, he’d pulled away with a groan and she was back to standing between the two of them, the three bodies pressed tight together, her lips locked with those of the man in front of her as the one behind her nibbled her shoulder in that way that always made her shudder.
She was pulled forward as the man in front of her lay down on the smooth bench of the sauna. She knew what to do, and felt a pulse of need in her core, felt her nipples harden into needy peaks as she eased down onto his shaft. She straddled him as he lay back and cried out when his mouth captured a breast as his cock filled her quivering pussy.
“Ooooh…” She threw back her head, her vision hazy with steam and lust. She moved back and forth on the cock, aware that a hand had moved to her hip, cognizant of a lubricated finger that was now inching its way into her bottom hole, preparing her for the twin invasion.
Her heart quickened. The first time they’d done this, she’d been afraid, afraid she couldn’t take two huge men together. They’d not given her a choice, not that she’d wanted one. Her desire for them was supernatural. There was no other word for it, although if, a year ago, she’d been told such extremes were possible, she’d no more have believed it than she would have believed…
No. She’d not think on it. Not now. Not with one huge cock stretching the walls of her pussy, its head meeting the mouth of her womb—an internal kiss—as the second cock breached the natural resistance of her bottom hole.
There was steam and moans and hands and a sensation of being filled, overfilled, consumed, and owned. She felt completely at the mercy of the men who took their pleasure with her body, who now emptied themselves into her, flooding her with the warmth of their seed as she came with a cry, her pussy rippling and clenching so hard it almost took her breath away.
Then they relaxed, which was the part she liked best because it reminded her that as much as she needed them, they needed her, too.
She smiled, closing her eyes as they murmured her name, murmured words of love in a language she’d come to understand. She smiled, thinking how far they’d come.
One year earlier
Earth. Solid, cool earth. The bear thundered across it in great, ground-swallowing strides, his huge padded feet crushing wind-felled branches that lay strewn across the forest floor.
He stopped running only when he was too tired to go any further, flopping down on his massive haunches. It was late in the day, and the sunlight came in slanting shafts through the trees. He lifted his head and snuffled the air, his keen olfactory powers picking out individual odors from the medley of scents. Ozone from an approaching storm, the earthy decay of a rotting log, the musk of a marten high in the tree above him, sap oozing from a nearby trunk.
His animal senses were alive and electric. But underneath, another sense—a deeper one—spoken gently, reminding him of the reason to come into the forest so soon after returning home.
The bear clambered back to his feet and moved back down the ridge, his small eyes searching for shadows that were not shadows, the darkness among the trees that wary hikers sometimes noticed only when it was too late. He was looking for the lost ones, the ones who’d slipped beyond his protection, beyond his watch. He was looking for those who threatened the existence of those who counted on him.
He was looking for the Rogues.
One was close by. He’d briefly caught its scent when he’d entered this patch of dense forest. Now he caught it again and raised his head, capturing and following it like an invisible thread that led to a nearby tree. It was an old tree, the girth thick. The bark, too, was thick, but not thick enough. He sniffed at the sap oozing from deep claw marks that had easily scored the tree’s armor. The sap smelled of spiky sweetness, but the bear was focusing on something else, the distinct undertone of another bear. A familiar one.
The soft snap of a twig caught his attention. He turned toward the sounds, and through the undergrowth could see the brawny shape of another bear. It was slightly smaller, but more menacing in its stance. It growled low in its throat as it moved forward, its narrowed eyes fixed on its would-be rival.
The larger bear’s heart quickened deep in his chest.
He spoke the words mentally, remembering a time when a telepathic message would soften the stance of a fellow BearKynd. When two of their tribe met, recognition would replace suspicion as they realized their common kinship, their shared undercurrent of humanity. Even in animal form, there was an understanding.
But not today.
The other bear stared and growled again, deeper this time as it moved into the clearing. It opened its mouth and turned its massive head, showing its teeth as it vocalized a sterner threat.
This isn’t why I came, Brother. Brother, please. Just look!
He backed away against the younger bear’s advance.
I don’t want to hurt you.
He could feel the rumble in his own chest as he answered the challenging growl. Disappointment was replaced with self-preservation as he ushered his humanity into the background.
Full shifts were risky, especially now. But he had no choice. He braced his massive forelegs on the ground, lowering his head as his wild nature surged forward to fill the void left by his receding humanity. And he felt power and anger and the ferocity of his territorial nature emerge as he became nearly fully Bear.
The smaller bear was emboldened. It strode toward him purposefully, and he allowed this, allowed the youthful hubris to swell. He backed away, encouraging it, even as he moved his massive head from side to side. He’d clung to just enough humanity to give him an edge. He was fooling the other bear by making himself appear unsure. When the younger, overconfident bear lunged, he was ready. He rose up, his massive chest colliding with his rival’s. They were equally matched in height, but he was heavier and more muscular. He was also more skilled.
