WARNING WARNING WARNING:  Contains NC-17 material...SLASH SEX, MULTIPLE
PARTNER SEX, and offensive language.  If any of this offends you, do not read
this story.  If you read it and it STILL offends you...BITE ME. *grin*

Enjoy!

MOUNTING UP FOR THE HUNT

Back in our rooms, I placed the Firestar back on the nightstand.  Sure
enough, the flesh just above my pelvis was a bit tender to the touch, where
Asher's weight had ground the gun into me.  At least it wasn't discolored yet.

I felt Asher's hands slide down my arms, catching slightly on the silk of
Jean-Claude's shirt.  His hair brushed my cheek as he feathered kisses down
my throat.  I moaned in pleasure.  While he had me thus distracted, his hands
slowly unbuttoned the borrowed shirt and slid it from my body to drop at my
feet.  Then he turned me in his arms and proceeded to kiss me most soundly.
I was vaguely aware that he was already shirtless.  Must've taken it off
while I was putting the gun away.  My nipples hardened and small chill bumps
sprang up on my arms at the feel of his cool flesh against my naked skin.

Warm hands slid down from my waist to my ankles, taking my panties with them.
 Asher's hands tangled in my hair as he continued to kiss me, possessing my
mouth with his.  The other hands lifted my feet one at a time, completing the
removal of my last garment, then gently circled my legs and raised me to the
bed.  It took me a moment to remember that Nathaniel was here with us.

I felt a warm, wet tongue draw a line from my knee to my hip.  I looked down
to see violet eyes gazing back at me, as Nathaniel rested his head against my
pelvis, purring.  I blushed as a wave of excited lust swept through me,
catching me off guard.  Asher's responding chuckle was devastating.

He opened the marks fully, *holding* them open, drinking in my desire...his
presence fully permeating mine.  'Do not hold back, cherie, and do not think
about it.  Simply enjoy the moment,' he instructed me through the marks.  I
knew what he meant.  Given the opportunity, I would have clamped down on my
lust and covered it with a sense of shame.  But his influence was dampening
that response in me, giving me an uncharacteristic sense of wanton abandon.

Sensing my acquiescence, Asher held a hand to the cat beside me on the bed.
"Come, mon minot," he called softly.  Nathaniel's purr grew louder as he sat
back in a kneeling position on the bed, sweeping his long, auburn tresses to
one side and baring his throat to Asher.  It was then I noticed that
Nathaniel was nude as well, his hair cascading around him like a living
garment.

Asher crawled onto the bed behind Nathaniel after removing the rest of his
own clothing.  I could sense HIS lust as well as my own.  I suddenly
realized, that other than when he'd fed on me, I'd never been with Asher when
he fed.  Now it seemed I was going to get quite a show.

Asher drew me even deeper into the marks until I couldn't tell exactly who
was seeing or experiencing what.  The doubled sensations were almost, but not
quite, disorienting.  We felt the anticipation of feeding, smelling the rich,
spicy, power laden blood of the young lycanthrope riding just beneath his
skin.  The vanilla and fur scent of his hair and skin spoke to us of "home."
We longed to wrap that scent around us and luxuriate in it.  His throat
tasted sweet and clean beneath our lips.  His body was strong and sinuous,
but submissive beneath our fingers.

The rush of power as our fangs pierced flesh and the life-giving blood burst
into our mouth in a scalding stream was *incroyable*!  The leopard's lust
infused our being with sustenance even as his blood returned life and warmth
to our flesh.  Reaching out with hand and power, we stroked him to the edge
of release...but held back.  We would prolong the experience as much as we
were able.

Asher withdrew enough from my mind for me to become aware of my individuality
again.  But he kept the marks open enough that any resistance I might have
had to his suggestions or control was nonexistent.  He had made me basically
a willing puppet.  The sensations he was flooding through me felt so
*wonderful* I didn't WANT to resist him.

Even as Asher continued to feed, I crawled up to Nathaniel and grasping
double handfuls of hair, claimed his mouth in an almost brutal kiss.  Oh God!
But he smelled good.  His hands came up, fondling my breasts.  Asher's hunger
prompted me to bite the cat's lip hard enough to draw blood, and soon I
experienced the taste for myself.  Nathaniel's purrs increased in volume at
the pain.

