Piece Us Together (Monstrous Survivors #3)

15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Hunter

The first thing to register when I wake up is that it’s cold. The second is that the sun hasn’t risen yet. The third is that I’m not in my own bed.

I’m also not alone.

Last night comes back to me in flashes.

Maison’s grumpy defensiveness about his damn winter hat. Us falling into a routine so easily. The faraway look Maison got when I mentioned cuffs, and how adorably happy Nolan had been to be sent over by me to make him feel better after. Maison admitting to watching my videos and blushing furiously when I asked follow-up questions. His nervous request to help me.

The way Nolan drifted so beautifully for me as I wrapped him in my rope. The way Maison had sucked in his breath when I pressed up behind him, hand on his hip, directing him to explore the ropes. Nolan shivering with every lingering touch, his poor cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs. The way Maison had seemed to just melt against me like that’s what he was made for, his breathing going shaky, his ass pressing back into my erection. The way he’d grabbed my hands when I tried leaving, a wordless plea for me to keep controlling him.

The way Nolan had turned in shock and delight when I asked Maison his color and he saw my hands about to pull his boyfriend’s underwear down for him. Maison giving me permission to touch him more. How fucking soaked Maison’s cock was with precum, to the point where I almost wondered if he’d come already.

Him answering my question meant for Nolan, responding to the pet name darling . The way he’d looked at me when he realized I’d stepped away from him, halting his thrusts, his tiny, vulnerable “where’d you go?” followed by his grumble that he didn’t need my help. How he started to tremble after I called him sweetheart , making desperate little sounds whenever I whispered praise to him, the single tear that fell down his cheek as he came beneath my hands.

The way he’d let me guide him onto the bed so he could give his spent cock to Nolan to suck on. The eye contact he allowed me to make as I pushed into Nolan using his cum as my lube and the tight heat of Nolan around me as Nolan sobbed with need. Maison praising him for being good for us like we’re a team. The way they’d looked together, all happy and fucked-out, Maison loose and sated without all that weight he seems to carry around on his shoulders.

Maison watching breathlessly as I approached my orgasm, Nolan shaking in desperation between us as I let myself unravel before ordering him to join me over the edge. The happy whines he made when I praised him, a boneless trust given to me as he let himself completely float away. The way he blinked up at me as he came back to himself, giving me shy smiles and soft sighs, his hands sometimes gripping the fabric of my clothes for a moment like he was afraid I was going to disappear until I hushed him and murmured that “ I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere .” Maison’s eyes on me the whole time, not feeling any need to step in, trusting me with the man he loves. Nolan’s soft, happy little “ thank you, sir” when the aftercare was finished.

Maison saying my name in that voice I’d never heard him use before, the nervous hope in his eyes when I looked at him, his soft request of “ sleep with us?” that made me fucking ache. The weight of his gaze on me as I stripped down to be comfortable. The shock in his expression with heat running just beneath the surface. His weak “you’re not my dom” that I’m not sure he even wants to believe anymore. Nolan’s sleepy sigh because we were talking and he really just wanted to go to bed. The way Maison obeyed my order to get some rest instead of lying there overthinking everything.

And now, apparently, the way Nolan has curled into the side of my body, and Maison has curled around him. I can feel the warmth of Nolan’s breath on my bare chest. I can feel the weight of Maison’s hand on my hip, calluses against my bare skin, his fingertips warm through the thin cotton of my briefs.

I can see them just enough in the dim light of dawn to make out their faces. Well, only the top half of Nolan’s face, his chin tilted too far toward my chest to see the rest. There are messy strands of hair falling over his forehead. I get the urge to brush them back and kiss the skin there.

I can see all of Maison’s face, his head propped up on a pillow. I’ve never seen him look so relaxed, not even when orgasming or the floaty way he got after our first time together. There are no worry lines or furrowed brows or heaviness in his eyes. His lips are pulled down like they can sense the weight that’s always pressing onto his shoulders.

