masterofstlouis | Cerulean Sins

Cerulean Sins - Chapters 10-13

Jean-Claude can't seem to bring himself to sit up straight. He's slumped in his chair, hands folded over his stomach, and so very still. That pleading look from Asher as he'd taken Musette's hand, watching as Musette hurt Asher, drawing his second's blood -- his Asher's blood -- had been enough to rip open wounds he'd rather had remained blissfully ignorant of. But now they were gaping inside him, and the knowledge that it had been Anita to set Asher up for it... that Anita had set Asher up for far worse than just being publicly stabbed...

He is both defeated and furious.

He is also tired. Simply tired. Each step forward for him left him three steps behind by the time Anita was through.

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Asher moans again softly, closing his eyes as he arches up into her mouth, his hands moving to Jean-Claude's thighs, fingers digging into strong muscle, clutching tightly as Anita licks and sucks on him.

As much as Jean-Claude would love to just sit here for hours cradling Asher while watching Anita pleasure him, they do have a deadline, and a task (however enjoyable) that they must complete.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. As he does, he lowers the shields he had placed around Anita. The instant the shields come down, the ardeur washes over them like the tide across a breakwater.

Jean-Claude rides it like a pro, but it does not leave him unaffected as he feels the sudden and intense need to have his pants off now. He wriggles out from beneath Asher and peels off the rest of his clothing, not taking his eyes off the scene before him.

Asher sits up, using his hold on Anita to pull him up off his cock, sliding his hand down her back, fingertips skating over her bra strap, unfastening it gently.

He slides his hands down her sides, kissing her hungrily as he slides off her underwear, ardeur rolling over his skin, making him moan into the kiss.

Anita knows nothing but the insistent desire. She wants them. However she can have them, she wants them. She presses closer to Asher when she's finally completely nude, her hands moving over his body. His kiss was addictive, intoxicating, and she gasps between the parting of their lips and their reuniting. Anita grasps him with her hand, strokes as their tongue slide against one another, and moans when his hands cup her ass, pull her even closer.

Anita and Asher had risen to their knees, frantically kissing, when Jean-Claude climbs back onto the bed. He moves in behind Anita and presses closely against her, leaning his head down to kiss her shoulder and neck. His hands roam over them both: Asher's arms and back, Anita's stomach and breasts.

"Mon ami," he finally teases when it looks as though the two might never stop kissing, "might I borrow ma petite's lips for a few moments?"

Asher breaks the kiss, slowly, smirking at Jean-Claude over Anita's shoulder.

"Certainly," he replies politely, chuckling softly as he kisses the hollow of her throat, his hands skimming her sides. Looking up at Jean-Claude and Anita kissing, he sucks her nipple into his mouth, letting his fangs gently scrape the soft flesh, blunt human teeth worrying at it.

It is intoxicating, and Anita feels like she is drowning as Asher leaves her mouth only to be replaced by Jean-Claude. Her hands dive into Asher's hair, holding him to her breast as she partially twists enough for Jean-Claude's kiss. Her nipple draws up tightly between Asher's lips, and she moans loudly when his teeth tease.

She can feel herself become unbearably wet, aching to have them inside her. It is a need, suffocating and desperate, and she whimpers as Jean-Claude's tongue twines with hers, his hands and Asher's hands touching everywhere. It's so much, and soon she's trembling between them. One of her hands leave Asher's hair to grasp Jean-Claude's sex, stroke, demand without words.

Another time, and he would have prolonged this. But with the dawn chasing them, and the ardeur burning through their minds, there is no point to wasting time.

Jean-Claude turns Anita fully around in his arms and lays back, pulling her down on top of him. His erection presses against the coarse hair between her legs, sliding against her as she shifts above him.

In a smooth movement of her hips, Anita sinks down atop Jean-Claude. She grips at him with hands and thighs, a loud cry ringing through the room. All logical thought leaves her then, replaced only by driving need. By the ardeur.

Anita moves on Jean-Claude, her eyes unfocused as she stares down at him, at his beauty and power and she only wants more. She feels Asher press against her back, his hands on her body once more, and she gasps, "Asher!"

She wants them both, needs them both, and she almost sobs with the weight of it.

Asher presses against her back, kissing her neck, her shoulders, his hands on her breasts, pinching her nipples tightly, rolling them between his fingers. He watches Jean-Claude over Anita's shoulder, straddling Jean-Claude's thighs, pressed against him.

Jean-Claude holds Anita's thighs and behind, not guiding her so much as steadying her while she takes her fill of him. Her passage is as wet as he's ever known it to be, and she draws him inside her again and again with ease. The urgency of it all adds a level to the pleasure that is surprising and intoxicating.

He catches Asher's eyes briefly, remembering shared pleasure like this many times long ago with Julianna, both like this and with their positions reversed. Times that Jean-Claude had believed would never come again.

Anita vaguely notices how perfectly they move together. A graceful dance, and one she knows they've done thousands of times before this moment. Each time Jean-Claude pushes up into her, Asher thrusts against her back, sliding along the crevice of her backside.

And then, in the middle of it all, Anita begins to beg.

