Piece Us Together (Monstrous Survivors #3)

7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Nolan

It feels like I’m being ripped in half as I wait kneeling on the cushion at the foot of Hunter’s bed. One side of me—the annoyingly needy submissive who won’t die no matter how hard I try to kill it—is vibrating with pure fucking happiness and so much relief it makes it a little hard to breathe. The other side of me—the one that’s Maison’s boyfriend—is seconds away from drowning in an abyss of guilt and self-loathing.

Which means that when I hear Hunter and Maison enter the room, I’m both achingly hard and close to hyperventilating.

They split up when they reach me, one of them going to my left while the other walks to the right. The one on the right—Maison, I recognize his jeans—keeps moving away while Hunter settles with the toe of his shoe just a breath from nudging against my thigh.

I know I’m allowed to look, but I can’t get myself to, my eyes fixed firmly on the floor in front of me. I think maybe I’m shaking. My chest is, at least. Probably because I can’t quite catch my breath.

What if Maison sees me like this and can’t handle it? What if he’s disgusted? What if he calls it off?

Or worse, what if he stays quiet the whole time and allows it to go on, only to hate me for it later? What if we get home and he tells me he can’t do this? What if we get home and he tells me he’s done with me? What if he tries to hand me off to Hunter and wipe his hands clean?

I try to find the calm that usually comes from being on my knees. This is supposed to be peaceful. It’s supposed to be good. It is good. But it’s bad too. It’s so bad.

How can something feel so good, so right , when it has the power to ruin everything?

“Nolan?” Hunter asks, a hand— Hunter’s hand, that’s probably his hand, because why the fuck would Maison want to touch me when I’m on my knees? He probably can’t even look at me right now. He’s probably disgusted. “Nolan, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” I gasp. My face is itchy. Wet. When did I start crying? “I’m sorry. I’m sorry .”

“Nolan? Fuck, baby— hey .”

I sob at the sound of Maison’s voice.

“I’m sorry.” I duck my head, Hunter’s hand falling away. My trembling is bad enough to have my teeth chattering now. “I’m sorry. One second. I’ll stop. I’m sorry.”

There’s shuffling and clothes rustling and then someone is crouched in front of me. I don’t have time to check who it is before big hands are cupping my cheeks, forcing my chin up until my eyes are locking with Maison’s. He looks worried, but not upset. More confused than anything.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, his thumbs stroking my cheeks, chasing tears as they soothe. “What’s going on, hm? Talk to me, baby. I’m right here.”

“I just—I didn’t think I’d ever get to—and now I—and he’s—and you—are you sure? Are you really sure?” I sob. “Because I can’t—I can’t lose—I can’t—it’s not worth—”

“I’m sure. Hey, look at me.” He presses his forehead to mine. “ I’m sure . I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than I’ve been sure of us, and this is a part of us now. This is our next step. This might be our fix. Okay? I’m not letting you run away from that. So take a deep fucking breath, remember that I love you no matter what, and be a good boy for Hunter.”

I let his words sink down into my bones, trusting the truth of them as I breathe through the panic. He breathes with me, steady and slow, saying, “I’m sure,” and, “I love you,” over and over until everything has gone calm again.

Hunter’s hand returns to my hair the moment Maison has stepped away. I take another deep breath. And another. He runs his fingers over my scalp, over and over, every pass making my mind fade farther away.

“What’s your color, Nolan?” he asks eventually.

“Green, sir.” I wipe my eyes. “I’m okay. I just got overwhelmed. And scared. But I’m okay.”

He hums, his fingers still carding through my hair. It’s calming. Reassuring. It has my shoulders going soft and my breathing slowing down.

That’s when he suddenly tightens his hold. It’s not enough to hurt, just enough to use my hair as a grip to pull my head back until I have to look at him.

His eyes are bright, an intensity growing in them as he gazes down at me. The look is all heat and possessiveness, with an undercurrent of fondness.

“Take my cock out.” He tilts his chin just so, the corners of his mouth lifting. “Let’s see what that mouth of yours can do.”

