“Do you like that, Dad?” Jex snarls, his head snapping toward the chair where the old man is choking on his own silent screams. “Do you like watching your sons share the only thing you couldn’t destroy?”
Ryker moves lower, his hands sliding over my hips, smearing the red slickness down my thighs. He’s marking me, claiming every inch of skin the clinic onceclaimed for others. He licks a streak of blood from my hip bone, his eyes locked on mine behind the silver slits of his mask.
“He’s watching,” Ryker whispers against my skin, his breath hot and smelling of ozone. “And he’s going to watch until the salt takes him.”
Jex pushes back in, another agonising inch, a slow-motion invasion that has me clawing at his shoulders. The blood is everywhere now—between us, on us, a slippery, metallic lubricant that makes every touch a visceral, sliding heat. I am a mess of red and white, suspended between the two men who burned the world down just to see me in the dark.
Jex isn’t just holding me; he’s anchoring me to the metal wall as I vibrate from the sensory overload. He pushes inside again, just the tip, a thick, blunt invasion that stretches me wide before he retreats. The friction of the blood-slicked skin is a wet, sliding fire. Every time he pulls back, the cool air hits my opening, making my internal muscles clench in a frantic, starving rhythm.
“You’re so tight, Hallow,” Jex groans, his forehead thumping against the bulkhead next to my head. “Dripping for us while he dies three feet away. You’re a fucking masterpiece.”
Ryker is a ghost of cold hands and hot tongue. He moves between my legs, his fingers dipping into the pool of gore on the floor and then dragging the warmth up my inner thighs. He paints my clit with our father’s blood, his touch clinical and cruel, before he leans in to lick it off with a slow, broad stroke that makes my knees buckle.
“Look at her,” Ryker murmurs, his voice muffled bythe silver mask as he looks up at Jex. “She’s breaking, and she loves it.”
Ryker’s hands move up, his thumbs hooking into the corners of my mouth, pulling my lips wide. He stares at me with those ice-blue eyes, then reaches down to grab Jex’s cock, guiding it back to my entrance. He doesn’t let Jex thrust. Instead, Ryker uses his own hand to grind Jex’s heavy, throbbing head against my nub, over and over, while his other hand remains deep in my mouth, tasting the salt of my tears and the iron of the blood.
“Please,” I sob, the sound muffled by Ryker’s fingers. “Jex… Ryker… I need… I can’t…”
“Not yet,” Jex hisses, his hand sliding up to grip my throat, his thumb pressing just enough to make the room tilt. He pushes in halfway, a deep, agonising slide that hits a nerve I didn’t know I had. I arch my back, my breasts heaving, the blood Ryker smeared on them glistening under the flickering LED lights.
Ryker lets go of my mouth and moves his face to the junction of my neck and shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin until I’m sure he’ll break it. His hands are everywhere—one slicking my pussy with the red mess of our legacy, the other squeezing my breast until I see stars.
The old man in the chair is a rhythmic, wet rattling in the background. He’s forced to watch the three of us—a tangled, blood-slicked knot of limbs and lust—vibrating with a hunger that he created but can never control.
Jex pulls out almost entirely, the vacuum of his exit making me whimper, before he slides back in just a fraction deeper than before. He’s timing it, building thepressure until my vision is nothing but white sparks and red shadows.
“Tell us,” Ryker whispers against my skin, his tongue tracing the shell of my ear. “Tell us who you belong to while he watches his name burn.”
“You,” I scream, the word tearing out of my throat as the first wave of a shattering climax begins to roll through my hips. “I belong to the monsters! I belong to you!”
Jex growls, a low, territorial sound that vibrates through my chest as he feels me begin to fracture. He doesn’t give me the release. Instead, he halts his motion entirely, burying himself only halfway—a thick, unyielding plug that keeps me stretched and screaming for the rest. He pins my hips against the vibrating bulkhead, his hands locking my thighs open so wide I feel the tendons strain.
“Don’t you dare cum yet,” Jex hisses, his eyes black with a sadistic, beautiful hunger. “You stay right on the edge, Hallow. You stay there until I tell you it’s time.”
Ryker is a shadow of cold steel and hot, wet tongue. He moves between my legs again, his silver mask clicking against Jex’s hip as he descends. He doesn’t use his hands this time. He uses his mouth, his tongue broad and heavy, dragging it through the thick mixture of my arousal and our father’s blood. He licks the seam where Jex enters me, his tongue flickering against the sensitive, swollen skin of my hood with a precision that makes my vision go dark.
“She’s pulsing, Jex,” Ryker murmurs, his voice a dark vibration against my inner thigh. “She’s begging for it.”
Ryker reaches up, his gloved fingers slick as he slides them into my mouth, forcing me to suck on the iron-tasting leather while he continues to devour me below. The contrast is breaking my mind—the brutal, static weight of Jex inside me, and the frantic, flickering wetness of Ryker’s tongue on my clit.
I’m bucking, my heels digging into the metal floorboards, my body a live wire of unspent friction. Every time I try to thrust my hips to meet Jex, he pushes back just enough to keep me from the friction I need, a slow-motion torture that has me sobbing into Ryker’s hand.
“Look at her, Father,” Ryker mocks, pulling back just enough to let the old man see the wreck of his daughter. “See how she shakes? See how she’d rather drown in us than spend another second in your world?”
Jex leans in, his teeth snapping at my bottom lip, his hand moving from my throat to my breast, squeezing so hard it’s a beautiful, sharp agony. He begins to move again—but it’s a crawl. A slow, agonisingly shallow grind that barely grazes the nerves he just set on fire. It’s a rhythmic, wet slide that sounds like a secret being told in the dark.
“I can feel your heart beating in your pussy, Hallow,” Jex rasps, his breath hot and ragged. “It’s screaming for me. But you’re going to wait. You’re going to stay in this fire until I’m ready to burn with you.”
Ryker’s tongue darts inside me, finding the small gap where Jex isn’t, flicking against the head of Jex’s cock before returning to my clit. I am a mess of red silk and white-hot nerves, suspended in a vacuum of pleasure that feels like it’s going to stop my heart. The old man’srattling breath is the only clock we have, and every tick is a new level of depravity.
“Please,” I choke out, the word a shredded thing. “Jex… please… I’m going to die…”
“Then die,” Ryker whispers, his hand sliding up to join Jex’s on my throat, their fingers interlacing as they both watch the light start to fail in my eyes. “But you do it on our breath, not his.”
Jex’s eyes lock onto Ryker’s, a silent, predatory understanding passing between them that makes my heart stutter. This isn’t just about my pleasure anymore; it’s about a total, unified desecration of the legacy slumped in the chair behind them.
Ryker stands up, his shadow swallowing me whole as he unzips his tactical trousers. When he frees himself, he is every bit the monster Jex is—thick, corded with veins, and glistening with a dark, expectant heat.
