Chapter Twenty-Seven
Theo
W e’ve been running drills all day. Tackles, scrums, and strategic plays so precise Rory practically growled at someone for being two steps offside. Finn kept shouting “ play like you’re protecting Frankie’s honor !” until Coach threatened to permanently bench him for emotional damage.
But that’s not why I’ve been vibrating out of my skin since noon.
This—right now—is why.
We’re in my bedroom. The bed’s made, the lights are low, and there’s a faint trace of lavender in the air from whatever lotion Frankie uses. Rory sits beside me, elbows on his knees, back straight. He’s calm in that tightly-wound way that always makes people underestimate how much heat is hiding just under the surface. He hasn’t spoken since we came upstairs, but I know he’s ready.
So am I.
There’s a quiet knock at the door, then her voice, soft but certain.
“You’re sure you don’t mind doing this… together ?”
I look at Rory. He doesn’t flinch—just nods once.
I rise, walk to the door, and open it.
Frankie’s standing there barefoot, wearing that floaty dress again. The one that’s soft and clingy in the right places and probably wasn’t designed to wreck two alphas at once, but is doing an excellent job of it anyway.
“I mean it,” she says, her big, brown eyes flicking between us. “If it’s weird, or too much—”
“It’s not,” I say quietly, stepping aside so she can enter. “It’s right .”
Rory stands and crosses the room. He doesn’t touch her yet, but his presence is enough.
“We talked about this,” he says. “We’re both here because we want to be.”
“And we want you ,” I add, walking to her, reaching for her hand. “No pressure. No agenda. Just us.”
Frankie nods, her fingers lacing through mine. “Okay.”
I lead her to the bed, and she sits between us. Rory brushes her hair back from her face, slow and careful. I watch her shoulders relax like something inside her finally lets go.
The air is thick now. Not tense—just charged .
And we’re all so aware of what’s coming next.
I tilt her chin up and kiss her, soft and slow. She melts into it, her lips parting under mine, her body shifting toward me like she’s been waiting for this as long as I have. When we break apart, she’s flushed and breathless.
Rory presses a kiss to her shoulder, then leans in close, mouth brushing her ear.
“You ready?”
Frankie nods, and her voice is barely above a whisper. “I want both of you.”
I guide her back gently onto the bed, one hand at her hip, the other stroking slow up her spine. Her dress rustles as she sinks into the pillows, hair fanned out, cheeks flushed, eyes wide—but steady. There’s no fear in her; just that hum of wanting and trust threaded through every breath.
Rory moves in behind her, slow and sure. I watch him with her; how careful he is, how quiet. His hand slides down her arm, his fingers pause at her waist, and then he presses in close—his chest to her back, anchoring her there between us.
She sighs, and her head tips back slightly, instinctively leaning into both of us.
My hands move beneath the hem of her dress, up the inside of her thighs. Her breath hitches, soft and needy. She’s warm under my palms. Open. Receptive.
Ours.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, kissing up her neck. “You feel that, don’t you? What this is?”
She nods, lips brushing mine. “Yeah. I feel you.”
Her legs part when I nudge between them, and I glance past her to Rory. His eyes meet mine over her shoulder before he presses a kiss to the back of her neck, and she shudders.
“You’re safe,” I murmur, voice thick. “You’re ours .”
Rory starts to lift her dress, baring the curve of her ass, her waist, her lower back. He moves with the kind of restraint that speaks volumes—every touch purposeful, like he’s memorizing her.
I slide her panties down slowly, inch by inch, kissing the inside of her thigh. She moans softly, her hips twitching toward me.
“Fuck,” I breathe. “You’re soaked for us.”
Her skin glows under the low light. Her scent sharpens—aroused, bonded, perfect —and my cock throbs in response.
I press my fingers between her legs, teasing her entrance, feeling how ready she is. She gasps, clutching at my shoulders, her eyes fluttering shut as her hips move with the rhythm of my hand.
“Want to take our time,” I whisper, kissing her jaw again. “You deserve that.”
Her hand fists in my shirt. “I don’t want slow. Not tonight.”
I pause, my body screaming yes , but I search her face first—lips parted, pupils blown, her scent curling up around me like smoke and sugar.
“You don’t?” I murmur, brushing my nose against hers.