"Asher!" she cries out again. "Please... please, I want you inside!"

Asher shudders, thrusting harder against her, her back slick with his juices, with her sweat.

"Yes, ma petit," he breathes, sliding his hands down her body, glancing between them, watching his cock slide against her.

Jean-Claude has seen that particular look on Asher's face before, and knows where the blond's thoughts are heading.

"Ma petite has never had anyone enter her there, mon ami, and we have no lubrication and insufficient time to prepare her."

Anita cries out, unsatisfied with being denied, though distantly grateful someone could look out for her. Regardless, the ardeur wants Asher inside, and Anita is helpless to keep from begging for it. While Asher pulls and kneads at her breast, so close to pain but wonderful all the same, she rides Jean-Claude with abandon.

"Asher!" she shouts again, pushing back against him. "Please, God, please, Asher, inside! I need you inside!"

It is all she can think about, all she can demand. Anita needs him to pierce her somehow, and she will not take a refusal.

Asher draws a shuddering breath, the ardeur doing its best to overwhelm him with lust and need. He presses against Anita, sweeping her hair over one shoulder, brushing his lips against her shoulder.

"There is only one way, cher," he murmurs huskily, letting his fangs scrape against her skin, his body pressing close.

The ardeur rages inside her, and Anita's hands grip tightly at Jean-Claude's wrists. Something was niggling in the back of her lust-soaked brain, but she can't quite grasp it. Pleasure is hot between her thighs, her whole body tightening with that impending moment of release. She gasps and cries out, needing Asher to be with them, to come with them, to be pulled along with them.

"Yes, Asher, yes," she pants, so close now, so ready, and she's not sure how much longer she can hold off. She's overwhelmed by the rhythm of their bodies, of Jean-Claude pushing up into her forcefully while Asher rubs against her. The ardeur rises, greedy and hungry, ready to devour them all, and she feels the tell-tale moment when she passes that moment of no return. "Asher!"

At that moment, when they ride the crest of that wave, poised on the brink of absolute pleasure, Asher strikes.

His fangs pierce her skin, his fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck, drawing her head to the side, stretching her neck taut. He drinks, letting her feel that one moment of pain before he lets his gift go free.

He doesn't hold back; half out of fear, half because he is held just as firmly in the ardeur's grip. He rolls her, utterly and completely, willing her to come, his gaze fixed upon Jean-Claude's face, one hand sneaking down to grasp his old lover's, tangle their fingers together for a moment.

The pleasure crashes through her again and again. It's something Anita cannot fight, and she's not sure she wants to fight it. White-hot and consuming, it takes her as surely as Jean-Claude's body takes hers. She is at the mercy of Asher's power, and it is only a few heartbeats before she's screaming, climax rolling over her repeatedly. There is nothing but the pleasure, warm and bright, spilling over her, through her, until she knew nothing but the unending orgasm Asher's bite brought.

The first orgasm is his own. He bucks up against Anita, nails digging into her thighs, as he spills himself into her. He lets out a sound between a moan and a scream, as undignified as he's been in an exceptionally long time.

The subsequent orgasms, though, are echoes of Anita's, felt through the marks as Asher continues to feed, continues to draw out the pleasure from her -- and consequently, from him -- again and again.

The ardeur roars and Jean-Claude pours the power down the line, feeding the beast with their shared lusts.

Asher feeds upon their pleasure, sending it back to them, doubled, tripled, until he knows nothing but pleasure, his mind whirling, his body thick with it. He spills himself over Anita's back, his mouth still on her neck, feeding and fed upon, the ardeur drinking him in as he feeds on Anita's blood, spins a web of pleasure around them.

It was so much, and it's Jean-Claude's nails on her flesh that reminds her that she is more than the pleasure rushing through her. Anita is breathless in her cries, shuddering violently, feeling Jean-Claude bucking beneath her, and the ardeur simply feasts on everything the men offer up to her. Seed, sweat, flesh, it's all drunk down, taken into her, made part of her.

Asher feeds still, again and again, caught up until finally he pulls away, Anit'a blood pouring from his mouth as his throat works, trying to swallow, his gluttony evident now. This wasn't just to feed, to sate his bloodlust. He had fed for the pleasure of feeding; fed because it felt good, because it made Anita feel good.

He slumps against Anita, a domino effect, feeling her collapse on top of Jean-Claude. He cannot move, his body limp, muscles twitching with pleasure, still. And before he can bring himself to move, before he can even roll off Anita, he feels dawn arrive. A moment, not even enough to warn Anita, and then...nothing.

Anita is too sated to notice at first. Slowly, she comes back to herself as the bodies above and below her begin to cool. She gives a push on Asher's shoulder, but he doesn't budge. She heaves on him again, but only succeeds in making herself dizzy from the lack of blood. She twists and wriggles and shoves, but neither Asher nor Jean-Claude budge at all.

The thought begins to creep into her mind that she is likely to be stuck here all day. Trapped between two dead bodies for hours. And for Anita, who was still uncomfortable simply sleeping beside Jean-Claude during the day, that prospect was first unpleasant, then disturbing, then terrifying.

She screams.

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Cerulean Sins - Chapters 10-13

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