#45
[ Zabini’s POV ]
Zabini exhaled sharply, her dark fingers twitching at her sides as she eyed William—the man—sitting with his back against Eli’s chest.
His bare arms were pale in the sunlight, the delicate straps of his cropped workout shirt riding up just enough to tease the smooth plane of his abdomen.
Gods above, this is real. I have a boy, I mean a man, in front of me. And I am touching him~!
Her throat tightened.
“Can I… can I touch you, ah, ahm…” she stammered, her voice cracking like a nervous teenager’s.
William tilted his head back, resting it against Eli’s shoulder with practiced ease. A smirk, lazy and knowing, tugged at his lips.
“William,” he corrected, his voice a low, amused drawl, “but just call me Will, if it’s a mouthful.” Then, with all the patience of a man who knew his own scarcity, he added, “And yes, you can, Zabini. Just remember what Eli said—gently.”
His teasing lilt curled around the last word, making her stomach flip.
Zabini swallowed.
William.
His name spilled from her lips like a prayer, her fingers twitching. Then, as though some unseen force compelled her, her hand shot forward—not tentative like Eli’s had been, but direct, her palm sliding beneath the hem of his shirt.
The moment her fingers met his skin, Zabini froze.
Warm.
Soft.
A surprised gasp escaped her, her thumb instinctively brushing along the dip of his ribcage, tracing the subtle bone beneath. His stomach tensed slightly under her touch—the only sign he wasn’t entirely unaffected.
“Oh my gods,” Zabini breathed, her eyes fluttering shut. The sensation was unlike anything she’d imagined.
Men in magazines, in advertisements, even the rare glimpses she’d caught on the street—they paled in comparison. His skin was alive beneath her fingertips, pliant and smooth, the warmth of him seeping into her cold hands.
Eli snorted behind him, tightening her arms around William’s chest in a possessive squeeze. “What did you expect, Zab? He’s a man, not a robot.” There was a smugness in her tone, as if his softness were a personal achievement.
Zabini’s fingers flexed, her nails grazing lightly—so lightly—against his skin.
“I’ve never touched a man before,” she confessed, voice hushed, reverent. “Only seen them from afar, or in pictures.”
Eli grinned against his shoulder. “I thought you said you’d fucked a lot of men before?”
Zabini’s face burned. “Sh, shut up!“
William laughed, the sound rich and warm, and Zabini’s breath hitched at the way his ribs moved under her palm. When he glanced up at her, his eyes glinted with mischief.
“So, is it everything you imagined?”
Zabini’s heart pounded in her chest as William’s words washed over her, his teasing tone sending shivers down her spine.
Is it everything I imagined? It’s more. So much more. Her fingers twitched, tracing the faint outline of one of his ribs, and she let out a soft gasp, her breath catching in her throat. He’s perfect. Every inch of him is perfect.
“More,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her gaze locked onto his.
She felt a hunger deep within her, a yearning to know him completely. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, then back up to his eyes, a silent, yearning question in their depths. What would it be like to kiss him? To feel his lips against mine?
Eli cleared her throat, a gentle reminder of their surroundings, but Zabini barely heard her. Her focus was entirely on William, on the way his body responded to her touch, the subtle shiver that ran through him as her hand moved higher. I want to explore every inch of him. I need to.
“Alright, that’s enough, Zabini. Don’t get carried away,” Eli murmured, but Zabini barely registered her words.
Her fingers inched higher, toward the strap of his sports bra, her breathing growing shallow and quick. Just a little further. I need to feel him, to know him.
She felt a pang of jealousy as Eli tightened her embrace around William, a playful, almost possessive gesture.
Hey, no hogging him! Zabini’s eyes flickered to Eli, a hint of defiance in her gaze, but her focus quickly returned to William.
“You’re just jealous, Eli,” Zabini retorted, her voice hushed, almost reverent. She watched as Eli chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through William and into Zabini’s own body.
“Perhaps. But we’re still on duty, you two. We can’t just spend all morning… petting our precious kid here,” Eli conceded, and Zabini felt a surge of frustration.
Not yet. I’m not done exploring. I’m not done knowing him.
