Nobody covers my mouth.
Atlas's eyes go dark. Bane's hand tightens on my hip. Zero makes a sound against my ass that vibrates through me like a struck bell.
"Again," Zero says. "Do that again."
He adds a second finger and I do it again. Louder. The sound of my own voice in the open air—unheld, uncovered, unmuffled—does something to me I don't have language for. Like a door opening that I didn't know was shut. Like the first breath after years underwater.
"Good boy," Atlas says. His hand in my hair. His voice in my ear. "There you are. Let us hear you."
Zero works me with his mouth and his fingers until I'm shaking so hard the bed is moving. He pulls off—mouth red, chin wet, eyes black—and kneels up between my legs. His cock is hard against his stomach, dark at the head, leaking.
"Who first?" he asks. Looking at his brothers. Not at me. The question is for them. The pack deciding.
Atlas doesn't hesitate. "Me."
Zero nods. Moves aside. No argument. No competition. He settles at my left, mirroring Bane on my right, and now I'm lying between the two of them with Atlas kneeling between my thighs and the room has arranged itself around me like a geometry that was always going to end here.
Atlas leans down. Kisses me. Slow. Both hands framing my face. He tastes like the day he's had—the thing he won't tell me about, the weight of it still sitting in his jaw—and underneath that he tastes like Atlas.
Likemine.
"Watch me," he says. The way he always says it. "Eyes on me."
He pushes in.
The stretch of him fills me the way it always does—slow, deep, total. I feel every inch of his cock pushing into me, thick and hard and relentless, my body opening for him the way it always opens for him, like it was made for exactly this. My slick and Zero's spit ease the slide but the stretch is still there—that perfect ache of being split open by someone too big who refuses to rush. He sinks in to the root and his hips press flush against my ass and I feel him everywhere. In my stomach. In my chest. In my throat.
Tonight it's different because Bane's hand is on my chest and Zero's hand is on my thigh and I can feel all three threads blazing at once. The bond goes so wide I lose the edges of my own body. I don't know where I end. I don't know where they begin. I just know I'm full and held and looked at and the sound coming out of my mouth is something new—not muffled, not hidden, not bitten off behind a palm or buried in a pillow.
Just mine. In the open.
Atlas fucks me slow. The way he does when he wants me to feel every inch—the drag of his cock pulling almost all the way out, the head catching at my rim, and then the long deep push back in that fills me so completely I forget I have lungs. His hips rolling deep, grinding in small circles when he's all the way inside, the angle shifting until the head of his cock drags across my prostate and my vision whites out.
"There," I gasp. "Right there,Atlas—don't stop—"
"Never." His jaw is tight. His control is paper-thin. I can feel it in the bond—the restraint costing him, the day cracking underneath it, everything he carried home from wherever he was today trying to pour out of him through his hands and his cock and his mouth. "That’s my good fucking boy."
Bane's mouth finds my ear. "You're so beautiful like this, Maxie. Stretched around him. Do you know that? Do you haveany idea what you look like right now, taking his cock like you were built for it?"
I turn my head toward him. He's right there. His face an inch from mine, eyes warm and wrecked behind the absence of his glasses, and I can see every detail of him—the gold flecks in the hazel, the way his lips are parted, the flush crawling up his throat. His cock is hard against my hip. I can feel it—hot, thick, leaking against my skin every time Atlas's thrusts rock me sideways into Bane's body.
"Kiss me," I manage. Between thrusts.
He kisses me. Deep and unhurried, his tongue against mine, his hand sliding from my chest to my jaw to hold me in it. Atlas is still moving inside me—slower now, grinding deep, the angle changed so every push drags the full length of his cock across the spot—and I am being kissed by one brother and fucked by another and the third is—
Zero's hand wraps around my cock.
I break off Bane's kiss with a cry. Zero's grip is firm and slick—my own precome smeared down the shaft, his fist tight, his thumb working the underside on every upstroke. He strokes me in time with Atlas's thrusts, the coordination effortless, the two of them working my body like a thing they've rehearsed. His thumb swipes across the head of my cock, pressing into the slit, spreading the wet, and my whole body arches off the bed.
"I know, baby," Zero says. Close to my ear. His breath hot. His free hand is between his own legs—I can feel his arm moving, the rhythmic flex of his shoulder, stroking himself while he strokes me. "I know how good it feels having him inside you. I can see it on your face. Every time he hits that spot your eyes roll back and your cock leaks all over my hand."
"Zero—fuck—"
"Not yet," Atlas says. Between his teeth. His pace has changed—longer strokes, pulling almost all the way out untilI’m already preemptively mourning the absence of him before he thrusts back in. Deeper each time. Harder. The controlled patience breaking into something that's all raw need. "Not yet. Stay with me, sweetheart. Hold it."
"Atlas, I can't—I'm—"
"You can." His hips snap forward—hard, once, the slap of his skin against my ass loud in the quiet room, and I clench around him so tight he groans. "Hold it for me. I want to feel you come on my knot."