I raked fingernails hard down his chest and stomach, stopping just short of
his manhood.  I knew from Asher's memories that this was what he liked.  He
arched into me, pressing the fronts of our bodies together.  Asher eventually
released Nathaniel's throat with a final kiss to the bite wound to seal the
punctures.  Then he helped me guide myself onto his pomme du sang.  My breath
caught in my throat as Nathaniel entered me.  He was larger than I had
expected, and the angle took him in deeply.

Asher then moved out from behind the cat, lowering him back on the bed, with
me riding him down.  I was being directed into long, slow strokes on him.
Once satisfied that I'd had long enough to loosen up, my master moved around
behind me, pushing me forward onto Nathaniel.  As he positioned himself I
thought he was going to enter analy.  That was NOT what he had in mind,
however.  I let out a startled yelp as Asher joined Nathaniel inside of me.
If he hadn't have had such a strong hold on my body through our marks, I
would have tensed up and possibly caused myself and them damage.

Once I got my mind wrapped around what we were doing, I was amazed that they
would both fit!  I already knew Asher wasn't small, and had been surprised by
Nathaniel's size.  It was almost too much to take.  Asher helped me keep my
body relaxed to avoid making the exercise painful.

He must've sensed that it was getting too much for me to take.  I almost
cried out when he withdrew from me...I had been so close to climax.  Still,
Nathaniel continued to help me pump, so it wasn't a total loss of pleasure.
Asher shifted our position slightly, raising Nathaniel's knees, pulling his
legs up onto his shoulders.  The cat gasped and shuddered inside me when
Asher plunged forcefully into him.

After that, events soon came to a head, the three of us climaxing almost
simultaneously.  Asher crying out, me screaming, and Nathaniel uttering
something between a scream and a roar.  The wave of energy we released rolled
out from us and through the entire Circus.

As Asher rolled us off of each other, I noticed bloody scores down my own
front, the scratches themselves already sealed over and healing rapidly.
Asher whispered in my mind, 'Do not worry, cherie...he only used fingernails,
not claws.'  I collapsed bonelessly, too spent to move for the moment.

"Merci, mon minot, ma rose," Asher whispered, kissing each of us in turn.  He
then scooped me up into his arms, cradled against his chest.  Nathaniel
curled over on his side, purring, and shut his eyes.

"Where are we going?" I managed to mumble tiredly.  Asher didn't answer.  He
carried me into the private bathroom, set me on the stool and turned on the
shower, waiting for the water to reach temperature.  "Oh," I said
intelligently.  My limbs felt like lead.  Asher just chuckled at me.

"The effects will wear off soon, ma rose, and you will regain control of your
body," he smiled at me.  What had just happened still seemed distant to my
sex fogged brain.  I felt mildly euphoric.  "You may be a little sore for a
short time," he continued as he lifted me again and stepped into the shower
with me.  "It takes a while for one's body to become accustomed to enjoying
two lovers at once, but you have the natural capacity for it, cherie."

He set my feet down, and I found I was able to stand.  Asher kept his arms
around me, however, apparently not satisfied that I was stabile enough to
keep my balance yet.  I rested my cheek against his now warm chest as the
water needled down against my back.  When I felt his hands, now filled with
lather, begin caressing over my arms and sides, I wrapped my own arms around
his waist and allowed him to wash me.  The marks were still somewhat open,
and I could sense the pleasure the actions gave him.

I also caught snippets of fond memories of similar activities with Julianna
and Jean-Claude.  I hugged him tighter, full control over my own movements
almost returned.  "I hope I can make you as happy as she did," I whispered.
Asher froze for a moment before continuing in his ministrations.  "I didn't
mean for you to 'hear' that thought, amante," came his soft reply.

I looked up at him.  "It was a good memory for you," I told him and kissed
his chin.  "I could never begrudge you that...I still think you should talk
to Kylie and Jules...."  He stopped me with a finger to my lips.  His
half-smile let me know I had not offended him.

"I will think on what you have told me and then handle the situation as I see
fit," he said.  "Now turn around so I can wash the front of you."  Then he
suited actions to words and turned me with my back against his chest and
began lathering my front.

"You just want to play with my tits," I giggled at him.  His responding
chuckle sent shivers down my spine.  I leaned back against him.  "Did we
really just do what I think we did?" I asked.  I gasped as his hand found a
sensitive and very tender spot.  My own hand flew to it, stilling his.
"Maybe *I* better wash myself there, Asher...damn!  I'm already swollen!" I
winced.  He drew away some of the pain using the marks, allowing me to finish
cleaning that area.

