Chapter 5 Hudson
Hudson
Oliver was half-asleep by the time I carried him into the bedroom.
He always went boneless after something like that—nothing left behind but soft edges and heavy lashes dusting his cheeks.
I nudged the bedroom door shut behind us and crossed to the bed, lowering him carefully onto the mattress. He made a quiet noise of protest when I went to pull away, fingers catching weakly in the front of my shirt.
“Stay,” he murmured.
A faint smile tugged at my mouth. “I’m not going anywhere. I was just going to grab a washcloth to clean you up with.”
“No,” he mumbled.
“No?” I chuckled. “Fine, we’ll shower later.”
I toed off my boots and climbed onto the bed beside him, easing him onto his side so I could curl around him properly.
He let out a soft, happy sound, pressing back against my hold as my hands slowly worked on ridding him of his pup gear.
We lay in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Oliver shifted and rolled over, pressing his face into my chest. His curls tickled my jaw. I slid my fingers into them automatically, combing through the messy strands.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
A small nod.
He wasn’t crying. That was good.
“I wish you hadn’t brought him here,” Oliver mumbled, voice muffled against me.
I sighed, knowing where this conversation was headed, and tilted his chin up gently so I could see his face. His eyes were heavy-lidded, exhaustion dragging them down, but there was frustration there too.
A spark.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he added quietly. “He really didn’t either.”
Ah.
There it was.
I wrapped my fingers in his hair and sharply tugged his head back, making him hiss.
“I was just being polite,” Oliver snapped weakly. “You can’t just—” He huffed softly. “You can’t just kill every person who talks to me.”
I considered that.
Nah.
“We can,” I corrected.
His lips twitched despite himself. He hated when we did that—answered literally instead of reasonably.
I leaned down, pressing my mouth to his forehead instead of his lips this time. “We can do whatever we want,” I whispered against his skin.
Oliver went quiet.
I wrapped my arm tighter around his waist, waiting.
His chest deflated some, and he pressed his face into my shoulder. “I know…”
“So, are you ever going to let someone buy you a drink again?”
His fingers tightened in my shirt again. “No, Master.”
“Good,” I answered. “We wouldn’t want you forgetting who you belong to.”
“I don’t forget,” he whispered. “I never do.”
No.
He didn’t.
Even when he was angry. Even when he rolled his eyes. Even when he shoved at us and called us dramatic psychopaths under his breath.
He never truly forgot. He just needed some reminding from time to time.
I thought of it more as him testing us.
Testing to see if any weak spots in the fence had developed.
And every time, we proved to him that he was just as trapped as he’d been at the beginning of it all.
Suddenly, there were footsteps coming up the stairs leading to the second floor.
Oliver stiffened slightly, but relaxed once the bedroom door opened and Hayes stepped inside, sleeves rolled up, expression loose and satisfied.
His eyes immediately softened when they landed on us, tangled in the bed.
“Hey,” he greeted.
Oliver shifted, reaching one hand toward him without lifting his head from my chest.
Hayes crossed the room and took it, brushing his knuckles over Oliver’s fingers before climbing onto the other side of him.
We closed in automatically.
Three bodies. One center.
Hayes purred, “Miss me, pet?”
Oliver huffed, a slight tinge of pink splattered across his cheeks. “You were gone like twenty minutes.”
“Longest twenty minutes of my life,” Hayes replied solemnly, his grin betraying him.
I rolled my eyes.
Oliver’s mouth curved faintly, despite his protest only minutes before.
Hayes leaned in, pressing a kiss to Oliver’s temple. “I missed you,” he murmured fondly.
“I did, too,” Oliver relented, his blush deepening. Then, almost shyly, he added, “It doesn’t feel complete without you.”
Hayes smiled. “There’s my sweet pup.”
“Our sweet pup,” I corrected.
Hayes rolled his eyes at me as Oliver chuckled between us.
“Okay, well, I think it’s time for us and our pet to take a shower,” my brother said before sliding back off the bed and extending a hand out toward Oliver. “C’mon. Up.”
Oliver groaned softly but took it, letting Hayes tug him upright. He wobbled a little, still loose and hazy, and I immediately steadied him from behind.
“Easy there,” I murmured, pressing a kiss just under his ear. “You’re exhausted.”
“Not that tired,” he mumbled automatically.
Hayes snorted. “Uh-huh, sure you aren’t.”
Between us, we guided him toward the bathroom, letting him lean most of his weight against us.
Oliver leaned against the counter while I turned the shower on, adjusting the temperature until steam began to curl into the air. Hayes stood nearby, slowly undressing. Oliver was content to quietly watch as more and more skin was bared.
I stepped back once the water was ready and began to strip, my gaze focused on Ollie as his eyes pinged from one brother to another.
We stepped into the shower together, beckoning Oliver between us as always. He took his spot naturally. Hayes drew him back against his chest, holding him there while I grabbed the soap.
“Look at you,” Hayes murmured into Oliver’s damp curls. “So handsome for your owners. Covered in your own fluids as ours drip out of you. Mm, fuck.” He rutted lazily against Oliver’s back. “So damn perfect.”
