Chapter 16
This shouldn’t be hot, right?
The present
Amo
The chain Moros keeps around his neck is the only solution I could come up with.
They teach us shit like this. For the carriers who haven’t self-contained, or maybe don’t know that they’re as close to changing as they are. To restrain them wherever possible and ensure the safety of those around them.
The awesome part?
I’ve never had to do this shit.
My side eye is massive, and my patience looks more like it belongs to Moros as the two of them shift in their prone position until he can shove his cock inside Wilson again.
It’s … distracting to say the least.
My whole lower half twinges in protest when I consider sandwiching myself between them.
“You’re gonna die of a different kind of infection if he doesn’t stop,” I sigh out.
The chain tightens around Wilson’s throat as he leans closer to me and arches his ass up for more pounding.
“Keep going, baby,” he rasps out, and I hate the way his soft eyes feel like a caress across my face even though I’m not sure if he’s talking to me, or Moros.
I’m running on fumes, barely keeping my limbs moving as I dab a damp cloth across his bare chest, and yet I follow his command with an ease that should scare me.
It doesn’t.
The growl behind him gets cut off as Moros lunges, snapping teeth just short of reaching anything worth munching on.
It sounds more intense than it is, their energy waning faster than mine as the storm runs out, leaving the outside of this place covered in a mist of red.
But even though the rain has passed, the effects will linger for days.
Which means Moros’s hips are still snapping against Wilson’s ass, even as I shimmy down his torso to get him cleaned up.
The moan he lets loose when I run the cloth along his waistline is raspy and leaves me biting my lip. He’s still hard, covered in his last release, and looks like my daydreams.
They’re both so damn hot.
“Don’t just stare,” Moros snaps, fingers curling around Wilson’s hip hard enough to make the flesh bloom red. “Lick it, slut.”
I shiver, I can’t help it. His demands so damn … demanding.
“I’m cleaning him up, not sucking him off.”
The growl that responds matches the intensity of his increased tempo as he slams harder into Wilson.
“He’s coming either way. So, make yourself useful.”
My face heats as he lifts Wilson’s leg, showing me where they’re joined and coated in a shiny white gleam that Moros’s cock works back into his body.
I wanna taste it.
“Amo,” Wilson whimpers and, fuck me, I lift his sac to get a better view. “Need to feel that tongue, baby. Help me come.”
Who can say no to that?
I dive between his legs and under his balls, extending my tongue as far as it’ll reach to feel the way he’s stretched around the thick cock railing him.
My stomach coils up tight at the sounds they both make, the slapping of skin against skin.
It’s just so … hot.
Am I really a cockslut? I think I am.
Lapping at Wilson’s hole, taking as much of the left-over release from the last round as I can find, I reach into my own pants.
My length is throbbing, raw and angry, but that doesn’t stop me from stroking myself in time to Moros’s thrusts.
It’s dirty and disgusting and I’m coming all over the floor before I can stop myself.
Attempting to bury the sound in Wilson’s sac only gains me his release, which is hot, and lands in my hair with his shouting.
Moros follows, his cock twitching against my tongue, his roar loud enough to shake the ground beneath us.
His next breath, though?
Is a fucking snore.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”