Page 16 of Petrified

I lean in and press an open-mouthed kiss to the side of Lev’s neck, tasting the salt of his skin and the faint metallic tang of residual magic that always clings to him after a bad day. My hands move lower, unfastening Lev’s pants while he keeps grinding down against Rowan in short, controlled rolls of his hips that never put weight on Rowan’s chest. Rowan is hard under him already; I can see the line of him through his clothes, and Lev deliberately drags the seam of his own jeans across it until Rowan exhales a low, rough sound.

“Careful,” I murmur against Lev’s ear. “He’s allowed to get hard. He’s not allowed to lift or twist.”

Lev makes an irritated noise but doesn’t argue. He shifts his weight back just enough that I can shove his jeans and underwear down his thighs. He kicks them the rest of the way off without ever fully leaving Rowan’s lap. Then he goes for Rowan’s belt with the same focused intensity he uses on crime scenes.

Rowan catches his wrists again, gentle this time. “Let me.”

“No.” Lev twists free and finishes the job himself, shoving Rowan’s pants open and down just far enough. He wraps one hand around Rowan’s cock and strokes him once, slow and tight, watching Rowan’s face for any flicker of discomfort. There isn’t any—just heat and the dark, predatory satisfaction Rowan always gets when Lev decides to take charge. “You’re not allowed to do anything that makes you breathe wrong. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Say it properly.”

Rowan’s mouth curves. “I understand. You’re in charge of my lungs tonight.”

Lev’s eyes narrow, but the flush climbing his throat gives him away. He strokes Rowan again, thumb sweeping over the head, then leans in and kisses him while he does it. The forked tip of Lev’s tongue flicks against Rowan’s, and the bond between the three of us flares hot and sudden. I feel it through my own skin—the way Lev’s magic reaches for both of us at once, greedy and a little unsteady.

I press closer behind him, chest to his back, and reach around to wrap my hand over Lev’s on Rowan’s cock so we’re stroking him together. Lev’s breath stutters. His free hand comes back and finds my hip, nails digging in.

“Amand—”

“I’ve got him,” I say quietly. “And I’ve got you.”

I use my other hand to work my own pants open and shove them down enough to free myself. Then I slide two fingers between Lev’s legs from behind, finding him already slick and open enough that the first push of my fingers makes his hips jerk. He makes a broken sound against Rowan’s mouth and rocks back onto my hand without thinking.

Rowan’s eyes have gone almost black, pupils slit and hungry. He keeps his hands light on Lev’s waist, letting Lev set the pace. “Look at you,” Rowan says, voice rough. “Still pissed and already dripping for both of us.”

“Shut up.” Lev’s voice cracks on the words. He reaches back with one hand, finds my cock, and strokes me in the same rhythm he’s using on Rowan. “Both of you shut up and let me—”

I curl my fingers inside him and find the spot that makes his whole body tighten. Lev’s head drops forward against Rowan’s shoulder. The scent of him spikes again—forest and earth and the sharp, sweet edge of Chameleon need. The haze is starting to take proper hold now; I can feel the way his magic starts to pull at ours, tasting, testing, wanting more.

“Slow,” I remind him, even though my own voice has gone rough. “We’re not rushing this.”

Lev makes a frustrated noise but listens. He lifts himself up just enough that I can guide the head of my cock against him. The first slow push inside draws a long, shaky exhale out of him. I sink in carefully, giving him time to adjust, feeling the way his body opens and then clenches tight around me. Behind him, Rowan watches every second of it, dark eyes locked on where Lev and I are joined.

Once I’m fully seated I stay still, one arm wrapped low around Lev’s waist so I can feel every tremor running through him. Lev’s head is still bowed against Rowan’s shoulder. His hand is still wrapped around Rowan’s cock, but he’s stopped stroking; he’s just holding on like he needs the anchor.

“Okay?” I ask against the back of his neck.

“Yes.” The word comes out strained. “Just—don’t move yet.”

I don’t. I kiss the nape of his neck, the curve of his shoulder, the old scars that run there, waiting while the initial stretch settles. Rowan lifts one hand and threads his fingers into Lev’s curls, gentle, not pulling. Lev turns his face into the touch with a soft, almost reluctant sound of pleasure.

When Lev finally shifts his hips experimentally, I start to move. Short, careful thrusts that never force him forward onto Rowan’s chest. Lev meets every one of them, rocking back onto me and then forward into the loose circle of his own hand around Rowan. The wet sound of it fills the quiet room. Every time Lev’s body tightens around me, the bond flares hotter, and I feel the exact moment the mate haze locks in fully—Lev’s magic stops flickering and instead pours outward in a steady, hungry wave that wraps around both of us at once.

Rowan’s breath goes ragged. “Fuck, Lev—”

“Don’t you dare come yet,” Lev manages, voice wrecked. He tightens his grip on Rowan and strokes him harder, faster, matching the rhythm of my hips. “You’re going to wait until I’m finished being mad at you.”

Rowan laughs, low and strained, and the sound vibrates through all three of us. “You’re not mad anymore.”

“I am.” Lev’s next rock back onto my cock is deeper, greedier. “I’m just also going to ride Amand until I can’t think straight, and you’re going to sit there and take whatever I give you while I do it.”

I slide one hand up Lev’s chest and pinch one nipple, rolling it between my fingers until he makes a broken little sound. My other hand stays low on his stomach, feeling the way his muscles jump every time I thrust. The position keeps Rowan’s upper body completely still; Lev is doing all the work of moving between us, and Rowan is simply taking what he’s given.

“That’s it,” I murmur against Lev’s ear. “Use me. I’ve got you.”

Lev does. He starts riding me in earnest, hips rolling in a filthy, practiced rhythm that drags every inch of me in and out of him. The wet heat of him is almost unbearable. Every time he sinks down I feel the way his body clutches and then yields, and the scent of the three of us mixed together is thick enough to taste. Rowan’s cock is flushed dark in Lev’s hand; Lev is stroking him in the same relentless tempo, thumb sweeping over the head on every upstroke until Rowan is breathing through his teeth.