Chapter 12: The Royal Claiming
The heat of the bath had seeped into our bones, but the walk through the palace’s glacial corridors stole it back. By the time we reached the royal bedchamber, the frost was a memory in our lungs. The room was vast, a monument to cold grandeur, the only warmth coming from the torches that made the carved frost-sigils on the ceiling seem to writhe.
Ellie closed the heavy oak door. The thud was final.
For a moment, we just stood there, four women in a space meant for a king, the silence swelling. Then Ellie’s gaze, usually so warm, turned appraising. She walked a slow circle around Mary and me, who still stood side-by-side, feeling oddly on display.
“Look at you both,” Ellie murmured, her voice filling the quiet. “All tight muscle and sharp edges.” She stopped in front of me, her finger tracing a faint bruise blooming on my collarbone from the practice fall. “My little machine.”
Nancy came up behind Mary, her hands smoothing over Mary’s shoulders.“So diligent. So controlled.” She pressed her lips to the side of Mary’s neck, feeling her pulse jump. “It must be exhausting.”
Mary leaned back into her, but her eyes were on Ellie. “We’re just… built for function. Not like you two.”
I nodded, the words coming out more bluntly than I intended. “We’re sticks. Practical sticks. You two…” I gestured vaguely at Ellie’s curves, at Nancy’s lush form beside her. “You’re the reason poets write sonnets. You could make a queen question her preferences.”
Ellie laughed, a low, rich sound. She exchanged a look with Nancy, a spark of pure understanding passing between them. In that instant, the dynamic shifted. The watchful warmth became something more focused, more predatory.
“Sticks, are you?” Ellie said, stepping closer. “Let’s test that theory.”
It happened fast. Nancy hooked a foot around Mary’s ankle while Ellie pushed my chest. We were off-balance, tired from the fight, and they were impossibly sure. My back met the cold stone wall beside the door, the impact knocking a gasp from me. A second later, Mary was pinned beside me, Nancy’s hand flat against her sternum, holding her in place.
“Strong sticks,” Nancy whispered, her breath hot on Mary’s cheek.
Ellie moved into the space between us, her body a barrier of soft, insistent warmth against the stone. She looked from my face to Mary’s. “You think we don’t see the function?” Her hand came up, calloused thumb brushing my lower lip. “This mouth, giving orders, solving problems.” She turned to Mary. “These hands, capable of building a trebuchet or disassembling a lock.” She took Mary’s wrist, brought her hand to her own waist, pressing it there. “We see it. It’s what makes the contrast so fucking delicious.”
She leaned in, her lips a hair’s breadth from mine. “You’re not getting away with calling yourselves plain.”
Then she pushed off the wall, and Nancy released Mary. A glance, a nod, and they herded us toward the monolithic bed. We went, not resisting, the fight from the gardens replaced by a different, thicker kind of tension.
The feather mattress swallowed us as they pushed us down onto our backs. They stood over us, silhouetted by torchlight, unwrapping themselves from their robes with deliberate slowness. The sight of them, of Ellie’s full breasts and the sweep of her hips, of Nancy’s soft waist and the dark curl of hair between her thighs, was a punch to the gut. We were all scars and angles. They were a revelation.
Ellie knelt over me, her thighs caging my hips. Her scent—wax, pine, and her own sweet salt—flooded my senses. “My turn to practice,” she said, and her mouth came down on mine, not soft, but hungry and consuming. Her tongue swept in, and I groaned, my hands coming up to tangle in her long, blonde hair.
Beside me, I heard Mary’s sharp intake of breath. Nancy had taken Mary’s hand and guided it between her own legs. “See?” Nancy panted, rocking against Mary’s fingers. “Not so practical now, are you? You’re just… a person. A woman who wants me.”
Ellie broke the kiss, trailing her mouth down my neck, over my clavicle. Her hands pulled at the loose linen of my shirt, yanking it up. The cold air pebbled my skin, my small, taut breasts exposed. She didn’t gentle her touch. She took a nipple into her mouth, sucking hard, her teeth grazing the sensitive peak. A jolt of pure, electric need shot straight to my core.
“Fuck, Ellie,” I hissed, my back arching off the bed.
“Uh-uh,” she murmured, releasing my breast with a pop. “You don’t get to be in charge here.” She moved down my body, her hands pushing my trousers and smallclothes down my legs in one rough, efficient motion. The air was cold on my wet cunt. Then her breath was there, hot and shocking.
She didn’t tease. She licked a broad, firm stripe from my entrance to my clit, and my whole body convulsed. “Gods!” It was a shout, muffled by my own arm thrown over my face.
“Look at her, Mary,” Nancy moaned from beside us. “Look at your mother come apart.” I turned my head, my vision blurry. Mary was watching, her face flushed, her own trousers undone, Nancy straddling her thigh and grinding down, her slick coating Mary’s skin. Mary’s eyes were locked on Ellie’s head between my legs.
Then Ellie’s tongue was inside me, fucking me with slow, relentless strokes. She added a finger, then two, curling them up, finding that spot that made my vision whiten. Her mouth sealed over my clit, sucking in time with the thrust of her hand. The buildup was brutal, fast, a storm surge after the long tension of the day. I was babbling, pleading, my hands fisted in the silver linens.
“Come on, my fierce little engineer,” Ellie growled against me, her voice vibrating through my very bones. “Let go. Show me how you break.”
I came with a choked cry, my hips buckling off the bed, my cunt clenching around her fingers in violent, pulsing waves. She didn’t stop, drawing it out, wringing every last spasm from me until I was a trembling, oversensitive wreck.
As the waves receded, I heard Mary’s ragged breathing reach a peak. “Nancy, I’m–”
“Come,” Nancy commanded, and Mary did, a sharp, gasping release, her body bowing up against Nancy.
For a moment, there was only the sound of our breathing and the crackle of the torches. Then Ellie crawled back up my body, her mouth glistening. She kissed me, deep and filthy, letting me taste myself on her tongue.
“Sticks,” she whispered against my lips, a triumphant smile in her voice.
She rolled off me, and Nancy moved from Mary’s side. They left us there, spent and trembling, and went to the washbasin. We listened to the soft splash of water, the gentle cloth wiping skin.
They returned, not as conquerors now, but as themselves.Our wives. Our lovers. Ellie slipped under the covers on my side, pulling me against her warmth, her front to my back. Nancy did the same with Mary, spooning her close. The heated frenzy was gone, replaced by a deep, settling intimacy.