Nala waved the servant away as though she didn't know the girl had been set to watch them. Her draped sleeve fluttered as it trailed the sweep of her arm. The door clicked shut, and she shook her head to free her braids. The scarf drifted down to rest like a pool of indigo dye on the slate floor. Gunnar's best silk, but she left it without a thought and glided into the receiving room to recline on a divan.
Sinbad didn't know if it was his knowledge of her body, or the fall of the dark silk across her breasts that had him picturing what lay under the cloth. He swallowed, feeling flushed despite the cool stone and ocean breeze that softened the noontide heat.
"Slave," she said, voice loud enough to carry through the cedar door, "Peel me a grape."
Gunnar and Sinbad looked at each other.
"I think you're the slave," Gunnar whispered.
"Pretty sure it's you."
"Maybe, but not that kind." He rolled his shoulders back to better display over six feet of scars and muscles and scuffed leather.
Sinbad admitted to himself that Gunnar had a point. However, just because all he was wearing was a cursed amulet and a pair of translucent silk trousers that belled at his ankles, it didn't mean fruit-peeling duties fell to him.
He would wonder how he got into these situations, except it usually didn't bear thinking about. He just hoped that Rina would manage to bust Anwar out of the storage locker in the meantime.
Nala raised her hand and snapped her fingers. "Is this how you serve your lady?" She hadn't seemed to move otherwise, but something in the cant of her hips made infinitely clear that "serve" had another meaning. "Grape. Now."
Without looking, Gunnar took up a basket of fruit and dropped to one knee in front of the divan. "Yes, my lady." He stayed there, head bent, bowl lifted in supplication, as Nala's hand dipped into the bowl and plucked a fat grape from the stem. She rolled it between her fingers, considering it, before holding it out again. Wordlessly, Gunnar set down the basket and took the fruit, peeling it with delicate flicks of his boot knife. Sinbad stared, transfixed, as a glistening drop rolled down his thumb. He felt as though he could hardly breathe as Gunnar's fingers rose to Nala's full, painted lips. Her tongue darted out, cleaning the juice from Gunnar's hand. Gunnar rumbled deep in his chest but remained as motionless as stone.
"Very good," Nala purred, and sucked the grape into her mouth with a pop. "Another."
This time, a trickle of juice escaped the corner of her mouth. Gunnar leaned in and licked it away, and she moaned. He took her open lips as an invitation to kiss her. He rose a little, looming over her, but with his hands at his sides he seemed to still be beneath her somehow.
"Yes." The word was a mere breath, just loud enough to carry to Sinbad's ears. For Gunnar, it seemed, it was a whip crack. His vest fell to the floor, followed by his sword, sword belt and boots. Sinbad had never seen anyone get out of leather trousers that fast, but in heartbeats he was completely naked.
Again, he knelt, head bowed before the divan. Nala traced a nail along his biceps, following the line of a long-healed scar. "You'll do," she said, and Gunnar shuddered. He shoulders rose and fell as he struggled to contain his emotions. Nala clasped the back of his neck tenderly, and said nothing else.
She stayed there for a long time, only just touching him, and Gunnar waited. Then her eyes lifted to meet Sinbad's, and she said, "Undress me."
Sinbad blinked. "Me?" he mouthed. Her eyes narrowed. "Oh. Yes, Lady Nala. Right away."
Nala reached up, allowing Sinbad to pull her to her feet. Her right hip brushed Gunnar's face, but her gaze didn't drop for an instant. Instead she looked ahead, chin high, and held her arms away from her sides expectantly. The dress covered everything from her neck to the tips of her fingers. Sinbad let their fingertips brush, the ordinary contact of skin on skin somehow thrilling. He touched her face next, back of his fingers to her cheek. Nala stayed frozen in tableau with Gunnar beneath her, naked and on his knees. Sinbad didn't quite know what he felt about that, but he knew he wanted it, wanted something from them, so he followed her command.
The dress had a complicated fit, with ties at the back under her braids, another layer underneath, and buttons down the side. He fumbled with them a little, unused to the formalities. The women he'd been with before hadn't dressed half so finely. He also couldn't seem to think straight; the sound of her breath filled his ears as he leaned in, and his skin kept touching hers. At last, the dress fell away, pooling at her feet, and revealing another layer underneath. The black satin of her bodice and wide trousers only made her skin seem darker and more lush.
All that skin, it seemed shocking, somehow, and so enticing. Sinbad ran his hand up her arm, caressed her neck, touched her chin, then bent to press his lips to hers. Her mouth felt warm and full, a little sweet still from the grapes. He understood Gunnar's struggle for control; he wanted to push her down and press into her, touch every inch of skin. That wasn't what she wanted though. She wanted to play this game through, letting the anticipation pull them to a snapping point.
