Chapter 20
They’re cute when they’re prickly
Amo
Listening to the deep thrum of Wilson’s voice through the ear I have pressed into his chest and Moros’s deeper tone has lulled me into some weird sense of quiet and peace.
Half the shit they’re saying is chock full of terrible ideas about heads on sticks or whatever.
But I’m in Wilson’s lap. And Moros has built us a fire that’s cooking our dinner. It’s a roast of some kind and smells so good that my stomach rumbles.
Part of me almost wishes we could just stay out here. Together, forever, just the three of us. Where the dead don’t talk.
Deep down I know, though, that the community is hiding its toxicity and something needs to be done about it.
I always suspected there was bias in the decisions that were made, especially when I was assigned to live with Cassia. I adore her, and most people around us know we’re close, but I never intended to spend forever with her.
She’s the kind of soul that speaks to mine, just in a different way than Moros and Wilson do.
Which makes us great friends, the best of friends.
Does she know the truth?
“We just walk in.”
Both guys’ lips snap shut, and I feel the warmth of their stares along my back where Wilson was just stroking.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
Sighing, I push off from Wilson’s chest just enough to look at both their handsome faces.
“Just like this. We walk in. Make them face us. Accept us. Or condemn us in front of the entire community.”
“The three of us?” Wilson asks skeptically.
“He might have a point.”
I can’t hide the shock that widens my eyes when Moros agrees with me, his sight rolling at my reaction.
“It’s hard to ignore what’s right in front of you,” I add, my words laced with double meaning, though they don’t know both.
I swear it makes Moros eyes soften in the firelight, and the fingers curled into my hip tighten.
“What if they hurt him, Moros?” My sweet Wilson asks, and I bite my lip.
“They won’t,” Moros answers. His intense gaze is locked on me, his sincerity making my chest clench.
I really think he means that.
“So that’s what we’re doing? But then what?” Wilson asks.
Watching the darkness spread over Moros’s face at his question shouldn’t make me clench my thighs, but it does.
“We take the motherfuckers—all the elders. We’ll make them listen.”
My nod is automatic, and my smile slips into a smirk.
As much as these two try to pretend they’re content with things as they were, there’s an element to them both that I feel deep in my bones.
They’re meant to lead.
To inspire.
To take it all by red-stained storm.
If anyone deserves to cause a revolution within the community walls, it’s them.
I can sense some apprehension still coming from Wilson, but I know just the trick to make him forget all about it, even if it’s just for the night.
“I think we’ve earned a treat before dinner,” I murmur and slide off Wilson’s lap, the hardwood digging into my knees.
His swallow is audible as I work my fingers into his waistband and tug.
“Can I?” He touches the tie holding my hair and I nod, sticking my tongue out to catch the spring of his hard cock from his pants. With shaking digits, he pulls it free and buries them in my strands so softly.
“Always a little cockslut. Never gets old to you, does it?”
Snickering, I shake my head and wrap my eager lips around Wilson’s plush head. He groans, tightening his fists, and tugs me down farther on his length.
I can feel Moros get up from his chair more than I can see him, the sizzle of the fire accompanying the soft praises from Wilson’s spit-slicked lips.
“So good, baby,” he murmurs and my cock fills. “So warm and tight. Perfect for my cock. Twirl your tongu—that’s it.”
His moan lights up my stomach where his words settle and I take him deeper into my throat.
I can feel his head teasing my tonsils, his mini thrusts momentarily cutting off my air.
It makes my balls ache with need.
“Moros,” Wilson breathes out on a groan. “Our baby is so good. Perfect at sucking dick.”
I’m already moaning around his length, my palm digging into my own as I fight my gag reflex, when Moros responds.
“He’s a filthy fucking whore.”
My eyes roll back.
“Come watch him suck me. His mouth is so full.”
“Full with a tiny prick, yeah.” Wilson’s shaft pulses along my tongue and I suck him harder. “You’re both nothing but desperate holes.”
His fingers tremble in my hair, his breath choppy.
“Fuck, I love it when you’re mean to me.”
“Most sluts do,” Moros murmurs distractedly, almost bored, yet closer than before.
Is he watching? Does he like it?
I want to look, though there’s no way I’m letting Wilson leave my mouth. Not until he’s squirming and moaning and coming down my throat. I need the taste of him like I need air.
And then I need Moros just as bad.
Wait …
The gasp that pops from my lips the moment they’re freed from Wilson’s cock echoes in the room.
“Stand up,” I rasp out to warm brown eyes, grinning when he shoots to his feet and slides his cock back into my mouth, his palm against the back of my head.
Anxiously reaching for Moros, I only relax when I feel him press into my hand, the flesh of his hardness already freed for me to feel.
It makes me moan, having them both so ready and willing to be with me. To be together like this.
For them both to care about me enough to risk everything come tomorrow.
I hope it all works out.
But if it doesn’t?
At least we’ll have tonight.
Gripping Moros tight, I tug him closer and earn myself a hiss as I take Wilson’s cock deep enough to make me choke.
He groans deep and pets my head, even as I lean back. Swirling my tongue over his foreskin then beneath it to the sensitive head.
A string of saliva connects us as I look up at them both. Two strong men standing over me. Cocks hard because of me. Eyes blazed and focused right on me. Lips parted and breaths panting.
It’s all a dream, isn’t it.
Well if it is, I’m not wasting any more time not having them both.
Grabbing their hips, I pull them together until Moros’s cockhead slicks along Wilson’s and I dive in. Stretch my lips around the tips of them. Slip my tongue along their undersides.
“Oh, fuck,” Wilson murmurs faintly, fingers curling in my hair.
“Thirsty cumdump,” Moros grunts out and thrusts against my lips, stretching my mouth wider. “I’ll give you a fucking drink.”
“Pretty baby with his mouth stuffed full.” The hand in my hair moves to the back of my head, steadying me as they find a rhythm and thrust over my tongue in tandem.
My lip splits from the volume of it but not even the taste of blood stops me from wrapping my hands around them both and stroking their lengths I can’t reach with my tongue.
“He wants it so bad.”
My own cock pulses.
“Needs us to coat his tongue.”
I’m too lost in the sensation of them, the plushness of their heads fucking into my mouth, the occasional scrape of Moros’s ring over my tastebuds.
My lower stomach clenches as the tightening of fingers in my hair on both sides of my head.
“Slutty little … cum … dump—”
Hot spurts cover the roof of my mouth, and I swallow hard. It’s thick and salty and coats my tongue just like they said it would.
“Shit, fuck. I’m coming!”
I choke on the next rope of release shot farther back, my throat constricting hard to work it down and fuck … it makes my eyes roll back.
The taste of men. The salty tingle. The hard grip on my hair and lack of breath.
My cock flexes, rubbing the inside of my pants just right and I cry out around their shafts, my release flooding my crotch.
I suckle, and moan, and hump at the air until my balls are empty and their heads are shining with nothing but my spit.
“Did you just come in your pants?”
I nod, uncaring of how inexperienced that makes me seem and release Wilson to suck Moros back. He groans deep and flexes his hips, his fingers pressing me deeper into his length until he steals my breath.
“I would have, too, if my dick wasn’t already in his mouth,” Wilson breathes out beside us. “Fuck, that was so hot.”
“Good.” I gasp when Moros backs off, tucks his cock back into his pants and points at Wilson. “Then you get to clean him up.”