Gifts – Chapter Six By Raissa Donovan

Updates roughly every other week. UNEDITED DRAFT. Content notes apply only to this part.

The next time she kissed Imriel, Callia didn’t hold back. 

Callia could feel her beautiful boy tremble beneath her touch, but she’d spent the past few days getting him accustomed to casual brushes of skin on skin — and used to the fact that his body betrayed him every time she touched him. By now, he’d have learned that it wouldn’t abate unless he took it upon himself to relieve that discomfort, but she wasn’t certain if he’d dared. 

The idea that she might be the one to coax the boy into becoming a man thrilled her; the idea that she was the first one to touch him, would be the first one to teach him, sent a thrum of arousal through her. 

Draven was hers, true, but Imriel would be bound to her in a way the other witch never could.

It was almost — almost — enough to soothe the sting of anger and the pang of rejection she felt at the idea that one of hers would consider betraying her in such a way. She allowed her fury to drift away, separating herself from it. She’d have to deal with it soon, but her newest darling needed to be rewarded. 

What better way to show him than to give him what he wanted but would never dare ask for? At least, not yet; when she was finished with him, he’d show her in gestures and looks, would beg her with speech and touch for her to dote upon him in a way that only she and Draven would.

So help anyone else who touched what was hers.

“Is this all right?” she murmured against his lips.

Imriel made a choked sound, nodding instead of speaking, and she chuckled softly.

Don’t think about Sophie. Bind him to you both. He has no one but you and Draven, and Draven is yours even if he isn’t marked.

Draven met her eyes again, and Callia lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. He was on his own. Either he could bring the boy to him or he’d be standing on the sidelines. She knew Draven better than to think he wouldn’t try. If he could, he’d seduce Imriel in his own way.

She felt more than saw him tangle his fingers in Imriel’s hair, toying with the curls. Her lips curved into a smile; he did much the same to her. For a man without hair, he seemed to have a fascination with it, and she seized upon her own amusement and desire to shut out unpleasant thoughts — unpleasant duties. 

As she kissed Imriel again, Callia’s tongue teased his lips until he parted them. He made a quiet, surprised sound when she tasted him, reveling in his innocence and inexperience. His hands lifted but they faltered, and Draven’s hands guided them to settle on Callia’s hips, smoothing his fingers along Imriel’s. 

Imriel came up for a breath, and this time it was Draven who kissed him.

Callia felt the shock of it in the young man, and for a moment, he was unresponsive. Draven pulled back, lifting Imriel’s chin to meet his eyes. “Do you want me to stop?” 

Imriel hesitated, his eyes filled with something like longing as he looked between them. He shook his head, and Draven smiled. Their kiss was soft, languid, and Draven took his time with the boy in a way that Callia hadn’t truly expected. 

They traded back and forth, all of their affection and attention saved for their witch, until Imriel’s breaths grew ragged and he whimpered helplessly as his hips rocked into thin air. Callia’s hand drifted down his body, sliding beneath his shirt and then up to tease his nipples; Draven’s larger hand took over where she left off, exploring Imriel’s chest. Her fingers ghosted down to skim the fabric of his jeans covering his erection.

She left her hand there, and he jerked against her; she rather thought he’d spill then and there, but he went still. Soft noises spilled past his lips only to be muffled by her own as she leisurely took her turn with him. 

The hands still on her hips trembled, and she lifted one, guiding him to her breast between her bodice and her blouse. He froze, and she closed her fingers over his hand. “Like this,” she murmured, but his touch remained light. “You won’t hurt me, my beautiful boy.” 

Draven reached over, deftly untying her bodice, and Callia smiled at him as he unfastened it and pulled it off of her. Imriel gawked, and she could hear the way his heartbeat raced. 

“Perhaps we ought to move to the bedroom,” she suggested, but her eyes remained on Imriel’s.

He stared at her, uncomprehending, and she kissed him again.

“If you want this,” she said gently. “You don’t need to say yes, but I would like it if you did.” 

Her hand lightly squeezed his cock through his pants.

“And you would, too.”

Imriel choked out something that might have been garbled agreement, and she quirked a brow at him. He paused, gathering himself, and then he nodded once. The lack of spoken words might have worried her had the gesture not been so vigorous. 

Callia smiled and rose, gathering her bodice. She let Draven help Imriel to his feet, though she guided the boy to the door. Draven opened it for them, and she stepped from her office, eyes searching the hallway. 

If she’d seen Sophie, she might have stopped then and there, as unfair as it might have been to the men. But the halls were clear, and she turned for her bedroom with both of them in tow. She unlocked and opened her door, letting them in after her, and she casually discarded her blouse on the way along with the bodice. Turning, she beckoned Imriel close, but he only stared at her. 

