Chapter 12 #5
He kisses me. Not deep. Not hungry. Just his mouth on mine, soft and open, breathing me in. I taste him—clean, warm, the faint sweet edge that's always underneath everything with Bane—and I breathe him back and we share the air between us like it's the only air left.
I reach between us. Find his cock—hard, thick, the head slick and hot against my ass—and I line him up and sink down.
Slow. Inch by inch. My thighs shaking, my mouth open against his, my breath stuttering as his cock fills me.
I'm swollen and tender and so open from Atlas and Zero that the stretch is almost gentle—almost—but Bane is thick and long and by the time I'm fully seated, his cock buried to the root, his hips flush against the back of my thighs, I feel so full I can't breathe.
"Oh god, Maxie." His voice breaks against my lips. His hand tightens on the back of my neck. "You feel—I can feel everything—all of it—them—"
Everything. Atlas's come still inside me, slick around Bane's cock. The stretch from Zero still tender. My body used and swollen and so sensitive that every inch of Bane feels like a live wire.
I start to move. Slow. Rolling my hips, lifting up until just the head holds me open, sinking back down until I feel him in my stomach. His forehead presses against mine. His breath comes in short broken gasps against my mouth. We're so close I can feel his eyelashes on my cheek.
"Maxie—you feel so—I can't—"
"I know. I feel you. I feel everything."
His hand on my neck pulls me into another kiss—deep this time, his tongue against mine, his hips rolling up to meet me on the downstroke. I moan into his mouth and he swallows it the way Atlas swallows mine—greedy, grateful, like the sound is something he wants to keep.
The bed shifts behind me.
Zero.
His chest presses against my back—warm, solid, the muscle of him flush against my spine. His hands find my hips. His fingers dig into the bruises he’s already left and he grips me and drags me forward on Bane's cock—hard, deliberate—then shoves me back down.
"Faster, baby." His mouth against my ear. "Fuck him faster. He's been waiting all night. Give it to him."
He sets the rhythm. His hands on my hips, dragging me forward and back, forward and back, using my body to fuck his brother.
My thighs are shaking too hard to hold my own pace and Zero takes over—pulling me up off Bane's cock until the head catches at my rim, then slamming me back down so hard Bane's eyes roll and his head drops back against the headboard.
"Zero—fuck—" Bane. Wrecked. His hand still on my neck, his grip tightening with every stroke.
"I got you," Zero says. To both of us. "I got both of you. Just feel it."
Atlas appears at my left. His hand slides into my hair.
He tilts my head to the side—exposing my throat, the bond marks, the three claiming bites that map who I belong to—and his mouth finds the first one.
His mark. He bites down on it, not hard enough to break skin, hard enough to send a bolt of heat straight through my chest and into my cock, and I cry out so loud the room rings with it.
"That's mine," Atlas murmurs against the mark. His tongue soothes the bite. Then his mouth moves to the next one—Zero's mark, higher on my neck—and he kisses it, open and wet, and Zero groans behind me like he can feel Atlas's mouth through the bond.
"And that one's mine," Zero says. His hips press against my ass, grinding me down onto Bane's cock while Atlas's mouth works the mark on my throat. "Kiss it again."
Atlas does. Slow. Teeth grazing the scar tissue. Zero's hands drag my hips faster in response, harder, the rhythm brutal now, and Bane is moaning underneath me—continuous, helpless, his composure shattered, his cock throbbing inside me on every stroke.
Atlas's mouth moves to the other side of the bed, to the third mark. Bane's. Low on my neck, near the collarbone. He presses his lips there—gentle, reverent—and Bane makes a sound like something inside him just cracked open.
"Atlas—"
"I know." Atlas's mouth stays on Bane's mark. His hand in my hair, holding me steady while Zero fucks me onto his brother's cock. "You feel that huh, little brother?"
Bane groans deep and his cock jerks inside me.
I am the center of all of them. Bane inside me, his hand on my neck, his forehead against my chest now because he can't hold his head up anymore.
Zero behind me, setting the pace, his hands on my hips, his mouth on my shoulder.
Atlas at my throat, his lips moving between the three marks like a man saying a prayer he memorized in a language he doesn't speak.
Four. All four. The bond between us so wide and so bright that I lose the walls of the room.
"Maxie." Bane. Against my chest. Broken.
"Yeah."
"Look at me."
