Troy sank down.
The sound that came out of him was long and open and his head dropped back and his hands gripped Dmitri's shoulders hard enough that I could see the whitening of his knuckles from across the room. Dmitri's jaw was tight. Both hands gripped Troy's hips through the lace, steadying and holding and letting him take the pace he needed.
“Blyat,” Dmitri breathed, barely audible. “You are?—”
“Don't,” Troy said, his voice fractured. “Don't talk. Just?—”
He rolled his hips forward and found the angle. He made a sound that stripped the rest of the sentence away entirely.
I crossed the kitchen.
I came to stand in front of them both, close enough that Troy could reach me without moving, and his hand found my cock before I'd fully stopped. He wrapped around me and stroked once with his fist in a grip that knew exactly what it was doing, then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the head.
The dual sensation of Troy's mouth on me and the visual of him seated fully on Dmitri below, the lace framing everything,the morning light brutal and honest across all three of us, was something I had absolutely no precedent for.
Troy took me deeper. His rhythm on Dmitri translated directly into the rhythm of his mouth on me, each roll of his hips drawing him forward and each lift pulling back, his whole body the connecting point between us. Dmitri watched from behind his shoulder with heavy eyes, his hands running up Troy's spine and back down to grip the lace at his hips.
“Look at him,” Dmitri said quietly, directed at me specifically. “He takes everything.”
Troy made a muffled sound of agreement around my cock.
I put my hand in his hair without directing, just there and feeling the movement of him, the rhythm he'd built, the extraordinary reality of having Troy between my fingers in both senses simultaneously.
Dmitri leaned forward and pressed his lips to the back of Troy's neck. His eyes found mine over Troy's shoulder and he held the eye contact with a frankness that had nothing complicated in it, just acknowledgment, just two men sharing something extraordinary.
His hips started to move, rising to meet each of Troy's descents and adding counterpoint to the rhythm, and Troy lurched forward slightly at the change, taking me another inch deeper with a choked sound that was unmistakably and completely genuine.
“Mine,” I said quietly, just the one word aimed down at the top of Troy's head.
Dmitri heard it. His expression shifted fractionally into understanding the weight of that word between stepfather and stepson, and he said nothing. He just moved his hips and kept his eyes on mine.
Troy pulled back just far enough to breathe.
“Both of you,” he said, his voice wrecked and certain. “Right now. Don't stop.”
Dmitri looked up at me over Troy's shoulder.
I understood him immediately, the same way I'd understood every wordless communication between us since this morning started, like a language that didn't require learning, just willingness.
Troy's head turned toward me. His eyes were glassed and dark and absolutely certain. “I want to feel both of you,” he said. “I want—I need?—”
“I know.” I pressed my lips to his temple. “I've got you.”
I reached for the lube from where it sat on the table's edge and slicked my fingers first, then myself, slow and thorough, watching Troy watch my hand with an expression that had no composure left in it whatsoever. Dmitri held him steady with his hands gripping his hips, the lace bunched and twisted from everything that had happened in the last hour, and Troy sat fully seated on Dmitri with the patience of someone running on the last reserves of self-control.
“Breathe,” Dmitri said quietly into his shoulder. “Just breathe.”
I moved behind them and ran one hand down the center of Troy's back. I felt the shiver that moved through his whole spine and pressed my lips between his shoulder blades once. Then I lined up alongside Dmitri.
The pressure alone made Troy make a sound that wasn't a word.
“Still okay?” I asked low.
“Don't you dare stop.” His hands found the table edge and gripped. “Don't you dare.”
I pressed forward.
The resistance was extraordinary and the heat of it was extraordinary and the way Troy's back curved and his headdropped and the long fractured sound that tore out of him as I pushed inside alongside Dmitri was the most honest thing I'd ever heard from any human being in my life. I felt Dmitri against me through the thin barrier of flesh between us, felt him pulse once, felt both of us buried inside Troy simultaneously and my vision went white at the edges.