Oliver flushed. “Stop.”
I chuckled. “We’ll never stop complimenting you, but we should give you a break from our dicks.”
Hayes reluctantly agreed—at least for the time being—to focus on taking care of Ollie.
I worked the soap into my hands before smoothing it over his shoulders in slow circles. Washing him wasn’t only about cleanliness. It was about reset. About reminding his body that it was ours to care for, not just to control.
Hayes took over when I moved lower, lathering Oliver’s hair and massaging his scalp with practiced fingers. Oliver’s eyes drifted shut instantly, his head tipping back against Hayes’s shoulder as he let out a happy noise.
“There you go,” Hayes whispered. “That’s it. Relax.”
I rinsed the soap from Oliver’s chest, watching the sudsy water slide over mine and Hayes’s cursive names. He shivered once, and I immediately stepped closer, blocking the cooler air from reaching him.
“Cold?” I asked.
“No,” he breathed. “Just… floaty.”
I smiled and dropped to my knees to wash his bottom half. Hayes continued to cradle his head, fingers combing gently through his hair as the water rinsed the suds away.
Oliver glanced down at me with heat in his eyes and bit his lip, widening his stance. I smirked seductively up at him, then poured more soap into my hands, working it into a lather as his hips began to squirm.
“Please…” he whispered, his voice breaking in desperation as Hayes began to massage his neck and shoulders.
Maintaining heated eye contact, I raised my hand and ran soapy fingers through his folds. Oliver gasped at the touch, his gaze hooded.
“Oh god, please,” he whimpered, his little cock throbbing as I caught it between my fingers. As I began to thoroughly clean the cute thing, Ollie’s eyes rolled back.
“That’s not how a puppy is supposed to beg,” Hayes said as he leaned down to nip at Oliver’s earlobe. “Whine for us properly, pet.”
A tremble wracked Oliver’s body.
I licked my lips, slowing down my ministrations until Oliver finally let out a long, pitiful whine, then a soft, shy bark.
“That’s it,” Hayes praised, his hands sliding forward around Oliver until reaching his chest. His fingers strummed at our pet’s pink nipples, drawing yet another lovely puppy whine from his throat.
“Speak, boy,” I commanded, slipping two fingers into his soaked cunt.
He bucked against my hand and looked down at me with a glazed look in his eyes. Louder than before, he let out another two barks.
“We have such a horny little pup, don’t we, brother?”
Hayes replied, “Constantly in heat, it seems. Poor thing.”
Ollie whimpered, riding my fingers, eyes squeezing shut.
I gripped his thigh with my free hand, then said, “Come on my face like a good boy.” I leaned in close, my fingers still buried in that tight hole of his, and sucked his little dick between my lips.
Oliver instantly cried out, his hands flying down to tangle in my wet hair.
I added a third finger into the mix, my tongue flicking his clit, and smiled inwardly as he began to grind against my face in earnest.
Hayes greedily watched, his fingers still toying with Oliver’s sensitive nipples. “Ride his face, boy. Fuck, just like that. Give your Master what he wants. Come, pet.”
At Hayes’s demand, Oliver frantically rutted against me, desperate to reach his peak. It was mere seconds until his body locked up and he squirted his release onto my skin. I groaned into it, sucking and licking every last drop from him.
His body shuddered through several waves of his orgasm until finally he slumped. I clutched his hips, supporting him, while Hayes wrapped an arm around his chest.
“Good boy,” I heard Hayes coo into Oliver’s ear.
I hummed my agreement, the taste of Oliver’s pleasure ripe in my mouth, and gently cleaned him off once more.
When we were finished, I shut the spray off and immediately reached for the thick, fluffy towels we kept warming on the rack. Hayes stepped out first, then guided a limp Oliver onto the bathmat.
We dried him carefully—Hayes blotting his hair with one towel while I wrapped another around his shoulders and pressed it snug against him.
“You did so well tonight,” Hayes murmured.
Oliver blinked up at him, too far gone to form a response.
I huffed a quiet laugh. “It’s definitely time for bed now.”
Hayes tilted Oliver’s face up, kissing him slowly and deeply.
And when he pulled back, Oliver swayed toward him instinctively.
I stepped in behind him, wrapping my arms around both of them and pressing my mouth to the back of Oliver’s neck.
“Ours,” I said quietly.
Oliver let out a long breath, the last of the tension leaving him.
We helped him into the bedroom, then dressed him in soft sleep shorts and one of Hayes’s oversized shirts. I tugged it down over his hips, smoothing my hands along his sides once more.
“Bed,” Hayes ordered gently.
Oliver didn’t argue. He curled into the center automatically, one hand finding mine, the other reaching for Hayes.
Within seconds, his breathing evened out.
Hayes brushed a final kiss into his hair.
I rested my palm over Oliver’s ribs, feeling each steady inhale.
Glancing at him over Ollie’s head, I whispered, “I’ll handle cleanup downstairs. You sleep in with him.”
Hayes nodded. “Sounds fair.”