Chapter Text
“She doesn’t need to eat, y’know.”
“She likes it, Hollander, why would you take it away from her? You made too fucking many, anyway.”
Ilya’s lioness dæmon swallows down burgers in only slightly fewer bites than her human does, which is to say she swallows them whole, and Shane has to both stifle laughter and look away from her so he doesn’t get grossed out while he eats.
Nemarynn normally lies under the table with her paws crossed during meals, but for whatever reason she seems incapable of doing anything but rubbing affectionately against Ilya’s dæmon when she’s around, so she sits next to her, leaning against Daryeva like she’s suddenly forgotten how to support her own weight. The lioness licks mustard from her lips, then turns to groom Nemarynn for the fortieth time that day, Shane’s snow leopard closing her eyes and rumbling out a purr.
They’ve always been like this. Ever since that first day in Saskatchewan. There was about ten seconds of cautious sniffing, then they were chasing each other playfully up and down the alley while Shane was still trying to figure out if Ilya even spoke English. They grew so close so quickly, in fact, that it became an unspoken thing he and Ilya just never discussed, because there was no way to do it without it being embarrassing, or bringing up way too many questions they didn’t know how to answer. Hey, so my soul seems to be ridiculously comfortable with your soul, like they’ve known each other their whole lives and would possibly sacrifice themselves to save the other— do you think that means anything?
Like most things with him and Ilya, they just haven’t talked about it.
That night, he and Ilya sleep in the same bed for the first time. The window is cracked to let in cool night air and the sound of crickets surrounding the cottage, and the king size bed is barely big enough to hold all four of them. Shane thinks idly that he’ll have to invest in a California king, if Ilya and Daryeva will be staying for more summers in the future— which he quietly, desperately hopes they do. The smell of the bonfire lingers on the big cats’ fur.
Normally when he and Ilya are in bed together — not sleeping — their dæmons are on the floor just beside them, but Shane has never slept a night without Rynn pressed solidly against his side. Ilya sleeps on his stomach with Daryeva half on top of him, and Shane has never actually been this close to her before, which makes his stomach flip even though there’s a blanket between them. Touching another’s dæmon is reserved for only the closest of bonds— married couples, parents and their children, lifelong friends. These are hard set rules. Only Shane’s mom and dad and his favorite grandmother have ever given Nemarynn a scratch behind the ears, and it’s always been a brief, rare thing. Rarer still, the older he gets. The list of people she’s spoken directly to isn’t much longer.
So feeling warm breath from Ilya’s very soul washing over him as she sleeps beside him keeps Shane up a bit, but only in the best way.
The mornings are nice. The four of them, lazing about in bed together. Daryeva rests her head on Ilya’s hip and he rubs one of her ears, something Shane has noticed he does often, especially when he has a lot on his mind. Her golden eyes watch Shane during these mornings, neither intense nor gentle, and he watches her back. Watches the way his own dæmon presses close to her, fluffy tail wrapped around the lion’s haunches.
When they swim in the lake, Ilya makes no effort to convince Shane to stay in the cold water, content to show off tricks for him that Shane, admittedly, is very entertained by. His boyfriend — boyfriend — is ridiculously athletic, and watching water run down his muscles isn’t something he’ll get tired of anytime soon. Daryeva, however, practically drags Rynn into the water by the scruff of her neck, to which she snarls out token protests but ultimately doesn’t fight. It makes Shane shudder and curse at the phantom feeling of plunging into cold water, and Ilya laughs at him while their dæmons play together, taking turns diving for minnows in the shallows of the lake.
Cleaning them up afterward is a pain, and the whole cottage reeks of wet fur until they get them properly dry, but it’s worth it. Shane rarely allows himself to let go, relax, and enjoy things like he did when he was a kid, so Rynn rarely does either. It’s nice to see her like this.
