“I promise you this,” he whispered against Heathcliff’s skin. “Nothing you do to us will ever diminish who you are in our hearts.”
Heathcliff’s body stiffened. His lips fell away from mine to kiss Morrie. Then they were both kissing me and I was kissing them and all I wanted was to fill my lungs up with their breath.
Morrie tugged my lip with his tongue, and I buried my face in Heathcliff’s hair, and his wildness drew us deeper under his spell. He fisted my shirt in a huge hand, and Morrie’s in the other, and yanked us to him so hard he drove the breath from my lungs.
With a growl, Heathcliff swept his arm across the desk. Papers, books, pens, and all the accouterments of our shop scattered across the floor. Morrie’s long fingers dug into my thighs as he nudged me forward so the fronts of my thighs rubbed against the wood.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Heathcliff’s chest heaved, as though he’d emerged from the gloomiest depths of the ocean and desperately needed air. “I want to see.” He gnashed his teeth. “I want to see the two of you with your paper hearts. I want to see you without me.”
I didn’t understand, but Morrie did. His fingers danced along my spine. “What do you say, gorgeous? Shall we show him that his black soul cannot break us, that there’s room enough for two cocks in that beautiful heart of yours?”
Morrie’s hand closed around my neck, bending me over until I lay across the desk. “I saw my love lean over my sad bed,” he murmured, quoting a Swinburne poem he knew I loved. He curled his fingers into my hair. “Pale as the duskiest lily’s leaf or head…”
His free hand slid beneath my sweater, drawing it up, exposing my flesh with quiet reverence. I lay my cheek against the smooth wood, wet and aching between my legs for both of them to spill their pain into me. From this angle, light from the street outside filtered through the window and cast Heathcliff in silhouette at the end of the desk. He stood straight, alert, the wolf anticipating the call of the full moon – his shoulders tense, his body wracked with need.
Morrie recited the poem with his dusky voice as he slid my clothes over the tips of my fingers, down my thighs, chasing the ghost of their touch with his own, drawing a long sigh from deep inside me. Heathcliff sucked in a shuddering breath. His eyes burned deeper than Morrie’s touch.
“Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,” Morrie continued. “Too wan for blushing and too warm for white…” His fingers stopped their liquid dance. He seemed to reach a decision, for he turned to Heathcliff and drew him in for a kiss that could have toppled mountains, it was that full of dark hunger. In that kiss, they said all they needed to say to each other, all the things they should have said since the falls but couldn’t because they were both stubborn bastards and I loved them, Ilovedthem, and I loved them together. I loved us together.
“Please,” I whispered. The ache inside me had become a beast, snarling and gnashing for the fire that sustained her.
Heathcliff broke the kiss to move around the front of the table as Morrie kneaded my bare ass with one hand while the other slid from my neck to dance along my spine. Heathcliff bent low to kiss me again, this time with a gentle reverence I never knew possible.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for never giving up on me, for not leaving me in the abyss alone.”
Heathcliff deepened the kiss, using his lips and tongue to tell me just how afraid he was of losing me, or of being lost to me. I raised my hand to spread my fingers over his chest. Inside that beast of a man lived a paper heart, torn at the edges but still beating for me, forus.
Behind me, Morrie teased my entrance with his tongue, stoking the ache inside me with a firefly touch I tried to chase with my hips. He circled a finger around my clit, and his tongue dipped inside me until I squirmed and begged with thrusting hips for more.
CLANK.Morrie’s belt buckle hit the floor. The sound was a bell tolling the crumbling of the walls we’d built to protect ourselves, and the beginning of something more. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until Morrie’s warm cock slid inside me. Heathcliff caught my sigh on his tongue, and he swallowed it down like it fed his soul.
Morrie cupped my shoulder, holding me down with a firm grip as he drew slowly out of me before luxuriously sliding back in. “This feels amazing,” he drawled with that insouciant sneer of his, and I knew the pair of them were having an intense conversation across the table with their eyes – a conversation they’d needed to have for three long years.
Heathcliff’s fingers knitted in mine, his eyes devouring me as I curved my neck back and opened my lips. He kissed my forehead and stood. His trousers hit the floor, and a moment later, I tasted his cock on my tongue.
Above me, I heard the smack of their lips, the wetness of their tongues as they kissed, as they shared me the way they’d always wanted to, sharing a piece of themselves with each other.
It was the most exquisite sound in the world, because I knew in the moment of losing control, when my orgasm washed over me and my paper heart burned up in the fire of their love, that Heathcliff could never again believe himself to be made of coal and indifference. We were him, and he was us.
* * *
“That was quite spectacular.” Morrie kissed my cheek as he swiped his shirt from the floor. “I mean, obviously I was brilliant as usual, but you two were adequate. Have you been practicing?”
“Don’t talk about it,” Heathcliff growled as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. “I don’t need a performance review.”
Morrie slapped his back. “Why not? 5-stars for you, Grenadier Grumblebum. I’d shag you again—”
“I’d giveanythingfor you to stop talking now.” Heathcliff went to his desk drawer to fish out his whisky.
“Anything, you say?” Morrie’s devilish grin was back. “How about I get Socrates in here to show you his latest tweet?”
“You didn’t.” Heathcliff groaned. “Tell me you didn’t show the old man how to use social media.”
“Blame Mina.” Morrie slid his phone from his pocket. “Apparently,someoneclaimed he doesn’t approve of slander, so he’s currently using it to mock other philosophers with terrible jokes. For a doddery grandfather who can’t keep his dick in his sheet, he’s actually rather clever. Look at this one: How many surrealists does it take to change a lightbulb? Answer: Baboon.”
“He only found out what a lightbulb was yesterday! You had a hand in this, and if he turns this store into some kind of hipster influencer hangout, you’ll pay, Moriarty. You’ll pay.”
I yawned and tapped my phone. It read out the time – 1:03AM. It was late and we had a busy day tomorrow, but I knew even though my body still buzzed from the incredible sex, I wouldn’t be able to sleep unless we’d started our work. “Will you both shut up and listen to me? What I was coming home to tell you is that there’s been a fourth victim. It’s Fiona, Jo’s girlfriend. Jo’s completely gutted. She wants us to investigate.”
