Piece Us Together (Monstrous Survivors #3)

16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Nolan

I’m pretty much having the best day ever—at least top three—and I don’t even have to feel guilty about it because Maison is all soft laughter and easy touches, and Hunter is all sparkling eyes and looks of wonder, and they’re touching, they’re so close, we’re all so close, and it feels right . Overwhelmingly so.

Their hands are both in my hair as another movie comes to an end, anchoring me, caring for me. The credits roll. Hunter doesn’t get up right away, having learned his lesson about end-credit scenes in Marvel movies by now. If I was a brat, I’d call him a good boy. I play it safe and just think it instead. It’s still pretty satisfying.

“Do you need anything, Nol?” Maison asks the moment the credits are finished, falling into what now feels like a routine of post-movie care. His hand travels from my hair to the side of my neck. His thumb starts working the muscle there. He’s paranoid I’m going to get sore, even though I’m pillowed on both sides by them.

I lean into his touch, not needing it, but finding it nice all the same. Especially when Hunter’s thumb joins in, trailing down to rub the other side. I can feel their fingers overlapping against the back of my neck, something that shouldn’t make me feel as warm inside as it does.

It’s like I’m surrounded completely by them. I could float away on the feeling if I didn’t have their hands keeping me grounded.

Someone chuckles—Hunter, my brain supplies as it comes back online. He cards his fingers through my hair before tightening his grip to tug my head back enough for me to see them peering down at me. “You were asked something, darling. You getting sleepy on us or what?”

I don’t know how to explain the feeling I was just basking in. It wasn’t arousal, but not entirely apart from arousal either. It was almost like subspace, but softer. Just a slight fog. It does, in fact, make me feel sleepy. “I could use a nap,” I say honestly.

Hunter smiles. “A nap it is. Can’t have our boy too tired to enjoy the rest of the day, right Maison?”

I shift my gaze to Maison just in time for him to look from Hunter to me. He’s smiling. “No, we can’t have that. Let’s get you to bed, Nol.”

“Then Thor?” I ask, suddenly realizing that my proposed nap might ruin my chances of getting back in this very position. It doesn’t help that Maison is already up and stretching, and Hunter is grabbing my hands and helping me stand.

“Or another movie or something, if you’re not into these ones,” Maison says with a look on his face that’s surprisingly nervous. Strangely enough, I don’t think it has anything to do with whether Hunter likes the movies or not, but I can’t figure out what else it could be.

Hunter grins at him. It makes Maison fidget.

Ah. Right. That.

See, I’m pretty sure my boyfriend has a die-hard crush on the man that’s been dominating me. I’m fucking here for it. At the very least, I am finding it insanely adorable. I’m also a pretty big fan of the potential it provides for our future.

“I’m enjoying them a lot, actually.” Hunter steps closer to us. Maison steps back, nearly stumbling. Hunter’s smile falters before it’s firmly back in place. “I’ll have to feed you something, too, I suppose.”

That has my attention. “Can I make dinner, sir? Please?”

“You never have to beg to cook for me, darling. I’m not sure what’s here, though. I could walk to the little store down the street while the two of you rest.”

“You’re not going out in this weather.” Maison crosses his arms over his chest. His face is doing that expression he only gets when he’s had enough of the operatives’ bullshit or he’s talking about something really serious. It’s the face he wears when he’s being the boss of things. “We’ll figure something out here.”

Hunter stares at him. I hold my breath, waiting to see if Hunter will accept what’s very close to an order. He’s not Maison’s dom, but he’s still a dom. It’s the first time the two of them have ever really come head-to-head in regards to authority. Usually, Maison is more than happy to shed his control when he walks in here, even if that doesn’t include submitting. I’ve noticed that about him lately. He’s lighter here, not so burdened by the weight of the world.

“Alright,” Hunter says after another moment, his voice careful. He doesn’t sound cautious because he’s afraid or intimidated by Maison, but more like he’s trying to control himself. He’s compromising—and I don’t think the compromise has anything to do with actual grocery shopping.

It’s like my very own reality show.

Maison looks surprised, but it’s only a flash in his eyes before he shoves it down. He manages to keep looking at Hunter for another breath before he drops his chin and subtly shifts his feet like he’s uncomfortable where he is. “You could nap too,” he tells the floor.

