Damias snorted. “Oh, fuck off, you sanctimonious twat.” There was no real annoyance in it.
I was still half sprawled over Lugh, but before I moved, I tipped my face to his and gave him a long kiss. As I lifted off of him, he grunted, and the proof of their joint release leaked out of me in the most tantalizing way. Just as they’d promised.
Damias was already laid out near enough that all I had to do was curl sideways and tuck myself against his ribs, stealing his warmth as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
For a heartbeat, he went utterly still. Then a sound rolled out of him—something dragged from deep in his chest like my touch had found a nerve he hadn’t meant to leave exposed. His breath warmed my hair, hitching once, and when I shifted again—just a small, tired nuzzle to settle myself—another quiet, satisfied sound slipped free.
I lifted my head, half expecting a sneer.
Instead, Damias looked at me in a way that made my throat tighten—dark, heavy-lidded.
My hand drifted up—slow, careful—resting against his chest.
His eyelids fluttered as if he felt it everywhere. His fingers came up and closed around my wrist—not stopping me, not pushing me away—just holding me there, anchoring my hand as if he was claiming the contact.
Then, quietly, he said, “I suppose this isn’t the worst way to end a night. Fully satiated. Sexy as sin little mortal curled up at my side.” I heard the faint curve of a smile in his voice. “Leakin’ cum out of her spent little pussy.”
Lugh shifted in behind me until his chest lined up with my back—careful, unhurried, as if he was giving my body time to settle. I stayed curled in Damias’s arms, my face tucked toward him, while Lugh curved an arm around my middle to cradle in close—broad palm, gentle pressure, thumb tracing slow, absent little strokes that made my whole spine soften.
Lugh nudged my hair aside to leave soft, lingering kisses against my temple, then my neck. “I knew you weren’t a total bastard, demon.”
“Don’t get used to it.” Damias grumbled.
Lugh’s mouth lingered at my jaw—warm breath, the barest brush of lips—before he leaned in close to my ear. His voice dropped into that low Scottish cadence, rich and intimate, the kind that wrapped around me and made the rest of the world feel very far away.
“You look so feckin’ perfect, all flushed and satiated,” Lugh said.
I let out a breathless laugh. “You keep talking to me like that in that accent, and I’m not sure I’ll have a choice but to ask for more.”
Lugh’s answering sound was a low, pleased hum. Before I could say another word, he dipped his head and nipped lightly at the shell of my ear—not enough to hurt, just enough to make the point—his mouth curving into a grin against my skin.
“Careful, angel,” he murmured, amusement and intent tangled together. “Those kinds of declarations are liable to get us both in trouble.”
Then his voice softened.
“Sweet, brave lass,” he whispered. “Do ye ken what you did tonight?”
His hand shifted, brushing the underside of my breast with deliberate care. “You wanted something,” he murmured, “and you asked for it without apology.
He paused, letting the words settle.
“That’s power.”
His hold tightened just a fraction as he drew me back into him, his mouth pressing once again to the shell of my ear like he couldn’t resist the pull of it.
“And if the world ever makes you feel hollow again,” he whispered, his voice roughening with something fierce and certain, “then let it learn this: I’ll spend a lifetime fillin’ you back up. With devotion. With worship. With every damn gentle thing you were ever denied.”
“I thought I was broken, but it turns out I was only waiting for the two of you.” The truth of it settling like a benediction.
Lugh answered first. From behind me, he leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to my temple—warm and steady, the kind that spoke of safety and constancy without a single word. His arm tightened just a fraction, shelter made flesh.
Then Damias looked down at me again.
Not with the feral hunger from before, but with something quieter. Softer. As if he were seeing me clearly for the first time. He hesitated only a heartbeat before dipping his head and kissing me—full and gentle, utterly unlike him. When he drew back, there was a small, genuine smile on his mouth, unguarded and real.
I stilled between them—Damias a solid, burning presence at my front, Lugh curled behind me like refuge. My cheek tipped just enough that I could see the cracked ceiling through the candle-dim light. My body hummed with the echoes of every touch, every rough word, every gentle one, all of it settling into something whole.
Outside, thunder rolled distantly. Inside, there was only the sound of our slowing breaths and the dying crackle of the forgotten fire.