She turns her face slightly, her breath trembling against my mouth. “I want both of you. I want it real, I want it deep, and I want your mark.”
Well. That short-circuits my brain.
I swallow hard, pulse thudding in my throat. “Fuck, Frankie. You say things like that and expect me to stay composed?”
She gives me this tiny smirk—cheeks flushed, eyes glazed—and it undoes me.
Behind her, Rory shifts. I feel the bed dip as his arm slides around her thigh, fingers firm and steady, spreading her open for me. I catch a flicker of something rare in his eyes—focus sharpened to hunger—before I guide myself to her entrance, one hand braced beside her head, the other wrapped tightly around her hip.
And when I press into her—
God .
She’s hot. Wet—fucking soaked .
Already fluttering around me.
She gasps, head falling back onto Rory’s shoulder as I inch deeper, filling her up again, inch by glorious inch, until she’s full of nothing but me.
“Holy shit , Frankie,” I groan, trying to keep it together. “I’ve missed this pretty little cunt. You feel— fuck . You feel like home .”
Her legs wrap around my waist, anchoring me there. Her heels dig into my back as her nails find my shoulders and cling like she’s not letting go anytime soon.
Good . I’m not going anywhere .
Her omega scent explodes through the room—sharp with need, sweet with trust—and my knot’s already aching.
“I’ve got you,” I groan, kissing her jaw, her cheekbone, her eyelids. “Every inch. Every second. You’re mine now, sweetheart.”
“You’re doing so well, Frankie,” Rory murmurs against her neck, and I watch as he kisses a slow trail up to her ear, his voice low and steady. “You’re taking him so good .”
I almost groan at that— him . Not us .
The man is trying his best, okay?
Frankie moans, her body twitching beneath mine, and Rory’s hand slides up her chest, palming one breast, thumb stroking over her nipple with maddening care. His other hand presses gently at the inside of her thigh, keeping her spread wide for me.
She's completely held between us, and she loves it—I can feel that through the bond already weaving itself tight in my chest.
I roll my hips deliberately deep, letting her feel every inch of me and grinning as she gasps again.
“You feel it?” I ask, brushing my lips against hers, my voice all low heat and teasing reverence. “You feel it just like you did in the locker room?”
She nods frantically, her big dark eyes glassy. “I feel everything.”
“Yeah?” I groan. “You feel how much I love this perfect cunt?”
She lets out a breathless little sob. “Yes. Theo. Please… ”
“Please what?” I ask, licking slow up her neck, tasting sweat and sweetness. “Please keep fucking you like you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted?”
She whimpers. “Yes. Please. Mark me. ”
Rory’s hand tightens at her waist. I glance over her shoulder and catch him watching, his eyes dark, his jaw clenched.
“Permission granted,” he says stiffly.
I bite back a laugh—barely.
“Thanks, Cap,” I say, kissing Frankie’s cheek before dragging my teeth across her pulse. “You hear that, sweetheart? You’ve got official clearance.”
She lets out a broken laugh—and then gasps when I nip lightly at her skin, testing and teasing. Her hips jerk violently beneath mine.
“I’m serious, Theo,” she breathes. “ Please. ”
That’s all I need.
I bare my teeth and sink them into her neck. Her responding cry is loud and wrecked, my name on her lips as her body convulses around me, slick and clenching and so fucking good I nearly lose it right there. The bond slams into place as my teeth sink in deep; bright and hot and alive , snapping through my chest and down into my core like someone struck a match in my blood.
I try and keep control, try my best to drag it out, but the feel of her cunt clenching so tightly around me combined with the taste of her blood on my tongue and the sound of my name on her lips is too much. My hips stutter, and I thrust one more time—deep, hard, desperate —and then my knot swells, locking us together as I spill inside her, the pleasure spilling through every nerve like wildfire.
I don’t know how long it takes before we both come down from our release. I open my eyes again, and Frankie’s still trembling in my arms; her lips parted and her skin flushed all the way down her chest. I can feel her heart pounding through the bond—wild and erratic and so alive .
Her whole body is soft and slick and wrecked, but still buzzing with energy. I wet my lips with my tongue as she turns her head, her mouth brushing my neck as she tries to breathe again.
“ Rory ,” she whispers.
