Page 27

And suddenly, what had felt a little contrived and stilted before became easy and natural. He stepped close to Servas, then cupped the omega’s cheeks and met his eyes. Before he could even say anything, Servas gave him the smallest of nods. Isam leaned in and pressed his lips against Servas’s.

The kiss started chaste and superficial, their lips sliding against each other. But when Isam brought out the tip of his tongue to play, Servas opened up for him. Sucked him in was more like it, and things grew heated in seconds. Tongues met, slid, danced until Isam’s neck started hurting from bending over.

He broke the kiss only when he had to, breathless and dizzy, and found that Servas wore the same dazed but hungry look that Isam imagined he was sporting himself. God, the taste of him was nothing like Isam had expected. Servas’s flavor was bright, almost sweet, with a sharp tang like the first bite of a lemon bar.

Isam realized he was grinning and didn’t bother to hide it. “Fuck,” he muttered, “if I’d known⁠—”

He didn’t get the rest out because Mostyn had come up behind him, bracketing Isam’s waist with his hands. Not aggressive. Just present, solid, like he’d been there all along, waiting for the invitation.

The soft brush of Mostyn’s stubble against Isam’s biceps was enough to make him shiver. Heat crawled up his neck, but instead of letting it knock him off-balance, he leaned back into the beta’s hold.

Servas reached for Mostyn’s hand and tugged him closer, making Mostyn step forward from behind Isam. The three of them formed a tight triangle in front of the couch. Isam could’ve laughed at how natural it felt, like they were simply three guys about to have sex, when the truth was that they were trying to make sense of a situation that was anything but natural, at least by every metric he’d ever known.

But then Mostyn cupped Servas’s cheeks and kissed him, and all rational thought fled from Isam’s mind. The kiss started careful, in that way you kissed someone new, when you weren’t sure what they wanted, how they felt, what they tasted like. But then it deepened, and with a soft growl in the back of his throat, Mostyn dove deeper into Servas’s mouth.

Isam’s cock grew hard as iron watching them. His mates. He was watching his mates kiss, and how could something so simple feel so intense, almost like a religious experience? Hard as he was and as much as he ached to join them, he would’ve been content to observe them for hours. His body might need more, but this was all the fuel his soul needed.

He only moved when Mostyn opened his eyes mid-kiss, cheeks flushed and lips slick, and looked at Isam with a wordless invitation. The heat in his eyes, the want, shot straight to Isam’s core. He crowded closer, sliding his palm over Servas’s hip, all but shoving himself between the two. He got that lemon-bright taste again as he kissed Servas, but then Mostyn’s mouth landed on the corner of Isam’s jaw, and every cell in Isam’s body lit up. He might’ve been the alpha, but right now, he was at their mercy.

But his back was already aching from bending down, so it had to be hard on Mostyn and especially Servas as well. They needed a bit more comfort. “Can we move this to the bedroom?”

Mostyn and Servas nodded at the same time, and they walked together, following Servas. His bed would be a tight fit for the three of them, but Isam didn’t care. They tumbled down together, a tangle of limbs and clothing. Isam landed with Mostyn half on top of him, Servas next to him, somehow managing to make it look graceful.

They kissed in turns, combinations, each time learning something new. How Mostyn’s mouth was demanding, how Servas responded to touch so acutely it bordered on reverence.

Isam’s shirt came off after some insistent tugs from Servas, and Mostyn’s followed suit. Then hands reached and unbuttoned, unzipped, undressed, and they were naked. Naked and oh, so hard and hungry for each other.

Servas had ended up in the middle, and Isam was now sliding his hands over the omega’s strong body. Soft, it wasn’t. Servas’s hands were rough from his job, his skin covered in evidence of small mishaps. Bruises, scars, patches where skin had been damaged and healed. But what a turn on it was to run his hands over Servas’s muscles, to discover the omega had an actual six pack forged from hard manual labor, and that he possessed the prettiest cock Isam had ever seen.

On Servas’s other side, Mostyn was doing the same, his hands exploring Servas’s skin almost reverently. “Your body is amazing,” he said dreamily.

Servas looked incredulous for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe Mostyn was talking about him. Mostyn chuckled. “Yes, you. I’m talking about you.”

Servas waved a hand at Isam. “But he’s…”

“A fucking god, yes. I’m aware.” Mostyn grinned. “And let’s not tell him that too often because his ego doesn’t need that much stroking.”

Isam couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled up in his chest. Mostyn was a riot…and somehow, exactly what Isam and Servas, who were both so much more serious, needed.

“But you’re…” Mostyn’s expression grew soft. “You’re gorgeous, so strong and toned. Your abs are… I wanna lick them, let me put it that way. You know what? I’m gonna do just that.”

And before Isam could even blink, Mostyn had slithered down on the bed, his mouth now on Servas’s abdomen as he pressed fluttery kisses all over, then followed them with his tongue. Servas made the most incredible little noise as Mostyn worked his way down, half squirm, half laugh. Isam caught it, stored it away, wanted to know what else could tease that reaction out of him. For now, he just watched, fascinated. Mostyn’s tongue was slow, clever, like he was painting runes into Servas’s skin. The omega seemed unsure of what to do with his hands, kept clenching them around the sheets or smoothing them over his own stomach. He looked almost embarrassed at the attention, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to enjoy this much focused worship.

The sight sent a fresh bolt of heat through Isam’s core. He could’ve watched Mostyn’s tongue trace the lines of Servas’s abs all afternoon. But there was plenty of Servas to go around, and Isam wanted his own taste. He bent down and ran his tongue along the sharp shelf of Servas’s collarbone, then up, turning his face to his and pressing their mouths together again. Servas was more pliant now, drunk on pleasure.

Then Isam started his own journey south, lavishing Servas’s perfect little nipples with attention before meeting Mostyn’s mouth for a sloppy kiss. They descended together, kissing each other, kissing Servas’s heated skin, until they reached that perfect cock, jutting forward. Isam licked the fluid off the tip, then offered it on the tip of his tongue to Mostyn, who delved into his mouth to taste it.

“Fuck, that tastes good,” Mostyn all but growled, then sucked Servas’s cock into his mouth.

Mostyn was devouring Servas like he had something to prove, or maybe because he wanted to banish any idea Servas might have had about being unworthy of attention. Isam watched, rapt, as Mostyn’s cheeks hollowed and his hands slid under Servas’s thighs, lifting and opening him, spreading him out for both of them to see. The omega was beautiful, his cock flushed and leaking, his thighs tense with need, scars and all.

Within seconds, Servas was panting, moaning, squirming, making all these beautiful sounds. The omega was in heaven, and Isam loved every second of it.

Isam nudged Mostyn just enough to the side that he had access too, cramming his much bigger body between Servas’s legs, flush against Mostyn’s, and then his fingers sank deep into Servas’s ass. Oh, he was so wet for them, so slick, his body anticipating what would come.

“Oh fuck,” Servas moaned, then again, louder, “Oh, fuuuuck…”

His back arched, his fists grabbed the sheets, and every muscle in his body tightened to the point where even his toes were stretching. Isam pumped his fingers, all too happy to give Servas that first release to take the edge off.