Chapter 12 Cyrus
CYRUS
Iguide Keira through the doorway, her body trembling from our earlier activities. The moment we enter, the heavy scent of sex and sweat hits me—the unmistakable aroma of the orgy room.
Bodies tangle together on every surface, moans and slaps of skin against skin creating a symphony of debauchery. I scan the space, barely registering the other participants. They don’t matter. Only she matters.
“Put your mask back on,” I tell Ace, already securing my own black and yellow covering across my face.
He complies without question. We might have revealed ourselves to Keira early, but here, in this shared spectacle, we maintain our Hunt personas.
Keira’s eyes widen as she takes in the scene, but I notice her gaze never lingers, as if she’s trying not to intrude on their privacy despite the public nature of their acts.
“They’re irrelevant,” I whisper against her ear. “Focus on us.”
My eyes catch on an ornate chaise lounge positioned near the room’s center—crimson velvet with gilded edges, elevated on a small platform. It’s a stage, a display area, and perfect for what I have in mind.
“There,” I nod toward it, catching Ace’s eye. “Let’s fuck her bent over that.”
Ace’s lips curl into a predatory smile behind his mask. He grabs Keira’s wrist, leading her forward while I follow, my hand possessively splayed across her lower back.
“Everyone will see how well you take us,” I murmur, close enough that only she can hear. “But they can’t have you. You’re ours to display.”
We reach the rugs, and I position Keira in front of the chaise, turning her to face me. Her pupils are blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Bend over,” I command.
I guide Keira to bend over the crimson chaise, my hand firm on the back of her neck.
She complies, her body still flushed and responsive from our earlier activities.
The heat of the orgy room clings to my skin beneath the mask, but I welcome it—the animal in me thrives in this atmosphere of raw desire.
“Spread your legs wider,” I command, watching as she adjusts her stance.
Ace positions himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips hard. I move to stand in front of her, tilting her chin up to meet my gaze through the slits in my mask.
“Open,” I order, and her lips part.
The synchronicity between my brother and me is perfect—as he drives into her from behind, I push my cock between her lips. Her moan vibrates around me, sending electricity down my spine. I tangle my fingers in her hair, controlling her movements while Ace sets a ruthless pace behind her.
“Look at me,” I growl when her eyes start to flutter closed. “I want to see every reaction.”
Ace’s rhythm falters slightly—I recognize the signs of his approaching climax. Without words, we communicate our intent through locked eyes above Keira’s body. With practiced ease, we withdraw simultaneously.
“Swap,” Ace says, his voice tight with restraint.
I trade places with my brother, positioning myself at her entrance while he stands before her face. I slam into her without warning, relishing her surprised gasp that’s quickly muffled as Ace pushes between her lips.
“That’s it,” I praise. “Take us both.”
I grip Keira’s hips harder as I thrust into her from behind, watching her lips stretch around my brother’s cock. The familiar rhythm of Hunt, the claiming, the displaying, the ownership—it should feel routine by now. Seven years of this ritual, seven years of interchangeable women bent to our will.
But Keira is different.
My body recognizes what my mind is still processing: Keira fits us like no one ever has.
I slide my hand up her spine, feeling each vertebra beneath my fingertips.
Her skin holds the heat of our earlier sessions, marked by our hands, our mouths, our possession.
Usually by now, the novelty has worn off, the prey becoming another body to use until the Hunt concludes.
With Keira, every touch feels like the first.
Our eyes meet above her body—Ace’s and mine—and I see my own revelation mirrored in his expression. Even my always-restrained twin is coming undone for her.
“Fuck,” I growl, watching her take him deeper. “Look how perfect she is.”
The sounds around us fade to white noise. The other hunters, the other prey, the spectators—they’re nothing but shadows. Only Keira burns bright, her body responding to our every touch with an instinctive understanding of what we need.
I reach around to stroke her where we’re joined, feeling her clench around me.
Her moan vibrates through Ace’s cock, making him hiss with pleasure.
This feedback loop between the three of us—it’s never existed before.
Previous claims were performances, expertly executed but ultimately hollow. This feels like completion.
“She was made for us,” I say, more to myself than anyone else.
For the first time since we began the Hunt years ago, I find myself counting down the hours until the claiming, desperate to claim her for as long as the Hunt rules allow. One year and not a moment less.