Page 18 of Delinquent Dette (Empty Nests #7)

Sten

Spring

Pups played amid the backyard, dipping into the fountains, more colors of clans than Sten could rightly plot—copper, white, gold, black, green, red, and blue. A deeply red Drake with black edges to his scales watched nearby, his chest puffed as they played. One of Zane’s mates.

“Ruben, how fares the pups?” The Zmei dragon snorted a lick of fire.

Frikka had been confined to his nest for the morning, his heat not quite settling in.

He would be ready in hours for Sten, but rest was key for a Dette, especially when given the amount of nestblossom oil that the doctor had permitted.

Frikka was ready to try for another clutch. He wanted to move on.

And so did Sten.

A certain kind of guilt lay heavy in his belly as he thought back to the trees lining our old backyard. They stood tall, a feature of the new garden they put in as they built the omega facility there. The rehabilitation of the wild ones would take time, but they had so many resources.

They are well. Are you heading into your nest? Ruben nudged a pup with his tail to stop him from digging and offered Sten a nod.

“Not until another dragon shows up to help. I don’t want to leave you alone with this many rascals.” Sten offered a broad smile as he counted heads. They had seven pups in their care, ones that played well together while their parents were enjoying their heat.

They’d never had so many young at once that it necessitated schedules and rotation.

You did say Sile was on his way and Shui is resting. Is Gabriel still incapacitated?

“No, but Sacha needs a night off. Gabriel is a hard nester.” Sten shuddered. Frikka could be demanding, but he paced himself well. Some Dettes, though… Sten couldn’t imagine it.

It is what they say. The madder the Dette, the easier the heat.

Sten never thought of it that way, but did so, lips pursed. Gabriel was a fairly subdued and calm Dette on a whole. But then there was… “Ryan…”

Ruben shook his head and snorted smoke. The most calm and peaceful Dette I’ve ever seen.

Zane, his mate, was a mix of both. With three mates of his own, the Dette kept them busy. “Speaking of Dettes gone mad. How is Zane?”

Ruben chuckled, the noise thick and chugging in his draconic throat. Zane is a mix of both. He is like the sea. Calm until there is a storm.

“And that means?” Sten raised a brow.

Had there been four of us, it still might not have been enough this year. Thank the stars for nestblossoms. Ruben stretched a little and leaned down to nudge two pups wrestling a little too hard.

“Trying for more pups this year?” Sten asked as if it’d ever not been an option. Birth control had never been considered for Dettes, as clutches were so infrequent. It was abstinence or try.

We aren’t trying just yet, but he wants to. Zane is the pride of his family line since he’s had the only clutch in a hundred years. Ruben snorted happily.

A little crimson dragon, his Drake son, perked up at the mention of Zane. Papa?

Ruben gave him a lick. Papa later. We’re playing, now. He needs rest.

Their child went back to frolicking, and Sten turned at the chime of his doorbell.

When Sten got to the foyer and opened the door, Sile strode in, dressed casually in a shirt and shorts, two of his pups in tow, followed by one of Hallr’s, Ulric. He and Lei, one of Sile’s Drake pups, were thick as thieves.

“Go on, I can smell it up here.” Sile waved his hand. “We’re staying the night. Leicester is coming and Sacha will be here come morning to take their pups.”

Sten sighed with relief and waved him on before navigating the maze of their house to the basement where Weston had built their bombproof and certainly termite-proof vault.

When he opened the vault doors, the scent of heat and nestblossom oil drew him in, and Frikka sat up from his spot in their cozy nest, glancing away from his phone. “Was waiting for you.”

“Reading something sexy?” Sten gave Frikka a flick of his brow.

“The stock market. So, yes.” Frikka stuck his tongue out and threw his phone to the side before sliding free of a flattering dark-blue cotton shirt that bore the darkened stains of sweat.

The nesting room’s temperature had been set to a coolness that would be more comfortable to him, but sometimes it wasn’t enough for Dettes in the throes of ecstasy.

They were from colder climates, too, so there was that.

Frikka opened his arms, welcoming Sten into them with a warm smile. “How are the pups?”

“As content as ever. As long as there are adults around and pups to play with, they’re happy, well-adjusted runts. Ours were never that easy.”

“Ah, what I’ve noticed is that the more there are, the more they police themselves.” Frikka hummed as Sten slid into their nest, caging him in with his arms.

“Mmm… I see.” Sten leaned down to give Frikka the lightest of kisses. “Are you sure?”

“That they police themselves?” Frikka pulled his head away and raised a brow.

“That you want pups.” Sten pushed up and held himself at arm’s length.

“What kind of question is that? Of course I want pups.” Frikka pulled Sten down so their mouths met, breathing one another in.

Pesky things like pants got in the way of them grinding against one another and migrated to the outer edge of the nest with a few awkward shuffling kicks and wiggles, half-hard cocks brushing as they came back together. “Do you?”

“Of course, but not if you don’t. It’s your body that will grow them and your hole that will suffer.” Sten chuckled as Frikka blanched.

“Suffer? My hole is going to enjoy every minute up until the hour or two of pain. And then, as the Dette’s mind works, the curse of forgetfulness will tell me that it never hurt.” Frikka waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not like blanks are painless, either. They’re easier.”