My hands shake with the need to obey, to be good, to be on my knees with a cock on my tongue. How long have I been waiting for just that? For a man—a dom—to put me on my knees and turn my mind off with a hand in my hair and a cock in my mouth? I’m dizzy with it, even more so when I free his cock and get my first glimpse.

Maison is decently thick and long, just enough to burn a little even after he’s given me prep. Hunter is long too, though maybe a little shorter than Maison, but thick . He’s so fucking thick.

My god, that would stretch my hole so fucking good.

I shut that train of thought down as hard as I can. That’s not on the table. Having his cock in my mouth will be enough. It has to be enough. I can’t get greedy.

“Go on,” Hunter murmurs, his grip on my hair tightening just enough to sting.

I lick my lips before parting them and leaning in, letting his fat, leaking cockhead slide along my tongue. Fuck yes.

He tastes good. Clean, with just enough musk to give me that perfect taste of man and cock. There’s a vein on the bottom of him. I wonder if it’ll throb against my tongue as he comes down my throat.

There’s a tug on my hair before I can get him in too deep, stopping me. I whine. My heart hammers in my chest immediately at the sound, my eyes flicking up to gauge his reaction. Something unravels in me at the lack of anger or annoyance. In fact, he looks pleased. Almost like he enjoys drawing such sounds from me.

Hunter’s smile turns into a smirk the longer our eyes stay locked, his hand tight in my hair, his cock paused on my tongue. I whine again, testing the waters. He fucking grins .

“Needy boy. You want more? Want me to stuff your mouth?” He wraps his free hand lightly around my throat, thumb stroking the side. “What about this? Want me to fill your throat?”

I nod eagerly, even though I’m not sure I can take that kind of thing anymore. Especially not with his girth. Maison doesn’t like using me roughly and whenever I try to gag myself on him, he gets almost panicky. I don’t think Hunter will get panicky, even if I gag and sputter. I think he’ll be patient. He might even enjoy it.

My cock aches with the thought, begging me to rut against the nearest object. I haven’t felt this horny in so long, and we’ve barely done anything. There’s a shame in that, a shame that lingers just beneath the arousal, a threat for later. I let it be future-Nolan’s problem. I’ve needed this way too much to let it be ruined now.

I’m given another inch, my jaw already starting to ache as it stretches as wide as it can for him. I get one more glimpse of his heated gaze before my eyes are falling shut, tears already leaking out the sides. My brain is starting to buzz already, filling with words like good and yes and more . Filling with lust and calm, with anticipation and peace. The shame is gone. I can already feel myself forgetting it was ever there.

“Fuck, darling.” Hunter’s grip relaxes again, fingers stroking soothingly along my scalp as he pushes in further. My throat flutters, my gag reflex apparently trying to make a comeback. I breathe through the feeling, not letting myself remember how I learned to do so. He slides into my throat with a choked sound. It’s easy. Familiar. I melt into it. “Fuck. He doesn’t gag?”

The question is for Maison. I can’t help the little whine that tries to escape at the sensation of being talked about instead of talked to. Like I’m a thing. Their thing. My cock leaks against my thigh, the liquid hot and sticky.

“He—uh. No. Guess not.”

If Hunter finds it odd that Maison sounds unsure, he doesn’t comment. “Such a good boy, taking my cock so well. Never had a boy take me on the first try, you know that?”

A sob bubbles in my chest, sudden and fierce. His cock chokes it off but he still backs away, aware of what the sound was meant to be. I blink at him as he hushes me, his thumbs swiping my cheeks free of tears. “Color?”

“Green,” I rasp, my throat already a little sore. “Green, sir. Please. Please, let me do more. I can take more.”

He grins. “Show me, then.”

I take that as permission, diving back in and helping myself this time. He allows me to slide my lips right on down his shaft until he’s back where he was before, then a little further, then a little further, until he’s muttering a soft, “ Christ ,” and his balls are against my chin, and my head is fuzzy with the knowledge that my air has been replaced by my sir’s cock.