Once I was clean, I insisted on helping him wash up.  I felt almost hungry
for the touch of his bare skin against my own.  He was beginning to become
aroused again, when a question popped into my head.  "Asher, how old is
Nathaniel?"

He blinked at me for a moment, apparently not understanding why I wanted to
know that particular fact.  "I am not entirely sure, cherie," he finally
replied.  "Perhaps around twenty?"  I backed away from him quickly, hands
over my mouth and eyes wide in horror.  The tile wall of the shower prevented
me from moving any further.  Asher picked up on my alarm quickly, but was
puzzled by it.  "What is wrong, ma rose?"

"What have I done?" I whispered brokenly.  Asher began to step towards me to
comfort me.  I shook my head "no."  He stopped advancing.  "Tamara?" he was
clearly worried at my reaction.

"My God, Asher...I'm old enough to be his *mother*!" I exclaimed in a hoarse
voice.  Suddenly, I didn't feel clean anymore.  Unfortunately, my master
seemed to find my source of distress rather amusing.  *That* pissed me off.
"Maybe it's no big deal to *you*, but it is too me!" I rounded on him
angrily.  "I feel like a fucking child molester!"

At that, Asher broke into laughter.  "Ma rose, you are only sixteen years
older that him.  That hardly qualifies you as a 'child molester.'"  If he
thought he was making me feel better about what had just happened, he was
sorely mistaken.  I glared at him and pushed past, exiting the shower and
grabbing a towel.  He continued to chuckle softly.

I decided to try changing the subject before I did or said something I would
probably regret.  "I'm getting dressed.  It has to be close to sunset by now
if not after it.  Vladimir most likely will be here soon," I reminded him.  I
exited the bathroom, but stopped short at the sight of the sleeping
wereleopard on the bed.  My eyes filled with unshed tears and my heart filled
with a sense of self loathing.

Asher soon emerged from the bathroom himself, sans towel.  I watched his
splendidly beautiful naked form move to the wardrobe and calmly begin
selecting clothing for the both of us.  I remained rooted to the one spot.
"I believe a show of strength will be appropriate tonight," he said
conversationally.  He laid my black turtleneck, black jeans, and
undergarments across a chair at the vanity, placing the inner pants holster
and Firestar on top of the clothes.  Next to the chair he placed my black
granny boots with the three inch heels.  Believe it or not, they were
actually pretty easy to move around in, even run in.

He began dressing himself, having selected an ensemble in light charcoal and
a blue just a couple of shades darker than his eyes.  Finally he noticed that
I hadn't moved.  "Aren't you going to get dressed, cherie?" he asked.  I just
looked at him, a single tear sliding down my face.  In a flash he was holding
me to him as my tears began to flood, rocking me gently and whispering French
into my hair in a soothing voice.  Once he sensed that my tears were spent,
he lifted my face to his.  "Amante de moi, you have done nothing to fill you
so with such shame," he told me firmly.  "Nathaniel is of the age of consent
and was a willing participant.  You did NOT take advantage of him."  Asher's
mouth twisted into a wry smile as he glanced over at the sleeping form.  "In
fact, you probably disappointed the cat," he chuckled.  "He thrives on abuse,
and you were rather gentle with him.  AND, unless you have forgotten, I am
several *centuries* older than YOU...should I also feel like a child
molester?"  I digested that last bit of information, beginning to see the
humor in it myself.

"Why can't I stay mad around you?" I asked.  Asher grinned broadly enough to
show fang.  "Because I am irresistible, non?" he replied.  "BRAT!"  That just
made him laugh.

Shaking my head, I proceeded with my own dressing, adding a touch of makeup
and my silver and topaz jewelry set.  I brushed my hair back into a high
crowned ponytail to complete the outfit.  Kept the stuff out of my face and
fitted more with the tough chick look Asher was obviously wanting me to
portray.  Finally, I clipped the holster into place and put the gun in it,
drawing a couple of times to get the feel of it.  Looking up, I saw Asher was
ready and had just finished pulling a blanket over Nathaniel.

Nodding at him to let him know I was ready, I moved to the door.  He was by
my side with blinding speed.  Once in the hallway, he offered his arm.  I
took it, placing my fingers on the pulse in his wrist, and we continued on to
the "living room."

Entering through the draperies, we were greeted by the sight of Ramses,
looking as stone-faced as a statue of his pharaonic namesake, looming near
Jean-Claude and Belle Morte's representative.

Next: DRAGONS IN THE MIST