In all his years, Sten didn’t know that part. Dettes tended to lay their blanks in private. “Perhaps in time, the doctors can figure out a way to stop it.”

“Perhaps. But for now? Knot me, Drake.” Frikka swept a leg over his hip and ground their groins together, bringing Sten back to the moment with another kiss and wandering hand with sharp nails dragging his flesh.

Sten kissed Frikka for a moment longer before sitting up and flipping the impatient Dette onto his front.

He liked having Frikka face-to-face, but Dettes needed to be bred from behind for the best chance of slaking their lust. That, and staring at Frikka’s ass was glorious in heat.

His pale cheeks spread, pink hole slick and dripping.

He opened so easily for Sten’s fingers—one then another, breathily praising him the entire time.

Beautiful noises. Always beautiful, with Frikka.

His whimpers and moans were like song, a chant and cry to the gods, praying for glorious release.

And Sten was the answer. He pulled his fingers free of Frikka’s pliant hole, rimming them around the opening before slicking his cock with the excess.

He was open, but Frikka could be so very tight when on edge, and it was no different than when Sten lined his cock up and pushed forward, breeching him.

Every inch drew a noise of soft pleasure from Frikka until Sten bottomed out with a satisfying slap.

Frikka clawed at the soft blankets in the nest, ones that Sten realized would be a chore to clean by the end of everything.

Frikka could get messy. Perhaps it was all Dettes, but Sten only had experience with the one.

Plenty of Drakes at sea, though. Frikka might have had other Drakes, but they didn’t discuss it.

He was Sten’s whole world from the moment they first played together as tots.

Hundreds of years of love went through Sten’s heart, pumping blood to the one place a Dette needed it most. His cock.

He pushed deep, pulled back, and sawed in and out of Frikka with a few agonizingly slow thrusts, making him whimper and beg just the right amount.

Not too much—no, just enough to make him curl and push back, wanting more. “Easy, Dette.”

Frikka panted and halted, mostly because Sten tightened his grip, keeping him from moving. “I’ll give you what you need, Dette.”

Frikka made a whine of protest that abruptly turned into a howl of pleasure as Sten slammed home and broke into an eager pace.

The noise squelched into a choked cry of pleasure when Sten reached forward, grabbed Frikka’s hair, and held his head back, immobilizing him to take everything he had to give.

With each tug of his Dette’s hair, he clamped tighter, body shaking.

Sten knew what was polite. “Dettes first, my love.”

Sten rode through a shaking spasm, Frikka’s orgasm beginning almost on command.

With his hand now free, Sten circled around, grasped Frikka’s leaking cock and pumped in time with his thrusts until glorious streaks of cum coated his fingers and the blankets below.

And, with permission given, Sten let himself go, too, knot swelling over a few seconds, stretching Frikka until he could move no more, locking in as hard, generous pulses of cum coated his insides.

Frikka groaned and ground his ass back, cock still bucking and pulsing in a prolonged state of release the likes of which Dettes only achieved in their deepest throes.

The scent of nestblossom oil rose about him, mingling with the heat, and Sten found himself ready for the challenge within moments of his knot softening. Almost as if he were in heat, himself.

Three times, he took Frikka from behind before he finally took the Dette from the front. Every sticky pulse rubbed between them, the damp friction creating raw spots against Sten’s chest. “Dette. Do I ever tell you how much I love you?”

Frikka drunkenly wrapped his arms over Sten’s shoulders, around his neck as he joined in the gyration of their hips, the mating dance as old as time itself.

“Every day. But I do not tell you enough. I call you stupid Drake, but it means I love you. It means I do not fear you. I trust you to hold the key to me, to protect me when vulnerable, and to dry my tears.”

“If I were better, there’d be no tears to begin with.” Sten threw his head back and groaned, his heart beating with hard pulses that thundered in his head.

“No Drake is perfect. You suck less than the rest, though.” Frikka laughed until his entire body shuddered, a rising wave of need and release quaking him from head to toe, urging Sten to knot again.

Frikka’s phone dinged sometime later to tell them that the pups and everyone had gone home. All was well. Sten glanced at the screen only briefly before Frikka mewled and clawed for more.

Sten had plenty of time to make Frikka the happiest he’d be for the whole year, unless he did what it was a Drake’s purpose to do.

By morning, he’d had Frikka over every surface of the nest, and their scales had one another, teeth and claws scrabbling.

Ordinarily, Sten had the wherewithal to bathe them while Frikka cried for pleasure, but whatever the nestblossoms did, they did it well, better even in oil form. Sten was blind with pleasure and didn’t break from the stupor until they were far past decent.

Doggedly, he carried Frikka to their bath, rinsing one another with cool water, the best they could hope for between bouts of senseless rutting. Frikka wanted again and again, and Sten felt hardly challenged until their snacks ran thin and exhaustion took them.

Perhaps it was almost over? Perhaps it was only a lull.

Frikka’s phone had died in the time they’d gone in, and charging it was too much of a bother.

His next project would be to have Weston make an outlet closer to the nest, or a longer cord.

He couldn’t be bothered to care at all. Frikka was his, and that was all that mattered.