"Yeah, she is." Whiskey's hand tightens in my hair, drawing my attention back to him. "That bother you?"
It should. Having an omega—ourscent match—watch me submit to Whiskey's demands should be mortifying. Instead, it's turning me on even more.
I really have lost my fucking mind.
"No," I mutter.
"Good." He shifts forward slightly, the head of his cock brushing against my lips. "Because I want her to see this. Want her to see how good you can be when you don't try to take charge. Or overthink."
I open my mouth to argue—I don't overthink, I think the appropriate amount—but he takes advantage of my parted lips to push inside. The weight of him on my tongue cuts off any protest I might have made.
"Shit," he grunts as a groan as I take him deeper. "Your mouth..."
I would roll my eyes at his eloquence if I wasn't suddenly consumed by the task at hand. Namely breathing as his cock stretches my jaw open. He thrusts forward, sheathing his cock in my face hard enough to make me choke.
"That's it," he encourages, both hands in my hair now, not pushing but not letting me pull back either as my fingers dig into his muscled, thick thighs. "Knew you'd be good at this."
I curl my lip and growl at him, but the vibration in my throat just makes him rut harder into my mouth. My cheeks hollow as I suck as hard as I can to punish him for that, but all it does is make him moan.
Asshole.
"Fucking—shit, Plague." His thighs tremble under my hands where I'm bracing myself. "Where the fuck did you learn to?—"
I bite down a little at the edge of his knot, just enough to scare him, since I can't exactly tell him off for implying I've done this before.
"Watch it," he growls, yanking me against him, burying my nose in the thatch of brown curls at the base of his cock. He comes dangerously close to knotting my mouth.
"No fighting," Ivy warns us from the bed.
Shit. Almost forgot the whole point of this is showing her we can control ourselves. My nails bite into Whiskey's thighs, earning a wince, but it's better than what I really want to do—bite down harder on his cock.
"Hey, Ivy," Whiskey says suddenly, voice strained but somehow still managing that casual tone. "You can…fuck… you can touch him if you want. Show you it's safe."
I freeze, Whiskey's cock still heavy in my mouth. The suggestion hangs in the air, and I can't see Ivy from this angle, can't gauge her reaction.
"Don't worry," Whiskey continues, his hand stroking through my hair almost absently. "I'll put him in his place if he tries anything."
The casual confidence in his assumption that he could control me if needed makes me growl again, but when he grins down at me, my spent cock reacts.
"Are you sure?" Ivy's voice is uncertain, but husky with want.
"Ask him," Whiskey says, tugging gently on my hair until I pull off his cock with an obscene wet sound.
I turn to look at her, knowing I must be a sight. Hair disheveled, lips swollen and shiny with spit and pre-come, face flushed. She's sitting at the edge of her nest on the bed, close enough to touch if she wanted, those brilliant aquamarine eyes dark with curiosity.
"It's fine," I manage, voice rougher than I'd like. "If you want to."
She hesitates another moment before coming over to us, approaching the loveseat with cautious steps. Her scent washes over me, so much stronger now, making my head spin despite the fact I just came. She's so close I can feel the heat radiating from her skin as she reaches toward me.
"Good boy," she purrs.
Oh, fuck,that almost unglues me.
Her fingers ghost over my cock and I buck instinctively into her hands with a panting growl.
"Stay still," Whiskey commands, and for once I don't argue. Maybe because my brain is still scrambled from having his cock down my throat, or maybe because the combination of his authoritative tone and Ivy's touch has short-circuited whatever part of me usually maintains control.
I shift awkwardly in the cramped space, the cheap upholstery rough against my bare ass as I recline against the loveseat. My turtleneck is still on, twisted and damp with sweat, but removing it would mean exposing more than I'm ready for. The scar over my heart throbs with phantom pain at the thought.