Behind her, Rory doesn’t move. His jaw is clenched, his hands flexing at his sides like he’s trying to stay in control; but his scent—oh, fuck —
His scent is spiking; all want and restraint and alpha fighting for balance.
She wants him, and I know him well enough to know that he’ll wait, that he won’t push.
That if she doesn’t take the lead, he’ll tie himself in knots before he makes a move.
Lucky for him, I’m here to help.
Still knotted inside her, I stroke my hand slowly down her spine, my lips at her temple.
“Sweetheart,” I murmur. “You want to help him out?”
She lifts her head just slightly, eyes meeting mine—still hazy, still undone. “I can’t move.”
“You don’t have to go far,” I grin, cocky and soft all at once. “He’s right here. And he’s fucking aching for you.”
I look up at Rory. “Aren’t you, Captain?”
His eyes flash as Frankie turns her head toward him, then shifts between us. I guide her, still locked tight inside her, careful not to overstimulate.
But she gets it. She wants it.
Her fingers reach back, grazing along Rory’s thigh.
I try not to chuckle when he inhales like she’s burned him.
“I—” he starts, voice rough. “You just—you're still—”
“She’s fine,” I say, brushing her hair back. “Aren’t you, sweetheart? A little shaky. Very smug. Insatiable, apparently. But fine.”
Frankie laughs softly, breathless. “He’s right—I am. And I want you, Rory. Please .”
And that’s all it takes.
He kneels on the bed, directly in front of her now. He’s flushed, his muscles tense like he’s ready to run or fall apart.
But when she reaches for the waistband of his shorts and presses a kiss to his abdomen?
He breaks .
His hands move to her shoulders, and all I can do is watch as his thumbs stroke slow circles at the base of her neck. She eases his cock free from his shorts, her hand wrapping around him with a soft, eager grip.
“Jesus,” he breathes. “Frankie…”
“Tell her what you want,” I murmur, resting my chin on her shoulder. “She’s fucking brilliant at following instructions.”
Frankie grins— grins , the absolute menace—and moves her head forward so that she can lick a stripe up the underside of his cock before taking the head of him into her mouth.
Rory chokes .
One hand shoots to the headboard like he needs to physically anchor himself, the other fisting in the sheets.
“F-fuck,” he mutters. “You don’t have to—”
“She wants to,” I say, lazily rocking my hips just the tiniest bit inside her, making her moan around him. “Don’t you, sweetheart?”
She hums in response—mouth full, throat swallowing around Rory’s cock—and I can see the way that the sound destroys him.
His hips twitch, his head drops back, and for a second, he looks gloriously wrecked.
Ruined by the girl we both can’t stop wanting.
I run a hand down Frankie’s side as she works him slowly, teasing at first, then deeper, sloppier. The heat of it rises fast between all of us—her mouth, my knot, Rory’s control hanging by a thread.
“That’s my good girl,” I murmur in her ear. “So fucking pretty with your mouth full of alpha cock.”
She moans again, and I swear Rory nearly loses it.
“Frankie,” he rasps. “I’m not— fuck , I’m not going to last if you—”
“She doesn’t want you to,” I say, all wicked warmth. “She wants you to let go. Doesn’t she?”
Frankie pulls back just long enough to gasp, “Yes. Want to taste you— please , Rory—”
And then she takes him again, deeper this time, cheeks hollowing, eyes fluttering closed.
Rory swears, filthy and ragged, hands trembling where they grip the sheets. Frankie’s mouth moves over him with the kind of intent that should be illegal; humming around his cock, her thighs still trembling from what I’ve done to her, and her fingers stroke along his shaft like she’s never wanted anything more.
My cock twitches at the sounds she’s making and at the sight of Rory unraveling, desperate and awestruck as he looks down at her like he doesn’t know how the hell he ended up lucky enough to be in this room. I can feel it— her through the bond, lighting me up from the inside. Her joy, her hunger, the way she loves being worshipped and watched, how much she wants him, wants this, wants us .
And fuck, I want her to have everything.
I lean in close to her ear.
“Sweetheart,” I murmur. “I need to pull out now.”
She moans softly around Rory’s cock as she nods.
“That’s my girl,” I say, brushing a kiss to her temple.
I ease back, my knot still sensitive, every slow withdrawal dragging slick heat between her thighs. She gasps around Rory as I finally slip free, and I groan low at the loss and the sight of her—flushed, wet, dripping in slick, mouth full of alpha, and completely ours .
