Alaina

Cards flicked in a constant rhythm; it was hypnotic. Oliver’s hand moved with a fluidity that spoke of long-practiced games, but you barely registered the snap of paper against wood, focus elsewhere, tethered wholly and utterly to the heavy weight of his cock spreadin’ your lips apart, grazin’ against the soft flesh at the back of your throat before sliding deeper still.

Thicker than any mouth should comfortably take and long enough that you could feel the pressure in the sinew beneath your jaw, dull ache that curled in your cheeks from the stretch. Oliver sat with the quiet patience of a man who knew you’d work and take it deep and slow since that was the only way you’d be allowed to have it.

Your hands were on his thighs, the coarse hairs bristling against your knuckles as you steadied yourself, nose pressed just shy of his pubes between the steady press of his thick inner thighs framing your head buried in the soft curls that smelled faintly of sweat and deep, loamy earth that filled your senses and made your eyes flutter.

The underside of his shaft was ridged and veined and your tongue dragged along it with slow, desperate reverence, slicking him with your spit. You’d pull back just enough to let your lips slide over the crown, lips stretched wide, tongue flicking the tender slit and then pushing back down, cheeks hollowing as you swallowed him whole again.

The sounds you made weren’t loud besides wet gurgle as you bottomed out again, lips pressed to the base with a soft, stuttering hum that sent vibrations flutterin’ up through the thick heat. You moaned and the sound was swallowed immediately by the cock in your mouth, trapped and carried down the length of it.

From under the table, the two men sitting there seemed like gods with their massive legs and boots braced wide, flannel and wool and denim bulking their thighs.

The dying sunlight outside crept through the cracks between the floorboards, setting your cheeks aglow with a ruddy amber hue, but you didn’t dare move.

Paddy’s boot nudged you, not gentle but impatient, a sharp and small tap under the ribs, then again, heel digging like a petulant dog who didn’t like being ignored.

But you stayed focused as the game of poker above you kept going.

“Five cards,” Paddy grunted, eyes flicking up from his hand, lopsided grin cutting across his rough face. “Let me see if yer lucky t’night ‘gain.”

Oliver didn’t respond as he slid three cards forward. That was the only tell you’d ever get and it made your cock throb where it hung uselessly between your thighs, your own arousal utterly ignored and leaking quietly onto the floor.

“Call,” Oliver murmured. Even his arousal was quiet as you worked him, focused and unhurried that made you ache for him more.

“Yer gettin’ bold, Mellors,” Paddy said while leaning back in his chair, body sprawling with thighs open. “Either you’ve got somethin’ worth showin’ or yer feelin’ reckless.”

The weight of his stare made you twitch, but you didn’t turn your head. Couldn’t, actually, considering Oliver’s cock stuffed deep into your mouth.

Every so often, your tongue would draw little patterns just under the ridge of his head as you pulled back, curling slightly to trace the underside before sinking again with a practiced suck that made your throat contract, slurping wetly. You let your lips smear spit along his shaft, making everything glossy and gleaming.

The way your throat fluttered made Oliver’s breathing deepen.

He flicked another card.

Lion’s fists continued to hammer the punching bag in the corner that you’d long since tuned it out.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Paddy muttered, tossing his two cards with a flick.

Sucking long and slow, eyes closing as you pressed forward again, letting your nose brush Oliver’s groin, lips buried against the base, humming gently so that the entire length of him trembled inside your throat.

Oliver’s legs now trembled under the skin, a faint twitch in his thigh when your tongue did that one particular thing, his chest rising deep and slow.

“Raise,” Paddy said, shoving a fat roll of notes toward the center of the table. “Reckon yer bluffin’, eh?”

The cards snapped down on the table while his cock pulsed hot and thick between your lips, speared down your throat with lazy ownership.

Your knees ached on the floorboards but you barely felt them anymore, throat clenching instinctively, fluttering around the wide crown and a thick string of drool spilled down your chin.

Paddy had seen you crawl under that table ten minutes ago, hadn’t said a word but now his boot was nudging at your ribs again. The second time, he growled low in his throat, “The fuck’re ye doin’ down there, ye little gobshite?” meant to sting.

