Trinket (Reverse Harem)

Surfacing

By morning (or whatever it was), Asund's back was mostly healed.

"That's amazing." I studied the thick, red stripes lashed into his strong back. Thirteen clean strikes placed in a lattice meant to cover everything from his shoulders to his ass, perfectly butterflying his back like a piece of meat. He'd healed almost completely, though. "Do they... hurt?"

He glanced over his shoulder at me. He looked absurdly good wearing Hippocamp attire, and Ormiss' staff had dressed him with a quiet awe at the wolf who refused to howl, and had actually arranged his hair with some beads and combs. They'd tried to do the same for my other consorts, who had declined their services, but Asund had smugly allowed them to adorn him. Just to piss off the Hippocamp.

"They sting a bit, but a few days and they will fade. Do they offend you?"

"I would be one to talk if they did, wouldn't I?" I reached to pull a lock of hair across my face, but realized belatedly that the servants had put my hair up and my scars were on full display. My fingertips trailed over the side of my face and down my shoulder, finding one particularly nasty ridge that lashed over my collar.

"Do yours hurt?" he asked.

I looked at him. "My scars?"

"Yes."

"No. I've had them as long as I can remember. I don't think about them much."

He moved close, then circled me. His Hippocamp skirts and necklaces rustled, but his feet made no sound. He brushed his fingertips along one scar. I jumped, but it wasn't because it hurt. His fingertips traced the patterns of one scar, felt the ridge of my shoulder blade, traced the outline of muscles and tendons. His touch was so tender.

He slid his hand over my back and around my side and under my breasts, his strong chest moving against me. He seemed to engulf me with his body. His necklace pressed between us, rough and raw. Then his hand moved up over my breast and covered my skin through the layers of silk I'd been adorned with.

I gasped.

He growled very softly, sending a thrill over my nerves, and pressed his lips to my neck. His big palm massaged my breast, his fingers squeezing gently. His other hand moved over my belly. He kissed my neck again, and I instinctively leaned my head to the side with a sigh.

"I have—" Ormiss stopped dead as he entered the balcony overlooking the twilight garden. His skirts swung around his ankles. His necklaces rattled and clinked. He froze and did not even move.

Asund's lips lingered over my collar, his fingers gently playing a melody on my breast, and he asked Ormiss, "Problem?" before he returned to kissing a tiny trail along my neck.

Ormiss's jaw moved for a few seconds. Then he just watched like he couldn't comprehend what he was seeing: he was seeing it, but it wasn't making any sense.

Asund nibbled my ear, then bit the lobe gently. He growled deep in his throat. It vibrated along my spine.

Ormiss' hands fell at his sides.

"I am not hearing the Hippocamp's voice," Korr's own voice said. "What has stunned him into—ah, I see."

Korr sauntered out of the apartments, looking pale and drawn, but the expression on his face was Korr. I tensed, but Asund paid them no mind. Korr leaned back against a planter next to Ormiss and gave Ormiss a sarcastic sideways grin. "Well, she looks pleased, doesn't she."

Ormiss made a strange, small sound.

"Quite. He's wearing your clothes, living in your quarters, about to fuck your Lady-Consort. Who says the gods don't have a sense of humor?" Korr smirked and made himself more comfortable against the planter.