Whiskey doesn't give me time to overthink it. He's already moving, positioning himself in front of the loveseat, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he leans over me. "This okay?" he asks, and there's a genuine question beneath the cocky bravado.
I manage a stiff nod, my hands coming up to grip his thick, muscled thighs for balance. My damn hands are quaking from Ivy's hands delicately exploring my cock, not squeezing enoughto give me any sense of relief, the tips of her fingers tickling my swollen shaft.
"Good," he rumbles, shifting forward until his cock hovers just in front of my face. "Because I've been thinking about this forwaytoo fucking long."
I don’t have time to even process that admission before he's lowering himself, feeding his cock back into my mouth with a groan that makes my dick twitch again. The angle is different like this, deeper, more intense. I have less control, can't pull back as easily, and that should make me want this to stop.
It doesn't.
"Fuck, that's it," Whiskey breathes, his hands bracing against the back of the loveseat to support himself as he starts to move. Slow at first, testing, making sure I can handle it. "Look at you. So fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth."
I want to glare at him for the unnecessary remarks, but then I feel Ivy's hand wrapping around my cock and every thought scatters like leaves in a hurricane. A choked snarl tears out of my throat.
"He likes that," Whiskey tells Ivy with a low chuckle like I’m his pet. "Look. Already getting hard again."
That earns him another growl and a tightening of my teeth around his shaft. His cock is so fucking huge, I can barely bite down. But when her hand tightens around my cock and starts stroking with a rhythm that matches Whiskey's thrusts, my throat relaxes to allow him deeper and my eyes roll back into my head with a moan. My hips buck up into her grip involuntarily, seeking more friction.
Ivy's grip tightens, her strokes becoming firmer, more confident as she learns what I like. Her other hand comes up to cup my balls, rolling them gently, and I nearly choke on Whiskey's cock.
I hate how much I'm enjoying this.
No. That's a lie.
I hate that they cantellI'm enjoying this.
"Fuck, you should see yourself," Whiskey groans above me, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "All flushed and desperate. Never thought I'd see the day Plague lost his precious control."
I want to bite him for that comment, but Ivy chooses that moment to twist her wrist on an upstroke, and all I can do is moan around his cock. The sound vibrates through him, making his hips stutter.
"That's it," he encourages, one hand leaving the back of the loveseat to stroke through my hair. The gesture is surprisingly tender, at odds with the way he's fucking my face. "Take it so well. Such a good boy for us."
Us.
The word sends an unexpected jolt through me. Not just him and me anymore, but all three of us. This bizarre triangle we've found ourselves in.
Ivy hums, her thumb circling the head of my cock, making me snarl and buck and see stars again. Stars that have nothing to do with the alpha's cock ramming into my mouth. "Heisbeautiful," she murmurs, as if admitting something, and the genuine appreciation in her voice sends heat flooding through me.
Whiskey smirks. "Yeah, kinda is, isn't he?"
Why the fuck am I reacting to this praise? That’s new. But I don’t have time to think about it before Whiskey shoves his cock harder into my throat, his pace increasing, what little control he has starting to slip. I can tell by the way his thick thighs tremble in my grip, the increasingly erratic rhythm of his thrusts. He's close.
"Plague," he warns, his voice strained. "I'm gonna?—"
He doesn't finish the sentence. His hips stutter, pressing deep as he comes with a roar that probably alerts the entire floor to what we're doing. I swallow reflexively, the salty taste flooding my mouth as he pulses against my tongue.
"Fuck. Sorry," he mutters, panting as I suck him dry so I don't fucking choke, although he doesn't sound particularly apologetic. And his cock is still stuffed in my mouth. "Got ahead of myself there."
But I don't have the mental bandwidth to be annoyed with him for coming before he could give me adequate warning. Not with what Ivy's doing to my cock, her hand speeding up, grip tightening every time her palm glides down over my swelling knot. The snarl that tears out of me is muffled by Whiskey's cock as I spill over Ivy's hand.
"Beautiful," she says again, working me through it with gentle strokes until I'm oversensitive and writhing.
I collapse back against the armrest, chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. Every muscle in my body feels like jelly. I can't remember the last time I came twice in such quick succession.
Actually, I'm not sure I ever have.
"Well," Whiskey breathes. "Thatwas fucking incredible."
I should have a cutting response ready. Some remark that puts him back in his place and reestablishes the boundaries between us.
