"More." The word comes out broken. Desperate. "I need—it's not—"
"Not enough." Atlas finishes for me. His finger is still inside me, and he curls it now, dragging against that spot, making my whole body jerk. "You came so hard you're shaking, and it's still not enough. Is it?"
I shake my head, beyond shame, beyond embarrassment. "No."
"That's the heat." His voice is low. Dark. Almost satisfied. "Your body knows what it needs now. And we're going to give it to you."
His finger crooks again, pressing hard, and I cry out as stars burst behind my eyes.
A second finger joins the first. Stretching me. Filling me. Atlas works them in and out while his other hand wraps around my cock again—still hard, already hard again, like the orgasm never happened.
A pathetic sob punches out of my chest.
"Look at him." Zero's voice is awed. Wrecked. "Fucking insatiable."
"First heat." Atlas's voice is rough. Hungry. "His body's been starving for this."
They work me relentlessly. Atlas's fingers deep inside me, stroking that spot over and over while his hand pumps my cock. Bane holding my wrists, breath hot against my ear. Zero gripping my thighs, keeping me spread and open, occasionally reaching down to tug at my nipples just to hear me whine.
I'm lost. Drowning. There's no more shame, no more hesitation—just need and heat and the desperate, animal drive to be touched, filled, claimed.
"Please," I'm babbling now, the words spilling out without thought. "Please, I need—I need all of you—I need you to fuck me—please, please, I'll be good, I'll be so good, just please—"
"Not tonight." Atlas's voice cuts through my begging. Firm. Final. His fingers curl inside me, hitting that spot again, and I cry out. "This is what you're getting. Take it."
A third finger pushes inside. I keen, hole clenching greedily around the intrusion, wanting more, always more.
"Close." It's not a question. Atlas can feel it—feel me tightening around him, feel my whole body tensing toward release. "Come."
His fingers curl. His hand twists.
I shatter.
This orgasm is even more intense than the last. My whole body seizes, back arching so hard I nearly lift off the bed, cock erupting in thick, hot spurts while my hole clenches rhythmically around Atlas's fingers. I'm screaming, sobbing, completely lost to the sensation, and through it all they hold me—hands and bodies keeping me pinned, keeping me together while I fall apart.
When it finally fades, I'm boneless.
Wrung out.
Barely conscious.
But the heat... the heat is quieter now. Still there—it will be there for days, I know—but the desperate edge is gone. The screaming need has softened to something almost manageable.
Atlas withdraws his fingers carefully. I whimper at the loss.
He leans up, crawls over top of me and presses a kiss to my forehead. Brief. Almost proprietary. "Good."
Bane releases my wrists. They stay limply on the bed.
Zero lets go of my thighs. Sits back. His expression is... complicated. Hunger and guilt and something that almost looks like tenderness, all tangled together.
"Max." Atlas's voice is gentle. "How do you feel?"
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.
"I don't—" My voice is wrecked. Barely a whisper. "I don't know."
"The heat?"
