Nobody moved for three full seconds.
Troy was shaking with his hands white-knuckled on the table, his forearms pressed flat, his chest heaving, and the lace trembling with the effort of holding himself open for both of us.
“Fuck,” he breathed. Then again, lower. “Fuck.”
“Tell me,” I said.
“Full.” The word came out barely there. “So full. Don't stop. Please don't stop.”
Dmitri moved first with a small roll of his hips that drew a gasp from Troy and a groan from me simultaneously. Then I moved, pulling fractionally back and pressing forward, and the three of us found it together in stuttering increments, a rhythm that built from nothing into something unstoppable.
Troy stopped trying to form words entirely.
The sounds he made were continuous and formless and loud, pitched higher every time both of us hit deep together, his whole body caught between the two of us with nowhere to go except further. My hands gripped the lace at his hips. Dmitri's hands braced against the table on either side of Troy's knees. The slap of skin and the obscene wet sounds of three bodies this tangled filled every corner of my kitchen and I couldn't have cared less.
“Look at you,” I said against the back of his neck. “Taking both of us. Fuck, Troy.”
“Yes—don't stop, don't stop?—”
Dmitri's rhythm stuttered. “Blyat—I am?—”
“Me too,” I said. The heat at the base of my spine had reached the point of no return with the tightening in my thighs and the full-body clench of something massive bearing down. “Troy?—”
“Together,” Troy managed. “All of us—please—together?—”
We came within seconds of each other.
Dmitri first, buried deep, the groan that came out of him scraping the floor of his chest with his hands slamming flat to the table. Then me, hard on his heels, driving in as far as I could go while Troy clenched around both of us and the sensation folded my spine and stripped every coherent thought I had left entirely clean.
Troy didn't come yet, still shaking between us and still full of both of us, making sounds that were desperate and continuous.
I pulled out carefully. Dmitri followed. And Troy made a broken sound of loss that was immediately replaced by something else when I took his hand and pulled him around to face us.
Dmitri and I dropped to our knees simultaneously.
Troy looked down at us both with wrecked eyes and an expression I'd only ever seen fragments of before, never the whole thing and never like this with every wall down and every careful distance collapsed.
Dmitri took the base of him. I took the head. Together, with our lips and tongues working from different angles with no coordination required, just want and just the accumulated weight of the last hour pointed directly at taking Troy apart completely.
Troy's hand went into my hair. His other fist closed in Dmitri's. His breathing went ragged immediately with his thighs beginning to shake within thirty seconds and the lace trembling against the outsides of our faces.
I felt him crest and felt the pulse of it against my tongue, and I pulled back just enough, and Dmitri did the same, andTroy came apart above us in long hot stripes across both our faces. The sound that tore out of him was loud enough to reach the street. His hips rolled forward through every wave with his hands tightening and his whole body shaking with the force of it.
Dmitri turned to me and pressed his lips to my jaw, licking what had landed there, and I did the same to him, slow and deliberate, both of us cleaning the other while Troy watched from above with blown dark eyes and the expression of someone completely undone.
“Da,” Dmitri said softly. “Very good morning.”
I rose and turned Troy toward the table, pressing him gently down over it. He went without protest.
I spread him open with my thumbs pressing gently into the muscle on either side, opening him enough to see what we'd left there. Both of us, combined, slicking slowly down the inside of his thigh.
Nobody moved for a long moment.
Troy's cheek was still pressed to the table. Dmitri had one hand flat to the kitchen floor where he'd braced himself at some point in the last twenty minutes. My knees ached from the tile. The morning light was aggressively cheerful about all of it.
Then Troy started laughing.
Not quietly or politely, but full-bodied and helpless laughter with his face still against the table, his shoulders shaking, the lace askew and the apron somewhere on the floor and his entire situation genuinely undignified in a way he was finding hilarious rather than mortifying.