I move back slightly, but I don’t go far. My hand stays firmly on her hip—I’m not going to miss a second of this. Rory looks utterly wrecked, and he hasn’t even touched her properly yet.
She pulls back again, lips shiny, chest heaving, her breath ragged and uneven.
“Rory,” she pants, voice wrecked. “I need it. I need you .”
He shakes his head once, like he’s trying to reboot his entire central nervous system. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“She just took me,” I offer, very helpfully, still panting and cock-drunk on the sight of her. “Not for the first time, by the way—but just as incredible”
“Shut up,” Rory mutters, voice tight, strained, and so obviously seconds from snapping.
But his eyes stay locked on Frankie, and when she reaches out for him again, fingertips brushing his chest?
Yeah. He’s done for.
He moves, but not just to settle between her thighs.
No—Rory’s decided he’s claiming her his way.
He rolls her gently, guides her onto her stomach with hands that are reverent and just a little shaky. Her cheek hits the pillow and her thighs spread automatically. I have to physically brace myself, because the view is devastating —her back arched, slick between her legs, mine still dripping out of her.
Rory crawls over her like he’s entering some holy space, and I catch his eye, grinning.
“You sure you’re still breathing, Captain?”
“ Barely ,” he says, and it’s so damn earnest I nearly moan.
But I have a better idea.
I lean over her back, palm sliding up her spine, breath hot against her ear. “Before he knots you,” I murmur, “you’re gonna come here and clean me up with that pretty mouth.”
She whimpers .
“C’mere, sweetheart,” I purr, rolling onto my back, resting my back against the mattress and spreading my thighs wide. My knot’s still aching but it’s softening by the minute, my cock half-hard, slick and shining. “You made this mess. Be a good girl and taste yourself.”
She shifts, pushing up onto her elbows with a soft whimper that sends a fresh throb straight through my cock. Her face is flushed, cheeks flushed rose-pink down to her chest, and her lips are swollen and shiny with spit. She crawls toward me slowly—dragging herself forward like she’s still remembering how her limbs work; chest low to the bed, back perfectly arched.
A fucking vision .
Rory’s hands are still on her hips, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just above her thighs. He holds her there, watching every second.
And then she reaches me.
Her breath ghosts over the head of my cock, still slick from where I knotted and came inside her just minutes ago. Her tongue flicks out, a slow swipe from base to tip, licking up our combined slick and groaning deeply like it’s her favorite taste in the world.
Then she takes me into her mouth.
Her lips stretch around the crown, dragging down the sensitive underside with wet heat and maddening precision. Her tongue swirls around the head of my cock, teasing the slit before it flattens beneath me as she sinks lower.
I curse loudly, and my hand slides into her hair without thinking, fingers tangling in the damp strands at the nape of her neck.
“Oh, fuck , yes,” I groan, hips twitching. “Look at you: my perfect little slut. Taking it so pretty. You’re gonna have every one of us wrapped around your fingers by the time this night’s over.”
She moans again— around me—and my whole body jerks .
“Jesus Christ ,” I mutter, throwing my head back against the headboard. “Rory, if you don’t fuck her right now, I will .”
Frankie laughs around my cock, and I groan.
“Seriously: she’s ready, Cap,” I say, voice hoarse, unable to pull my gaze away from watching her cheeks hollow around my cock. “Make her yours.”
And Rory doesn’t answer—he just moves.
The mattress dips as he moves behind her again. I hear the change in his breathing before I see anything; then he lines himself up behind her, thick fingers parting her sweet omega cunt. Even from where I’m sitting, I can hear how wet she still is; how swollen and soft and fucking inviting .
The second he presses in—just the tip—Frankie gasps around me, and I almost come again right then and there.
“F- fuck ,” Rory chokes, hips stuttering.
She lets my cock slip from her mouth with a wet pop , head dropping sideways into the sheets as she moans.
“Please, Rory. My god —”
Rory growls: a low, guttural sound I didn’t know he was capable of. It hits me right in the gut, because fuck , I’ve waited a long time to see this man finally lose control. He leans over her slowly, deliberately, the weight of his body pressing into her back. His hands curl around her ribs, fingers splayed wide as he steadies himself—steadying her —while he sinks in deeper.
