I come again on his cock. My hole clenching down hard around him. My own cock spilling untouched between our stomachs. Then again, minutes later, when he angles deeper and finds the spot Atlas found and grinds against it. Then a fourth time when he wraps his hand around my cock and strokes me through it. Atlas's palm muffles every cry. Atlas's other hand slides the wet shirt across my collarbone, my chest, cool against the heat fever, anchoring me to the room.
"Bane—" I gasp into Atlas's palm. "Bane, please—"
"I know, baby." His voice is shot. "I know."
He doesn't slow. If anything he fucks me harder, his hips snapping into mine with a building urgency I can feel taking him over, the catch of his slow swelling knot at my rim getting bigger every time he pulls back. My body is screaming for it the way my body has been built to scream for it, the only thing that can put this fire out, and Bane knows it.
He lifts his head from my throat. Looks across me at his brother.
"I'm going to knot him."
Atlas's eyes meet his over me.
"He needs it," Bane says. Steady. "He's not coming down without it. But he's not going to be quiet about it either."
A beat. Atlas's thumb traces my swollen lower lip.
"Yeah." Already moving. "I've got him."
Bane pulls out.
The loss is a sob I can't catch—my hole clenching around nothing, slick spilling out of me onto the sheet, my whole body keening at the wrong of it—but Bane's hands are already on me, flipping me onto my stomach, dragging me by the hips down the bed until my legs hang over the edge and my hips are at the foot of it, my hard cock pinned between my belly and the mattresswith a pressure that makes me shudder. Bane standing behind me on the floor now. His hand splayed flat between my shoulder blades, holding me down.
"He might scream when I knot him." Bane. Wrecked, breathing hard, cock still wet from me in his fist. "Atlas. Give him your cock. Keep him quiet."
Atlas climbs down the bed in front of me. Kneels. Works his belt open in two practiced movements. His cock springs free heavy and hard and wet at the tip, level with my face, and my mouth waters at the sight of it before my mind catches up.
He cradles the back of my skull. Strokes my cheek with the back of his knuckles.
"Open up for me, sweetheart."
I open.
He slides into my mouth slow. The head of his cock heavy on my tongue, the salt of him, the slow shocking depth as he eases past my tongue and into my throat, his hand at the back of my skull guiding me onto him, my throat opening for him the way the rest of me has been opening all night. His other thumb traces the bulge of him through the skin under my jaw and a sound comes out of me around his cock that I have no language for.
"There he is," Atlas murmurs. "There's my good boy. Fuck, Bane, look at his mouth—"
"I see it." Behind me. Strained. Already lining his cock up against my hole. "Hold him steady."
He pushes in.
The slick has flooded out of me so much that he buries himself in one stroke and my body welcomes him like it's been starving for him. He groans, low and broken. "Fuck. Fuck, he's so wet, he's so—"
I moan deep around Atlas’s cock and he pushes deeper, cutting off the sound.
"He's been like that all night. You should've felt him when I had my fingers in him. Sucking me in."
"Atlas, I swear to god—"
Atlas laughs. Low. Dark. He rolls his hips gentle, the head of his cock sliding deeper into my throat and back. "Easy, brother. He's right here. He's not going anywhere. Look at him taking us both."
"He's perfect."
"He is."
A pause. Bane's hips snapping into mine in a slow, building rhythm. The wet slap of his cock dragging slick out of my hole and slamming back home. Atlas stroking my hair, my cheek, the underside of my jaw where his cock keeps pushing through.
Then Bane, mumbled, almost lost under his own breath: "Bless Zero for keeping that woman downstairs."