I look down at him. His face is right there. Tipped up toward mine. Close enough to count the eyelashes. Close enough to see the wet at the corners of his eyes that he isn't hiding.
"I love you."
He says it in front of Atlas. In front of Zero. In the room with all of us—his cock buried inside me, his hand on the back of my neck, his brothers' hands on my body. Not whispered. Not private. Not in a library at midnight where I could run.
Said. Out loud. In the open. Like my voice was in the open tonight. Like a door that doesn't close again.
I don't run.
I don't flinch.
My hands come up and frame his face and I hold him there and I say, with my whole chest, with the bond roaring between us, with Zero's hands on my hips and Atlas's mouth on my throat and every thread in my body going bright at once:
"I know. I know you do."
His chin trembles. One second. Then Zero's hands drag my hips down hard and Bane thrusts up to meet me and the collision of it cracks his composure wide open.
He buries his face in my chest and fucks up into me with the rhythm of a man who has held this inside him for months and is finally letting it out.
I wrap my arms around his head and hold him against me and Zero keeps the pace—relentless, guiding, his hands bruising my hips, his mouth against my ear telling me I'm perfect, I'm everything, I'm so good for his brother.
"I love you," Bane says again. Into my skin. On every thrust. "I love you. I love you. Maxie—"
"I know. Don't stop. Bane—don't stop—"
Atlas's hand finds my cock between my body and Bane's—hard again, impossibly, aching—and he strokes me with the rhythm Zero is setting, his grip firm and sure, the eldest brother finishing what the three of them started.
I come for the third time with all of them touching me.
Bane inside me, Zero's hands on my hips, Atlas's fist on my cock, Atlas's mouth on my throat.
It's barely an orgasm—it's a surrender. A full-body release that starts in my chest and rolls outward and takes everything with it.
My cock pulses weakly in Atlas's hand. My body clenches around Bane.
And I hold his face and watch his eyes as he comes inside me—his knot swelling, stretching me wide, locking us together with a gentleness that makes my eyes burn.
He buries his face in my neck and breathes and his whole body shakes and I hold him the way he held me the morning after the beach house, when I woke up marked and claimed and his.
Zero's forehead drops against my shoulder blade.
Atlas's hand slides from my cock to Bane's shoulder, and for a long moment the four of us are a single shape, breathing together, knotted together, held together by hands and mouths and the bond humming between us like a chord that won't stop ringing.
"I know," I say again. Into his hair. "I know, Bane. I know."
Zero presses a kiss to my spine. Doesn't say anything. Doesn't need to.
Atlas's hand squeezes Bane's shoulder. Once.
The four of us. Tangled together. Bane still inside me. The bond wide open and humming.
Bane's knot holds us together for a long time.
Nobody moves to break it. We shift—slowly, carefully, until Bane is on his back against the pillows and I'm lying on his chest with him still inside me, his hand stroking the back of my neck in slow circles.
Atlas is stretched out on my right, his head propped on his hand, his fingers tracing absent patterns on my hip.
Zero is on my left, flat on his stomach, his chin on my shoulder blade, one arm draped across the small of my back like he's afraid I'll float away if he doesn't pin me down.
The room smells like us. All of us. The sheets are destroyed.
"Someone," Bane says, his voice hoarse and wrecked, "is going to have to explain these sheets to Margot."
"Burn them," Zero says. Into my spine.
"We're not burning Atlas's sheets."
"They're a crime scene, Bane. There's no saving them."
Atlas hums. His fingers are still tracing my hip. "I have another set in the closet."
"Oh, he has another set." Zero lifts his head. "The man has a contingency plan for his bedding. Of course he does. Atlas Graves, prepared for every emergency including the one where his brother fucks his omega through the mattress."
A beat of silence. Then Atlas laughs. Short, quiet. It shakes through his chest and I feel it in the mattress and the sound of it loosens something in the room that's been tight all night.
"Fuck you," Atlas says. Without heat.
"You'd have to get in line." Zero's chin drops back to my shoulder blade. His arm stays draped across me, heavy and warm.
We lie like that for a while. The four of us breathing.
The knot pulsing slow between Bane and me, each wave smaller than the last, the stretch easing by degrees until finally—gently, a long slow slide—Bane slips free of me.
The loss makes me whimper against his chest. He presses his mouth to my forehead.
"I know. I'm right here."