“Give me your hand,” he growls. The moment I do, he places it on his hip. “Tap if you need a break.”

I have just enough time to consider what he has planned before he’s pulling back, then thrusting in deep. I choke, not having been ready for it. Spit sputters from my lips and drips down my chin. I tighten my hand on him, looking up through blurry eyes to show him I’m good. He moans and repeats the movement. I manage better this time. Even better the time after that.

Hunter is mostly only tactile at first. Any sounds he makes are soft sighs and harsh breaths, drowned out by the way he skims his fingertips along my face and yanks my hair and wipes away tears and strokes the curve of my upper lip where it touches his cock. But then his hand settles on my throat and he growls, “I can feel my cock right there ,” and it’s nothing but filth after that. It’s all take it so good and little cockslut and so messy, darling. It’s could use this throat for hours and be a perfect cockwarmer and you like that idea, don’t you?

He stops himself just as I start to feel the pulse of that vein against my tongue. It takes everything in me not to whine or chase him as he pulls his cock all the way out, leaving a string of spit in its wake.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs, his fingertips tracing over my brow and down my tear-slick cheek. I shiver at the touch. There’s a reverence to it. A possessiveness. “Such a good boy. Took my cock so well. That’s what you’ve needed, hm? Needed me to show you your place? Give you what you need?”

I suck in a watery breath, not sure if I want to sob or laugh. I can only nod. Hard, fast, vehemently.

“Yeah. Such a strong, brave boy, asking for what you need. Taking that risk. Chasing it, even when you were probably terrified.” I sob that time, but he’s not even looking at me anymore, his hand cupped to my cheek as his eyes bore into something over my head. Someone . “Isn’t he so good for us, Maison?”

“He’s perfect,” Maison rasps from wherever he is behind me. “You have no idea, Hunter. He’s so fucking perfect.”

The words light me up inside, filling me with relief and joy, pride and adrenaline. Fresh tears spill down my cheeks, some pooling against Hunter’s fingers.

“Mm. You’re right. I don’t have an idea, not yet, but I’m starting to.” Hunter tilts his head at me. “You wanted me to come just now, didn’t you? Be honest. It’s not a trick.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“You were so fucking good, but I still have more for you. Are you going to keep being my good boy, Nolan? You want to earn my cum?”

My body hums. “ Yes . Please, sir, yes.”

He grins. It’s slow-growing and wicked, promising all sorts of dirty things. My cock starts to leak against my thigh, hard and desperate already.

“Bend over the end of the bed.”

I fight the urge to scramble to obey, remembering my old teachings. I know a lot of what I’ve been trained won’t stick with a healthy dynamic, but being graceful in my movements is one I could see Hunter approving of, and I really want to come off as perfect as possible for him. That doesn’t mean I don’t hurry because I’m pretty fucking desperate to see what this man has in store for me.

The moment I’m bent over the end, I can feel Hunter’s presence settle behind me. Goosebumps prickle along my skin as I hold myself perfectly still and wait for an order or a touch. Except…nothing happens. The room remains silent apart from my own labored breathing, my body untouched and on display for him. Them , actually. Maison is looking too. Once that realization registers, I swear I can feel the physical weight of their gazes.

A singular touch lands between my shoulder blades—nothing more than a fingertip, if I had to guess. I shiver, but otherwise keep my reactions in check. Even when that finger goes down, down, down my spine to the top of my ass, then slips teasingly through my cheeks. Maybe not so much when that finger presses against my hole. I’m out of practice just enough to let a sharp gasp out at the touch.

Hunter doesn’t yell at me.

It makes me nervous, but I try to remember he’s going to be different from the men I’m used to. He’s not a master desperate for excuses to punish me. He doesn’t have impossible standards and cruel rules. If he wants me to be quiet, he’ll tell me. Until then, noises must be okay, right? He said he won’t ever set me up to fail. Which is definitely going to be something I have to get used to.

“I’m going to hurt you,” he says conversationally, his finger retracing its original route back up my spine. I shiver at the touch. Or maybe the words. Probably both. “And you’re going to take it like a good boy, aren’t you?”