“I might lie down on the couch. Though, I have some papers to grade. I may be responsible and do that first.”

“With us,” Maison adds, lifting his chin just enough to meet Hunter’s eyes. “You could nap with us.”

The words feel like a physical zing through my body. It’s a clear step across the boundary line. A boundary line that Maison painted himself.

It was one thing, Hunter joining us in bed last night after the scene. We were all wrung out. All buzzed on endorphins and at least me—possibly Maison—floating in subspace.

This is something else entirely. This is an offer of more.

I exhale hard, like the reality of it has knocked the wind out of me.

Hunter is standing perfectly still. Eerily so. His voice shakes in a way I wasn’t aware his voice could shake when he asks, “With you?”

Maison looks anywhere that isn’t at me or Hunter. His cheeks are a little pink. “Bed is big enough, don’t you think?”

“Yes.” Hunter glances at me, checking in almost. He looks just as surprised and just as hopeful as I feel. Then he turns his gaze back to Maison. “I would like that very much.”

Maison looks at me, one eyebrow raised. “Nol? Is a nap together okay?”

I grin. I can’t fucking help it. “Yeah. Together is perfect.”

We’re clumsy when we enter the room, as if the three of us haven’t navigated the small space before. I’m passed from Maison’s hands to Hunter’s, a soft, “He can’t stand sleeping in clothes,” as explanation. Hunter nods, his steady hands working my borrowed sweatshirt over my head, then the sweats down my legs. I’m not wearing underwear. Hunter’s eyes go heavy-lidded. Then I’m passed back to Maison. Maison chuckles, taking in my half-hard cock and bare ass.

“I didn’t see the point,” I grumble.

“I’m not wearing any either,” he says with a shrug. “Guess I can’t judge.”

My eyes find the bulge in the front of his sweatpants. I’m pretty sure Hunter’s eyes are focused on the same thing. I think I hear him mutter, “ Christ ,” under his breath before he’s taking me back from Maison and nudging me toward the bed. I settle in the center, figuring that’s the logical place for me to be.

Hunter pulls the blankets over me, leaving both sides of the bed empty, then drapes one of his knitted blankets over the whole bed as well.

“Do you have a preferred side?” he asks, fiddling with the blanket instead of looking at Maison.

“Usually the right. If that’s alright?”

Hunter shoots him the quickest smile before starting to climb in beside me. “I’m happy wherever.”

Maison climbs in too.

The blankets rustle, the mattress rolling a little beneath the shifting of the three of us. I’m lying on my back, suddenly unsure who I should face. Is it more romantic to face Maison? But then Hunter has my bare ass. Should I give Maison my bare ass instead?

Which one makes me a better boyfriend? Which one hides the fact that I want them both so badly I can barely breathe—and not just for sex anymore?

This was much easier last night, sex-drunk and half-asleep.

They don’t make me choose, moving my body for me. My face is pressed to Maison’s chest, nothing against my back.

There’s the slightest hesitation, a whispered, “Come here,” from Maison, then Hunter is turning into me, pressing in close, my ass settling in the curve of his crotch, his lips gliding along the curve of my shoulder.

I can’t help but remember that the first real turn in Maison and my relationship was the night I showed up drunk to his room and ordered him to get some sleep, me by his side. It was awkward that night too as we orbited around each other, trying to find our places, trying to figure out how close was too close. We had laughed that night, the tension easing with it. Then we’d turned into each other and found sleep.

It was nights by the fire and chasing rest in his bed that brought us closer, brought us together.

Now Maison smells like woodsmoke, his arm looped over my waist, his hand brushing Hunter’s hip, and I can’t help but wonder if we’re about to do it all over again.

***

I’m pulled from sleep slowly, with soft touches and whispered words that my brain can’t quite catch. Someone is kissing my neck. Slick fingers are pressing into my hole. I drift, caught somewhere in the in-between, riding on a haze of warmth and calm and subtle pleasure. As a cock nudges against my hole, I remember where I am, who I’m with. We’re in bed together. Napping.

Well, not napping anymore.

“He’s waking up,” someone murmurs.

“About time,” the other says with a chuckle.

My chin is taken between fingers and lifted. Lips press to mine. I moan, arching my back, accepting as a cock slides gently into my hole. A tongue slips into my mouth, fingers find my nipple, a knee bumps into mine, an ankle is looped over my calf. A hand is in my hair. A hand is on my hip. An arm is wrapped over me, reaching behind me, past me. Teeth scrape along my shoulder. The cock bottoms out. Someone sighs.