Oliver’s fingers brushed once across your scarf where it clung damp to the back of your neck and the casualness of it sent another spark down your spine.

Cards revealed and the moment split.

Paddy leaned forward, eyes glittering with the kind of glee he usually reserved for broken noses and pub fights. “Full house,” he announced, laying them down with a smack of confidence, voice thick with pride. “Three queens. Pair o’ sevens. That’ll do, eh?”

He looked up, expecting the pot.

But Oliver just smiled, laying his cards down one at a time. Four tens and the fifth, the deathblow, a jack of spades.

Straight flush.

Quiet and brutal like his cock splitting your throat right now.

A silence bloomed heavily.

Then Paddy threw his head back and laughed, the heel of his palm slamming the table hard enough to make the silver jingle and the candle jump. It startled you and Oliver’s palm came down, firm on your head, smoothing your hair, guiding you right back down as his cock surged a little deeper, and your throat gave a helpless little hhhkk as you swallowed it again.

“Ye cheeky bastard,” Paddy wheezed, grinning wide, blue eyes bright with mischief and not a trace o’ anger. “Ye fuckin’ would.”

Oliver grinned proudly and exhaled slow, fingers still stroking your scarf like reins, other hand gathering the pot with an unhurried pull. The moment he leaned forward, he forced unintentionally (more then likely purposely) his length further down into your throat and you gagged lightly again before adjusting with practiced ease, tongue sliding along the underside to ease the pressure.

It wasn’t the first time you’d choked on him and it wouldn’t be the last.

Paddy watched, then his head tilted and he muttered, voice low but tinged with a smug curiosity. “Oi… ye fuckin’ little devil. That what yer up to down there while ignorin’ me?”

You made a soft, muffled moan around Oliver’s cock, lips sliding back to the crown to give a slow, flicking suck on the head, tongue teasing the slit before you swallowed him whole again, jaw aching as you pressed in until your nose was buried in his pubes.

“Mmh I bet he’s better than yer ex cheating slag,” Paddy snorted.

Oliver shook his head in disbelief at Paddy’s words but a small grin broke on his face, thick fingers tightening slightly in your hair as he held you firm against him.

“Oi.” You felt the nudge harder this time.

“Sweetheart,” Paddy called, voice matched by a grin. “Y’down there, huh? I don’t mind sweetenin’ the pot if yer willin’ to share that talent, ‘specially since I’m the poor bastard who just got robbed.”

Oliver’s cock popped from your mouth a trail of drool stretchin’ from your lips to the tip as you gasped for breath, chest heaving, eyes glazed and messy.

Then you turned.

Paddy had pulled his chair back, spread out, cock tented massive against the sand military trousers he had on, rough fingers palming it shamelessly as he watched you look.

“Well, well,” he murmured, cupping himself. “Ain’t shy, are ye? ‘Course ye ain’t.”

His brows lifted as his hand squeezed slow over the bulge.

Oliver’s palm pressed to the side of your face again, not harsh but firm snd redirectin’, that fat cockhead bumped your cheek and it made you turn back instinctively with a big grin.

“Ye can wait. I’m still gettin’ me reward.”

The scrape of a chair made your eyes flicker sideways, half-lidded and wet with tears from the stretch, watchin’ Paddy shove up from his seat with that smirk on his battle-worn face.

“Pleasure’s mine, Paddy. More ways than one.” Oliver’s Derbyshire murmur interrupted the air.

Paddy flipped him off without missin’ a beat, middle finger cocked high with a sneer. “Toss off, y’ smug bastard.”

But his eyes dropped just briefly to where your lips were wrapped tight ‘round Oliver’s cock and that smirk tugged wider before he turned his back and stomped off toward the corner where Lion had been beatin’ that fuckin’ bag.

Paddy stopped behind ‘im and reached out to still the bag with one thick hand, holdin’ it center.

“The fuck’s all this for?” Paddy asked, brows lifted, sweat glintin’ in his stubble. “Ye trainin’ fer the second comin’, or just pissed?”

Lion didn’t look over or even blink.

“Stanley,” he muttered, voice low and raw. “I win this… it’s for ‘im.”