Oh god.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” His single finger turns into both hands at my shoulders before dragging nails down hard enough to make me hiss. When he reaches my ass, he takes a handful of each cheek and spreads them wide. I have just enough time to blush at the idea of him staring at my hole before he’s releasing my cheeks, letting them jiggle a little before— smack .

I jolt against the bed, my fingers tangling in the sheets. It was barely a spank, just a hand landing on each cheek, but… damn .

He repeats his actions—squeeze, release, smack—three more times before smoothing his palms over the abused skin. “Color?”

“Green, sir.” I melt into the mattress, deciding to take a risk by asking for something I never would have dared ask a master in the past. “Can I please have more, sir?”

Hunter chuckles, low and pleased. “Oh, Nolan, we’re just getting started.”

He proves his words right as he changes his angle and begins landing single-handed smacks to my cheeks—left, right, center, left, right, center—again and again.

I’m just starting to sweat when he pauses. My mind hums, all fuzzy and light as I ride out the lingering sensations.

“Color?”

“Green, sir,” I mumble, my body shivery and electric.

“Hmm.” His hands smooth over my ass, making me have to swallow sounds of discomfort. His thumbs slip into my crack to tease at the sides of my hole. I moan, my toes curling as I fight the urge to beg. “You took your warmup so well. I think that’s earned you a bit of a reward.”

“I was good, sir?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“You were so good.” One of his hands drops away, the other lingering on my hip as if he doesn’t want to leave me untouched. It’s such a small gesture. Such a simple moment of care. Yet, it has my whole body lighting up. “Maison, come sit in front of him.”

“Oh, I’m—I’m okay.”

“I’m going to hurt him again. Worse. I’m going to hurt him until he cries for me.” The hand still on me begins to stroke along the curve of my ass. “Don’t you want to be the one to make him feel better while I do?”

I can’t see Maison, but I hear the shaky breath he sucks in, followed by the subtle creak of the chair as he stands. The mattress dips. I turn my head, my chest filling with warmth at the sight of the man I love inching toward me. He gives me a nervous smile as he settles with his legs bracketing my upper body, his crotch just an inch or two in front of my face. His big hands cradle my face, thumbs stroking along my cheeks. “You’re amazing, baby.”

I can’t help the tears that sting my eyes and burn my throat. “Y-yeah? Really?”

“Really. So fucking amazing. So good.” He flicks his gaze to Hunter, swallowing hard. His voice trembles as he adds, “You should see the way he looks at you.”

I don’t know how to take that.

It doesn’t matter. Hunter speaks again, drawing my full attention. “Color?”

“Green, sir.”

Without warning, leather stings across my ass. I jolt forward with a gasp, eyes wide, hands scrabbling for Maison. He weaves our fingers together, eyebrows pulled in. Hunter hits me again. It’s like electricity, like oxygen, like coming home. I sob with the relief of it.

Maison tenses. “Color?” he suddenly asks, his voice tight.

The flogger stops mid-air, Hunter waiting.

“Green, Mais.” I look at him, my mind clearing with every second that passes. And I remember the slashes on his back. The barely-healed scars. I never asked what specifically gave them, but it was no doubt something leather, something that was swung at him until he bled. “It’s good—it’s a good hurt, Mais. He’s not gonna—it’s good .”

Maison’s expression twists as he goes through the familiar struggle of understanding me. Then it hardens as he looks at Hunter. “Don’t you dare make him bleed.”

Even without looking, I can feel the shock from the other man. “ Never .”

Maison nods. Then nods again. “Okay.” He looks down at me. “How can I—let me help. Let me make you feel better. Please?”

“I bet he’d love to have your cock to suck on,” Hunter suggests.

I perk. “Can I? Please?

“Yeah?” Maison asks, his voice raspy for a new reason. His pupils are slowly dilating. “My cock will make you feel better, baby?”

I sigh a little blissfully. “Always does.”

He practically puffs up with pride, his hands already moving to his pants.

