Chapter 26 #2
Wyatt fucks me hard and steady, his hands gripping my hips as our paint-slicked bodies slide against each other with every thrust. The canvas underneath us is ruined already, with streaks of blue and green and pink fanning out from where our bodies meet.
Wyatt kisses me as he moves. His tongue tangles with mine. Every now and then his teeth catch my lower lip.
“I love you,” he says. Not a question. Not even a declaration. Just a fact, spoken into the air like it’s always been true.
I love him too. I really do.
“I—” I can’t return the sentiment because he thrusts even harder into me. I clutch at his shoulders and dig my nails in, and cum so hard I forget my own name.
Wyatt keeps going, rutting into me with a need I’ve never felt from him before. His knot swells, pressing at my entrance.
“Yes, yes,” I beg. “Do it.”
Wyatt pushes until his knot pops inside, locking us together.
I scream his name and he gently bites my shoulder. We ride it out, shaking, paint dripping from our bodies to the canvas below.
The door swings open, and Bastion steps in, frozen for a second by the sight. He’s breathless, hair wild from the wind, and the look on his face is pure want. “Didn’t think to invite me?”
Wyatt pulls back, still buried inside me, and grins. “You snooze, you lose.”
Bastion laughs and then crosses the room in three long strides. He doesn’t bother with pretense: he drops to his knees, right at my head, and palms his cock through his jeans.
I look up at him, hungry, as he unzips, frees himself, already hard and leaking.
“Open,” he says, and I do, greedy for the taste of him.
Bastion feeds his cock into my mouth. He’s thick and sweet, and I suck him deep, tongue swirling over the head. The paint on my face smears onto him, leaving a blue streak at the base. He groans, one hand in my hair, the other gripping my shoulder.
Wyatt thrusts into me in small motions, still knotted, each rock forcing Bastion deeper into my throat. I gag a little, but I love it—the fullness, the mess. The sense that I am utterly theirs.
Bastion bucks his hips. He fucks my mouth with slow, controlled motions. He tastes of sweat and salt and something bright, like honey and smoke. I swirl my tongue around the head and hollow my cheeks. Bastion’s breathing turns ragged.
“Fuck, Emery,” he says, voice shaking. “You’re incredible.”
Wyatt’s hands are on my waist, holding me steady as he moves. Every pulse of his knot inside me sends a shiver through my body.
Then, a sudden shift. With wordless consideration I am shifted.
Bastion pops out of my mouth and Wyatt pulls me with him, changing our position so he is beneath me and I’m bent over him.
My breasts brush his chest as Bastion settles behind me on his knees.
Bastion’s huge warm hands grip my ass. His fingers are slick from my own juices as he slides them between my cheeks.
He’s gentle and slow, rolling his thumb over my rim before pressing in a single finger.
I tense at the unfamiliar stretch, but his other hand strokes my hair, grounding me.
“Relax,” Bastion whispers, and I do, sinking against Wyatt’s chest.
The first finger is new but not bad—just a strange pressure, insistent and needy. Bastion works it in and out, slow at first, letting me get used to it. My body adapts, melting into the sensation. I moan, and it’s a strange sound, a little surprised, a lot aroused. Wyatt grins.
“You’re so perfect like this,” Wyatt murmurs, voice low, and I feel his cock still buried inside my cunt, twitching at the thought of what’s about to happen.
Bastion adds a second finger. The stretch is sharper now, but I’m so wet, so open, it turns pain into pleasure. Wyatt’s hands trail up my sides, squeezing, encouraging me to take more.
Bastion scissors his fingers, stretching me. “You want this, angel?” Bastion’s voice is thick, almost reverent. “You want us both?”
“Yes,” I gasp.
Bastion removes his fingers and lines up his cock with my ass.
Wyatt holds me steady as Bastion pushes.
I expect pain, but it’s just pressure—heavy, relentless, and then a breach, a fullness that makes my breath catch.
Bastion’s cock slides in slow, inch by inch.
I feel every vein. Every throb. Wyatt is still inside me, filling my cunt, and now Bastion fills my ass, and I’m stretched to the edge of breaking.
It’s overwhelming. I whimper, twisting between them, but they hold me steady, shushing me with kisses and shudders of praise. Bastion thrusts shallowly until he’s buried to the hilt.
“Fuck,” Bastion hisses. I feel his knot swelling, pressing against my rim. Not quite yet forcing its way in but threatening. Wyatt’s hands splay across my hips, holding me open for Bastion. I am nothing but sensation, raw and gasping, every nerve ending lit up.
Wyatt starts to move, slow at first to keep me from splitting.
The rhythm is careful, then synchronized—Wyatt pushes in as Bastion pulls out, and vice versa, their cocks stroking me from both sides at once.
It’s a circuit of pleasure, a feedback loop that amplifies everything. I can’t think, can’t breathe—only burn.
Bastion’s knot starts to balloon, the size and pressure making my eyes roll back. I think I might shatter but instead I cum hard, the orgasm ripped out of me by the fullness and friction. My whole body clenches down and I scream, every muscle spasming while they hold me together.
Bastion groans, the sound punched from his lungs, and then he pushes in one more time, knot popping inside my ass with an obscene, sudden stretch.
I choke on the intensity, but it’s good, so good, I never want it to end.
I’m knotted in both holes, filled by both alphas, and it’s the most complete I’ve ever felt.
Oh, god.
The knots pulse in time with my heartbeat. I am locked in place, the two of them fused with me, and I can’t stop shaking as I cum again.
Wyatt isn’t far behind. He ruts into me, desperate, and I feel the second wave hit—my body spasms, clenching around his knot, and he lets out a cry, low and feral, as he cums deep inside me.
“Fuck, Emery,” Bastion groans and then follows us over the edge. His hot seed fills me from behind as he grunts loudly.
The three of us collapse onto the ruined canvas, tangled in paint and sweat and each other. Wyatt and Bastion are still knotted inside me and they hold me close.
We lie there and catch our breath. The world spins in shades of blue and green until their knots deflate.
Bastion is the first to speak. “If you hang this in the gallery, they’ll probably shut it down.”
I laugh, exhausted. “Maybe I will. Give them something to talk about.”
Wyatt kisses the back of my neck. “They’ll never forget you, Grey. Not ever.”
I close my eyes, content, and let the world fade.
This is what it’s supposed to feel like, I think as I drift. This is home.