Dom’s eyes caught mine, something electric in the look, then slid back to Viktor. “You offering both?”
The room went quiet—tense, expectant. The unspoken hungerthat had simmered for months suddenly pressed closer, thick as the candle-scented air. My throat went dry. Viktor’s gaze lingered on Dom, then cut to me, appraising. His pupils were wide, silver ringed with dark, and I knew that look, knew what he wanted without him saying a word.
Dom’s mouth curled into a slow, dangerous grin. “What, too tense to think straight? Or are you just waiting for someone to make the first move?”
Heat pooled low in my belly, tension sparking between my shoulders. I could smell the musk of their bodies, the smoke, the tang of sweat. Viktor didn’t answer, just prowled over, taking the chair opposite Dom and spreading his knees, shoulders relaxed, but his eyes never left me.
The space between us shrank, charged with want and the heady, reckless relief of a night before war. Dom pushed up from the chair, crossing the room in two strides. His palm settled on my shoulder—warm, grounding, but firm. I looked up, breath hitching as his thumb traced the line of my collarbone, slow, thoughtful, hungry.
Viktor stood, moving behind me, his hand coming to rest on the back of my neck, the weight of it possessive. “You want distraction?” he murmured, voice low, his breath stirring the hair at my nape. “We’ll give you distraction.”
Dom’s fingers drifted to the buttons of my shirt, knuckles brushing my chest, not undressing me—yet—but mapping the line between teasing and threat. “You sure you can handle both of us, your highness?” His words were a dare, his voice silk and smoke.
I swallowed, my pulse pounding, body already answering for me. “Try me.”
Viktor’s mouth ghosted over the shell of my ear. “Don’t tempt him, Sebastian. He bites.”
Dom’s eyes glinted, amusement and hunger mingling. “Only if asked nicely.”
The air in the room grew heavy—charged, electric, the shadows flickering with the promise of everything we’d never let ourselves have. Dom’s hands came down on my shoulders, strong, steady,steering me upright. Viktor crowded behind, his heat a wall at my back, the scent of him making my thoughts spin wild.
Dom leaned in, lips finding the hinge of my jaw, kissing slow, open-mouthed, teeth scraping skin just enough to make me gasp. His hand slid up to cradle my cheek, thumb stroking over the corner of my mouth, coaxing it open, demanding surrender. Viktor’s fingers threaded through my hair, tilting my head back against his chest, baring my throat, making me feel helpless and owned.
A mouth pressed to the hollow of my neck, hot and wet, tongue flicking over my pulse. Another found my earlobe, sucking, biting gently, the dual sensation sending a jolt straight to my cock. My hands scrabbled for purchase, fisting in Dom’s shirt, trying to anchor myself as both men mapped every inch of exposed skin with mouths and clever, claiming hands.
“You like this, don’t you?” Dom whispered, lips dragging down the line of my throat, teeth leaving a trail of heat and threat. “Being handled. Being wanted by both of us.”
I couldn’t answer. My breath hitched, every nerve raw, body pinned between them, nowhere to go but further into their grip. Viktor’s arms slipped around my waist, drawing me back against him, his cock hard against the curve of my ass, the pressure impossible to ignore.
“Spread your legs,” Viktor ordered, voice a low, Russian thunder. “Let us taste you.”
I obeyed, knees trembling, the fabric of my trousers growing tight, desperate for friction. Dom dropped to his knees in front of me, his hands sliding up my thighs, gripping hard, possessive. His mouth pressed against the bulge straining at my fly, breath hot through the fabric, tongue tracing the outline, lips mouthing at the shape of me without giving me relief.
Above, Viktor kept my arms pinned behind my back, one hand circling my wrists, the other moving up beneath my shirt, fingers splaying over my ribs, tracing the path of scars, making me shiver. His mouth returned to my ear, biting, sucking, lips moving over every inch of skin he could reach.
Dom’s hands ran up my chest, unbuttoning my shirt only far enough to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to my sternum, my collarbones, the hollow at the base of my throat. He nipped at my skin, tongue lapping over each fresh mark, sucking until my body arched into him, desperate for more.
“You taste like trouble,” Dom murmured, licking a stripe up my chest, tongue flicking over my nipple through the thin cotton. “Bet you’re even sweeter lower down.”
Viktor’s grip tightened, breath washing hot over my neck as his free hand dragged slowly down my torso, palming my cock through my trousers, squeezing, making me groan. The friction was maddening, almost too much, not enough, perfect and torturous all at once.
My knees buckled. Dom’s mouth caught me as I stumbled, his hands spreading me wider, mouth moving up, pressing open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, biting my chin, then claiming my mouth with a kiss that tasted of want and defiance. Viktor bent forward, tongue tracing my exposed neck, lips marking me, the scrape of his stubble making me shiver.
Together they maneuvered me back, hands everywhere—kissing, gripping, worshipping, forcing me step by step toward the bed. I let them manhandle me, let myself be taken apart by their mouths and hands, the two of them making me feel small and precious and hunted all at once.
My legs hit the mattress. Viktor spun me, his palm firm on my chest, pushing until I sat on the edge. Dom moved between my knees, hands spreading my thighs, mouth dragging over the ridge of my cock, then up to my stomach, sucking a bruise just below my navel. Viktor stood behind me, hands sliding over my shoulders, kneading the tension out, then down to grip my biceps, pinning me, his breath harsh against my ear.
“Lie back,” Viktor commanded, and I did, letting them position me, limbs loose, pliant under their control. Dom crawled over me, straddling my hips, hands braced on either side of my head. He leaned in, mouth finding mine again, tongue demanding entrance, kissing me filthy and deep.
Viktor pressed kisses to my temple, my hair, my cheekbone, his hands never still, roaming my body, squeezing, testing, teasing. His mouth trailed lower, biting at my jaw, nipping down my throat, pausing at my pulse, sucking until I whimpered, the need almost too much to bear.
Dom’s fingers found my buttons, undoing them slowly, just enough to expose more skin for his mouth to claim—nipping, licking, teasing, never enough, never satisfied. He dragged his teeth over my nipple, through fabric and bare, tongue swirling, sucking until it ached. My hips bucked up, desperate, but he only laughed, biting me again, leaving heat and promise in his wake.
Viktor’s hands pinned my wrists above my head, his body draping over mine, his lips pressing to my forehead, my temple, my lips, a thousand tiny claims that made me shudder and gasp, dizzy from the sheer intensity.
Dom’s hands slid down, squeezing my thighs, pressing my legs wider, mouth following, biting along the line of my hipbone, up my side, his tongue tracing the curve of my ribcage. Viktor’s mouth caught mine, claiming me with a kiss that was all teeth and tongue, bruising and desperate.
The two of them owned every inch of me—mouths and hands never stopping, never giving enough, driving me wild with need. Every touch, every sound, every taste was theirs to take, mine to give.