“ Fuck .”

“Takes it so well, doesn’t he?”

“So fucking well. Do you want him? Feel him, Maison.”

“I—yeah. Yeah, give me—”

A cock is pulled out of me, my leg grabbed and lifted and turned, another cock sliding in.

“He’s so fucking warm.”

“I think I might have him warm us during the next movie. Would you like that?”

“Fuck. Yeah—I. Yeah. I would. Just not kneeling?”

“No kneeling.” Hands on my hip. The cock slowly pumping in and out. Mouths on either side of my neck. “We’ll lay him out between us on the couch. Fill up both holes, maybe.”

A moan. “He’d love that. He’s—he’s so fucking needy .”

“Isn’t he? It’s beautiful.”

“Here. Take him again.”

A shift. A cock slides out. Another slides in. A nip of teeth at the juncture of my neck and shoulder. Fingertips digging into my thigh. Knuckles brushing along my cock.

I blink open my eyes, slow, hazy, everything warm and muted, stubble against my temple, the thick scent of Maison’s sleep-warm skin and fading woodsy deodorant in my nose. I pull my head back, lean it against Hunter’s shoulder, turn my face into his throat, and breathe in the spicy scent of his body wash and shaving cream.

“Look who’s finally awake,” Maison rumbles, his lips pulling into a mischievous grin. “How you feeling, baby?”

I moan. I still don’t know whose cock is inside of me. I don’t even care.

Hunter chuckles. “I’ll take that to mean he’s feeling good.”

“Use your words for us. Tell your sir how much you love his cock.”

Hunter’s chuckle cuts off into a filthy moan, his cock moving faster, his grip tighter on my hip. “Yeah, darling. Tell sir how much you love his cock.”

“Love it. Fuck, Mais, sir, love—love it!”

“What about your boyfriend’s, hm?” He pulls out, tilts my hips, then Maison is pushing into me. “How’s his cock, darling?”

I shudder. “Good. Good. So good. Love it. Love both. Love both of—” you. Love both of you.

Falling so fucking hard in love with both of you.

I press my lips together to keep the confession in, eyes squeezing shut, a sob rising in my throat.

“Oh, darling. It’s that good, hm?”

“Maybe one day we’ll take you at the same time,” Maison murmurs.

The sob falls from my lips then, my whole body starting to tremble.

“Oh, he likes that.” Hunter chuckles. Fingers press against my stretched rim, drawing out a moan, my legs twitching. Maison moans too. It takes a moment to realize why. Hunter is touching his cock where it meets my skin. “Think you could take us, darling?”

I shudder.

“I bet he could, if we practiced,” Maison says, his voice a soft tremble of want and need. “Take him back?”

A cock pulls out. Another pushes in.

“Give him a finger, Maison.”

I shudder. “Oh, God .”

“Color?”

“Green. I’m—oh, oh— I’m green, sir, so green. Maison, sir, green.”

A finger moves around my rim, stroking, stroking, stroking, then nudging, slipping inside, just an inch, but oh, oh, oh— I’m sobbing into a chest. Maison’s chest. His dog tags have worked their way out of his shirt. I’m clutching them tight in my fist. His finger is pressing in further, filling me, stretching me, the pad pressing impossibly hard into my prostate with the weight of Hunter’s cock behind it.

“Oh, god, oh, fuck, oh, god…”

I shudder. Gasp.

I feel Hunter shudder behind me. Gasp against my neck. “ Fuck , Maison.”

“That feel good?” Maison rasps, and I look up, but his eyes aren’t on me, they’re over my shoulder, on Hunter, eyes heavy-lidded, his lips slightly parted and slick as he watches my sir.

“Yeah. Fuck, that’s— yeah . Keep doing that, Maison. Christ .”

Maison’s lips quirk into a mischievous grin. “You gonna fill him up?”

“You keep doing that and I fucking will.”

“What?” I whine, trying to move, trying to see. Two hands tighten on me, holding me still—one is Hunter’s, one is Maison’s. “What’s he doing?”

“You mind your own, darling. Just keep taking sir’s cock like a good boy.”

My eyes flutter closed. Someone is touching my cock. The skin is soft. That means it’s Hunter.

