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“You were right, Kali. He looks like his mother.”
Derek flinches when he hears it––of course he does; it’s a double-punch to his gut and and his throat, perfectly calculated to catalyze the sharp sting of tears behind the veneer of his headache.
“She was a pretty one,” Kali says, pulling her finger out of her mouth with a viscous pop. “Wild, you know?”
“A tiger in the sack,” Deucalion agrees. He grins straight at Derek. “God, what she could do with her tongue.”
“Tell me about it,” Kali sighs. She walks around behind Derek to trace her wet finger down his spine. He imagines a dark and glistening trail in its wake, beading into him like blood beads out. She draws a little infinity sign on one of his wrists, above the second set of shackles. “I wonder if Laura had it, too?”
“Sometimes talents skip a generation,” Deucalion points out as he stalks forward to trace the fluttering heartbeat Derek can feel tucked behind his Adam’s apple. “I heard great things about Laura, though. You know, Samara?”
“Upstate New York Samara or Vancouver Samara?”
“New York Samara,” Deucalion clarifies. Kali’s breasts are pressing against Derek’s shoulder blades. “Yeah, she said Laura could fuck her through the wall when she felt like it––literally, she sent me pictures.”
“Hot,” Kali breathes. Derek had closed his eyes at some point, but he can feel the twin and lasered points of their interest. “You think he could fuck someone through a wall?”
“Weak,” Deucalion scoffs, his heat backing off. “All muscle, no strategy.”
“No, I’m pretty good,” Derek rasps. Kali freezes for a long second before she winds her arms around his waist to tangle in the line of hair under his belly button. “I mean, I’ve never tried to fuck anyone through a wall. Laura was a show-off. But I’ve been known to break beds in my day.”
Deucalion draws in a thin breath. He’s startled, Derek thinks. Good.
“Yeah, Laura and me, we were always competitive,” Derek says. He opens his eyes––Deucalion is a little farther away but the bulge in his pants is perfectly in line with Derek’s line of sight. “We used to compare notes, you know? Same girl in one night, see which one of us got her shrieking.”
“Yeah?” says Kali, squeezing herself closer in along his back. “What’d you think of her technique?”
“Sloppy,” Derek says. He sends a silent apology to Laura and hopes she isn’t listening in. “But it worked for her, I guess. I like things to be a little more––controlled.”
“Self-control is not a virtue I would associate with the Beacon Hills pack,” Deucalion says, thumbs tucked in his belt loops and his hips jutting forward. Kali’s earthy, musky scent is beginning to melt in with Derek’s own, now, she’s so close.
Derek closes his eyes for a second, reminds himself––this is for his pack. Whatever the hell is left of it. “Well, I never said I’d control myself.”
Kali grips Derek’s forearms hard enough to bruise them. “C’mon, Deuce,” she says, her voice higher than it’s been and sweet like honey. “He’s practically––come on.”
He looks at Derek for too long, and Derek thinks that’s it, it’s over, his shot’s been blown. But finally Deucalion unbuttons his fly. “He keeps the chains on.”