He felt the younger bear’s teeth meet the flesh of his shoulder. But his bite was more effective. He latched on to the side of the younger bear’s jowl, breaking its brief hold. He leaned forward, keeping his own jaws locked tight as he grappled his forelegs around the thick torso. He used his massive bulk to send his rival sprawling to the ground. The younger bear emitted a strangled noise as it fell back, kicking and clawing in its panic.
He would be a good fighter with more experience, and this worried the older bear. He knew he needed to dominate this young male, to make him afraid. He let go and watched as his opponent struggled to his feet, whirled and shook himself. Drops of blood flew from the bite wounds on its injured face. The larger bear was not yet injured, and would not risk it, not today. He would end this now.
He gave no warning growl as he launched himself at his foe, knocking him off his feet for the second time. This time the younger bear crashed into a boulder. The larger bear loomed over his adversary, biting and shaking, his full weight pressing the smaller animal against the rock. He could feel the writhing muscles beneath him starting to weaken, could smell the fear. And yet he continued to attack, tearing hide and fur until he tasted blood, until the air was thick with the metallic smell of it. The younger bear screamed, and the larger bear heard this and listened for something deeper, for a telepathic cry for mercy. A human cry.
There was none.
You should kill him. It would save the life of others. His human rationale whispered this to him. But he could not. Had there not already been enough bloodshed? No.
He moved his bulk off the younger bear. It rolled over clumsily and stood, lumbering about shakily. It looked back, the bravery gone from its eyes. And the larger bear lunged again, not to attack this time but to threaten.
The younger bear began to run. The larger bear gave chase. He would pursue him deep into the forest, away from habitation, away from any place where man might be encountered. He could not risk another fatal mauling. The Rogues would never fear humans, but they would fear him.
The younger bear had more stamina on the run. The larger bear did not need that kind of stamina. He slowed, panting, as his vanquished rival scaled a rock face dotted with hardy pines and disappeared over the ridge.
Something in him wanted to follow, not for the chase but for the promise of what lay beyond that distant hilltop. The wilderness called to him. He could feel it—could feel more of Bear spilling into his huge frame. He stopped and flopped down on his belly, resting his head on his paws, panting as he summoned Man Mind.
It was getting harder with each shift.
His fight with the younger bear was over. Now he fought with himself. As he listened to the whispering wind, he forced himself to remember his responsibilities to those—both human and bear—who looked to him for protection. His clan, his kind, were under threat. They were afraid. He gave them security.
He turned back and began to lope toward home. Each time he entered the forest, leaving took more effort. He ran faster, as if he could outrun the lure of his wild nature, of an existence free of emotion and duty. The way of the bear was simpler. In the world of bears, he was without peer. In the world of bears he was king undisputed. The world of man was crueler and more complicated.
He continued to run, losing track of time, gauging his whereabouts by the smells on the wind. Only when he caught the scent of smoke did he stop running. Now he concentrated fully on steeling himself against the urges that vexed him. The bear shook himself then stood upright, ignoring the desire to drop back down and lose himself in the forest, to lose himself in this exterior of muscle and bone and hide.
He began to shake, his huge body twitching and jerking as it morphed and constricted and changed. He felt teeth recede and blunt in his rapidly flattening face, felt his huge paw pads separate and lengthen into fingers, felt the fur pull into his skin as bear retreated and man stood alone in the shaft of light coming through the trees. Above him, the marten scurried further up the tree as squirrels chattered in disapproval. In the forest, Bear was always more welcome than the man he became.
The young bear he’d fought had once been a man, too. His name had been Sergei. Had he found the wilderness welcoming? Or would he do as the other Rogues and stalk the easier, softer human prey, unaware that he was inviting revenge on all bears, including those of his clan?
He pushed the thought from his mind. There would be time to reflect, time to mourn the loss of those who’d joined the Rogues.
He thought of his cousin. He frowned, fretting as he recalled the argument they’d had before he left. They were the strongest, the most capable, and the clan looked to them for protection. But their leadership styles were different. It had been nearly a week since he’d heard from him. What was he up to?
The man who’d been a bear ran a hand through his short blond hair and frowned. Whatever it was, he had a feeling it would only lead to more trouble.
He felt better, having run. He’d expended some energy, had proven to himself that he could still control himself in shifts. But there was an undercurrent of restlessness, of fear. Fear and emotion were the enemies of BearKynd. Too much and the shifts could come on suddenly. Mix in fear and rage, and a shift could be permanent.
The clan needed the leadership he and his cousin provided. But to continue, they needed to safeguard themselves. They needed a regular release for that energy, or else they, too, were at risk of becoming Rogues.
There was only one way to get that release. But time was running out, for all of them, and he wondered what the future would hold.