He lifts the shirt over my head. The air hits the scar on my neck and I flinch but Lorenzo's hand is already there, warm against my shoulder, resting near the scar. Oliver's gaze flicks to it, something moving through his expression but he doesn't say a word. He reaches for my belt instead, stripping my pants down my legs while Lorenzo eases me onto the mattress between them.
Oliver curls into my left side, his head on my chest, his fingers already tracing idle patterns across my stomach. Lorenzo settles on my right, propped on one elbow, his palm resting flat over my chest where my heartbeat is still running too fast.
No one has seen my scar before tonight aside from a few Omegas at the center. I made sure that no one would see the pain I went through and the connections I lost to get to this point.
And yet, as exposed as I feel, the terror that usually comes with letting my guard slip is nowhere to be found. Strangely enough, I feel safe.
Oliver's fingers drift lower. His touch skims the crease of my hip, light enough to be accidental as my cock twitches against my thigh. He does it again, slower, his fingertips dragging along the sensitive skin where my hip meets my pelvis, and a breath punches out of me that makes Oliver's mouth curve against my chest.
"This okay?" he murmurs against my skin.
My hips lift into his hand before my brain forms an answer. Oliver takes it as the yes it is, his fingers wrapping around my cock with a loose grip that tightens when I groan. He beginsstroking me with a lazy rhythm that isn't trying to make me come. It's trying to pull me out of my head.
It works. The tension in my shoulders starts to dissolve, my spine softening into the mattress. Oliver mouths at my chest, his lips finding the spot over my heartbeat as my hand tangles into his hair.
Lorenzo shifts beside me, his hand leaving my chest as his voice drops against my ear. "Roll over, gorgeous."
My body responds before my brain catches up, turning onto my side, Oliver adjusting beside me so his face is inches from mine. Lorenzo's weight settles behind me, his knees pushing my thighs apart, and the click of a bottle cap makes my spine arch before he's even touched me.
"Kiss my Omega," Lorenzo says.
Oliver grins up at me, pulling my mouth down to his, his tongue sliding against mine while Lorenzo's slick finger presses against my entrance and pushes inside. My groan breaks against Oliver's lips and he swallows it, his hands cupping my face, keeping me in the kiss while Lorenzo works me open with the same precise, careful thoroughness he brings to everything.
One finger becomes two. Lorenzo curls them and finds the spot that makes my vision blur, my hips rocking back against his hand. Oliver is breathing my air, our mouths sharing the same space, his thumbs stroking along my cheekbones while my arms tremble on either side of his head.
"More," I manage against Oliver's mouth.
"Greedy," Oliver whispers back, grinning.
Lorenzo adds a third finger and I drop my forehead against Oliver's collarbone, panting, my cock trapped between my stomach and Oliver's body. Lorenzo's free hand runs up my spine, a firm stroke from the base to the nape of my neck, and every vertebra he touches loosens beneath his palm.
He withdraws his fingers, the blunt press of Lorenzo's cock replacing them, pushing in slow, giving me every inch one at a time. My back arches and a sound tears out of me that I can't control, raw and open and desperate in a way I haven't let myself be since the last time someone was inside me and that someone was—
Lorenzo's hand presses flat between my shoulder blades, keeping me grounded to the present. His hips flush against me, fully seated, and he stills. "Stay with me," he says.
"I'm here."
He starts to thrust in and out of me with long, deliberate strokes that drag against every nerve ending, his hand steady on my back. Oliver's fingers card through my hair, his mouth pressing soft kisses against my temple, my forehead, and the bridge of my nose. The two of them hold me between their bodies and take me apart so gently that the tears prick my eyes before I can stop them.
Lorenzo fucks me like he's trying to prove something without words. Every thrust pushes deeper and the sound I'm making against Oliver's throat has devolved into something beyond language. Oliver's scent fills my lungs on every inhale. Lorenzo's hips find an angle that makes my whole body clench and my orgasm builds low in my belly, gathering slowly, inevitable.
"Let go," Lorenzo says against my spine.
I come with my face buried in Oliver's neck, my body shuddering between them, Lorenzo following with a low groan and his hand tight on my hip. The warmth of him spilling inside me pulls a sound from my throat that I'll be embarrassed about tomorrow as Oliver presses his mouth to the top of my head and holds it there.
My shoulders sag as I melt against the Omega, Lorenzo pulling out carefully and disappearing for a moment before a warm cloth passes over my skin. Oliver hasn't moved, his arms lockedaround me, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear. When Lorenzo returns a second time, he slots himself against my back, his arm draping over both of us, his mouth resting against the curve of my shoulder.
It feels perfect here. It feels like something I could build a life inside.
Even if I know it can't be forever.
10
Wilson
Thursday morning smells like eggs and coffee and a faint trace of Oliver’s scent drifting from the bed where he’s still buried under three blankets, his bare foot hanging off the edge after I step out of the shower.
I find Lorenzo at the kitchen counter in slacks and no shirt, plating scrambled eggs. A mug of coffee appears in front of me before I’ve even settled onto the stool, steam curling up between us. My hair is still damp from the shower, my body carrying the pleasant ache of last night, a tenderness in my hips and lower back that makes every movement remind me of Lorenzo’s hands, his mouth against my spine, and Oliver’s fingers in my hair.