I feel Hunter shift behind me as Maison fishes his half-hard cock out, the shaft rapidly filling. He offers it to me, but I pause. Hesitate.

Hunter’s hand comes to rest on the back of my neck. “Go ahead. You can have it.”

It’s all I need before I’m sucking him down, greedy for the familiar taste and feel of him.

“I want you to fuck him tonight, Maison,” Hunter says matter-of-factly. “So I’d like for you to not come. Are you okay directing him so he doesn’t bring you off too early? He can warm you if you need him to instead. He’ll be happy for your cock in any way he can get it, won’t you, darling?”

I hum and nod, tongue lazily working along the underside of him. I don’t want to be naughty. I can go slow and easy if that’s what Hunter wants.

“I can do that—control it, I mean. I can do that.”

“Good,” Hunter says, and I swear, Maison shivers at the praise. “What’s your color, Maison?”

Maison doesn’t even hesitate. “Green.”

“If that changes, let me know. Nolan, watch your teeth. I’m starting again.”

I have just enough time to think, who does he think I am, a damn amateur ? Then the flogger comes down. Hard .

It’s different with Maison in my mouth. He’s more invested now that he’s participating. More vocal. His hands are in my hair, not hard, but not soft either, as he murmurs reassurances that light me up inside.

“That’s it, just like that, you know how to do that so well,” when I coax his cock to a full erection with my tongue.

“You like that, don’t you?” when one of Hunter’s hits has me moaning pathetically. “I’m so glad you’re getting this, baby.”

“Hey, shh. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” when I panic at the slip of his cock out of my mouth. “Just need a minute. Sucking my cock so well, baby. Can’t give you my cum yet. Your sir said so. Here, take my fingers. That’s it. So fucking good.”

It’s a lot. Overwhelming. Dizzying. It’s better than my wildest dreams. It’s perfect, even without being perfect at all. There’s so much pain, my head filling with white noise to cope with it. There’s so much pleasure from the praising words and the cock in my mouth and the feeling of my cock against the bed. It’s not long at all before I start to feel stretched out and raw on the inside, everything too much and not enough and—and—and—

“He needs you, Maison,” I hear Hunter say from far away. “I’m pushing him hard. Make him feel better.”

Maison’s hands are immediately on my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks. I have to blink hard a few times before I can see him the right way. His smile is warm and comforting. His smile is proud.

“Just a little more, baby,” he promises, his eyes going over my shoulder to lock onto Hunter. Hunter’s flogger is moving fast now, barely giving my skin time to settle before the next hit lands. “He says five more. That’s it. You can take it, can’t you? You’re so fucking good. That’s five. Yeah, shhh, you’re okay. Four, baby. Breathe for me. Just breathe. Three. Look at you—so fucking good. Two. So proud of you, baby. One more. That’s it. All done, baby. Go ahead. Yeah, cry. That’s okay. It’s okay, you can cry. I’m right here. Hey, come here. Did so fucking well for us, so fucking good, such a good boy.”

He pulls me into his lap, hushing me when I cry out from the feel of his jeans against my welted skin. He runs soothing hands up my back, kissing my face, smearing my tears, pressing his lips to my mouth to swallow my sobs and gasps.

“What’s wrong with him?” I hear him ask in a trembling voice. Even with my head feeling floaty, I’m able to understand the question isn’t for me to answer. “Is he okay?”

“Shh. He’s fine. It’s okay, Maison. This is good. He needed this. I expected this. He’s okay, I promise.” I feel Hunter behind me. Close. So, so close. His hands rest on my hips, thumbs stroking little circles just outside of where my skin is hot with pain. For a moment, I think Maison is kissing my shoulder. Then I realize Maison’s working his lips down my cheek, kissing my tears away. It’s Hunter’s mouth on my shoulder. “Give us your color, darling. Let me hear it.”

“G-green,” I say between shaking breaths. My mind is still fuzzy around the edges, my body weak. “Want. Need. Both. Cum?”