They are so fucking beautiful it hurts. Not in the abstract way it’s been hurting from the start either, but a deep sort of hurt, one that settles into my bones and squeezes my heart. I know why. It’s because I’m starting to actually know them now, beneath the surface of kink and sex. It isn’t just their bodies that are beautiful anymore, it’s them , all the little pieces of them.

It’s the way Nolan melts beneath my touch and bounces around the kitchen when making breakfast and calls me sir with just the slightest touch of attitude when I tease him. It’s Maison wearing a hat and blushing whenever I say something particularly filthy and the relief in his eyes when I take control for him.

It’s far too early and far too cold for me to consider what any of that means. I need to pee and try to coax my shitty heater to do its job and drink at least two cups of coffee. Then I can have life-changing revelations.

I slip out of the bed as carefully and quietly as I can, trying not to notice how I immediately miss the warmth of them against me. Nolan adjusts a little before sighing in his sleep and settling.

I give myself a few extra seconds to just watch them. I have an awful feeling the two of them don’t get enough sleep. Particularly Maison, who always looks a breath away from just giving in, giving up, collapsing into a heap of exhaustion as the world crushes him from above. If they were mine—really mine, not just on loan once a week—the first rule I would make would be better sleep hygiene.

The second would be that I get to kiss them anytime I want.

I scrub a hand over my face before grabbing my phone from the nightstand and slipping out of the room. I’m not surprised that I don’t have any missed texts or calls. I’m also not surprised that I had three students think they could slip their papers into my classroom drop box after the midnight deadline without the portal sending me emails letting me know they were past due. I’m surprised by the severe weather alert though, and when I glance out the window after using the bathroom, I groan. It dumped on us last night and it doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon.

I usually love a good snowy morning, especially on days like today when I have nowhere to be. There’s something soft and gauzy about them. Something that makes me want to try to start a fire—though there’s only ever about a twenty-five percent chance I’ll actually succeed—and curl up with a blanket and a book or a documentary. Today is different though. I can already tell the roads will be a nightmare. Not to mention the fact that Maison’s car is buried. How will he react to the notion that he’s temporarily stuck? Do I have it in me to argue with him if he tries to leave despite how stupid and dangerous it’d be? Is it even my right to argue about that?

My mind wanders as I quietly get the coffee pot started. I’m anxious to see how Maison will react to me in the light of day, snow aside. Will he pretend nothing was different last night? Will he be angry I touched him and push me away? Will he try to run, snow be damned?

I should stop this thing I’m doing with them. If I had any hope of protecting my heart, it’s quickly fading. The two of them are so different, yet they each feel so fucking vital . They fill in these cracks I hadn’t realized I had. Sure, I knew I needed a sub, preferably a partner instead of just someone to play with, but Nolan is another level. He’s the kind of submissive that makes the dominant in me feel like he’s breathing for the first time. The way he looks at me, the way his eyes flash, the way his shoulders relax, the way he arches and pants and moans and fucking smiles. The calm that radiates off him whenever he’s on his knees. The tilt of his body toward me like he’s constantly seeking out my reassurance, my touch, my praise. The soft flush in his cheeks when we tell him how good his food is, the careful excitement when he slips in little facts about his love of snow and holidays. The way he confidently teases Maison, the way he bosses him around, the way he can get him to shut up with a single look.

And Maison—he’s something I never saw coming. Not in a million fucking years. He’s a walking contradiction. He’s dominant, but not. Submissive, but not. He’s strong and vulnerable, closed off and trusting. He’s terrified and brave. He’s all hard lines and cold looks and forced smiles. He’s all gasped breaths and flushed cheeks and whimpers. He’s a set of dog tags he keeps hidden and shirts he refuses to remove. He’s a man who fiercely protects, who would do anything for those he loves, who willingly hands over his boyfriend to me. He’s all secrets and truths, hating me, trusting me, looking at me like I disgust him, looking at me like I could save him. He terrifies me in ways I never knew I could be afraid. He makes me unsteady. Unsure. Unconfident. And yet, in the moments when he trusts me, when he leans into my touch, when he quiets under my control, he makes me feel invincible.

