It was almost unnerving, how empty the burrow felt all of a sudden. There were no fewer people in it than there had been some hours ago, but the awareness that they wouldn’t be back this evening had a peculiar weight.

Kavo sighed, and curled a wing around his mate as he slid home the bolt.

She didn’t melt into his side like she usually would. Bad sign.

“Should we be just letting them go like that, Kavo?”

Not that there’d been much ‘just’ about it. It had been hard enough to make the decision himself; harder still, by far, to override Garn on the matter. He was twelve years her junior – not so long a time for the Vhark, but still; when they’d first realized their interest, he’d been gawky and shy, and she had been the one to take charge. That had more or less set the tone of their relationship since. She listened when he spoke, but usually he’d let her do the talking.

And the urge to protect their sons was still quite strong in him, too.

“They’re nearly grown, love,” he murmured, trying to draw her in a little closer, though the gesture wound up pulling him in against her side instead. “We’ve tried not to make a point of it, but they’ve had such heavy expectations that in some ways, they’ve had to grow up faster than most. There are some things they need to explore without us watching over their shoulders.”

“But they’re not even going home with their separate, respective friends,” she protested. “They’ll be… with each other.”

And she didn’t know what he did about what they already had done together. Not that he’d seen much – a touch here, a nuzzle there – but he knew full well that their fondness was more than simply brotherly.

He’d also seen how they were trying to resist it, and how much it hurt. He’d already had to do some hard thinking; now he needed to coax her through it.

“They’re Magekin, love,” he sighed over her jaw. “We can’t quite expect them to behave as normal boys. Little has been normal about them since they turned out to be twins. And Magekin have always – always – been attracted to one another.”

She looked aside, turned her muzzle away from his questing snout. “But that’s just… just chance, isn’t it? Somewhere…”

“So it was thought, when they were born,” Kavo admitted. “And we clung to that thought when they were a year old, two, three. But now? Love, it’s been fifteen years and some. We’re not a very widespread people, not like the humans – and even they would be able to get news across their lands and back in fifteen years. And they can’t fly. If another had been born, we’d know about it by now. If another was going to be born, it would have been by now.” He shook his head. “They’re it, love. I can wish it weren’t so, I can hope that it’s not, but if I’m to be honest with myself, I know it is.”

“But… they’re brothers…”

He let out another sigh. “I know, love. And there are very good reasons behind the old customs. But if anyone could reasonably be exempt from them, it’s Magekin. Just look at them; they’re healthier than either of us in almost every way, and they’re scarcely younger than I was when we met, so it’s not age slowing us down.” Denied her jaw, he pressed his snout against her neck instead. “Let them go, love. Let them fly their own winds.”

Finally she softened against him. “Oh, Kavo…”

“Don’t look on the empty home as only a bad thing,” he purred. “Think how little time we’ve had to ourselves this past decade and a half, mmm?” He tilted his head, nipped at her hide, let his tongue dance over it.

If he was to be wholly honest with himself, the chance to have the home to themselves was another reason he’d pushed to let the twins go off to their own amusements, and he wanted to take full advantage of it while their sons would still be around the next day. A dalliance with a hunt-brother was well and good – and Garn had been quite appreciative of the memory crystals he’d brought back from a few such, just as he’d been relieved to know she’d found her own satisfaction when called away herself – but they weren’t his mate. She was, and they hadn’t had an uninterrupted evening together in far, far too long.

She let out a thoroughly undignified squeak, twisting and pawing at his shoulders. “Rrrh. It’s awfully hard to stay upset when you’re this frisky, love…”

Which was rather the point; he grinned. “You won’t get the best impression up there, though, will you?” Oh, it was a relief and a delight to know he could distract her that way.

“No…” Her tongue darted out, curled, and slipped back in, sampling the air; she drew in a deep breath. “Ah, there’s something I’ve not smelled from you firsthand in a while.”

“Four years, I think,” he sighed, tugging at her belt. “Four sad, lonely, long years, love.” His tail smacked against a side table, and a vase atop it wobbled; he coughed, and shuffled over, putting that treacherous limb out toward the open floor.

He didn’t bother with her vest, nor his own; once their lower bodies were unencumbered, he pressed up onto his toes, tail coiling behind him for balance, and nipped at Garn’s jaw. “But now,” he hissed, “we can bring that down to a much more manageable time, mmm?” It had been long enough that his first push wasn’t quite lined up right, the sapphire spire of his arousal sliding along her slit while his tapered tip wound up between their stomachs; not quite what he’d had in mind, no… but it made them both squirm all the same.

The second time, he gave up and slid a hand down to help. He was ready to restrain himself, to be patient, to slip in slowly, but he needn’t have worried; she was warm, slick, loose enough that he could plunge in smoothly, but snug enough to give every sensitive inch of him a delightful tight squeeze on the way in.

“Rrrf! Oh, love…” Her wings shuffled, caught in the curl of his own around her; her tongue caressed his cheek, and one of her fingers nudged the base of his left horn, following its curve all the way around, tapping its point; it wasn’t quite a full turn, not yet, but it was getting there. “Couldn’t wait for the bed?”

“Not hardly,” he hissed, twisting against her, his toe-claws scratching over the panelled floor.

