Chapter 19 #2
Spencer couldn’t figure out how he felt about that, panic or hope or something in between.
It was all mixed up with the rage and betrayal he’d seen on Noah’s face as they’d left the party.
And who could blame him? Noah had been blindsided completely, worried about his brother and confused about Spencer, and it was all Spencer’s fault for keeping secrets.
Ash’s soft whine of distress brought Spencer out of his thoughts.
Shit. No freak-outs—that was what Ryder had told him. Spencer needed to keep his pheromones steady and comforting.
He focused back on Ash, the feel of him and the sweetness. He focused on breathing in that marshmallow scent as he moved inside him. Breathing in all of them, really. Their scents were inextricably tangled now, cedar and spice and smoky sugar. The mix made his cock throb.
Ash whimpered again, and Ryder stirred, his voice a low rumble. “Ash?” Ash let out a low whine, and Ryder rose onto one arm, taking stock. “You need more?”
Ash grunted in affirmation, and Ryder shifted again, followed by the sound of foil tearing. There was nothing for a moment, then Ryder’s leg slinging over Spencer’s thigh, and then—
Spencer froze. That was a cock nudging his, pressing in against Ash’s entrance.
Ash growled at the pause, and Ryder set a placating hand on his side, his fingers just brushing against Spencer’s belly. “Spencer just needs to stop for a moment. You want both of us, right?”
Ash grunted again. He set blunt teeth against Spencer’s collarbone, but he didn’t bite down. He just licked at the skin in his hold. A warning, maybe, not to stop for too long.
But Spencer couldn’t move—he could barely fucking breathe. Because there was Ryder pushing in, his hot cock sliding against Spencer’s, making Ash’s slick channel an unbelievably tight fit. It was like Spencer was already knotting, except it was his whole dick getting the pressure.
Slowly—so fucking slowly—Ryder bottomed out, and the air filled with the sound of all three of them panting.
And then Ryder moved.
“Fuck,” Spencer groaned.
Ash released his threatening hold on Spencer’s skin, and Spencer tried to make out his features in the gloom. Ash’s mouth was slack now, his brow relaxed. He looked … happy.
“You like this, spitfire?”
Ash let out a long moan, and Ryder chuckled. “Move your hips, pretty boy.”
Spencer didn’t know how Ryder had it in him to laugh. Spencer could barely think whole thoughts with the hot glide of Ryder’s cock against his shaft. But then again, who the fuck needed to think?
It took them a minute to find a rhythm, and when they did, it was—
Well, it was fucking perfect, wasn’t it?
Spencer had had a lot of sex in his day, but he’d never had this, their three sweaty bodies tangled together, each of them barely aware of whose limbs were whose.
Ash so lost in it all he looked fucking transcendent, little broken moans leaving his lips without pause.
Spencer thought it might be something like experiencing a rut with someone special, this synchronicity, this pleasure too big to hold inside.
Because this was Ryder and Ash and Spencer together, and somehow it just …
worked. Spencer didn’t feel like a heat tool anymore—he probably hadn’t for a long time, if he was being honest with himself.
He felt like a piece of some bigger puzzle.
An important piece, even. He wished for the millionth time that they didn’t have condoms, wished Ash was on birth control so he could feel every inch of both of them.
He’d like it so much. Spencer knew he would.
“Warn me before you knot,” Ryder growled. “I’ll pull out.”
Right. Because two knots would be one knot too many. Like, how would it even work? Maybe they’d both only half inflate, and their knots would rub together, and Ash would be clenching around them, so tight and wet and searing hot, and—
Oh shit.
“Now,” Spencer whispered frantically as heat surged through his belly, curling around and zipping up his spine. “Fuck. Now.”
And it was a good thing Ryder moved fast because Spencer was already shaking, his knot swelling inside Ash’s channel as he emptied into the condom.
His knot grew almost alarmingly fast with Ash already stretched and ready for it.
Spencer’s blood rushed from his head with abandon, and the world spun around him.
And then of course there was that heavenly fucking squeeze, Ash’s channel greedily sucking him in.
Spencer was vaguely aware of the feel of hot cum against his stomach (“Perfect omega,” Spencer wanted to say, but he couldn’t feel his lips well enough to move them.) and the squelching sound of Ryder jerking off against Ash’s back.