They decide to watch a movie one night, and Shane goes to the kitchen to get them popcorn while Ilya queues it up. Rynn doesn’t follow. She always follows him, no matter how briefly he leaves for. But it’s only a short walk to the kitchen, barely far enough to feel a tug in his chest from the distance between them, so he says nothing. When he comes back with a bowl of popcorn, Rynn is sprawled out on the couch with her head resting on the blanket over Ilya’s lap, and he’s talking to her. Just soft words that Shane can’t pick up, but he sees them both smile, sees Rynn respond with something that makes Ilya laugh. The fondness that swells in Shane’s chest at the sight of them so comfortable with each other threatens to choke him.
They don’t make it through the movie. Shane can’t even remember what they were watching. As soon as they finished the popcorn, they got bored of it and now Shane is straddling Ilya’s lap, kissing him lazy and slow because they have time. Neither of them have to leave in an hour, or catch an early flight tomorrow. They have so much time.
Ilya’s hands settle on his waist, both their hips rocking gently and with no real rhythm as they kiss, and Shane hums into his mouth. Content, right down to his bones, thoughts going syrupy with it.
He nearly jumps at the warm press against his back.
Daryeva’s massive head is butting against him through his shirt, a low sound rumbling out of her. Shane breaks the kiss to turn and look back at her on instinct, but she doesn’t stop, rubbing her face against him like she’s scent-marking. His stomach flips.
“Darya,” Ilya says, a stern edge to his voice, looking over Shane’s shoulder at her.
“No no, she’s okay,” Shane hears himself say quickly. He turns back to face Ilya, who watches him with uncertainty.
“You are sure?” Thumbs rub circles into his hips. “I have talked about this with her, she knows better—“
“What can I say,” Daryeva speaks up, her voice carrying the same accent as Ilya’s, rolling beautifully around her words. “Neither of us like to be told what to do, Ilyushka.”
This makes Rynn chuckle from where she’s sprawled out licking her paw on the couch, the end of her tail flicking in amusement. Shane blushes at the fact that Ilya and his dæmon have apparently had conversations about her doing this, touching him, even if it’s just through fabric. He can still feel the warmth of her, the huff of her breath.
“Really, it’s fine,” he assures Ilya, leaning in to kiss at his jaw. “It’s nice.”
Ilya sighs but catches his lips again, and Shane’s arms go around his neck. He dimly registers that Rynn has moved a little closer, curled up against Shane’s leg where it brackets Ilya’s. He guesses it’s as much to get closer to him as it is to get closer to Daryeva.
Ilya’s hands start working Shane’s shirt up, but he pauses, a silent question. At first, he can’t figure out why; Ilya hasn’t hesitated to take his shirt off since their very first hookup. But he soon puts it together. Nodding, he breathes, “I’m good with it if you are.” It sends his heart racing, but he doesn’t even have to think about it.
Nodding back, Ilya pulls the shirt up over Shane’s head, removing the thin layer between his skin and Daryeva’s fur. And it’s more than just that he feels, more than her cold nose or her whiskers as she rubs her face against the small of his back, so similar to Nemarynn’s but so different. He also gets a warmth igniting in his stomach, close to arousal but more like fondness, something thrumming, a bone-deep connection to both her and Ilya that makes all four of them shudder. Ilya’s hands on him tighten, and Shane meets his gaze, both of them a little wide-eyed. Their dæmons purr.
“That feels—“ he starts to say.
“Yes,” Ilya whispers back, and Shane knows he knows exactly when he means.
Darya makes a fond sound that’s almost a growl, and Shane can feel it reverberate through his back and into his chest. Every hair on his body is standing on end, electrified in the best way, and he unconsciously presses back against the lion’s head. He doesn’t realize his own has tipped back until Ilya starts kissing his neck.
Suddenly the warm pressure against his back is gone and there’s the shock of a cold nose, making his posture straighten, but it’s only a moment before it’s replaced with the rasp of a warm tongue.
