Page 8 of The Never Queen

Might as well pretend we’re still in a good mood on the off chance Doren is still listening.

But I am not in a good mood. None of this makes sense, but I’m not sure what the angle is, and I won’t be in a good mood until I uncover it.

4

WINNIE

I can feel the heat of Peter Pan’s stare.

He loves watching me get railed in the face.

But he especially loves watching me get fucked by Vane.

They are best friends, platonic in every sense of the word, but I think Peter Pan loves Vane most of all.

I suppose when you show someone every one of your fractures, the parts of you broken and imperfect, and yet they choose to stay by your side through all of the carnage, the chaos, and the despair, it only makes sense that you would also give them your heart.

I think Pan likes watching me with Vane because he knows I am safe with him, even when Vane is being sharp and cruel.

There is no room for me to breathe.

Vane has total control over me, his hand buried in my hair, his cock in my mouth, his body penning me in.

He’s fucking me with urgency, chasing the hollow of my throat as if he can’t quite stand it being empty of him.

A flair of satisfaction pools like honey in my chest.

Here, on my knees, abandoned to pleasure and only pleasure, I can forget all of my doubts, the things I cannot control.

I choke when Vane goes too far, but he doesn’t relent and the first bite of tears well in my eyes.

He groans above me, the head of his dick swelling on the pad of my tongue. “Oh, Win,” he says, his voice husky and a little drunk with lust. “You know how to take a cock so fucking well.”

I hum my agreement, and he hisses out a breath.

“You spilling down her throat?” Pan asks from the half shadows. “Or giving her a choice?”

“Never give Darling a choice,” Vane says between thrusts.

“Good,” Pan says.

I’m dripping wet already, buzzing with my own rising heat. I want them to touch me. They better touch me. They better fuck me. Or I will scream.

The shadow that is split between me and Vane swirls in satisfaction. It likes it when we are one, but it likes it even better when we are giving each other pleasure, almost like the shadow turns it into a currency it can spend and spend.

The first tears flow freely down my cheeks and Vane expels a satisfied breath.

When he comes, the groan starts deep in his chest and rumbles up his throat, all of the muscles in his shoulders, his biceps, his stomach, tensing.

The first hot spurt of cum fills my mouth and Vane drives forward, the cut lines of muscle in his sides contracting, then expanding as he chases the final heat of me.

Through the tears welling in my eyes, I look up at him, at his one violet eye, and one black eye, the three white scars running through it.

On a good day, he’s intimidating. On a bad day, he’s downright terrifying. And there is a little part of me that gets offon having him like this, when he’s at his most unguarded. Just raw, unfiltered pleasure, pure driven desire. All for me.

I would get on my knees for him, to experience him like this, all day, every day.

When he pulls out of my mouth, I flick my tongue, licking the underside of him and he hisses out, a smile burning in his eyes.