"Easier said than done when there's a baseball inside me."
Bane's mouth twitches. Atlas exhales something that might be a laugh against my neck.
The mattress dips.
Zero. He's crossed the room—cleaned himself up at some point, jeans buttoned but shirtless, and he climbs onto the bed behind Bane. Doesn't crowd. Just lies on his back, one arm folded behind his head, casual as anything. Like he's lying on a beach instead of three feet from his brother's knotted cock.
He looks at me over Bane's shoulder. Dark eyes. The post-orgasm haze making him look almost relaxed for once—almost human. His gaze drifts down my body. Takes in the picture—Atlas wrapped around me from behind, Bane holding my hand in front, the bite mark bleeding sluggishly on my neck, my face flushed and strained from the pressure.
"So." Zero's voice is lazy. Almost amused. "How's it feel? Being locked on my brother's knot with his teeth marks in your neck?"
The bluntness of it makes my face burn. After everything—after the pond and the confessions and the tenderness—Zero cuts through it like a blade. Strips it back to the raw, biological reality of what just happened.
An alpha's knot swelling inside me. An alpha's teeth breaking my skin. A bond locking into place like a collar I asked for.
I open my mouth to answer but the knot pulses—a throb that sends a ripple of pressure through my core—and I gasp instead. My hand squeezes Bane's.
"Answer me," Zero says. Still lazy. Still casual. But his eyes are sharp. Watching my face. Watching the way my body reacts to the pressure, the way my lips part, the way my hips cant forward instinctively to relieve the stretch. He's enjoying this—not cruelly, but with the frank, unapologetic appreciation of a man who finds his omega pinned on his brother's knot to be exactly as hot as he expected.
"It feels—" I swallow. My voice is wrecked. "Full. Really full. Like I can't—" Another pulse. My spine arches against Atlas's chest. "—can't think straight."
"Good." Zero's mouth curves. The closest thing to a genuine smile I've ever seen on him. "You're not supposed to think straight. You're supposed to lie there and take it and let us take care of you."
"Zero," Bane says. Warning.
"What? Look at him." Zero's eyes haven't left mine. "He's gorgeous like this. Fucked out. Knotted. Claimed. That's not an insult, Bane. That's a fact."
Bane's thumb strokes across my knuckles. His mouth finds my forehead. A kiss. "You don't have to entertain him."
"I know." My voice is small. But I look at Zero over Bane's shoulder and something passes between us—the promise from across the room made solid.
Your turn. Not now. Not tonight. But soon. And when it comes, it won't be gentle. It won't be Atlas's reverence or Bane's tenderness. It'll be Zero.
I shiver. Not from cold.
Atlas's mouth is still on my neck. Pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the edges of the bite mark. His hand on my stomach making slow circles—the Graves brothers' gesture, their mother's tenderness—and his cock still thick and full inside me, the knot pulsing with his heartbeat.
Minutes pass. Or maybe longer. Time goes strange when you're locked to someone—the minutes stretching, compressing, the world narrowing to the points of contact between bodies. Atlas's chest against my back. Bane's hand in mine. Zero lying behind Bane with his arm behind his head, watching me with that lazy, satisfied expression, occasionally saying something that makes my face heat and my cock twitch despite the overstimulation.
The knot begins to ease.
Slowly.
So slowly I don't notice at first—just a gradual lessening of the pressure, the stretch softening degree by degree. My body unclenching around it in increments. Atlas feels it too. His arm tightens around my waist.
"Almost," he murmurs against my neck. "Almost there. You did so well."
The knot shrinks. Eases. A slow, wet release that makes me gasp—the fullness draining away, Atlas's cock sliding free inch by inch until the last of him slips out and I'm empty and shivering and something in my chest cracks open at the loss.
Atlas pulls me closer. Wraps himself around me. His hand finds the bite mark and his fingers trace the edges—tender, awed, like he's touching something holy.
"I meant what I said." His mouth against my hair. Low enough that it's just for me but the room is quiet enough that everyone hears. "I'm not going anywhere. Not ever."
Bane shifts closer. His forehead against mine. His hand still holding mine, his thumb still moving in those slow circles.
"Neither am I." His voice rough. "You're stuck with me, Max. You've been stuck with me for longer than both of us knew."
I'm fading. The exhaustion pulling me under—the sex, the knotting, one bond completed, the emotional detonation of the pond still reverberating through every nerve. My eyes are closing on their own. Atlas's heartbeat against my back. Bane's breath against my face.
