Chapter 14 #3
"Don't call it pretty," I managed, my face burning at the casual way he discussed my anatomy. "It's not a show pony or a particularly attractive houseplant. It doesn't need compliments or—oh my God."
Whatever else I might have said disappeared into a high, desperate sound as his finger breached me, sliding into the tight heat with minimal resistance thanks to the slick my body had been producing.
The intrusion burned slightly—it had been months since I'd touched myself there—but the discomfort quickly gave way to a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
"So tight," Stefano murmured, his finger working deeper, seeking something I knew he'd find with devastating accuracy. "So perfect for us. Taking Daddy's finger so well."
"I'm not taking anything well," I insisted, though the breathless quality of my voice undermined the protest. "I'm enduring. There's a difference. Like how you endure a root canal or a particularly boring family dinner or—FUCK!"
His finger had found that spot inside me, the one that made stars explode behind my eyelids, and pressed against it with unerring precision. My whole body jerked as electricity raced through my nervous system, my cock jerking violently against his tongue as he took me back into his mouth.
"There it is," Marco murmured against my ear, his hands still working my nipples as he felt me stiffen against him. "That's the spot that makes our baby see stars, isn't it? The one that makes him forget all those clever arguments and just feel."
I wanted to tell him to go to hell, to take his smug observations and shove them somewhere anatomically improbable. But all that came out was a desperate whimper as Stefano added a second finger alongside the first, stretching me in a way that burned so good I couldn't think straight.
"Please," I gasped, beyond caring about pride or resistance. My body was on fire, every nerve ending singing with a need so intense it consumed rational thought. "Please, I need—"
"What do you need, Leo?" Matteo asked, his voice rough with his own arousal as he watched my face contort with pleasure. "Tell your daddies exactly what you need."
"To come," I admitted, the words torn from somewhere deep in my chest. "Please, I need to come. I can't—it's too much—"
"Ask properly," Stefano said, pulling off just long enough to speak, his fingers still working that spot inside me that made coherent thought impossible. "Say 'please let me come, Daddy.' All three of us need to hear it."
I should have told him to go to hell. Should have maintained that last shred of dignity. Instead, I heard myself saying words I never thought I'd utter.
"Please," I begged, my voice cracking with need. "Please let me come, D-Daddy. I need it so badly."
The smile that spread across his face was pure predatory satisfaction. "Good boy," he praised, before taking me deep again, his mouth working with renewed purpose as his fingers pressed harder against that spot inside me.
Marco's lips found my neck, teeth grazing the spot where Matteo had marked me the night before, while his fingers continued their relentless attention to my chest. "That's it," he encouraged, "let go for us. Show us how good we make you feel."
The permission, combined with the overwhelming sensation, was enough to push me over the edge.
Release crashed through me with shocking intensity, my body convulsing in their hold as Stefano swallowed every pulse, his throat working around me in a way that prolonged the pleasure until it bordered on pain.
I collapsed back against Marco, boneless and dazed, as Stefano finally pulled away. My chest heaved with each desperate breath, my mind struggling to process the intensity of what had just happened.
"Beautiful," Stefano murmured, licking his lips in a gesture that should have been obscene but somehow managed to be elegant.
"I think I've been permanently damaged," I managed, my voice hoarse from sounds I didn't remember making. "You've broken my brain. I hope you're prepared to explain to my father why his omega son now has the IQ of a particularly dim houseplant."
Marco laughed, the sound vibrating against my back. "Your brain is just fine. In fact, I think it's working better now that your body's gotten what it needed."
"My body didn't need anything except maybe a better owner," I muttered, though there was no heat in the words when I was slumped against him in post-orgasmic stupor. "One with some actual loyalty to the cause instead of melting at the first sign of alpha attention."
"Oh, I think it needed exactly what we gave it," Stefano said, rising to his feet with that fluid grace that made something in my stomach flip even in my exhausted state. "And that was just the beginning, baby. We have all night to show you exactly where you belong."
That should have terrified me. Instead, some traitorous part of me was already looking forward to what came next, already craving more of their touch, their mouths, their praise.
"This doesn't mean anything," I said, needing to establish at least the pretense of resistance. "I'm only here because of the blackmail. Not because I want to be."
"Keep telling yourself that," Marco murmured against my ear, his arms tightening around me in a hold that felt disturbingly like an embrace. "But your body knows the truth, even if your pride won't let you admit it yet."