Then he pulled back and started poundin’ the bag again, fists flyin’ in vicious, practiced rhythm. Paddy braced the bag harder, lettin’ Lion use it by stabilizin’ the weight as the younger man slammed into it, shoulders tight with sweat.

Pausing just a beat long enough for your throat to flutter and your jaw to ease, lips still pressed soft ‘round Oliver’s tip as your head tilted a fraction.

He didn’t complain.

Didn’t so much as shift in his seat.

One of his big hands slid down and ghosted slow across the back of your neck, palm warm against your nape. A loving caress, fingers splayed wide in your damp hair, slow strokes, like he was thankin’ you for bein’ there, not expectin’ you to keep goin’.

But god yes, you did.

Letting your lips part a little wider, took a breath through your nose, then sank back down onto him, reclaimin’ every inch of cock you’d paused on.

His groan was almost silent but you felt his stomach tense, a tiny twitch of his thighs as you swallowed his achin’ cock, veins pulsin’ as your throat clutched ‘round him, eager and desperate. Picking up the rhythm with steady bobs of your head, each one draggin’ your tongue firm along the underside and wringin’ out a hiss of breath from the ex soldier above you.

“S’good,” he murmured, barely audible. “Stay just like that, love. Perfect mouth on ye…”

His fingers curled in your hair now, still not pushin’ but holding you in a tender way while you sucked harder, lips slippin’ wet to the base as spit bubbled around him now, makin’ each thrust down easier and sloppier.

Oliver’s hips shifted in a slow roll forward, matchin’ your motion.

“Take it. You’re doin’ so well for me.” His voice dropped lower and your own cock throbbed, neglected between your knees, bobbin’ slightly with every gaggin’ motion and leakin’ onto the floor.

This was about all of ‘im.

Soon a grunt got torn from his chest, cock swelling and twitching before he flooded you with hot spurts, gush after gush, pumpin’ deep down your throat while his hand clutched tight in your hair, keepin’ you there.

Moaning around it, suckin’ through the climax, cheeks hollowed and throat swallowin’ every fucking drop to not let it spill, one hand clutchin’ his thigh and feelin’ the muscle jump beneath your palm.

Licking him clean as you pulled off slow, tongue draggin’ up the underside, slurpin’ every trace of cum you could find along the shaft before you let the swollen head slip from your lips with a soft and satisfied pop.

Oliver’s chest rose and fell slower now, hand cupping your cheek, beard-scratched thumb swipin’ spit from your chin.

“Come up here, pet.”

You obeyed instantly, crawlin’ into his lap, knees bracketin’ his thighs, big and strong arms comin’ up to hold you.

Both of your hands cradlin’ his face, thumb trailin’ through the sandy texture of his beard and he nuzzled into your touch, those eyes half-lidded now.

Your forehead rested against his, breath minglin’ as you asked, soft and playful, “How much did ye win, then?”

Oliver chuckled, low and fond. “Have me reward sittin’ on me lap.”

His arms tightened ‘round your waist, pullin’ you flush to his chest and you felt the residual twitch of his cock softenin’ between your thighs.

Your gaze drifted without you quite meaning it to, pulled by the steady, punishing rhythm of fists against that box in the corner of the room, Lion’s body a marvelous thing to look at, sweat flinging off in dark arcs with every impact, shoulders rolling, back flexing under that thin, sweat-soaked and sleeveless clings to his torso, stretched tight across broad shoulders and thick arms that flex hard as he drives a punch forward and the punchin’ box rattled ‘gain.

Oliver’s mouth, soft at first against your cheek, lingering presses of his lips, the scratch of his beard a pleasant and grounding rasp against your skin before his mouth drifted down to your neck, teeth catching gently at first, then biting with just enough pressure to make you hiss quietly through your teeth, a sharp spark of pleasure shooting straight down your spine.

He held you there with his mouth, sucking and working the spot until you knew it would bloom dark and possessive, a heavy purple mark you’d wear proudly. He soothed it immediately after, tongue laving over the marked skin with a low, satisfied sound in his chest.