It was all filthy and beautiful, and Spencer kind of wanted to cry, even as his eyes fell closed in exhaustion.
He tried to keep hold of his walls—those last barriers of crucial fucking self-awareness that kept him safe from hoping for too much—but they kept crumbling before he could fortify them, shattered by Ash and Ryder’s fierce fucking persistence.
But this wasn’t real, was it? It couldn’t be. It was some sort of heat-induced dream Spencer was about to wake up from.
Because how in the world was he really going to be allowed to keep this?
ASH
Ash moaned as cool water poured down his throat.
It was good. Soothing.
Where had it come from? One of his alphas, surely.
A thumb brushed against Ash’s lips as he swallowed. Warm and calloused. Ryder. Ash moaned again, shifting forward until his mouth met another mouth. Ash pushed his tongue in, greedy for a taste.
Marshmallow sweetness. His marshmallow sweetness. Ash rubbed his thighs together in delight. Ryder had been down there earlier, hadn’t he? Licking and sucking.
Wet. Everything was wet. Sweat and slick and alpha cum. Ash’s nest—his “perfect nest,” his alpha had said—was drenched with pheromones. Ash couldn’t turn his head any which way without cool cedar or hot spice or sweet char hitting him.
Perfect, perfect.
There was hardly any pain. As soon as Ash’s belly clenched, someone was there, pushing in, easing him with gentle thrusts. Or harder, if he demanded.
Good alphas.
Ash wanted to open his eyes and tell them so, but he was tired. So, so tired.
Ash broke the kiss and sank onto his back. There were voices around him, murmuring together.
“Is he coming out of it?”
“Not yet.”
No. Not yet.
Ash turned his head and sniffed at the blanket beneath him. Cedar and spice were mingled potently here, his two alphas intertwined. Had they been rutting together while he slept?
Ash let out a gush of slick at the thought. His soft cock filled, so fast and so relentlessly he whimpered.
“Shh. I’ve got you, spitfire.”
A hot mouth on Ash’s cock, sucking, easing the ache. Ash spread his legs, inviting more. Clever fingers entered him, at least three. Ash sighed as they shifted and stretched him. That was good. Maybe perfect.
Calloused fingers brushed Ash’s hair from his face. Ryder again.
Ash opened his mouth, and warm, solid flesh met his lips. Precum that smelled like rich, damp forest. Alpha cock.
Ash sucked, hungry for it. This was good. Who needed water? He was going to suck down his alpha’s cum, and then his other alpha would fill him up and—
“Easy,” his alpha murmured.
Ryder, that one. Ryder and Spencer were with him.
Ash groaned as his belly tightened, something inside him shifting and threatening to cramp again. Fingers weren’t enough anymore. And his cock was too sensitive to bear this hot, happy mouth.
But he had chosen good alphas, because in the next instant, the fingers were gone and Ash’s legs were being pushed back by broad hands while a thick cockhead pushed inside.
Ash moaned around his mouthful. He was being filled. Good. Better. Maybe perfect.
His alpha—Spencer—gave him long, lazy thrusts that rocked Ash into Ryder’s cock, hot flesh cramming down his throat. Ash couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t think he needed to, not when everything felt so good.
But then Ryder was moving away, his cock slipping out from between Ash’s lips, letting air back into Ash’s lungs.
Ash whimpered.
“Hush, bright eyes. I’ll give it to you.”
There were more wet sounds and good, damp smells, and then hot cum was splashing onto Ash’s slack mouth.
He swallowed with a hungry moan, licking stray drops from his lips. It tasted good. Rich. Thick.
Before he could swallow again, Spencer groaned, his hands tightening around Ash’s thighs, and that cock inside Ash grew and grew, stretching Ash so full there was no room for twinges or cramping or anything bad to fit. Ash’s channel clenched around it, sucking and claiming. His.
That was better. Maybe perfect.
A warm weight on top of Ash—Spencer covering him completely, good, spent alpha—and hands pulling his legs to wrap around narrow hips. Ash let his bleary eyes slit open to find Ryder there, right next to them, shorn head nuzzling against Ash’s shoulder.
Yes, definitely perfect.
Ash closed his eyes and slept.