“We’ll give you our cum,” Maison murmurs, knowing me well enough to understand what I need. I can hear the relief in his voice. The subtle amusement, even, that cum is what I’m worried about as I sob in his arms after being flogged. “Right, Hunter?”

“Of course. Our good boy has earned it, hasn’t he? So brave. So strong. Took everything we gave him.”

“Yeah. He was fucking perfect. Weren’t you, baby?” Maison frames my face, gently guiding my head back until he’s looking into my teary eyes. His smile is warm. Loving. Relaxed. There isn’t an ounce of that anxiety that always lingered whenever it was him trying to dominate me.

“How should we fill him up?” Maison asks.

Hunter hums, as if he doesn’t have this all planned out already. I’d smile if I had the energy.

“Turn him around for me. I’ll have you open him up while I take that throat of his again.”

Maison manhandles me around on his lap. He chuckles when I start to flop forward, only staying up because of Hunter’s hands steadying me. Hunter looks over my shoulder, smirking at Maison. “There’s lube in the side table. You can enter him before I’m done, if he’s ready in time, but don’t fuck him yet. I want his mouth open when he begs us to let him come on your cock.”

I don’t know who moans louder—me or Maison.

Hunter’s grin is fucking wicked, though it softens just a touch when he looks back at me, one hand cupping my cheek, the other reaching for his cock that’s still heavy and hard. “Open up, darling.”

I obey without question, eager for his cock. I feel Maison moving behind me at the same time, the glide of a drawer opening, the click of a cap. He guides me forward until I’m braced on my hands, my ass hovering over his lap. He spreads my cheeks at the same time Hunter’s cock spreads my lips wide. I moan helplessly, eyes fluttering closed at the returned feeling of him heavy in my mouth. Then in my throat.

“Fuck, still so good, darling.” Hunter moves both hands to my hair, angling my head just right, pressing in further until I feel his balls against my chin, my airway blocked. I shudder. Yes, this, yes, please, this, this, this is everything. “Sir’s going to use your throat like a perfect little cocksleeve. Take it like a good boy and I’ll let you come on your boyfriend’s cock after.”

I whimper.

He pulls back, then snaps forward.

He was going easy earlier.

He’s not going easy now.

I have spit frothing from my lips and dribbling down my chin by the time Maison’s first finger breaches me. My face is soaked in fresh tears by the time the second is added. His third is just starting to press in around the edges when Hunter tests me for the first time, holding me with my nose pressed to his neatly trimmed pubic hair, his pupils blown as he stares down at me and gasps for the breath I’m not allowed to take. I don’t count in my head like I used to. I trust that he’s counting for me.

Just as I feel black creeping around my edges, he pulls back to let me gasp.

“Fuck. Your throat spasms so nice when I do that.” Hunter drags his soaked cock over my cheeks, across my lips, along my chin, making me messier under the guise of cleaning my spit and tears up. Then he’s fucking himself back into my throat, holding me there again. He groans, head tilting back. I try to watch him, try to enjoy the way he looks as he unravels, to study every detail, but then Maison is replacing his fingers with his cock and my eyes are rolling, my cock aching so painfully I can’t possibly ignore it. Everything aches, actually. My cock, my jaw, my neck, my arms, my ass. And my hole burns with the stretch of Maison’s cock, fluttering almost desperately as it tries to adjust. He’s not moving, not fucking me, just like Hunter told him to. It hurts more. Makes it impossible to get myself to stretch the way I need to.

The hurts are everywhere, little pinpoints of pain, thrumming with pleasure, my mind blissing out with every pulse.

“Fucking perfect. That mouth— fuck .” Hunter pulls halfway out, giving me a chance to suck in air through my nose. His cock sits heavy in the center of my tongue. I can feel it pulsing, begging for release. He confirms he’s close with, “Swallow every drop like a good boy, darling.”

I moan, desperate for a taste of him, desperate to be good . It tips him over the edge.