Breaking the kiss, he stepped around behind her to work at the bodice laces. They caught, and he almost took one of Gunnar's knives to them, but Nala would never forgive him. At last it came free, and he let the heavy cloth fall with the rest. His hands closed over her breasts for a moment, and she gasped.
He felt Gunnar's eyes on him, watching hungrily. When he crouched to unknot her belt, he touched their foreheads together. Gunnar's skin felt damp and flushed, and Sinbad could feel the pulse beat in his temple. "Easy, friend," he murmured, and Gunnar squeezed his eyes closed.
When her trousers too were gone, Sinbad rested his head against the small of her back. She had the smoothest skin he'd ever felt; his hands couldn't seem to stop caressing her hips. He felt her hand in his hair, and let her guide him up to sit beside her on the divan.
She seated herself just on the edge, leaning back a little with her arms braced to either side. Slowly, ever so slowly, she stretched her legs out and spread them wide. "Gunnar." She pitched her voice almost too low to hear, but it still held the snap of command. "Lick."
Gunnar's battered hands seemed almost profane as they pressed her thighs farther apart. The rasp of his beard made Nala hiss though clenched teeth. They both watched avidly as Gunnar nosed though her curls. He took his time, seeming to scent out just the right place before Sinbad saw the muscles of his neck ripple as he opened his mouth.
Their hands clasped and clenched together and breaths seemed to combine as they moaned in unison. Nala's head fell back, braids cascading behind her. A scream built in her chest, pulling her muscles taut, and thrusting her bosom forward. Her hand felt as though it would squeeze right through Sinbad's. Any moment the cry would tear out of her, filling the room.
Desperately, Sinbad jerked free and caught her face between his hands. He covered her mouth with hers, inhaling her breath. She twisted to face him, pushing her breasts to his bare chest. Gunner's grip tightened to hold her hips to him, leaving pale marks around his hands.
Nala screamed, and he swallowed every sound. His mouth worked against hers, their tongues colliding, and he rode with her. Every time she gasped and shuddered, it rippled through them both. He felt her shaking exhalations, and her heart pounding against his. Every time Gunnar licked or sucked, it rolled through her like a wave. He knew when Gunnar's teeth grazed her bud by the thrashing of her head and the way she squeezed her eyes shut until the tears came. Sinbad almost felt as though Gunnar were pressing against him, serving him.
He knew that his cock stood erect between them, only lightly constrained by thin silk. He pushed his own need aside, and held on as she fell backward onto the blankets. Nala's cries faded into moans. He tried to pull away, but her fingers wove into his hair and held him in place. He stayed with her, responding to her slow kisses until she melted into divan.
When Sinbad disentangled himself and looked up, Gunnar was kneeling with his back rod straight. His eyes focused on something a thousand miles away, and his hands clenched and unclenched on his thighs, either side of his full cock. Every few seconds, a quiver ran through him. Sinbad glanced at Nala, and found she was also watching.
"My lady," Gunnar said in a hoarse whisper.
Nala held up a hand, palm out. "Wait."
"I do not think I'm able."
There was an edge in his voice that made Sinbad look at Nala in supplication, but she shook her head. "He can wait. I know he can."
"Nala," Sinbad chided gently. He stroked her collarbone with his thumb.
"You will wait." The snap was back in Nala's voice, low as it was.
Gunnar grunted. "Yes, my lady."
"You, though." Nala's tone softened; her eyes trailed down Sinbad's body. She tugged at the waist of his trousers.
Sinbad glanced at Gunnar, then back at Nala, who was ignoring him again. He didn't know what was going on between them, but it seemed like something more than the game he'd first thought. Gunnar looked like he wanted it though, or needed it at least. He seemed too powerful a man to force with a few words. If nothing else, Nala knew what she was doing.
"All right." Sinbad lifted his hips enough to wiggle out of the trousers and kick them away. "Whatever you say, my lady."
Nala snorted and cuffed his ear gently. He'd just opened his mouth to complain, when she rolled over.
A firm hand on each shoulder pressed him back into the cushions, and her breasts hung tantalisingly close to his lips. She really did have the most fantastic breasts he'd ever seen. He was just trying to reach up to catch a nipple between his teeth when he realised that if her hands were on his shoulders, and her breasts were in her face, then her hips must be–
Then she sank down.
Sinbad's head snapped back, thrashing against the pillows, then pressed forward to smother his cry against her chest. He would have stayed there forever, surrounded by warmth and damp skin, but he remembered that he had to breathe. He let his head drop back just as she lifted off of him, every movement slow agony. Opening one eye, then the other, he saw that she was smiling. From the languor in her dark eyes, and the edge of a smirk on her lips, he knew that he was in for a long, slow ride. "I can last as long as you can," he lied.