“Darya,” Ilya says again, still warning but slightly breathless. Shane can’t speak, his mouth fallen open and eyes shut, as Daryeva licks up the length of his spine in long, sure strokes. It takes him a moment to realize the soft, breathy moans are coming from him.
Cracking one eye open, he looks to Nemarynn, whose gaze is already intent on him, and mutters, “I see why you like this so much.”
Daryeva rumbles out another pleased sound and then she’s shifting behind Shane. When he glances back, he sees her hoist herself up with her massive paws on Ilya’s knees — she’s so big, twice the size of Rynn, who’s still technically a big cat but looks like a house pet in comparison — and then there’s warm breath and whiskers against the back of his neck. Shane’s hands tighten on Ilya’s shoulders and their eyes meet while Darya sniffs at Shane’s hair.
Ilya’s gaze looks…intrigued, and Shane’s sure his own does too. He’s searching Shane’s face, a hand brushing up and down his side when he murmurs, “I can tell her to stop,” as if he hasn’t tried that twice already with no success. Shane shakes his head before he finishes his sentence.
“Don’t. Feels good,” he manages to whisper, even as he goes bright red all the way to his ears just admitting it.
A warm tongue on his neck, dragging slowly, bigger and rougher than Rynn’s. She licks the spot behind his ear that makes his knees buckle when Ilya kisses him there, and god, it should feel so wrong, because she’s an animal, but she’s also Ilya Rozanov’s soul. And there’s no part of Shane he wouldn’t give to any part of Ilya.
And Ilya’s soul, apparently, knows how to take him apart just as well as the man himself. It makes sense that his first time touching her is so like his first time with Ilya— she’s so sure of what she wants, so steady, taking control and showing him what feels good. Soon, Ilya is leaning in again, kissing him, kissing his jaw, and Daryeva presses forward so her chest is against Shane’s back, warm and solid, and it feels so good to be between the two of them that Shane is shaking. He’s not aware of the noises he’s making, soft whimpers on each exhale. His skin is prickling and he’s dizzy and harder than he’s ever been in his life, from what’s basically just a makeout session.
Daryeva leans in further, hot breath washing over Shane’s ear, and purrs, “Such a good boy for us, kotenok.”
And Shane almost comes just from that.
Ilya groans as he gasps in his lap, strong hands holding his hips when they jerk clumsily. “Yes, you are, being so good,” he croons, quiet and awed. “You like us both touching you, yes?” Shane nods, panting, and Ilya looks like that sets him on fire, groaning and surging forward to kiss him again, hungrier.
It’s interrupted when Ilya is suddenly jostled to the side, and Shane opens heavy-lidded eyes to see Nemarynn shoving her head against Ilya’s shoulder. He feels himself blush harder at how openly needy his dæmon is being, rubbing herself against his boyfriend like an attention-seeking house cat. But Ilya takes it in stride, only showing slight surprise before his hand goes to scratch the side of her face, which she instantly leans into and purrs loudly. The contact stokes that warmth in Shane’s gut, burning brighter.
“You are feeling left out?” Ilya guesses softly, smiling, and Shane can only watch as Rynn butts her head against Ilya’s jaw, feeling a kind of vertigo at seeing her do that with someone besides himself. But the feeling doesn’t turn sour. It’s not jealousy, it’s…it just feels right, that Ilya should be this close to his soul, that he should be able to touch it and make it purr.
Ilya kisses the top of her head, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and Shane’s breath leaves him in a shudder. Darya nips at his earlobe, just a gentle thing that nonetheless sends a bolt of arousal to his stomach, never once occurring to him that he should fear the maw full of teeth so close to his throat. He can’t tear his eyes away from where Ilya’s fingers are buried in the thick fur at the scruff of Rynn’s neck, squeezing there like he sometimes does to Shane, and she melts just like he always does, slumping against Ilya’s side with her eyelids fluttering.