Inch by careful inch; stretching her wide, claiming her in slow, wrecking increments.
The sound of it is obscene —wet, slick, sharp little gasps against sweat-damp sheets. Frankie’s whole body arches with it, hips lifting to take more, her thighs trembling as she pushes back against him.
And that’s what undoes him.
I watch as he slams in, hard and deep, and I swear the air shifts. His careful rhythm disappears and is replaced with raw, primal thrusts that make the entire mattress shake. Rory’s breath turns ragged, teeth gritted as he buries himself over and over in her tight little cunt, wrecked by the way she opens for him.
Frankie cries out, her voice cracking as she turns her head to the side, face half-hidden against the sheets.
But oh: I can’t have that. Not now.
I reach for her, fingers back in her hair and use my grip there to tilt her face back toward me. Her dark eyes are hazy, lashes wet, mouth parted and pink and perfect .
I guide her closer again, brushing her lips across the tip of my cock.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I murmur, voice thick with praise and want. “You’re doing so fucking well—don’t stop now.”
She whimpers, but obeys.
She takes me back into her mouth, slower this time—more instinct than finesse, her lips sliding down over me with a soft, eager hum. Her moans vibrate through my skin as Rory slams into her from behind, and I groan, my hips twitching.
“There she is,” I whisper, threading my fingers into her hair. “My perfect fucking girl. Look at you—taking him so good while you suck me off. You feel full, baby?”
She can’t answer—not with her mouth full of me—but she nods , helpless and honest, drooling around my cock as Rory fucks her harder from behind.
His thrusts get sloppier and rougher. One hand fists in her hair, joining mine, the other grips her hip so tight I know she’ll feel it later. His breath is ragged—almost angry with how much he’s feeling, how hard he’s holding on.
And then she pulls off me again, gasping—lips wet, cheeks flushed, her whole body shaking.
“Mark me,” she sobs. “Rory. Please. ”
Her words hit hard , dragged from somewhere primal. I feel it snap through me like a whip as Rory stops for just a second.
His head drops. His hand trembles where it grips her waist.
And I know . I feel it deep in my chest, like it’s mine too.
He lowers his mouth to her neck. Breathes her in.
And then he bites.
A growl rips from his chest as he sinks his teeth into the soft curve of her throat, the opposite side to my fresh bite, and Frankie screams —a raw, shattering sound, her body convulsing as she comes hard, hips jerking against him, hands clawing at the sheets. Her orgasm tears through her like lightning, wild and uncontrollable.
Rory groans behind her, low and wrecked, his knot swelling fast as he locks inside her, shuddering through the bond snapping into place.
And I—
Fuck, I lose it.
Because I feel it too.
That bond, that weight, that final piece falling into place . Even though she’s not bonding with me this time, it doesn’t matter. We’re all tied together now, every scent and instinct layered on top of each other. It surges through me like heat behind my ribs, flooding my senses until I’m nothing but want.
My hand wraps around my cock, still wet and twitching, and I stroke fast and rough—watching her collapse beneath him, her face wrecked and beautiful and open-mouthed in ecstasy.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” I groan, voice breaking. “Gonna come— fuck , I’m gonna come on that perfect face—don’t move.”
She tilts her head just enough to look up at me—cheeks streaked with tears, lips swollen, pupils blown; and she nods .
I fist myself harder, faster, the burn cresting as I feel her bond to Rory ignite ; smell the raw scent of alpha and omega sealing together in the air, and that’s what pushes me over.
I come with a groan, hips twitching, cock spilling hot over her cheek, her lips, her tongue where she licks me clean without hesitation.
It’s fucking art .
I stroke the last of it out, breath ragged, my other hand still in her hair as she stays where she is—completely used, completely adored, held between two alphas who can barely remember how to speak.
Her face glows with it: come and sweat and satisfaction, her body still locked under Rory, his knot keeping her in place as he breathes hard against her spine.
I slide down beside them, fingers stroking gently over her cheekbone where she’s still marked with me.
“Good girl,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss her jaw. “Told you we’d take care of you.”
Rory shifts just slightly, his hand sliding over her ribs again, and for a second, we all just breathe .
Sweat-soaked. Knot-locked. Come-smeared.
Complete.
And claimed .