"We'll see." She stayed where she was, hovering with just the tip of his cock inside her. When he tried to arch his hips up to press back in, she rose with him. Finally, just his shoulders touched the divan, and his heels slid across the the slate floor, and he still wasn't any further ahead of where he'd started. When she dropped again, she drove them both down, sinking his entire length.
Behind them, Gunnar groaned, and Sinbad decided to at least give him a show. He grinned, catching Gunnar's stunned eyes, and ostentatiously pulled Nala's nipple into his mouth. A little squeak escaped Nala's lips, and she giggled and bent to kiss his nose. Her hips circled on his cock in time to his suckling, and when he nipped the side of her breast, her hips dropped. They both moaned, and he let her breast pop free before capturing the other. She still held his shoulders flat, but he slid his palms up and down her arms, enjoying the play of muscles under that dark, satiny skin.
They moved together now, every movement natural and easy. He rose and fell with her, his climax building steadily but not urgently. "You're glorious," he told her, winning another smile.
"Finally, you noticed."
"Oh, I noticed first moment I saw you." He leaned up and kissed her on the chin. "You were glorious, and wise, and beautiful, and infinitely merciful."
Nala's brows drew together. "And infinitely aware of when I'm being flattered by a reprobate."
"Mmmm." He ran his hands down her sides until they cupped her ass, and squeezed. "Merciful and compassionate."
"Fine." She said it with a sigh, but Sinbad knew she was only giving in to what she already wanted. "Gunnar. Find some oil, will you."
"Yes, my lady."
They'd stopped, Nala settled comfortably mid way down his cock, and Sinbad ached to move again. He also wanted to know what was going to happen next. "Who's that for then?"
Nala looked down at him, speculatively. The way she was braced forward pressed his shoulders deep into the cushions, and he really couldn't have shifted her if he wanted to. "Do you want it to be for you?"
He thought about it: Gunnar inside him, filling him, rough hands on his hips, while Nala rode him. Otherwise, both of them in Nala, thrusting together, her head back and breasts bouncing. Sinbad closed his eyes, but the images remained, obscuring his thoughts until he had to say, "Yes. Both. Either. Whatever you want."
Gunnar's bare feet slapped on the floor, but Nala didn't look up. Instead, her gaze remained fixed on Sinbad's. He felt like she was assessing him, but maybe the same scenarios were playing through her mind. Her eyes seemed darker than usual, like the sea at night, and he was drowning. For a moment, he wanted to forget about Gunnar and kiss her forever. It must have showed in his face, because she blinked and looked away.
"You will spread him open, and oil him with your fingers, and then oil yourself," Nala said evenly, and Sinbad grinned at the euphemisms: princess to the end.
"Yes, my lady." Gunnar dropped back to the floor.
Sinbad winced thinking his knees must be killing him by now, then gasped as Gunnar took hold of his legs. He tried to let Gunnar move him as he liked, but as he pressed his body into a ي shape, Nala straightened to take hold of his knees. That dropped her right back onto his cock with a suddenness that took his breath away. He tried to buck clear, or kick out to get some kind of purchase or control, but Nala's hands over Gunnar's held him steady. He was pinned; he didn't want to get away, but to get more, and they weren't letting him move. He kicked out again, still finding nothing.
"Are you all right?" Gunnar's voice sounded more like Gunnar than it had since this had started. His chin rested on Nala's shoulder, and he was looking down at Sinbad with concerned eyes.
"We can stop," Nala added, though she had to know that would about kill Gunnar at least, if not all three of them.
"No, don't stop." He bit his lip, searching for control, until he could make first one muscle than another relax. "I'm fine. Don't stop."
Nala twisted to meet Gunnar's eyes. Sinbad couldn't see either of their faces, but her braids danced as she nodded. "Very well then."
Gunnar let out a low sigh, and Nala bent to kiss Sinbad's brow. She deliberately ground across his cock as she did. The sensation of it almost eclipsed Gunnar's hands trailing down the inside of his thighs. They stroked and soothed, circling back on their path before dropping even lower. Nala kissed Sinbad again as knuckles brushed his balls. When he felt oiled fingers touching his hole, his hands clenched over Nala's hip bones. She sat up to resume riding him properly. Her body rose, then fell again, and just then Gunnar's fingers pierced him.
It had been long enough since Sinbad had let someone fuck him that he'd expected more resistance. He'd expected to need teasing and spreading, but his body just opened up. He had no fight left in him. He watched, feeling heavy and languid as Nala rode him. Her thighs flexed under his hands, lean muscles joining to full hips and a magnificent waist. Every movement let her breasts sway, and he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of them. They bounced and bobbed, jostling each other and her arms. She had beautiful arms, a beautiful, graceful neck, and her face was beautiful too.