“Mmm, well…” Her fingers curled under his chin, lifting his muzzle up; her nose nudged against his, and red eyes met blue. “It… ahh, I can’t deny it’s good to have you there, Kavo.” Both her arms slid around his shoulders, pulling him up against her, and she leaned back to brace against the wall, her own tail winding around his leg. “I shouldn’t deny our own sons this, should I…” It wasn’t exactly a question.

“But you don’t want them to go,” he purred, content to lean on her for the moment; it wasn’t as though he was going anywhere, not with ten inches of him snug inside her. He could wait a little for the conclusion. “Well, there’s another way to keep the nest from being empty, of course…”

She peered at him, with a quizzical expression that belied what was going on below; he grinned, swiped his tongue over her muzzle for a quick taste, and extricated one of his arms, tugging one of hers loose from him. His fingers trailed along her own, seized on a small iron band, and wiggled it free.

His eyes steady on hers, he slid the ring off her finger, turning it between thumb and fingers for a few seconds; he was no sorcerer, but even he could feel the tingle of enchantment in the loop of iron.

And he reached over, still holding her gaze, and dropped it onto the side table with a metallic clatter.

Slowly, gravely, she nodded. “Ready for another few months of sleepless nights, are you?”

“Part of me thinks we should’ve done this ten years ago, love,” he admitted. “Were our sons anything but Magekin, perhaps we should have. As it is…”

“As it is, they’re ready for a sibling or two,” she breathed over his jaw.

And why not? Vhark could live to two hundred or more, and as old as a hundred fifty had been known to have quite healthy offspring. She had yet to reach her first half century, and he was only thirty-five. They had time aplenty; they were healthy; and now they’d raised a pair of very challenging and wonderful sons to the point that they were off to discover their own pleasures.

“Though I do wonder how anyone expects them to beget a new generation of kings,” Garn went on, with a slightly ironic, slightly nervous chuckle.

“Oh, love…” He grinned, wiggling against her, pressing in deep and close. “Don’t you remember Tarvi, before we decided on a formal bond?” He certainly did; oh, yes, he remembered the bigger Frostkin quite well. He most certainly remembered the times all three of them had spent together, with Garn between the two males, both their members sliding against each other within her snug, welcoming heat, the shivers and pants of no few shared moments of pleasure… Again he shuddered, starting to roll his hips, to draw a few inches out and plunge back in, smooth and steady. “They might as well have the same blood; if they both took the same consort, why, nobody could say whose egg she bore – might as well declare it the child of both…”

“Ah, Tarvi,” she groaned, squirming between him and the wall. “What’s he up to these days, anyway?” The tip of her tail nudged under the root of his. “Besides keeping his hunt-brother company now and then, of course…”

It was his turn to squirm, and the moment he did he played right into her hands. She was in control, now; she set the pace, holding him in close and deep for a few moments, partly for emphasis, and in part, perhaps, so that her tail could wriggle slightly into him. Not far; the spade of a tail was a much less gentle instrument than a man’s taper, especially with not so much as a drop of body-oil. But even that slight stretch was enough to keep him whimpering.

“D’you think he’d be willing to pay us a little visit?” she breathed over his cheek. “He’s a dear, but until we’ve got an egg safe and sound I don’t think I’d want him where you are, but maybe he could be convinced to plant his seed in you instead, hmm? You’ve traded a few times since, as it is, and you certainly seemed to enjoy it well enough then, that one time so long ago…”

He’d intended to stay focused on her, at least this once, after their long lack. Between her words and her tail, that was quickly becoming impossible. And his time to regain that focus couldn’t stretch past a few dozen breaths. “Garn,” he whined.

She was, as ever, quite good at interpreting his whimpering. “It’s all right, love,” she purred. “I know you’re fond of him. So am I. I’d have married you both if we could; you know that, and so does he. So there’s nothing wrong,” her tail managed to sink a bit deeper still, “in imagining what it’d be like if we’d managed to do just that. Go on, love. You’ve got me to stop fretting; now you stop worrying, and dream a little…”

It was easy, too – so easy. Half a lifetime ago, and he still remembered how the bigger male had held him, filled him, whispering over his jaw, urging him onward, coaxing him to fill the woman they both adored…

He moaned, clinging for dear life as pleasure coursed through him; her hands roamed his back and sides, stroking, gently encouraging his pleasure. The grip of her slit, squeezing, shivering, was far less gentle around his spurting length, pulling his seed out of him with hungry greed.

Somehow, he managed to stay standing, rather than giving way entirely to her grip, as his climax ebbed. He panted against her shoulder, trembled against her, felt her shiver just a bit more subtly against him. Moments passed; hearts slowed from their race to a more sedate patter.

Some time later, he lifted his head, peering once again into her fond eyes. “I’m worried, love,” he admitted. “Worried almost sick. But somehow, I know they’ll do all right. They’ll come back to us.” He looked over to the yet-vacant hearth; in the niche over it, two rainbow shapes glimmered, the shards of their egg cunningly crafted into not one, but two tiny eggs, each set with glimmering quartz stones.

It’d be distressing, to see those stones go dark, when the twins were far enough away that the hearthstones could no longer sense them. It’d be a long wait until they glimmered again, however long or short the time it actually took.

“They will,” he repeated in a whisper. “And we’ll have something more waiting for them.”

“That we will, love,” his mate murmured over his cheek, and held him close.