I’m falling for each of them. Or maybe falling for the combination of them. Or maybe just falling, hopelessly, for all of it, all of us, all of what we could be.

That wouldn’t be a problem if I thought they could be feeling the same, but I’m not an idiot. I’m their service dom, just like Wells warned me I would be. And why would I be anything more? We never talk about things other than what they want me for—sex and dominance. Anything else that slips in through the cracks is accidental.

Still…I’m falling for them. Maybe they could feel the same, after a while. Maybe they could grow to want something more.

Or maybe I’m a hopeless idiot destined for heartbreak.

I hate when Wells is right.

“Morning.” I nearly drop the empty coffee mug in my hands as I whip around to face the deep voice that greeted me. My heart pounds in my chest, threatening to lurch right out of my throat. Unfortunately, the problem only gets worse when I register the sight before me. Maison . He’s all sleep-rumpled and blurry-eyed, his hair an adorable mess.

Fucking beautiful.

And not mine.

“Good morning.” I gesture weakly to the coffee maker. “Coffee is almost ready.”

“Thank fuck.” He rubs a hand over his hair, then his face. He looks a little more awake after that. Awake enough to remember to check his surroundings, something I’ve noticed he always does in each new room. His eyes land on the window. I brace myself for anger or annoyance. Instead, his lips curl into a soft smile. “Ah, hell. Nolan is going to want to play in that.”

I can’t help but smile then too. “Probably.”

“Explains why it’s freezing in here.”

“That, and my furnace is awful. I can try to crank it higher to see if it’ll make a difference. I have a working fireplace too, but I’m kind of awful at using it. I have a lot of blankets though. I sort of went through a knitting phase a few years ago.”

Maison interrupts my nervous rambling with a cocked brow and a teasing, “Knitting phase?”

“It was dark times. Don’t judge.”

His amused smirk falters. “How dark? Are you okay?”

Something warm bubbles in my stomach. I ignore it. “I was just joking. Or, well, kind of joking. I was struggling, which is why I took knitting up as a sort of coping mechanism. It helped to have something to do. I had finished my doctorate and applied to a ton of universities, so I was stuck just…waiting. At the same time, I’d just broken things off with my submissive.”

“Why’d you break things off?”

“We wanted different things.”

I can see it—the question of what did you want? I can see him shove it down, his expression carefully turning blank, his eyes flicking away to stare at the window. I try not to feel crushed by it. He was curious, at least. Sure, he shut that curiosity down, but it was there for a second—that’s something, right?

God, I’m pathetic.

“Do you have plans today?” he asks.

“Just trying to stay warm. Maybe get some papers graded.”

He looks at me again. His expression is guarded. Controlled. “Probably not safe to drive on the roads…”

“No, probably not.” I eye him, wondering what he wants from me. Does he want to be stuck here, or does he want reassurance he can escape? “But I’m sure the plows will be out soon enough, if the two of you had plans.”

“No plans.” He peeks at me through his lashes, his voice soft, wavering. “We should probably stay. You know, to be safe.”

“Right. To be safe.”

“Just for a few hours. Maybe the afternoon. Not another night or anything.”

I let myself do something I try not to do with him. I let myself look at him like a dominant. I let myself analyze, assess, decide. Then I say, “I think it’d be nice if the two of you stayed another night. I know I’d like it, at least. Even if it was just some platonic time together.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his tilting voice giving away just how happy he is to be given the offer even if his expression has gone blank.

“Definitely.”

He rubs at his stubbled jaw before slowly nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I mean, I have to ask Nol, but I’m sure he’ll want to. He likes being here.”

“I like him being here.” I turn my back, wanting to make him feel more comfortable before I add, “I like you being here, too.”

There’s a heavy silence as I start pouring the finished coffee into two mugs. I let us sit in it, not feeling a need to push the topic if he doesn’t want to participate in it, but not feeling the need to hurry us to something else either.

He swallows hard when I hand him his mug, his eyes not lifting to meet mine. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You drink it black, right?”