“Precious kid?” William echoed, his voice playful, and Zabini felt a warmth spread through her at the sound. She watched as Eli leaned down, her lips brushing against William’s ear, and Zabini ached to do the same.
I want to make him shiver, to make him feel everything I’m feeling.
Zabini’s fingers inched higher, toward the strap of his sports bra, her gaze fixed on the subtle swell of his chest. She could feel the heat of his skin, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, and she ached to explore further. Just a little more. Just a little more, and I’ll know him completely.
…
“You are to me, boy. Remember, I’m almost the same age as your mother, and you, my dear, are turning out to be quite the handful.” Eli leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear, sending a delicious shiver through him.
“A very welcome handful, though.”
Zabini, meanwhile, had grown bolder. She seemed not to have heard what Eli said. Her fingers, having explored his side, were now inching upwards, toward the thin strap of his sports bra, her gaze fixed on the subtle swell of his chest. Her breathing was shallow and quick. Then, to William and Eli’s surprise, Zabini raised the hem of his shirt along with his bra, baring his taut nipples.
Eli’s sharp “Zabini!” hung in the air, a whip-crack of an admonishment that seemed to momentarily falter against Zabini’s sheer, unbridled audacity.
The younger woman, lost in a trance of burgeoning desire, had indeed pressed her lips against William’s taut nipple, a soft, suckling sound almost imperceptible over the gentle rustle of leaves in the nearby trees.
William, caught completely off guard, felt a jolt of pleasure shoot through him, a stark contrast to the initial shiver Eli’s words had provoked just moments before.
His breath hitched, and a low, involuntary moan escaped his lips, a sound that seemed to both fuel Zabini’s actions and stir something primal in Eli.
Zabini’s tongue darted out, a warm, wet caress that sent another wave of exquisite sensation washing over William. Her grip on the hem of his shirt tightened, pulling it higher, exposing more of his torso to the cool morning air and the hungry gazes of the two women.
He hadn’t moved, not to push her away, nor to stop her. His body, always quick to appreciate skilled touch, simply arched slightly into her.
The world had given him beautiful, eager women, and he saw no reason to deny himself, or them, the pleasure.
Eli, initially poised to intervene, found herself frozen.
Her frown deepened, not in pure anger, but in a complex mix of surprise, a possessive pang, and an undeniable surge of her own suppressed desire.
She saw William’s head loll back against her shoulder, heard that soft moan, and watched as his fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of the jogging shorts he wore.
The “kid” was clearly enjoying this. And the sight of Zabini, so utterly uninhibited, so brazenly tasting what Eli herself wanted to claim, lit a slow, burning fuse within her. Her fingers, which had been loosely resting on William’s waist, now twitched. The maternal worry, the sense of ‘duty’, began to melt away, replaced by a more primal heat.
“Zabini, what in the blazes do you think you’re doing?”
Eli’s voice was lower now, a rough growl that lacked its earlier sharp authority. It was less a scolding and more a challenge.
Her arm, still wrapped around William, tightened further, pulling him even closer against her chest, a silent declaration of ownership.
Zabini, however, seemed deaf to the nuance.
Her left hand, having released William’s shirt, now cupped the other side of his chest, her thumb brushing over his still-hardened nipple through the thin fabric. She lifted her head, her eyes, usually so sharp and focused on electrical schematics, were now glazed over with a fervent, almost desperate passion.
A thin strand of saliva connected her lips to William’s skin, only breaking when she spoke, her voice breathless. “He… he tastes so good, Eli.”
“You stupid…! Have you lost your mind?!” Eli scowled at the young woman.
On the other hand, William chuckled, a low, throaty sound that vibrated against Eli.
“I taste good, huh? I like the sound of that.”
He glanced back at Eli, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“You hear that, ‘mom’? I taste good~”
Eli’s breath hitched again.
The playfulness in William’s voice, coupled with the sight of Zabini practically devouring him, was potent. Her stern facade cracked, revealing the fiery woman beneath.
“Oh, I hear it, boy,” she murmured, leaning down, her lips brushing against his temple, then trailing down to his ear. “And I’m starting to think that she might be right. Maybe I should also have a taste?”