When he and Ilya have sex, Shane usually tries not to pay attention to their dæmons. It’s always felt invasive, staring at Ilya’s soul, and almost embarrassing to look at his own, to see physical evidence of how much he’s being affected, like looking in a mirror. Besides, he’s usually otherwise occupied. Dæmons feel all the same physical sensations as their human, so he knows they’re more or less having the same experience as him and Ilya, but in the glimpses he’s gotten of them, they clearly have their own version of intimacy.
They’re always on the floor right beside the bed — the hotel carpet, or the rug Shane bought for his condo in Montreal, plush for this specific purpose — and always touching. Shane guessed, from the very start, that this wasn’t typical. Not for hookups, for one-night-stands. In the few he’s had, Rynn has always laid down politely distanced from the other person’s dæmon, sometimes even actively moving away if they try to approach. But not with Darya. The two of them are always tangled together, purring, grooming each other, play-wrestling, and it always ends the same way: with Rynn pinned under the much larger Darya, looking like there’s nowhere else she’d rather be. Darya will keep grooming her, or bite the scruff of her neck, and Rynn will be panting openly, leaning into everything.
And now, she’s gazing adoringly up at Ilya, her pink tongue flicking out against chin, and he smiles at her. Darya licks behind Shane’s ear again and murmurs, “They look good together,” and all he can do is nod dumbly. His hand comes up to touch the side of her face, stroking fur that’s silky where Rynn’s is fluffy, and Darya purrs her approval.
When Ilya meets his eyes again, both of their pupils are blown wide.
Shane’s feet don’t touch the ground on the way to the bedroom, hoisted by his thighs to wrap his legs around Ilya’s waist, their dæmons trailing at their heels. This time, they don’t stay on the rug beside the bed. Shane’s back hits the mattress and it dips beside him under the weight of two big cats, who loom over him, circle him, and for the first time he knows what it feels like to be some small animal made their prey.
That feeling doesn’t last. Nemarynn flops down on the pillows by the headboard, and Shane thinks, great, now we have to lint-roll the pillowcases before we go to sleep tonight, but then Ilya is picking him up again, just enough to move him up the bed, and oh, now his head is pillowed against her side, the soft rise and fall of her breathing beneath him. He turns his face into her warmth and fluff, the way he’s always done, and lets her lick his hair, grooming him. Familiar, but never in this context, never while he’s being undressed by Ilya’s sure hands. And then Daryeva lays down too, right against Shane’s side, her golden eyes intent on him and so close, her nose barely an inch from his. He can feel her all the way from his shoulder to his thigh, the fur of her underbelly softer than the rest, and he takes a shaky breath.
“Fuck,” Ilya groans appreciatively, kneeling between Shane’s legs and looking down at the three of them with an expression that borders on pained. “Fuck, look at you…”
Shane knows it’s an obscene sight, him lying naked and hard and nestled between two apex predators, like some insane photoshoot in Playboy magazine. It makes his heart race, the way Darya puts a heavy paw on his stomach, completely relaxed but clearly meant to keep him there, heat stirring in his gut. He’s panting softly, his arm coming up to cradle her head again, scratching behind her ear while she nuzzles her cold nose against his neck. Her and Rynn’s heads are close together, and Rynn licks the top of Darya’s head, her tongue catching Shane’s fingers every other swipe.
Ilya leans down over him, stretching to reach the nightstand drawer. Shane feels surrounded on all sides by heat, by hungry gazes. “Relax, kotenok,” Ilya murmurs, because Shane is so keyed up, body thrumming. Ilya can probably feel it, with how connected they are, impossible for anyone on the outside to tell whose soul is whose. He lets out a shaky breath, tension bleeding from his body and letting his thighs spread easily at Ilya’s coaxing. He groans at the first press of slick fingers, back arching a little, turning his face towards Daryeva’s.
“Let Ilyushka take care of you,” she says, licking his forehead like he’s a cub in need of grooming, and he nods. It feels more intense this time, with this new kind of closeness, every sensation coming in fours as it echoes across all of them. Beneath his head, Nemarynn shudders when Ilya adds another finger.
