Chapter 48 #2
“God, his face,” someone said.
“Always so fucking tight,” Darius growled, and started to move. He fucked slower than Bishop, but just as overwhelming. Kit was already so wound up that each steady thrust felt like a jackhammer. The slow pace only gave him more time to feel everything.
Including Holden, stretching out at Kit’s right side. He’d lost his shirt, but his unzipped jeans still hung around his hips. His words kissed Kit’s flushed face. “How are you feeling, darling?”
His palm pressed Kit’s lower belly. Kit squirmed on Darius’s cock, wondering if Holden could feel the thick length carving him out. By the flash of possessiveness in Holden’s eyes, probably.
Bruises mottled Holden’s torso, where he’d hit the steering wheel. Because he drove a car through a fucking wall for Kit. And now that Kit was sure Holden and James were okay… that was kinda hot.
“Ninety percent fine,” Kit managed.
As designed, Holden took that as a challenge. Metal clinked, and a handcuff closed around Kit’s right wrist.
Excitement sank cold teeth into Kit’s bones. Holden pulled Kit’s wrist up by his head, next to the pillow. Probably to cuff him to the headboard, which had plenty of solid metal bars for just this purpose.
Instead, Holden locked the other cuff around his own left wrist.
“What are you doing?” Bishop asked from nearby.
“You went first,” Holden said, smug. “I had time to plan.”
He pinned Kit’s hand, fingers intertwined, and dove into Kit’s mouth.
Kit kissed back, high on layers of stimulation.
Hot hands and cold metal and a crescendo of heartbeats.
Darius fucked Bishop’s cum deeper into Kit’s ass, and Holden kissed the taste of James’s cock from Kit’s mouth.
Kit felt sloppy, adored, used, powerful.
Bare knuckles brushed Kit’s hip in a rough rhythm. Holden broke the kiss, panting against Kit’s throat as he jerked himself off. Darius rolled his hips just right. Kit whimpered, seeing stars.
To his left, wood squeaked. James leaned back in the armchair, which should have been in the corner, and Kit didn’t remember James dragging it over. Now, James lounged as if on a throne, stroking his cock as he watched the bed.
When Kit met his eyes, James blew a kiss.
Bishop settled between them. “How about we take you a little higher?” Bishop said, tweaking Kit’s nipple with loving force. “At least ninety five percent.”
“If you can,” Kit challenged, then squeaked at the next pinch. God, he really could come just from that.
But he didn’t complain when Bishop abandoned his nipples to seize his cock instead.
“Oh, fuck,” Kit hissed, and probably kept babbling more stupid shit, but he couldn’t hear himself over the rush.
Bishop’s rough, slick calluses. Darius’s cock like a goddamn sledgehammer.
James’s avid appreciation burning from the bedside.
Holden clasping his hand, which was somehow the filthiest thing ever.
It was insane. It was perfect. Kit arched up, every nerve alight, like the phoenix on James’s back reborn in impossible flames.
As he came, his whole body clenched down. His blinding bliss was a catalyst. Darius ground to a halt inside him, swearing through his own release. Holden bit Kit’s shoulder, right above the tracking chip, and his choked whimper arrowed into Kit’s fucking soul.
Kit still smoldered as Darius kissed his forehead, then eased out. Cum spilled messily, the sensation almost too much against Kit’s oversensitive hole. More cum striped his hip, where Holden possessively massaged it into Kit’s skin. God, that was going to be gross later. But it was hot now.
Okay, it was still going to be hot later. Especially if Kit had help cleaning up.
Way later. Hours later. Kit didn’t intend to move for a very long time.
“Wow,” Kit said, dazed. “I’m like, a million percent fine.”
Someone chuckled. The world flipped again, resettling with Kit mostly on top of Holden. Their bare, sticky chests pressed together, and now Kit pinned Holden’s cuffed hand to the mattress.
Holden’s eyes glinted. “I’ll tell you where the key is. After we’re done cuddling.”
“I don’t like how smart you are,” Bishop said, settling to Kit’s left. He stroked Kit’s arm and kissed his shoulder—where Holden bit him, around the chip.
“I don’t need a key to steal Kit for cuddling,” James said cheerfully. “I have wire cutters.”
Stretching out behind and to Kit’s right, Darius scoffed. “Those are my handcuffs. Do you think your wire cutters will work?”
Kit squirmed, getting comfortable in the pile of warm skin and sweat-damp clothing. “Let me guess. You have a spare key.”
“Of course,” Darius said. “But I’ll let Blondie have a minute.”
“Because it’ll piss me off?” James asked, draping himself over Darius, so he could reach over and grab Kit’s ass.
James didn’t sound pissed off. He sounded exactly how Kit felt. How they all felt, Kit knew in his bruised and mended heart. Fucked out, complete, trapped in the best way. They didn’t need chains to be bound together, now and forever.
Though the chains were welcome too.