Page 292 of May: Bloom & Bane

“I know.” I drag my nose along her jaw, breathing in the sweet scent of her skin, mixed with the intoxicating scent of new life beginning to bloom. “Early labor, ílyara. Hours of it, most likely. Your little body working itself open so slowly.”

Ash’s large hand spreads wide over the underside of her belly.

“There’s nothing for you to do yet but feel. And I would very much like to spend those hours making sure the only thing you feel is good.”

Tell her the rest, Ashán purrs, his shadows thickening over the nest. Tell her what it does.

“It’ll help,” I murmur, my fingers tracing slowly up the inside of her thigh, making her legs part ever so slightly. “Pleasure will flood your body with everything it needs right now. The magic will soften the transition.”

I press a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Softening you…”

I press a kiss to the other corner, capturing the tiny, helpless sigh that escapes her lips.

“Opening you…”

I kiss the tip of her nose, my eyes locked onto hers.

“Drowning the pain before it ever has the chance to dig in.”

Her chest heaves against mine.

“We were made to give you this, Saevúra,” I hum. “Both of us. It’s written into the very roots of what we are.”

“Dragons do this!” Ashán cuts in, his skelva smoothing the cloud-silk away from her hips. “When their mates are tight or hurting, they lick and suck until everything opens up. It’s very respectable, truthfully.”

She trembles as another cramp rolls through her. Lust and nerves war across her freckled face until lust wins—the way it was always going to.

Ashán’s claws glide lower, pulling the hem of her dress over her swollen belly, exposing her dripping lavína. Two fingers slide through her slick, parting her gently. She is a vision—copper curls fanned wild across the nest, green eyes gone heavy-lidded, cinnamon freckles scattered down the flush spreading over her chest. Her breasts rest full and heavy against the upper curve of her belly, and that belly—gods—there’s something primally satisfying about knowing we’re the reason it’s round and tight. Her soft thighs tremble in our grip, slick already painting the inside of them, her center swollen and rosy, her kísh peeking shyly from its hood. Every inch of her ripened, lush, neeth.

“We’d make you feel so good,” I murmur, nipping lightly at her earlobe. “We could take turns. Me first, licking slow circles around your clit, sucking until you’ve covered our face in your valúsha. Then Ashán could take over, filling you with his long, thick tongue.”

Ashán growls, and his fangs extend. He teases them over the column of her throat, my fingers still stroking her inner thigh.

“That’s the suggestion, ílyara. Us eating you until the pain lets go and all that’s left is heat, wetness and the sound of you moaning our names.”

“... Okay,” she whispers.

Ním, Ashán snarls, surging up so fast and eager that Eden almost tips over. He slides down the length of her, his tongue dragging over the soft, swollen skin of her belly. Our claws hook underneath her thighs, spreading her wide.

“Hi ash’kaela,” he purrs up at her, our mouth curving into a wicked grin. “Miss me?”

“I can’t even see you over my belly,” she giggles.

“Good thing I don’t need you to see me, then,” Ashán hums. “But I can see you, angel. So full of us you can’t even watch what I’m about to do to you.” He drags his tongue up the inside of her thigh. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Swollen with my baby, already so wet you’re soaking the nest,” he groans.

“Our baby,” I snap.

He dives in. His thick tongue drags over the center of her in one filthy lick.

“Oh—” Her thighs jerk in our hands. Our claws carefully hold her open. “Rahnové⁠—”

He licks her again, flattening the rough surface of his tongue so it drags across every slick inch. He circles her kísh until she’s whimpering, grinding desperately against our face.

Her head rolls back against the pillows, as he seals our mouth over her clit and sucks hard, our cheeks hollowing. Her hips buck. He pins them down with his hand splayed wide over the swell of her.

“Vresh,” he groans against her, his voice muffled against her slick, “you taste so vyn good, Eden.”