Shane’s hand tightens in Darya’s fur, his other one finding her foreleg across his stomach and holding onto it. Ilya lets out a quiet sound and pushes into him further, stretching him, Shane’s mouth falling open on a shaky exhale at the same time Rynn starts panting softly.
“Feels good when I open him up?” Ilya asks, and Shane opens heavy eyelids as he hears Rynn give a breathless little, ”Yes.” He watches Ilya reach for his dæmon, cradling her face like he does for Shane, and lean in to kiss her nose while she pants and closes her eyes. So gentle with her. “Good. Want you feeling good, pretty kitty,” Ilya whispers, so quiet Shane almost doesn’t hear it, and heat roars in his gut at the same time Rynn’s purr becomes deafening in his ear.
Ilya kisses him then, softening the loss of his fingers when he pulls out. Shane whines, like he does every time, even though he knows something better is coming. And Ilya cups his jaw and brushes his thumb over his cheek, soothing him, like he does every time. The hot, blunt press between his legs makes him moan, squirming a little already and it’s not even in yet. Darya’s heavy paw presses him back down against the mattress and she croons at him in Russian while he can’t control the noises he’s making, pitiful and debauched on every exhale. She nuzzles against one side of his face and Ilya cradles his head and kisses the other and they’re so different but the same, exactly the same, both distracting him from the burn and amplifying every good feeling in his body, so attentive to him.
It all feels so sensitive, so new, like he hasn’t taken the weight of Ilya’s cock inside him twice already today. It’s overwhelming, how much sensation it gives him, but it’s so good, it’s so fucking good and they’ve barely gotten started.
This isn’t a normal thing people do, Shane knows that. They don’t bring their dæmons to bed with them, and touches to another person’s dæmon, even for a married couple, are meant to be short and sweet. Not pressed naked against them, feeling her every breath and heartbeat, the way the noises she makes rumble in her chest and go straight to his cock…but hell, Shane’s accepted for a while now that “wanting something he shouldn’t” is kind of a permanent state of being for him, so it doesn’t even feel that much different.
His breath is in sync with Rynn’s by the time Ilya presses all the way in, both panting. On his left he can see her thick, fluffy tail wrapped around Ilya’s bicep, and on his right he sees her lay her head close to Darya’s, earning some licks to her ear. Darya murmurs something to her that makes Rynn smile and close her eyes, nuzzling closer to her. It’s so nice, to see them being like this, now that he feels like he has permission to be the same way with Ilya.
Ilya, who kisses his jaw until Shane turns to look at him, and god, he looks so happy, eyes damn near sparkling. “It feels…” he says.
“Yeah,” Shane breathes, smiling back.
Ilya presses his forehead to Shane’s as he starts to move, each of them taking one shaky inhale and letting it out in sync. It’s slow to start, Ilya’s cock reaching so deep it makes Shane’s eyes roll back a little. Rynn lets out a shuddering little whine, or maybe it’s Shane, but probably both of them. Darya’s foreleg draped across his stomach tightens and pulls him closer against her, soft fur against his whole right side. There’s so much power behind those muscles, raw strength that Shane sees reflected in Ilya above him, and he can’t help but feel safe, so safe, being looked after and protected by both of them. Safe and embarrassingly desperate to run his hands over every taut, warm muscle on them.
Ilya’s hips start to pick up their pace to something reasonable rather than torturously slow, and it pulls a fraying moan from Shane’s chest, turning his face to hide in the fur at the lioness’s neck. “D-Darya…” he says breathlessly, surprising even himself with the name that comes out of his mouth, and Ilya groans approvingly above him. He’s clinging to her foreleg with one hand, the other gripping her fur at the back of her neck, shaking. She smells like Ilya.
