32. Gen
Chapter 32
Gen
B y the time we reach Silas’s loft, the adrenaline has worn off, leaving only the deep exhaustion underneath. My body moves on autopilot—out of the car, up the stairs, through the door—but my mind feels stuck somewhere else, playing back the afternoon in an endless, looping reel. Heather’s smirk. The look on Sebastian's face when he heard the heartbeat echoing through the sterile exam room.
Max closes the door behind us with a soft click while Silas brushes past me, heading straight for the kitchen. He yanks open a cabinet with more force than necessary, rattling the dishes. I watch him for a beat too long, my heart thudding uncomfortably in my chest.
“Sit,” Max says, his voice a little too gentle. They’re treating me like something fragile. But I sit and it feels so good.
Silas returns a moment later, a bottle of water in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other. He hesitates, then puts the whiskey down untouched and presses the water into my hands instead.
I murmur a thank you, even though the knot in my throat makes drinking anything feel impossible.
They don’t sit immediately. Silas paces a few short steps, then swings around, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Max drops onto the arm of the chair across from me, his forearms braced on his thighs, head tilted in a way that makes it clear he’s analyzing every inch of me.
It’s Max who speaks first, because of course it is. When emotions are high, he becomes ruthlessly pragmatic. “Talk to us, G,” he says. “What do you want?”
The words are simple. The answer isn't.
I clutch the water bottle tighter, the plastic crinkling under my fingers. I know what they’re asking. It’s not just about today.
For a second, I consider lying. Telling them I don’t know. That I need time. But that would be a coward’s answer, and I’m tired of being afraid of my own truth.
So, I draw a breath, lift my chin, and say, “I want you.”
Silas stops pacing. Max goes very still.
“I want this,” I continue, pushing through the thickness in my throat. “I want you both. Nothing about today changes that.”
Silas’s mouth tightens, his body vibrating with tension. “Even after everything?”
I nod. “Even after everything.” I swallow hard. “But?—”
Max’s gaze sharpens, always attuned to the warning signs. “But?”
I force myself to meet their eyes, first one, then the other. “I can’t pretend Sebastian doesn’t matter. Not after today. Not after....” I look down at my hands. “Part of me still wants to give him a chance. To see if we can fix...whatever’s left.”
The silence that follows is heavy enough to crush us.
I rush to fill it, the words tumbling out too fast. “But I’m not walking away from you. If he can’t accept you, if you can’t accept him, then it’s not happening. I’m not losing you to chase something that might not even exist anymore.”
Silas drops into the chair across from me with a groan, resting his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Max leans back slightly, studying me with those calculating eyes that miss nothing.
“You mean that,” Max says, not a question but a realization.
“Yes.”
I feel Silas looking at me, but I can’t make myself look back yet. I’m too afraid of what I’ll see. Disappointment. Resentment. All the things I’ve spent the last few weeks trying not to drown in.
Max’s voice is low when he speaks again. “You’re not choosing him over us.”
I lift my head sharply. “No. Of course not.”
Silas scrubs his hands over his face, exhaling hard. Then he stands, crosses the room, and sinks down onto the couch beside me.
“We’ll give you whatever you want,” he says, peppering my face with kisses.
Relief hits me so fast and hard that I almost laugh.
Max rises too, moving to stand behind the couch, his hands settling gently on my shoulders. His thumbs massage slow circles against the tense muscles there.
“Is that…okay?”
“We’re not going anywhere, baby,” Silas says, voice low and rough. “You’re stuck with us. If Sebastian is what you want, then we’ll figure it out.”
I nod, a tight, jerky movement, because I’m afraid if I speak, I’ll cry.
Max squeezes my shoulders once, then leans down, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. Silas’s hand finds mine, weaving our fingers together.
I let out a shaky breath, the knot in my chest loosening just enough to let hope filter through.
“You’re sure?” Max asks.
“I’m sure.”
That’s all the permission they need.
Silas’s hand tightens around mine before he releases it, rising fluidly to his feet. He holds his hand out to me, palm up, an invitation and a command all in one. My heart stutters against my ribs, but I take it without hesitation, letting him pull me up.
Max’s hands slide down my arms, a lingering caress, before he steps around the couch to join us. His fingers brush the inside of my wrist, a featherlight touch that makes me feel all tingly.
They guide me toward the bedroom, moving around me with a coordination that always leaves me a little breathless. They’re a team in everything they do, but when it comes to me—when it comes to this —they move in sync in a way that makes it feel inevitable.
Max closes the door behind us, shutting out the rest of the world. Silas stops in the middle of the room, turning to face me, his eyes already dark with desire.
“We’re going to take care of you,” he says, his voice roughened with promise. “You don’t have to think. You don’t have to plan. Just let us.”
