I arch, desperate for more, and he gives it. His fingers work me open with a precision that makes my vision blur. I’m greedy, rocking against his hand, wanting to cum before we even start.
Wyatt moves down, kissing the inside of my thigh. He drags his tongue up my slit, lapping up the taste of me, and I moanloudly. He teases, circling my clit with his tongue, slipping a finger inside, then another, until I’m pulsing around him, my body begging for more.
“Wyatt,” I gasp. “Please. I need?—”
He grins up at me, face smeared with blue, and then he lines up and pushes inside, slow at first, letting me feel every inch.
Tears prick my eyes. Happy ones. It feelsso good.
Wyatt fucks me hard and steady, his hands gripping my hips as our paint-slicked bodies slide against each other with every thrust. The canvas underneath us is ruined already, with streaks of blue and green and pink fanning out from where our bodies meet.
Wyatt kisses me as he moves. His tongue tangles with mine. Every now and then his teeth catch my lower lip.
“I love you,” he says. Not a question. Not even a declaration. Just a fact, spoken into the air like it’s always been true.
I love him too. I really do.
“I—” I can’t return the sentiment because he thrusts even harder into me. I clutch at his shoulders and dig my nails in, and cum so hard I forget my own name.
Wyatt keeps going, rutting into me with a need I’ve never felt from him before. His knot swells, pressing at my entrance.
“Yes, yes,” I beg. “Do it.”
Wyatt pushes until his knot pops inside, locking us together.
I scream his name and he gently bites my shoulder. We ride it out, shaking, paint dripping from our bodies to the canvas below.
The door swings open, and Bastion steps in, frozen for a second by the sight. He’s breathless, hair wild from the wind, and the look on his face is pure want. “Didn’t think to invite me?”
Wyatt pulls back, still buried inside me, and grins. “You snooze, you lose.”
Bastion laughs and then crosses the room in three long strides. He doesn’t bother with pretense: he drops to his knees, right at my head, and palms his cock through his jeans.
I look up at him, hungry, as he unzips, frees himself, already hard and leaking.
“Open,” he says, and I do, greedy for the taste of him.
Bastion feeds his cock into my mouth. He’s thick and sweet, and I suck him deep, tongue swirling over the head. The paint on my face smears onto him, leaving a blue streak at the base. He groans, one hand in my hair, the other gripping my shoulder.
Wyatt thrusts into me in small motions, still knotted, each rock forcing Bastion deeper into my throat. I gag a little, but I love it—the fullness, the mess. The sense that I am utterly theirs.
Bastion bucks his hips. He fucks my mouth with slow, controlled motions. He tastes of sweat and salt and something bright, like honey and smoke. I swirl my tongue around the head and hollow my cheeks. Bastion’s breathing turns ragged.
“Fuck, Emery,” he says, voice shaking. “You’re incredible.”
Wyatt’s hands are on my waist, holding me steady as he moves. Every pulse of his knot inside me sends a shiver through my body.
Then, a sudden shift. With wordless consideration I am shifted. Bastion pops out of my mouth and Wyatt pulls me with him, changing our position so he is beneath me and I’m bent over him. My breasts brush his chest as Bastion settles behind me on his knees. Bastion’s huge warm hands grip my ass. His fingers are slick from my own juices as he slides them between my cheeks. He’s gentle and slow, rolling his thumb over my rim before pressing in a single finger. I tense at the unfamiliar stretch, but his other hand strokes my hair, grounding me.
“Relax,” Bastion whispers, and I do, sinking against Wyatt’s chest.
The first finger is new but not bad—just a strange pressure, insistent and needy. Bastion works it in and out, slow at first, letting me get used to it. My body adapts, melting into the sensation. I moan, and it’s a strange sound, a little surprised, a lot aroused. Wyatt grins.
“You’re so perfect like this,” Wyatt murmurs, voice low, and I feel his cock still buried inside my cunt, twitching at the thought of what’s about to happen.
Bastion adds a second finger. The stretch is sharper now, but I’m so wet, so open, it turns pain into pleasure. Wyatt’s hands trail up my sides, squeezing, encouraging me to take more.
Bastion scissors his fingers, stretching me. “You want this, angel?” Bastion’s voice is thick, almost reverent. “You want us both?”
