"Julian," I moan, frustration edging my voice.
Tristan's fingers tangle in my hair, turning my face toward him. "He wants to make you wait," he says, eyes dancing with something between amusement and desire.
Before I can respond, Julian's mouth returns—this time with renewed purpose. His tongue circles my clit once, twice, before sucking gently. The sensation is electric, sending shockwaves through my body. His hands grip my thighs, holding me open as he builds me back up with practiced precision.
Tristan returns his attention to my breasts, his tongue tracing patterns that mirror what Julian is doing below. The synchronicity of it—these two men working in tandem to overwhelm my senses—pushes me toward the edge again.
I'm floating, suspended in the space between almost and not-quite, when Julian draws back once more. This time, I actually sob in frustration, my body trembling with need.
"Please," I whisper.
Julian presses a kiss to my inner thigh, his stubble scratching deliciously against sensitive skin. "One more time," he promises, his voice rough with his own desire. "And then I'll let you come."
I nod desperately, beyond words now. Tristan's mouth finds mine again, swallowing my whimpers as Julian resumes his careful torture. This time, he slides a finger inside me while his tongue works my clit, the dual sensation pushing me higher and faster toward release.
My world narrows to points of contact—Julian's mouth between my thighs, Tristan's tongue against mine, his hand cupping my breast. I'm stretched thin between them, every nerve ending alight with sensation.
"Julian," I warn, the word breaking on a gasp. "I'm going to?—"
"Not yet," he murmurs against me, slowing his movements just enough to keep me teetering on the edge. "Not until I say."
The control in his voice, the command beneath the gentleness, sends a fresh wave of heat through me. I'm trembling now, caught in the sweet agony of almost-there. Tristan's hand slides down to replace his mouth on my breast, his eyes watching my face as Julian pushes me closer and closer to the brink.
"I think you need to be fucked," Julian says. His eyes hold mine, waiting for explicit permission despite the obvious answer written across my flushed skin. Between my legs, I'm aching and desperate for more than his mouth can give me.
"Yes," I breathe, then add, "Please." The word catches in my throat, coming out needier than I intended.
Julian smiles—that warm, genuine smile that first drew me to him—and moves up my body. His clothes brush against my naked skin as he positions himself between my thighs. I watch, mesmerized, as he unfastens his jeans and pushes them down just enough to free himself. The sight of his cock, hard and ready, sends a fresh pulse of desire through me.
He strokes himself once, twice, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he's pressing against me, the blunt head of his cock sliding through my wetness before finding my entrance. The initial stretch as he pushes inside makes me gasp. He pauses, giving me time to adjust, his hands cradling my face with impossible tenderness.
"Yes?" he murmurs.
I nod, wrapping my legs around his waist to draw him deeper. The sensation of fullness, of connection, makes me moan. Julian begins to move—slow, deliberate thrusts that hit the perfect spot inside me. My hands find his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.
From the corner of my eye, I catch movement. Tristan has shifted position, now standing beside the bed. His eyes are dark, intense, fixed on the point where Julian and I are joined. One hand works at his belt, unfastening it with practiced ease.Then his zipper. Then he's taking himself in hand, stroking in a rhythm that matches Julian's thrusts inside me.
The sight of him touching himself while watching us—his jaw tight, his breathing controlled—sends a rush of boldness through me. I reach out, my fingers brushing his wrist. "Come here," I whisper, tugging him toward me.
Tristan hesitates, just for a moment, before moving closer. He kneels on the bed beside my head, his hand still working his impressive length.
With Julian still moving inside me, creating waves of pleasure that wash through my body, I reach for Tristan's cock. My fingers wrap around him, feeling the velvety skin stretched over hardness.
"Open your mouth," Tristan says, his voice rough with restraint.
I obey, parting my lips as he guides himself toward me. The first taste of him—salt and skin—blooms on my tongue as I take him in. I've never done this in this position before, and it takes me a moment to find the right angle. Julian slows his thrusts, giving me time to adjust to the feeling.
I swirl my tongue around the head of Tristan's cock, exploring the ridge, the slit at the tip. His sharp hiss of pleasure encourages me. I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks to create suction. My hand works what won't fit in my mouth, twisting slightly on the upstroke the way Alex showed me.
"Fuck," Tristan groans, one hand bracing against the headboard while the other tangles in my hair. "Just like that."
Julian watches us, his rhythm inside me never faltering. The dual sensation—being filled from both ends, being the center of both men's attention—is overwhelming in the best possible way. I can't believe I'm doing this, can't believe how much I'm enjoying it. There's power in it, I realize—in being desired this intensely, in being trusted with their pleasure.
Tristan begins to move, shallow thrusts that test my limits without pushing too far. "You fucking love my cock in your mouth, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice low. His thumb traces my stretched lips, feeling himself through the thin skin. "Look at you, fucking us both so well."
Julian shifts angle, hitting a spot inside me that makes me clench down around him. I moan around Tristan's cock, the vibration making him curse under his breath.
"Keep sucking me tight," Tristan continues, his thumb brushing my cheek. "Just like that, baby."