The first spurt is strong and hot, hitting the back of my throat. The next splatters across my whole tongue. The third is a drizzle. I suck and suck, moaning as Maison slowly starts rocking me back and forth on his cock. I suck until Hunter’s milked dry. Suck until he’s hissing through his teeth and pulling me off with a fist in my hair. Suck until I’m panting, tongue lolling out, feeling like a needy fucking mess.

“Sir,” I gasp the first chance my mind decides to form a coherent thought. Maison is moving me faster now, his hands on my hips almost bruising, using me like I’m nothing but his cocksleeve. Using me like he’s never dared to before. I fall forward, arms spreading out wherever they land, damp cheek pressed into the bedding, blissed out so hard my mind feels like it’s melting. I can hear myself, little, “ Oh. Uh. Nhg ,” sounds coming from me. I sound pathetic and needy. My cock twitches frantically, trying to get some sort of relief. Maison tugs my ass even higher in the air, taking away any chance of my cock brushing against the bedding.

“Don’t you dare come,” Hunter orders, his voice all soft and steady, his fingers still in my hair. “You earned my load by being a good little cocksucker for me. Now earn his by taking him without getting greedy.”

“Yes, sir,” I say. Or try to. It sounds a little hazy to my own ears, so I’m not sure it gets through. I decide not to worry about it. All of my focus should be on not coming. I really, really, really can’t come. I have to be good. I have to earn it.

Maison takes advantage of my new position, coming up on his knees to fuck into me harder. Each thrust makes my teeth clack, my cock drip. His pelvis against my abused ass is searing pain and mindless pleasure.

I shudder when he growls, “That’s it. Take my cock, baby. Good fucking boy.”

I whine when Hunter adds, “The best boy.”

I sob when their hands roam over me and Maison rasps, “You’re making us both so fucking proud.”

I’m pulled upright then, Maison’s arms wrapping around me tight, holding me to his chest. Hunter is right in front of us with narrowed eyes and slick lips parted for heavy breaths. I want him to kiss me. To kiss Maison. I want to kiss them at the same fucking time, all sloppy and too much teeth and needy moans. I can’t have any of that, Maison’s arms trapping me in place, my words not working, so I reach for Hunter instead, all clumsy and weak. He catches my hands, intertwining our fingers together until we’re palm to palm.

“So fucking proud,” Hunter agrees, moving our hands until he can pinch one of my nipples. I try to jerk away, my cock dangerously close to spilling despite my perfect self-control. Maison doesn’t allow it, his arms tightening enough to make me gasp for air.

Hunter grins, holding my hands like restraints now, not letting go. “Good, Maison. You keep him right there. Make him take whatever we want to give him.”

I sob again, head lolling to the side, eyes half-lidded as Hunter reaches for me again. It isn’t my nipple this time. It’s my cock. His hand is hot and firm, mine smaller and softer, as he slides my cock between our palms. I try to move us, but he keeps me still, one eyebrow lifting as if to dare me to try again. Then he looks over my shoulder, his intense gaze narrowing on Maison. He licks his lips, nostrils flaring as he breathes.

“Fill him up, Maison,” he orders, his eyes on my boyfriend despite his hand on me. “Be good for me. Fill him so he can come. He needs it. Look how desperate he is, the poor thing. He’s been so good, hasn’t he? Give it to him.”

Maison mutters, “ Fucking Christ ,” under his breath before lifting one of my legs just the way he knows I like. I cry out, shaking my head no, trying to get my mouth to form the word too, but he groans into my neck and starts spilling into me before I manage, his cock grinding hard against my prostate.

I sob hard enough for my whole body to quake with it. I’m gonna be bad. I’m gonna fuck up.

“Sir, sir, sir, sir—” I gasp in panic.

“Go ahead,” sir whispers, his hand finally tightening and moving, our locked fingers making mine mirror his. My cock seems to shudder beneath our touches. “Come for us, darling.”

There isn’t even a moment of hesitation. My cock is apparently already encoded to him, obeying without any need for my input.

“That’s it. Good boy.” He guides our hands, jerking me through a bone-deep, mind-numbing orgasm, his gaze drifting over my shoulder again as my eyes fall closed. “So fucking good for me.”