“Yes,” I gasp.
Bastion removes his fingers and lines up his cock with my ass. Wyatt holds me steady as Bastion pushes. I expect pain, but it’s just pressure—heavy, relentless, and then a breach, a fullness that makes my breath catch. Bastion’s cock slides in slow, inch by inch. I feel every vein. Every throb. Wyatt is still inside me, filling my cunt, and now Bastion fills my ass, and I’m stretched to the edge of breaking.
It’s overwhelming. I whimper, twisting between them, but they hold me steady, shushing me with kisses and shudders of praise. Bastion thrusts shallowly until he’s buried to the hilt.
“Fuck,” Bastion hisses. I feel his knot swelling, pressing against my rim. Not quite yet forcing its way in but threatening. Wyatt’s hands splay across my hips, holding me open for Bastion. I am nothing but sensation, raw and gasping, every nerve ending lit up.
Wyatt starts to move, slow at first to keep me from splitting. The rhythm is careful, then synchronized—Wyatt pushes in as Bastion pulls out, and vice versa, their cocks stroking me from both sides at once. It’s a circuit of pleasure, a feedback loop that amplifies everything. I can’t think, can’t breathe—only burn.
Bastion’s knot starts to balloon, the size and pressure making my eyes roll back. I think I might shatter but instead I cum hard, the orgasm ripped out of me by the fullness and friction. Mywhole body clenches down and I scream, every muscle spasming while they hold me together.
Bastion groans, the sound punched from his lungs, and then he pushes in one more time, knot popping inside my ass with an obscene, sudden stretch. I choke on the intensity, but it’s good,so good, I never want it to end. I’m knotted in both holes, filled by both alphas, and it’s the most complete I’ve ever felt.
Oh, god.
The knots pulse in time with my heartbeat. I am locked in place, the two of them fused with me, and I can’t stop shaking as I cum again.
Wyatt isn’t far behind. He ruts into me, desperate, and I feel the second wave hit—my body spasms, clenching around his knot, and he lets out a cry, low and feral, as he cums deep inside me.
“Fuck, Emery,” Bastion groans and then follows us over the edge. His hot seed fills me from behind as he grunts loudly.
The three of us collapse onto the ruined canvas, tangled in paint and sweat and each other. Wyatt and Bastion are still knotted inside me and they hold me close.
We lie there and catch our breath. The world spins in shades of blue and green until their knots deflate.
Bastion is the first to speak. “If you hang this in the gallery, they’ll probably shut it down.”
I laugh, exhausted. “Maybe I will. Give them something to talk about.”
Wyatt kisses the back of my neck. “They’ll never forget you, Grey. Not ever.”
I close my eyes, content, and let the world fade.
This is what it’s supposed to feel like,I think as I drift.This is home.
CHAPTER 27
Emery
It takesa long time for their knots to go down. I’m not a scientist but I’m pretty sure Bastion’s is an evolutionary off-ramp designed to trap unwary omegas for at least one REM cycle. Not that I mind. Once the aftershocks roll out and I’m no longer jelly between two slices of pack, I let myself drift in and out, my body boneless and aglow. Each time I shift, a sweet ache blooms where Bastion’s teeth marked my shoulder and where Wyatt's fingers dug into my hips. Their breathing surrounds me—Bastion's deep and rhythmic, Wyatt’s with that little catch at the end of each exhale. Around us, the canvas bears witness: handprints in blue and red, the torn edge of a sheet twisted into a rope, and a pillow leaking feathers that catch in my hair when I turn my head.
For a little while, it’s perfect.
I don’t want to get up, but my bladder has other ideas. I worm my way out from between Bastion and Wyatt, careful not to wake either of them. Bastion’s mouth is open and he’s drooling on his own bicep. Wyatt’s face is mashed against the pillow with blue streaks of paint haloing his eyes like avant-garde eye shadow.
The floor is slick, but I make it to the bathroom and back without incident. I’m struck by a different sensation as I return. Fullness, but not the physical kind. I’m brimming, a hot-air balloon threatening to take off through the skylight. The loneliness is gone. I have a pack, even if it’s the world’s weirdest one.
I crawl back into the nest. Bastion stirs. “Morning, angel.”
Wyatt wakes up last. He blinks himself into consciousness and then, with the confusion of the truly sleep-drunk, looks at his own hand like it’s a foreign object. “What time is it?”
“Don’t care,” says Bastion.
Wyatt’s hand drifts lazily down my arm. “You paint last night?”
I glance at the canvas, a delirious smear of color and maybe some evidence of three people rutting for hours. “Sort of.Wemade something.”
Wyatt looks at me and a smile that blooms on his face. “Yeah. We did.”
