Piece Us Together (Monstrous Survivors #3)

Epilogue

Nolan

“Nol, we’ve got something to show you.” It’s out of nowhere, Maison’s voice low and serious. I turn to look at him, careful not to get tangled in the blanket we’re sharing. There’s a secret in Maison’s smile. “Something to give you, actually.”

“I thought we were doing presents in the morning?” I ask, looking from him to Hunter.

“It’s not a Christmas present, darling.” Hunter looks almost giddy, which is slightly concerning. He’s not really the type to get giddy. Pleased, yes. Happy, often. Turned on, all the damn time . But giddy? “Strip down for us and take your cushion into the guest room. Kneel at the foot of the bed, like you used to.”

I hesitate for just a moment but shake it off quickly. It’s silly. More because I’m surprised than anything else. Mostly I’m confused why I’d be going to the guest room when we don’t really play in there anymore. Or, better yet, why I can’t get my present while dressed. Is it a dirty present?

It’s not my place to question Hunter, though. Which is fucking lovely. That’s probably why I can feel myself smiling like an idiot the whole time I strip out of my clothes, fold them, and place them on the coffee table. My smile only grows when I feel both sets of eyes on me as I walk away.

I am so getting fucked tonight. I have no idea what the thing they got me is, but I know that much at least. My men are hungry and I’m fucking here for it.

Of course, Hunter is a sadist and Maison is pure mischief, especially when Hunter encourages it, so they make me wait. They make me wait a long time, until my initial anticipation has settled into something softer. I sink into that softness, in that safe space of submission, and wait as long as they want me to.

I notice sir first. A distant part of my mind pings at that - me thinking of him as sir instead of Hunter. It’s the first time, I think. The first time he really took that role inside my mind in such a concrete way. I can’t cling to the thought though. Not when sir is running his long fingers through my hair and murmuring, “Such a good boy, waiting for us.”

I feel someone - Maison, Maison, that must be Maison - kissing along my shoulder and up the side of my neck.

I sigh. They both laugh, soft and warm. Sir rubs the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip. I open for him, suckling when he presses it to my thumb.

“Come back, darling. We’re not ready for that quite yet.”

I whine, sucking the digit harder like maybe I can entice him. I think we were supposed to be doing something else. I was waiting for something. I don’t really care much about whatever that was. I just really, really want their cocks.

Maison chuckles behind me. It’s all vibrate-y against my back. I shiver.

Then sir is the meanest. He takes his thumb away and grabs a fistful of hair and tugs past the point of a nice pain and into something too much. My eyes water as I jerk back, sinking into Maison’s hold. I rub at my head with a pout. “Ow…”

“You with us, darling?” sir asks.

Not sir.

Hunter.

The meanest.

“I was floating…” I grumble.

“I’m aware. I don’t want you floating for your present. You can float after, okay?”

I nod. Mostly because I don’t get to make the rules anyway. Partly because I really want to see my present. It better be worth it, though, or they’re going to have to try to fuck the pout of me.

“Maison?” Hunter prompts. He’s running his fingers through my hair again, soothing the sting of my scalp.

Maison shifts behind me before curling his arm around my waist to present me with a black box. It’s about double the size of his hand, no more than a few inches tall, with a shiny red ribbon tied perfectly around it. It feels - it feels important . There’s something really important about this box. Almost too important. It hurts a little to breathe.

I take it. My hands are shaking.

What could even be in this? Not a cookbook - that’d not only be ridiculous after this much anticipation but it’d also be heavier. It’s way too big to be a house key or something like that, though I would not argue against moving in here. Too big for a ring from Maison too, which I also wouldn’t argue against, though I don’t know how Hunter would factor into that.

“Baby?” Maison asks, hooking his chin over my shoulder. “You gonna open it?”

“Yeah. Yes.” I clear my throat. My hands are still shaking. I gently tug at the ribbon, unraveling the bow in the center and letting the silky strands fall away. How funny would it be if this is a fucking sex toy, right? Maybe a long-term cock cage?

God, I’ve probably made this so much bigger in my head. Why am I such a freak? There is no indication that it’s important. Especially not scarily important. It’s probably a fucking sex toy.

I lift the lid, ready to get the whole thing over with and- and- it's a collar .

It's not traditional, not thick leather or heavy metal, but it's unmistakable.

It's a sturdy chain that spirals toward an o-ring in the center, a bit of metal connecting the ring to the chain in what could easily be seen as a bondage-style knot. It's gold.

I can't touch it, just clinging to the box until my knuckles turn white.

The first words that come to mind aren't even about myself. “Maison's packet said no collars…”

“It was mostly not wanting the leather that they're usually made of,” he explains without hesitation. “I'm okay with this. More than okay. I want you to be collared. This is different, baby. It's us. It's Hunter. He wants to collar you real bad, Nol. Let him.”

My eyes are burning. A tear falls when I tilt my chin up to look at Hunter. “Sir?”

He lowers himself into a crouch, slowly so he can maintain eye contact. When we're at the same level he takes my chin in his fingers and says, “I want to own you, Nolan. Will you let me?”

I only manage a shaky, “Please,” before my throat closes up with the urge to sob. It's enough though.

He lifts it from the box for me, Maison taking the container from my hands right after. A hand on my back directs me forward until my shoulders are curled and my head bowed. Hunter slips the chain beneath my chin and brings the two ends around to the back of my neck. Maison takes one end from him. They work together, clasping it in place.

It's the silliest thing, but I don't think of my time in captivity or how happy I am in the moment or the love I have for these two men.

I think of the shopping trip with Ace when we all first moved into the Big House. He had asked me, “Does this feel like you?” and I had wanted it to. I had wanted it to so badly. But it hadn't.

Nothing had felt like me in my entire life. I was a jock playing a role, then a slave with no safety or freedom, then a boyfriend battling shame about kink, then a boyfriend falling in love with a third man and really fucking hoping my boyfriend was falling for him too.

But now…

This feels like me.

It feels like I've found the one last piece needed to fit me back into this world. It's even gold.

“Come on, darling,” Hunter murmurs, helping me to my feet on wobbly legs. Maison stays pressed up against my back to steady me. “We started in this room, so it felt right to do this here. But you two belong upstairs in my bed.”

“You're going to fuck me, right?”

He and Maison both laugh. Surprisingly, it's Maison that answers. “Oh, baby, we're going to fuck you so damn hard.”

“So damn hard.” Hunter hooks a finger in the o-ring of my collar and tugs just enough to have me stumbling forward a step with a gasp. His grin is wicked. “For the rest of your life.”