The look of awe and naked need on his face pleased her, and Callia vowed to always paint that expression on his features when he saw her. “Come, my beautiful boy,” she told him, holding out her hand. Draven gave him a gentle nudge, and Imriel approached her. She took his hands in her own, guiding them to the waistband of her skirt and hooking his fingers beneath the fabric. “Like this,” she directed him. 

In this he didn’t falter, drawing her skirt down bit by bit and gazing at the sight of her as though she were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She preened beneath his touch and his gaze, stepping out of the skirt and kicking her shoes off. 

“This time is about you,” Callia said, reaching up to cup his face in her hands and then urging him to lean down so she could claim a kiss. As she did, Draven’s arms circled around Imriel and drew him close. “Enjoy yourself, Imri.” 

Imriel hadn’t spoken since this had begun, and her thumb gently ran along his cheek. She didn’t want him to feel forced, to fear her. She wanted him to dote on her because he wanted to.

“Talk to me, Imri,” she urged him. “Is this what you want?”

Behind him, Draven had leaned down to kiss Imriel’s neck, but he paused. He didn’t let go of their beautiful boy, but he didn’t push him further, either. 

Imriel was quiet, and a moment passed before he croaked out, “Trying to hold the spell so I don’t… listen to your thoughts. It’s hard to concentrate.” 

It should have been downright impossible for him to concentrate with what they were doing to him, and her regard for him rose a notch. Perhaps he wasn’t as weak as they’d led her to believe.

“You won’t have to hold the spell for much longer,” Draven promised. “You can let it go now, if you want.”

Imriel shook his head. 

Well, that would have to do.

Callia was pleased that he was taking Draven’s affections so well; not every man she’d brought into her bedroom had been so open to her witch’s advances. It wasn’t as though there was a stigma, not any longer, but she could respect the fact that others had their own stricter preferences. Imriel, though, thrived on the attention they both gave him. 

Her fingers went to the hem of his shirt, toying with it for a moment. She lifted, and he raised his arms to help her get it over his head. Gazing at his chest, she noted that he was perhaps a little too lean, and she vowed to ensure that he ate well. She wouldn’t have him doing poorly in her home, especially not with how much time and energy she planned to devote to binding his loyalty to her. 

Draven peppered kisses along Imriel’s spine, and her lips found Imriel’s mouth again as her hands explored him. He was wonderfully pliable to her touch, responding to every brush of fingers against skin, appreciating it for the gift it was. 

She felt it when Draven’s hands drifted to Imriel’s waistband, unfastening his pants and dragging the zipper down. His hand firmly found the erection between her and Imriel. Imriel jerked, but he pressed his hips into the touch instead of pulling away. 

Callia’s fingers found their way to his pants, easing them down his body and coaxing him to step out of them and leave them behind. He stood before her, and she admired the young man’s body even as his eyes seemed glued to her in turn. 

Imriel hesitated, and then he turned, his hands shaking and his heartbeat racing in Callia’s ears. He found the top button of Draven’s shirt and began to unbutton it so slowly he might not have been moving at all. Draven waited patiently, shrugging his shirt off and letting it flutter to the floor. Callia circled to his side, watching the way Imriel gazed at Draven. Her lips curved into a smile, and she brushed her fingers along Imriel’s back before trailing around to take his cock in her hand.

He jumped, twitching with her touch, and his wide eyes went to her as he let out a choked cry. 

“Go on,” she encouraged him, and Imriel closed his eyes for a moment. When they opened again, she saw his resolve, and she nodded to him. He reached for Draven’s pants with a little more confidence, and while he fumbled with the button, he didn’t stop. Draven smoothed his fingers through Imriel’s hair as the witchling finally found the zipper and pulled down. Imriel looked up questioningly at Draven, who leaned in and stole another kiss, and their boy slowly pulled the older witch’s pants down. 

Callia could see the fascination in him at the sight of Draven’s cock in his briefs, and she stroked Imriel’s cock again. “Touch him,” she murmured in his ear. 

Draven sucked in a breath as Imriel did, the younger witch’s curious fingers finally seeming to be granted the courage to press on. He hesitated then pulled down Draven’s briefs, momentarily freezing when he saw the older witch’s cock. He reached out, tentatively touching the other male’s length like Callia was stroking his own, and she let out a soft sound of approval as Draven moaned. 

She released Imri, kissing along his spine, and then she urged him to take a step back toward the bed. “Come, my beautiful boy,” she said. He turned, and she guided him to the bed. 

Callia urged him to lie down, smoothing his hair from his face, and Imriel looked between them with a flicker of uncertainty crossing his expression. 

“Do you want to stop?” she asked, her eyes searching his. 

Imriel shook his head.

“I won’t be angry,” Callia told him, thumb tracing over his cheek. 

“Please don’t stop,” Imriel whispered, and Draven leaned down to kiss him. Imriel reached up, tentatively touching the other witch’s arm, and Callia smiled.

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