He turns onto his side, pulling me with him, tucking me into the curve of his body.
My back settles against Zero's chest—warm, solid, his arm shifting to wrap around my waist. I'm sandwiched between them.
Bane in front, his hand still on the back of my neck.
Zero behind, his mouth finding the knob of my spine.
Atlas hasn't moved. He's still on his side, propped on his hand, watching the three of us rearrange around each other like it’s a scene he never wants to forget.
Zero's hand slides from my waist. Down over my hip. Down between my thighs, where I'm still swollen and slick and tender from all three of them. His fingers trace through the mess—lazy, unhurried, not trying to start anything. Just touching.
Then one finger slips inside me.
I inhale against Bane's chest. My hips twitch. Bane's hand tightens on my neck. "Zero..." I say. Half warning, half not.
"Shh. I'm not doing anything." His finger crooks. Slow. Dragging against the spot that's been hit so many times tonight it's almost too sensitive to touch. Almost. "Just... feeling you. You're so soft in here right now, baby. So open. Full of Bane's come."
"Zero, he's exhausted," Bane says. But his voice is low and his hand hasn't stopped stroking my neck and he hasn't told Zero to move.
"I know he's exhausted. I'm not trying to make him come again. I just want to feel him." A second finger joins the first. Slow. Gentle. Just stretching me open enough to feel the slick heat of what's inside me. "Is that okay, baby? Can I just have this?"
I press my face into Bane's chest. Nod. My body is so far past the point of orgasm that what Zero is doing doesn't register as building toward anything.
It's just sensation. Warm. Full. His fingers moving inside me in slow idle strokes, the way someone plays with a lock of hair or rubs a thumb across a knuckle. Absent. Possessive. Comfort.
"You're obscene," Atlas tells Zero. Fond.
"I'm thorough."
"You're fingering him in my bed while our brother is holding him."
"And?"
Atlas doesn't answer. His hand slides around Bane to my hair and he cards through it, slow, and the combination of Atlas's hand in my hair and Bane's hand on my neck and Zero's fingers inside me is a kind of held I didn't know existed.
I am surrounded. I am touched in every place I can be touched.
I am so full of them I don't know where my body ends and theirs begins and I don't want to know.
"When do Richard and Margot get back?" Zero asks. Casual. His fingers still moving.
"Day after tomorrow," Bane says. "Late afternoon. Richard texted the itinerary."
"Of course he did."
"So we have tomorrow," Atlas says. Quiet. His hand still in my hair. "All day. No one to hear us. No one to perform for."
"A whole day," Zero murmurs. His lips press against my shoulder. His fingers curl, slow, and my breath catches against Bane's chest. "You hear that, baby? I've got you for a whole day. All three of us do. No hands over your mouth. No locked doors. Just you and us and this bed."
"We should eat at some point," Bane says.
"I'll feed him in bed."
"That's not—"
"Grapes. Cheese. Those little crackers Margot keeps in the pantry. I'll hand-feed him between rounds."
"Between rounds." Bane's chest moves under my cheek. A laugh he's trying to hold. "You're assuming there are rounds."
"Bane." Zero's voice drops. His fingers press deeper. My thigh tightens around Bane's hips where I’m still half hooked around him. "There are always rounds."
Atlas reaches over me and flicks Zero's ear. "Let him rest."
"He doesn't want to rest. Do you, baby?"
I don't answer. My eyes are half-closed against Bane's chest. Zero's fingers are moving in the slowest rhythm imaginable—barely there, barely anything, just enough to remind my body that he's inside me. Bane's heartbeat is steady under my cheek. Atlas's hand is in my hair.
I don't want to rest. I don't want to sleep. I don't want tomorrow to come or the day after tomorrow when Margot's car pulls into the driveway and the walls go back up and the hands go back over my mouth.
I want this. Right here. The four of us wrecked and tangled and talking about crackers and ruined sheets in a room that smells like everything we are to each other.
"Stay awake with me," I say. To all of them. To no one in particular.
Zero's fingers go still inside me. Bane's hand pauses on my neck. Atlas's hand stops in my hair.
"Yeah," Atlas says. Soft. "Okay, sweetheart. We'll stay up."
"All night?" Zero asks.
"All night," I say.
Zero presses his mouth to my shoulder. Bane's hand resumes on my neck. Atlas's fingers start moving through my hair again.
Nobody sleeps.