Sinbad realised he was losing words, but it seemed important to tell her the one he remembered. "You're very beautiful." He sounded as dazed as he felt.
Nala smiled, a glorious smile that seemed to fill her face. Then, unfairly, she stilled again. Sinbad whimpered. "He's ready," she told Gunnar. "You may enter him, but don't come until I say."
He could only see the edges of Gunnar's body behind her, a hand snaking around to steal a cushion, a flash of broad shoulders, of golden hair. He had no warning when the fingers left him, nor when Gunnar's cock began to take their place. He waited, breathless, as Gunnar and Nala seemed destined to collide. She was sliding down his cock at the same achingly slow pace as Gunnar pressed in. They would only move a little at a time, like one of Anwar's lunar conjunctions: taking hours to get anywhere, then never touching anyway. Sinbad knew he had to wait, but waiting felt like it would kill him.
Digging his heels into Gunnar's back and tugging at Nala's waist didn't change anything. He let out a high whine that Nala smothered with a hand over his mouth until they'd settled and he'd run out of breath. He begged her with his eyes. When that wouldn't work, he tried to twist around to catch Gunnar's attention, but Nala held him fast.
"Stroke me," Nala said, and Gunnar's hand curled around her flank to probe where Sinbad's body joined hers. Nala bucked and moaned, and Gunnar rose to bury his face in the side of her neck. Half her hair fell over him, hiding all but a flash of blond in cascade of dark braids. Gunnar took Sinbad's hip in his left hand. He whispered something against Nala's skin, but Sinbad couldn't even make out the language. His fingers worked against Nala's bud, and his hips pulled out, thrust in and pulled out again.
Sinbad writhed under wave after wave of sensation. He gasped into Nala's hand, and she tossed her head. Gunnar took her breasts and rolled the upturned nipples between his fingers, a heart-stopping, sensuous pause, before his hand plunged down again. His fingers slid into Nala, slid up along Sinbad's cock, while his thumb continued to play at her.
Nala convulsed. Her head whipped to one side to bury a scream in Gunnar's sweaty hair, and her whole body shuddered and closed around Sinbad.
The world seemed to slow and stretch. Sinbad could feel every stitch in the blankets under him, Gunnar's heartbeat through the heels of his feet, and Nala's relentless hold on his cock. Gunnar filled him, Nala surrounded him, and the scrape of nails and the hold on his cock was too much. Pressure built, became unbearable, and released.
He wasn't sure if he'd gone blind or not, until he realised that Nala had shoved a pillow in his face, muffling the noise. He shook it off, and tried to take long, slow breaths until he stopped panting.
Above him, Gunnar's fingers slowed into gentle circles through Nala's bush. She kissed his cheek, and rolled, leaving Sinbad's cock limp and wet. Gunnar continued to pump into him, a hand on each hip now. Perspiration beaded his face, trickling to mix with the juices soaking his beard, and his thin lips set into a purposeful line. He was concentrating on each thrust, apparently still determined to follow Nala's orders and not come until she let him.
As Nala sprawled across the bottom of the divan, Gunnar's attention fixed on Sinbad. He seemed to watch every movement in Sinbad's face, drinking in every reaction. Sinbad couldn't tell what he wanted, so he smiled lazily up at him and said, "You're very beautiful too."
Gunnar chuckled, and his eyes crinkled fondly. "Look who's talking."
Nala stroked down Sinbad's arm until her fingers linked with his. "Pretty boy," she said. "Gunnar, you may come."
Sinbad squeezed Nala's hand and pulled Gunnar in with his heels as his pace became frantic. He didn't quite feel as though his body were his own. Gunnar and Nala had taken it from him, and now they were just using it as they liked. He had oddly little objection to that, and watched from inside that sated glow as Gunnar stiffened and came. He didn't make a sound, but his jaw clenched and every muscle in his neck pulled taut as cord. He froze there. Sinbad patted his hand where it clenched his hip, then caught him as he slumped forward.
They all three rested for a moment, half on the divan, legs tangled on the floor. Gunnar lay with his ear pressed to Sinbad's heart, and their fingers still entwined.
Later, Nala brushed her lips against the edge of Sinbad's mouth, and he dropped a kiss on the top of Gunnar's head, tasting salt.
"At some point we should talk about what just happened," he said.
Nala made a sleepy, non-committal noise, and Gunnar murmured something unintelligible against his chest.
"For example, we should talk about how next time I get to be the princess."
"You already are," Gunnar grumbled at the same time as Nala told him to shut up and go to sleep.
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