Midnight uncurled himself from me, shuffling to sit at Lysander’s feet. To my surprise, he worked at Lysander’s boots, pulling them off.
Lysander blinked, as if coming back to himself. “Stop.” Instantly, Midnight froze. “You cannot expect me to undress here in front of…you.”
“Why not?” Magenta asked. “You expect Midnight to remain naked in front of us all.”
Lysander stared down at the whipping boy at his feet. He opened his mouth like he was about to answer along the lines of but I’m a Prince and my dangly manly bits are golden and would blind commoners like you…but then snapped it closed.
With angry motions, which were far hotter than they should be, he undid his tie and tossed it onto the floor. Then he did the same with his blazer, before working on the buttons of his shirt.
Willoughby crawled across the circle, resting his forehead against my cheek. A tremble ran through him. I pushed him back, catching his mouth with mine to chase it away. With a burst of strength that drove the breath from me, he dragged me up, pressing me against the wall. His power thrummed through him, but he controlled it. He pulled me up, until my legs were wrapped around his waist.
It felt right to be held like this by him. Yet I knew that it was comfort. He didn’t want to watch, while Lysander was stripped.
Yet on the other hand, I would’ve given my prickles not to miss it.
Lysander undid the last button of his shirt, and it hung open over his alabaster chest. That was a good look on him. But then, he hesitated, like he couldn’t make himself shrug off the shirt.
“You don’t have to complete the dare, remember?” Magenta said; her eyes were soft with concern. “You can say no.”
I was one stupid (horny) mage, which wasn’t helped by the way that Willoughby was grinding against me. Magenta had never wanted Lysander to take off his clothes.
It’d been a bluff.
She’d simply wanted him to stand up for himself and rebel, even if it was only against her and our competition. If at the same time, it’d made him think about how he treated Midnight, then that was a bonus.
It was just a shame that Lysander was so stubborn…or epic because it’d mean that I’d get to see him naked.
Win-win.
Okay, I was a naughty foxy.
“Do not treat me as though I am weak,” Lysander hissed.
“Then strip, fae,” Sleipnir commanded, surging forward with predator speed and grasping Lysander by the neck.
Lysander flushed, and his golden wings flapped. His fingers hesitated over the buttons of his pants.
Was he bluffing too?
We were playing a deadly game between Immortals and Princes. Desire, rivalry, and temptation. The game would crush us all…
At last, Lysander ripped off the shirt, hurling it to the floor in a crumpled heap. My feline side was desperate to snuggle down in the silky pile, but my dick was more excited about Lysander’s pink nipples and the glimpse of emerald lace panties showing above the line of his uniform pants.
Now I needed definite membership to FKA: Fae Kink Anonymous.
When Sleipnir stepped back, Lysander clasped his hands smartly behind his back like a soldier. It was Midnight who slid his hands up Lysander’s thighs, before with startling intimacy, unbuttoning his pants.
On my prickles, this was it…the big (or possibly small) reveal…
“Witching heavens, enough,” Magenta’s voice was choked. “I only meant for you to strip to your pants. How else would anyone take it?”
Midnight sat back on his heels, and Willoughby tightened his hold on me.
A shirtless Lysander with his golden wings outstretched in defiance was the most beautiful thing that I’d ever seen, until he spoiled it by opening his mouth.
“That you meant me to strip naked,” Lysander drawled. “But if my body offends you, then I’m more than happy not to be ogled by a witch.”
“What about a mage?” I raised my hand, as Willoughby carried me back to the circle like I was in cat form, rather than human.
“Or an incubus…?” Bask waved his arm in the air as well.
With a huff, Lysander sat down, but I noticed that he settled next to Midnight, absentmindedly stroking his feathers like he’d forgotten that he was meant to be acting the strict Prefect with him.
Being stripped by your whipping boy was a brilliant leveler. If the thought didn’t make me gag, maybe we only had to think of a way to trick the professors into stripping.
We could call it Strip Therapy or the Strip Social Policy.
WILLOUGHBY burst in neon pink across the walls, followed by BASK.
Pan's prick, Serenity wasn't picking at random. She was playing Revenge Truth or Dare, which actually sounded an exciting but deadly game.
I smiled at Bask, wishing that I was snuggled in his arms right now, rather than his rival's, who held the power. Weirdly though, it no longer felt like we were divided in that way.
Willoughby assessed Bask. "Dare: Dance with the two clones, Andro and Bas."
Was it just me or did that sound like a reward? Yet when my gaze darted to Bask and then Lysander, they were both shifting uncomfortably.
How would I feel if there was another Fox?
Bask narrowed his eyes, pushing himself to his feet with a sinful wriggle of his hips. "Dare accepted."
Why had that sounded like a challenge?
A green mist formed in front of Bask, and Andro stepped out of it with a flutter of his golden wings. The mist bled into his long emerald hair that hung to his waist. Unlike Lysander, he didn't have pants to cover his nakedness. Yet the soft expression was so unlike Lysander that despite the fact they were identical (which meant that it would've been a big reveal), there was no doubt that he was the clone, especially when he dropped to his knees.
Andro stared up at Bask adoringly. Bask ran his hand over Andro's head, before tipping up his chin and placing a single kiss on his lips.
Willoughby was watching him intently. "Bas."
Ruby sparkles lit up in front of him, forming into a gorgeous naked clone of Bask, who bounced onto Willoughby's lap, knocking him away from me in a whirlwind.
I chuckled. So, Bas wasn't as submissive as Andro then.
"I've fierce missed you." Bas kissed along Willoughby's neck, straddling him. "What do you desire? My arse is at your service. Let me please you." The words tumbled out of his mouth so fast that I thought he'd hyperventilate. "Pet me."
Willoughby smiled, gently pushing back Bas. "Calm. I'm here now."
A twinge of jealousy shot through me at the familiar way that they rested their foreheads against each other, and Willoughby placed his hand on Bas’ shoulder. It was the same genuine closeness, as the way that Bask tucked a strand of Andro's hair behind his ear.
Lysander's mouth twisted, before he pushed himself stiffly to his feet. Before he could attempt his usual storming away trick, however, Magenta jumped up and snatched him around the waist. Her fingers stroked over his skin; I tingled, wishing that she was touching me.
When her mists coiled around him, Lysander stared at them in shock.
"Andro isn't you," Magenta insisted. "Simply because he's loved and part of our group doesn't mean that you can't be."
Was she still bluffing?
Lysander stiffened.
Willoughby glanced at Bask. "And Bas isn't you. Do you truly wish that I'd love you?"
He shook with hope.
Great Pan, say yes...because I wasn’t bluffing anymore.
To be fair, despite my compulsive liar reputation (would I be given a badge for that like in the scouts?), I’d been the only one in this café who hadn’t been bluffing throughout the game.