“Uh, yeah. I do.” He thumbs the rim of his mug, his eyebrows pulling together. “You notice a lot.”

“I do.”

He lifts his chin, eyes finding mine. I can’t place the emotions in them. There are so many of them. Too many. “You notice a lot about me, don’t you?”

I settle back against the counter, cradling my own coffee against my stomach. It’s very early in the morning for this conversation, and I don’t know if he trusts me nearly enough to hear me out, but if this is my only shot, I have to take it. “Yes, Maison. I do. But you’re also very much a mystery. Possibly the hardest person I’ve ever tried to read.”

“What have you noticed?” he asks, ignoring the last part of my statement.

“Well, you don’t trust easily, but something has shifted with us and you’ve started trusting me.” I wince, suddenly unsure if that was the right thing to say. “Cautiously, of course. I’m by no means under the impression that you fully trust me yet. I’m not sure you ever will. But I’ve started building it, I think.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, there’s the fact that you’ve stopped giving me the warning glares that always reminded me exactly how comfortable you looked with that gun when we first met. You’ve also stopped questioning my decisions or looking nervous during scenes.” I tilt my head, eyeing him as I decide what he can handle hearing today. I wouldn’t mind planting a bit of a seed for what I’ve been hoping for, but too big a seed is going to send this skittish man running for the hills. “Last night, you let me touch you.”

His cheeks flush as he quickly drops his gaze to his mug. I’m kind of glad he looks away. It’s nearly impossible not to grin at his blush, and I don’t think he’d like that. “That wasn’t—it was just a little touching.”

“If I had touched you like that the first night we all spent together, you would have decked me.”

Maison chuckles, his shoulders relaxing a little at the humor. “True.”

“I noticed you liked it,” I find the confidence to say. “Me touching you last night.”

His blush from before deepens in color, growing until it disappears beneath his t-shirt. He clears his throat, shifting his weight around, then clears his throat again. “It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t much, even. But not… bad .”

I study him for a moment, taking advantage of the rare closeness. He and Nolan are unfairly beautiful, a little ball of sunshine and his storm cloud. I wish I knew what stole the sunshine from Maison. I’d love for them both to be bright. To be happy. If I figure out the problem, would Maison let me fix it? Could I be lucky enough to be the man that helps both of them?

“Have you thought more about my offer?”

“The—the one about all three of us being together?”

“Yes.”

He shrugs. “I think what we’re doing now is good.” He hesitates, his eyes darting up to me. “It’s—it is good, right?”

“It’s great, Maison. Absolutely.”

“And if it’s all I can ever give?”

My heart hurts for him. Because it’s not all he wants, I can see that clear as day, but it’s all he’s going to let himself have. I don’t know why. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand it. I certainly don’t know how to fix it.

But I’ll figure out a way to accept it. I have to.

“If that’s all you can ever give, it’ll be enough.”

His chin wobbles, his eyes falling to the side. I can practically see the wheels in his head turning. I let them spin, wondering if he’s about to admit to wanting more. Wondering what I could say to get him to give in to his want without scaring him away. Wondering if we would need to wake Nolan for any further conversation about it.

I brace myself when his eyes return to mine.

“Any chance you can cook?”

I blink at him, my own wheels trying to catch up. “Uh—well, I can hold my own with the basics.”

“Good, because I’m so bad at cooking that I can literally burn water, but I’ve always wanted to make Nolan breakfast in bed.” He blushes again, but this one is a soft blush, something he doesn’t duck his head to hide. It’s the blush of someone stupidly in love, but happy about it. It looks good on him. “Think we could figure out pancakes? They’re his favorite.”

Something warm unfurls in my chest. He may not have admitted what I was hoping he would, but this is something , at least. It’s another sign of trust, isn’t it? Another step in the right direction?

Even if it’s not, it’s more time spent with him. With both of them today. Considering the whole falling in love with them thing, I’ll take any time I can get.

“Yeah.” I grin. “I bet we can figure those out.”