Her other hand, the one that had been resting on his waist, slid lower, tracing the faint outline of his abdominal muscles, then dipping under the waistband of his shorts, her fingers just grazing the soft hair at the base of his stomach.
This new touch, so deliberate and intimate, made William shiver again, a delicious counterpoint to Zabini’s fervent ministrations. His body was a battleground of pleasure, each woman staking her claim with touch and desire. He let out a soft groan, his hips unconsciously pressing back against Eli.
Zabini, sensing Eli’s shift from disapproval to participation, seemed to take it as permission. Her lips returned to William’s nipple with renewed vigor, suckling with an intensity that pulled at his core.
Her right hand, no longer needed to hold his shirt, slid down his stomach, her fingers dancing over his navel before dipping lower, following Eli’s lead, though with a different intent.
While Eli’s fingers were tentative, exploring, Zabini’s were bolder, more direct, clearly seeking the burgeoning hardness beneath his shorts.
Eli’s other hand cupped his head and made him face her. She kissed his lips, tentative at first, as if she was testing his response. When he reciprocated her kiss, she smiled and kissed him again, this time, harder.
The kiss was hot and demanding, a complete contrast to Eli’s earlier composed demeanor. She tasted of metal and strong coffee, the lingering scent of their work mingling strangely with a fresh, raw desire. Her tongue plunged forward, taking possession of his mouth with a veteran’s confidence, chasing away the faint, sweet residue of Zabini’s mouth on his skin.
William met her intensity head-on. He tangled his tongue with hers, relishing the sudden, powerful shift in the older woman. The “mom” persona was completely incinerated, replaced by a hungry predator who was not about to share her kill easily.
While their mouths dueled, Zabini’s hand finally found its mark. She dismissed the material barrier of his shorts with a single, rough tug of the elastic band, slipping her fingers inside. The heat and friction were immediate. Her touch was possessive and unrefined, lacking the slow burn of Eli’s exploration. Zabini wanted to feel him, to hold him, and she achieved it in one swift, crushing grip.
A muffled groan escaped William’s throat, swallowed instantly by Eli’s demanding mouth. The combined sensation of Eli’s dominating kiss, Zabini’s eager suckling, and the overwhelming pressure on his erection was intoxicating. He felt like he was drowning in sensation, suspended between two very different, powerful sources of feminine energy.
This is fantastic, William thought, even as his mind began to fray at the edges, dissolving into pure, reactive lust. This chaotic, simultaneous attention was exactly the kind of beautiful, overwhelming scenario he knew this world could offer. He was not just desired; he was venerated.
Eli pulled back from the kiss, but only slightly, their lips still damp and grazing. Her eyes, usually the colour of clear, grey cement, were now dark and molten, fixed on him with an intensity that was far more dangerous than any scowl.
“Don’t you dare tell me you don’t like this, boy,” Eli whispered, her voice husky, grating against the sound of Zabini’s greedy breathing near his chest.
William gasped, shaking his head. “No complaints here. Not a single one.”
“Good.” Eli’s thumb traced the line of his jaw, possessively, before dropping down to the hand resting under his waistband.
She didn’t scold Zabini; instead, she used William’s body as a point of contact, her fingers brushing against Zabini’s over the hard ridge beneath his shorts. It was a silent, aggressive acknowledgment of Zabini’s presence, not exclusion. You may be here, the touch implied, but I am still in charge.
Zabini, lost in her own fervor, didn’t seem to care about the hierarchy. She worked relentlessly, her fingers moving with rapid, desperate strokes inside his shorts, already slicking the fabric.
“He tastes better right here, Eli,” Zabini purred, her head lifting just enough to expose William’s collarbone, her eyes wide and unfocused with pleasure. “You should really try.”
Eli snorted, a sharp, unamused sound that was all pretense. The denial held no conviction, not when her gaze was glued to William. She watched the frantic rise and fall of his chest, the way his breath hitched, the soft flutter of his eyelids as Zabini’s hand worked its slow, delicious magic.
A sharp bark, impossibly close, pierced the haze of their indulgence. Eli’s head snapped up, her senses returning with a jolt.