There’s liquid heat in my stomach. In my balls. In my mind .

“Sir.” Maison’s lips are on my nipple. His teeth. His tongue. “Oh—Mais, Mais, Mais, sir—”

“Not yet. Don’t you dare come until we’ve both filled you up,” sir growls.

I sob. Shake. Try to get him to stop touching my cock. Try to get him to touch it more.

“I can’t—I can’t—”

“But you can,” Maison promises. “You’re so fucking good for us, baby. You’ve done it before. Just a little longer. I know you can hold it for us.”

“Our good boy,” Hunter murmurs. “You’ll wait, won’t you, Nolan?”

I nod. Nod hard. Nod fast.

Our good boy.

I’m shaking and gasping and everything is too hot and too much and I want them, I’m getting them, I think I’m in love with them, and Hunter is growling, “Fuck, Maison,” and Maison is chuckling and whispering, “Yeah? There?” and then teeth are clamped on my shoulder, hard enough to make me jerk and shout, and Maison is pressing his mouth over mine to silence me, and hot cum is filling my hole.

Our good boy.

A cock is sliding out as another nudges in, the two battling against the rim for a second, just enough to stretch me wider than they’ve ever done before, wider than with the added finger, and I’m choking, shaking, jerking, and they’re holding me tight, so tight, I’m pressed between them, can feel both heartbeats, can feel both of their breaths on my skin, can feel hands, so many hands, and lips, tongues, teeth—

Our good boy.

Our good boy.

Our good boy.

Soft pleas falling from my lips, a tight hand around the base of my cock to stave off my orgasm, Maison grunting as he gets closer to his edge, Hunter’s lips on my neck, lips on the shell of my ear, whispering, “You take our cocks so well, darling.”

Two sharp thrusts, then Maison holding steady. Two bruising grips on my hips, as another hot load is pumped inside of me.

“Please? Please now? Can I please, sir?”

“Not quite yet.” Sir pulls me off of Maison’s cock, rolling me onto my back. My legs are immediately pushed back to my chest, Hunter’s hands falling away just a second before Maison’s hands take their place, holding me there.

There’s a little pressure at my hole before a heavy plug slides into place, keeping their cum safely inside me. I whimper, then moan when my eyes fall to the picture between my legs—Hunter bent over, his tongue lapping up the cum that slipped out. Cum that could be his, or Maison’s, or a mix of both. Then he drags that tongue over my balls and up the length of my cock. I try to buck my hips, but Maison’s grip only tightens.

“Come whenever you want now, darling,” Hunter says, his breath ghosting over my cock damp with his spit. “You’ve earned it.”

Hunter takes my cock in his mouth before I can respond, letting it slowly glide over his hot tongue. I shiver, not sure what I like more, the feeling or the sight.

“Sir,” I murmur, wanting to reach for him, wanting to—wanting—just wanting so many—wanting—so much wanting—both of them—I want both of them so much—I want—I want so many things—I want—want—want—

“Shh, baby.” Maison brushes my hair off my forehead, dragging his lips across the exposed skin. “I know. I want too. Just—shh. Breathe. Let him make you feel good.”

I blink, my thoughts too hazy to understand what the fuck he’s talking about. How did he know…?

Then I don’t care because Hunter’s thumb is pushing against the base of my plug and his tongue is pressed right beneath the head of my cock and my orgasm is slamming into me and a flurry of emotions is surrounding me and I’m filling his mouth and desperately clawing at Maison’s arm and my mouth is open before Maison is filling it with his tongue.

I float, everything warm and good, the spicy rich scent of the two of them mixing with the salt of our sweat and cum.

I’m slipping under as Maison’s words return to me. I want too.

I’d been speaking out loud. What had he heard? What had Hunter heard? What did he mean, he wants too? Wants what too?

“Shh,” Hunter hushes as they maneuver me around. I’m tucked against his chest this time, Maison at my back. “You can sleep a little longer, darling. We just couldn’t help ourselves, could we, Maison?”

“How could we, perfect guy like this?” A kiss is pressed to the back of my neck. What do you want, Maison? What did you mean? “Go back to sleep, baby. Then Iron Man and dinner.”

I want to argue. I have so many questions, so much hope, so much fear, but I’m dead-exhausted and they’re both so damn warm and safe and it’s impossible to fight the sleep.