The words registered in Andre's drug-addled brain, a green light that pushed him over the edge. He gripped her hips harder, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper. He could feel the tension in her body snapping, the sudden, violent clench of her muscles around him as her orgasm shuddered through her frame. The feeling of her climaxing around him was the final trigger. Andre threw his head back, a harsh, guttural cry tearing from his throat as he came, his body rigid, pumping his load deep inside her.
"Now it's my turn." The voice was right beside them.
Andre opened his eyes. Liam was standing over them. He had kicked his jeans away entirely. He was fully erect, the head of his cock red and engorged, his hand stroking the shaft with quick, urgent movements.
"Do you want this?" Liam asked, his voice thick with need.
Andre thought Liam was speaking to Talia. He started to pull back, to give them space, but Liam moved closer. Not to Talia. To Andre.
Liam stepped into the space between the sofa and the coffee table, his hips level with Andre's face. The head of Liam's penis was inches from Andre's mouth. Andre could smell the musk of his skin, the sharp, salty tang of arousal.
"I'm going to cum," Liam announced, his voice tight, his breathing shallow.
He pushed his hips forward and pierced Andre's lips. Before Andre knew it, Liam's penis was deep in his mouth, Andre's tongue swirling around to accommodate the intrusion.
Liam let out a sharp, broken shout, his hands tangling in Andre's dark curls, holding him in place. He thrust forward once, twice, and then his body went rigid.
Andre felt the sudden, hot rush of fluid hitting the back of his throat. He swallowed, taking all of it, the taste sweet and heavy and overwhelming. Liam groaned, his hips stuttering as he pumped the last of his load into Andre's mouth.
Liam pulled back, his breath coming in harsh gasps, his legs trembling. He looked down at Andre, then at Talia, who was still straddling Andre's lap, watching them with wide, dark eyes. For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the harsh, unsteady breathing of three people who had just crossed a line they could never uncross.
Then, Liam let out a sudden, breathless laugh. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the rug, lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.
"Fucking hell," Liam gasped, laughing harder. Talia started to laugh too, a soft, disbelieving sound that bubbled up from her chest. She pressed her face into the crook of Andre's neck, her body shaking with mirth.
The laughter faded. The room settled into a heavy, satisfied silence.
And then a sound cut through the stillness.
Andre's phone. Buzzing against the hardwood floor where he'd left it by the sofa. A short, sharp vibration that somehow penetrated the thick fog in his brain.
Blake.
Morning. Call me when you can. Love you.
Love you.
The words arrived like a bucket of ice water. Not gradually — all at once. A full-body shock that snapped the world back into focus with brutal, nauseating clarity.
Andre scrambled backward, his spine hitting the front of the sofa.
"I—" Andre's voice cracked. He couldn't look at them.
He stood. The room tilted violently and he grabbed the arm of the sofa to steady himself. His stomach was churning, a hot, acidic wave rising from somewhere deep in his gut.
"Andre—" Talia started.
He didn't hear the rest. He was already moving, stumbling down the narrow hallway, his hand finding the bathroom door by memory. He crashed through it, dropped to his knees on the cold tile, and threw up.
He retched until his stomach was empty, until his throat burned and his eyes watered, until there was nothing left but dry, agonizing heaves. He collapsed back against the cold wall, pulling his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. He was shaking — a violent, uncontrollable tremor that rattled his teeth.
He looked at his hands. The same hands that painted the canvases in the studio. The same hands that held Blake in the dark. The same hands that had just touched Liam and Talia in places they never should have.
He had to leave. He couldn't look at them. He couldn't look at himself.
Andre stood up, his legs weak and unsteady. He splashed cold water on his face, avoiding the mirror. He walked back to the living room. Liam and Talia were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa. They both looked up when he appeared. Talia's face was pale. Liam's jaw was tight.
"I need to go," Andre said. His voice was flat. Dead.
