"You will." Atlas brushes the hair off my face, almost tender for half a second before his thumb drags rough across my bottom lip. "Open."
But it's Ren who moves first. I feel him notch against my entrance and push into me, slow, the stretch of him spreading me open inch by inch, his blood-sense timing it so each one lands the exact second my body's ready and not a moment before. He seats himself to the root and holds there, buried, and the fullness is so complete I drop my head and just breathe around it.
"There." I feel the word in his chest through the bond before I hear it. His hands settle warm and certain on my hips. "Feel how she takes me," he says—and it's to Atlas, low, an edge of something competitive under all that calm. "All the way. First try."
"Yeah, well." Atlas's hand fists slow in my hair. "She hasn't had her mouth on me yet." He tilts my face up. "Open, baby. Let him watch what you do to me."
I open.
He feeds himself past my lips and I take him—the blunt width of him stretching my mouth, the salt-warm skin, the heat. I can't take all of him, not at first, so I take what I can and wrapmy hand around the rest, fist tight at the base, and I start to work him. Flat of my tongue against the underside on the way down. A swirl around the head on the way up. I hollow my cheeks and suck and feel his whole body lock.
"Fuck." The word breaks in half coming out of him. The storm cracks faint in the room, charge prickling down the back of my neck. "Look at you."
I do it sloppy. Wet. I let myself drool around him and use it—slick my hand and twist on the upstroke, take him deeper until he nudges the back of my throat and my eyes sting, then pull off to lick a long stripe up the underside and catch my breath before I sink down on him again. Spit slicks my chin. I don't care. I want him loud.
He gets loud.
"That's it—that's it, just like that, take it—" His hand tightens in my hair, not pulling, just holding on. "Best mouth, you've got the best fucking mouth—Ren, are you feeling this?"
"I'm feelingher." Ren grinds deep to make the point, a slow hard roll that pushes a moan out of me straight around the cock in my mouth. "She just clenched so tight I nearly went. That's me. Not you."
"That's her with my cock down her throat," Atlas counters, teeth in it, the old rivalry—except it's gone warm now, all heat and no fight.
"Boys." I pull off Atlas just long enough to say it, my voice already wrecked, my hand still working him slow and slick. I press a kiss to the head of him, lick him clean. "It's both of you. It's always going to be both of you. Now one of you fuck me like he means it, and the other one give me something to do with my mouth."
They decide it without a word. To last. To make me earn every second of it.
Ren sets a deep, unhurried rhythm behind me. Drags almost all the way out, slow, then pushes all the way back to the root, so I feel every inch of him both directions. Long strokes. Patient ones. The kind built to take a girl apart by degrees.
Atlas feeds himself back between my lips in time with it, letting me set how deep, one hand fisted in my hair. The other reaches down to find my breast where it sways with every one of Ren's thrusts—he palms it, rolls my nipple, and the sensation shoots straight down to where Ren's filling me.
No part of me isn't being used. Cock in me behind. Cock in my mouth in front. Ren's thumb finds my clit and rubs slow tight circles, so the ache climbs again before it's even gone.
I moan around Atlas. Both men go tight at the sound.
"You hear that?" Atlas grits. "She only makes that sound when she's getting close."
"I don't have to hear it." Ren's voice is fraying. "I can feel every part of her. You're getting the half she can spare." A hard roll of his hips, deep, and I cry out around the cock in my mouth. "I get the rest."
"Keep telling yourself that, Ashford."
But there's no fight left in it. The rivalry's burning off into the same fire, the two of them building one thing and watching it land, and I'm the thing. I take Atlas deeper to reward him for it and feel him shudder all the way down.
This is what almost got taken. Not the men, not even the wanting—this.The three of us folded into one shape, the magic going round and round with nowhere to leak out. Wheeler had it pinned under glass three days ago and I thought I'd never feel it whole again.
I feel it whole now. So whole I have to fight not to cry around the cock in my mouth, and I don't fight hard.
Then they build me back up.
Ren changes his angle. Drags the thick head of him across the place inside me that makes my arms shake, over and over, in and out, the same maddening pace. Won't speed up. Keeps his thumb steady on my clit. Atlas's hand stays at my breast, his hips rocking shallow and slow, and I take him as deep as I can on every pass—sucking, tonguing the vein on the underside, my hand twisting slick around the base—until I feel him start to shake with holding back too.
I'm moaning around him with no room left to be quiet about it.
"She's close again." Ren bites it out. "Hold off. I want her there first."
"I'm—trying—" Atlas's hips stutter against the discipline of it. "She keeps doing that thing with her tongue—fuck?—"
I swallow around Atlas one more time, and at the same moment Ren grinds against the spot that undoes me and presses down on my clit?—