“Right here, kotenok,” she purrs, licking his hair. Then, she lowers her muzzle right by his ear, whiskers tickling as she whispers, “You feel so good inside, making me and Ilyushka feel so good…”
Oh, god, she feels what Ilya feels, knows exactly what it feels like to be fucking him right now. That realization makes him whimper and try to arch off the mattress, her strength once again holding him in place. He can’t even budge her, she’s so fucking strong, and so are Ilya’s hands at his hips. When Shane looks back up at him, Ilya’s eyes are heavy-lidded, huffing and red-faced, looking as overwhelmed as Shane feels. Fuck, he’s beautiful. Shane loves him so much, wants to make him feel like this every day for the rest of their lives.
Ilya looks back at him, then says, so quietly Shane almost doesn’t catch it, “More…touch her more, please…” It puts a thrill in his stomach, realizing oh, Ilya likes this.
Blushing and obedient, Shane turns his face to Darya again, meets her golden eyes. There’s a small dark spot on the fur of her left cheek, right where Ilya’s mole is. She purrs and leans in to bump her nose against his, then licks once over his parted lips, the sensation making him gasp. It’s clearly meant to be a kiss, and that makes him flush hotter, his mind racing with disjointed, wanting thoughts.
He hears Rynn whimper and feels her shift beneath his head. When he looks, she’s lifting her head and craning her neck a little to seek out Ilya again. He’s quick to reach for her, again cradling her face so gently, nuzzling her, and Shane gets to watch it happen right above him as Rynn goes to lick his mouth and Ilya immediately parts his lips for her without a second thought.
“Oh, fuck—“ Shane gasps, because it’s obscene, the way Rynn licks into his mouth, the way Ilya moans for it so shamelessly. Between his lips and her muzzle, Shane catches glimpses of both their tongues as they kiss. When they part, both breathless, Ilya presses one more kiss to her muzzle like he can’t get enough.
“Doing so good for me, kotik,” he murmurs to her, and she’s whimpery and panting just like her human. “You feel me fucking you, yes?”
Rynn nods, whining out an emphatic little, ”Yes,” which sends heat straight to Shane’s gut. Ilya smiles at her, strokes her cheek with his thumb and she’s fully leaning into his hand.
“You want me to do it harder?”
Rynn nods again, swallowing, so eager to speak she almost can’t. “Yes, yes, please, we need it, he wants it so much...”
Shane blushes furiously and Ilya groans, rewarding her with a kiss to her ear and a murmur of what might be needy little kitty. And yeah, Shane definitely understands now why Ilya told him to touch Darya more. Seeing the two of them interact is so hot he feels like he’s on fire.
Rynn’s head goes back to where it was nestled against Darya’s, her panting breaths stirring Shane’s hair. And Ilya does, in fact, fuck him harder, making Shane cry out even though he’s expecting it, air leaving him in almost a sob. Rynn lets out a yowl, a soft raspy noise, and Shane is so embarrassingly close already, his cock completely untouched.
This time, when he feels Darya lick his mouth, he opens it wider for her.
Her tongue is massive, and rough, and the inhuman nature of it sends a thrill through his whole body, his toes curling. She licks so far back in his mouth he almost gags, but he lets her, and it feels so fucking good to let her. Fur and whiskers and her massive canines press against his lips, harmless. It makes him so dizzy he doesn’t even realize when he starts sucking on her tongue, until she lets out a satisfied growl that reverberates through his own mouth and throat.
“Fuck, Shane…” Ilya groans above him, voice strained, and as Darya pulls back, Shane realizes he’s close, too. He blinks up at him, dazed, sees that turned-on-to-the-point-of-pain expression again. Ilya’s hips pound against him, hard enough that they’d be jolting him up the bed with each thrust if not for Darya holding him in place.
“Ilya,” he breathes, and Ilya gets down close, kisses him, each of them tasting of each other’s dæmons. One of his hands leaves Shane’s hip and he realizes he’s petting Rynn, rubbing over her rump while she whimpers in time with his hard thrusts.