My throat tightens. I nod again because words feel too small for what’s building inside me.
Max steps up behind me, his hands finding my hips, guiding me backward until I’m flush against his chest. His breath stirs the hair at my temple, and I feel the rumble of his voice more than I hear it.
“You’re ours, Genevieve.”
The quiet certainty of it undoes something deep inside me.
They strip me down, peeling away the layers of fabric until I’m standing there in nothing but my underwear and the soft flush rising up my neck.
Max’s hands are steady as he unclasps my bra, sliding the straps down my arms, baring me to their hungry, heated gazes. Silas presses a kiss to my bare shoulder, then another, working his way slowly down my arm.
It’s too much. It’s not enough.
I reach for him instinctively, curling my fingers into the fabric of his shirt, needing something to hold onto. He hums low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my skin, and leans in to kiss the pulse fluttering wildly at my throat.
Behind me, Max’s hands move across my waist, my hips, higher until they brush the underside of my breasts. His mouth brushes the curve of my ear, a whisper of breath that makes my knees wobble.
“Bed,” he commands.
I let them lead me again, pliant under their hands, trusting them to catch me.
Silas pulls back the covers, and Max lifts me gently, setting me down in the center of the mattress. They strip with the same unhurried care, their movements fluid, unselfconscious. My heart pounds harder at the sight of them—these two men who have seen me at my weakest, my most broken, and still chose me anyway.
Silas crawls onto the bed first, settling beside me, his hands bracketing my face as he leans down to kiss me. The kiss is slow, deep, his mouth coaxing mine open, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips with maddening patience.
Max joins us a moment later, his hand stroking the length of my thigh, a soothing counterpoint to the heat building between me and Silas. He peppers kisses along my jaw, my shoulder, grounding me even as Silas steals every coherent thought from my head.
I arch into them, needing more, needing all of it, but they don’t rush. They explore me with a deliberate thoroughness, touching and kissing and murmuring quiet reassurances against my skin until I’m trembling with it, my body aching for release.
Silas shifts lower, pressing a kiss to the curve of my belly. Max's hand finds my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple in teasing circles that make me whimper against Silas’s mouth.
Silas kisses up the inside of my thigh, his mouth sealing over my clit, sucking hard enough to make my hips jerk. He slides two fingers into me without hesitation, fucking me slow and deep while his tongue drives me higher.
Max moves one hand up to palm my breast, his thumb plucking at my nipple until it’s tight and aching.
They work me together until I’m panting, my fingers fisting the sheets. I can’t think. Every coherent thought slips away, replaced by the raw, aching need they stoke with every slow touch.
The pleasure builds fast. I try to hold on, to stay in control, but Silas doesn’t give me room to breathe. His fingers curl just right, hitting that spot inside me that shatters any chance I had of staying quiet. I cry out, grinding down against his mouth, chasing the release he’s ripping out of me.
I come hard, my entire body clenching around his fingers.
Silas groans against my pussy, drawing it out, fucking me through it with slow, filthy thrusts of his fingers until I’m trembling.
He pulls away only when I’m whimpering from the overstimulation, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking so fucking hot it makes me ache all over.
Max doesn't waste a second. He nudges Silas aside and crawls over me, kissing me hard. He presses his thick cock against my thigh, not even pretending to hide how hard he is for me.
"You want this?" he murmurs against my mouth, his voice rough.
"Yes," I breathe. "Please."
That’s all he needs. He fists his cock, lining it up with my entrance. He pushes in slowly, grinding his hips forward until he’s buried deep inside me. The stretch burns and I want more.
I tell him so.
I wrap my legs around his waist, gasping as he starts to move in long, deliberate strokes, every inch of him dragging against my sensitive walls. Silas kisses the side of my neck, whispering filth against my ear.
“You’re fucking ours forever. We’re never giving you up.”
“You take our cocks so well, baby.”
“You’re so fucking wet for both of us.”
Max leans down, capturing my mouth in another bruising kiss, fucking me slow, driving me insane with how deep he gets. Every thrust causes me to gasp.
When I start to tighten around him, desperate for more, Silas moves lower, his mouth latching onto my nipple, sucking hard enough to make me cry out again. The dual sensation—the heavy drag of Max inside me and the sharp pull of Silas’s mouth—sends me spiraling fast.
I come again, harder this time, my nails raking down Max’s back. He groans into my mouth as he loses control and follows me over, thrusting deep one final time before spilling inside me.
Max collapses over me for a second, his forehead pressed to mine, his breath ragged. Silas strokes my hair, kissing my shoulder, steadying me in the aftershocks of it all.
They don’t move away.
They stay.