“Both being so good for us, such good kittens,” Ilya says, voice low, and Shane whines out a pathetic moan while Rynn writhes a little under his head and mewls.
Darya’s foreleg tightens around his middle again, and now her other one wraps around the back of his head, pulling him in close so he’s pleasantly suffocated by the fur of her chest. He dimly registers that her hips are moving at the same rhythm as Ilya’s, rutting against nothing. “Come for us, kotenok,” she murmurs, deep and sure. “Is okay, we have you.”
He can’t see anything, can’t smell anything but her, can’t pull away, guiltless of the noises he makes because everything is muffled in her fur. It’s weightless, it’s a relief, and when he comes, she keeps him solidly in place for Ilya to keep fucking while his mind fractures to pieces. Pleasure burns through him, hotter and more intense than he’s maybe ever felt before, practically sobbing into Darya’s chest, hands gripping her tight. His cock jerks and spills untouched, and he must be getting some on her fur, but the thought of her licking it off only makes him come harder. He hears Rynn yowling, gasping, Ilya speaking to her in soft tones even as he keeps fucking them, and Shane doesn’t have to look to know he’s petting her. He can feel it, pleasant shivers down his own back.
“That’s my pretty kitty, I know…I know, doing so good for us, such a good girl…”
Darya loosens her hold on Shane and gratitude swells in his chest, because he loves watching this part. Loves meeting Ilya’s eyes when he gets close to coming. He looks downright wrecked now as he turns his attention back to Shane, his curls a sweaty mess, and Shane smiles breathlessly up at him. Ilya dazzles him with one of his own and lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh, as if to say what the fuck are we even doing? Shane can’t quite wrap his head around it either, but right now all he wants is to kiss Ilya and see him come, so he reaches up and pulls him down, swallowing the groan Ilya exhales into his mouth.
They don’t often kiss while one of them is coming, but Shane really, really likes when they do, likes how he can feel Ilya struggle to keep up with it as his body locks up, but still chases Shane’s lips. Shane lets out a sigh when he feels the warmth of Ilya’s cum pulse inside him, smiling against his lips. Darya is panting just like her human, warm breath huffing on Shane’s neck, and Rynn grooms her affectionately, licking the top of her head.
“Holy shit,” Shane breathes. He’s floating, framing Ilya’s face in his hands and grinning up at him. Still regaining himself, Ilya can only nod.
They kiss again, slow, and Darya is grooming Rynn now too, the two of them nuzzling like they’ve been doing since the second time Shane and Ilya were ever within thirty feet of each other. Like they always knew they’d end up here.
Ilya pulls out slow, then collapses on the mattress to Shane’s left, kissing his temple. Sandwiched between two warm bodies, powerful muscle, Shane can’t help but smile, his right arm still holding Darya’s foreleg while his left finds Ilya’s curls, playing with them gently. “Why was that so fucking hot?” he murmurs, feeling giddy and loose, unguarded.
Ilya hums, one arm slung across Shane’s waist, the other in Rynn’s fur. Her tail is draped along Ilya’s back. “Mm…because you and your cat are very kinky, I think,” he teases. It earns him a nip on the finger from Rynn.
“It was so much fun.”
“Yes,” Ilya whispers, presses their foreheads together. “I felt…very close to you.”
Shane nods, because god, how could they get closer than that? Than taking pleasure in each other’s very souls, like all of them were one thing instead of four separate?
Darya’s purr, a much deeper rumble than Rynn’s, is lulling Shane like nothing ever has before. His entire body feels heavy and she’s lapping up the cum on his stomach and chest, making him let out the softest of groans at the rasp of her warm tongue on his skin.
“Sleep, kotenok,” Ilya murmurs, sounding like he’s already halfway there himself. Rynn’s breathing has turned deep and steady, a gentle rise and fall beneath Shane’s head where he’s still pillowed against her.
They sleep.