When you turned your head back toward him, his eyes were already on you, dark and intent as he leaned in without hesitation, mouth crashing into yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle, tongue pushing in, invading your mouth with confidence, tasting and taking his time, the scrape of his beard against your lips and chin sending little jolts of sensation through you every time he shifted.

Melting into it, lips parting wider, matching him stroke for stroke, breath mixing, a faint, wet sound filling the space between you.

When he finally pulled back, it was only far enough for a thin, obscene bridge of saliva to stretch between your mouths before it snapped, leaving your lips tingling and swollen. He spoke low, voice pitched just for you, rough with affection and something darker. “Go on,” he murmured, thumb brushing along your jaw. “He needs ye.”

You raised your brows slightly, palms still cradling his bearded cheeks, checking in without words and the way he leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering half-closed, a barely-there rumble of pleasure vibrating through his chest, told you everything. He huffed a quiet, amused breath. “An’ before y’ say it,” he added, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that dry, knowing way of his, “I’m well aware ye’re about t’ offer yourself up as charity. Don’t strain yourself too hard, eh?”

You laughed softly and kissed him once more, slow and full and lingering, before sliding off his lap and making your way toward the other end of the room.

Lion was caught mid-strike when you approached, body angled forward, stance wide and grounded, hips low, knees bent just enough to keep him balanced and ready as he drove another punch into the bag. The red wraps around his hands were already stained darker, veins standing proud along his forearms, jaw clenched in focus.

“I kinda wish I was tha’ bag right now,” you said, voice light but edged with intent.

It worked.

His head snapped left, attention locking onto you immediately. A bead of sweat rolled down from his hairline, tracing the bridge of his nose before slipping past the corner of his mouth, which had curved into that familiar mix of grin and smirk. “Yeah?” he drawled, voice rough from exertion. “Tha’ so, sweetheart?”

He reset his stance automatically, feet shifting into a proper boxing guard, elbows in, fists up and shoulders relaxed but ready. You mirrored him instinctively, grin spreading across your face and when he threw the first punch, you caught it in your palm, no force in his attack. He followed with the other and you caught that too, the two of you locked together for a split second.

He took advantage o’ that and with a grunt, he pulled you forward, your balance tipping as he yanked you into him, arms opening just in time to wrap you up in a tight, crushing hug.

His chest was blazing hot through the thin fabric, sweat slicking your skin where you pressed together and he bent his head to press quick, chaste kisses to your cheek, temple and brow, beard scratching pleasantly with every touch.

You didn’t mind the sweat or heat as you sank into him, breathing him in, warmth and salt. “I’m really glad you came,” you murmured. “Even with the match comin’ up.”

Something softened in his face then, the hard lines easing just a fraction, gratitude flickering through his eyes before he masked it with that crooked grin. “Wha’, tha’?” he teased. “Or ye just missed the way I fuck ye?”

There was something held back there, a quiet sadness under the surface of those blue eyes, like he was always bracing for something to go wrong. You stepped closer, hands coming up to cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing lightly along his jaw and he leaned into your touch without even thinking about it.

“It’s not just that,” you said softly. “It’s ‘cause of ye, always so gentle and takin’ care of people. You fight t’ help yer brother even if ye don’t like boxing. You’ve got a good heart, Lion. I’m really happy I met ye.” Then, lighter and playful, “Beautiful inside and out, yeah?”

The smile that broke over his face was real, a soft huff of laughter escaping him. You took his hands in yours then, cradling them carefully, thumbs tracing over old scars, knuckles marked by years of fighting for someone else. “Y’ were right though,” you added, grin turning wicked. “I do really like the way y’ fuck me.”

He barked out a loud laugh, head tippin’ back before leaning in to kiss you again, hands still wrapped in red gauze sliding to your waist as he walked you backward until the edge of the wooden table made contact with your ass. When he pulled back to breathe, you murmured, “What about trainin’?”

He didn’t answer with words, turning you around, back to his chest, one big hand sliding up to grip your head, fingers threading through your hair as he bent you forward over the table. “Fuck it,” he muttered against your ear. “I wan’ ye now.”

Your eyes darted forward, catching Oliver across the room, elbows on his knees, watching with a broad, proud grin that made your own smile spread as you panted.

Lion’s hands were already working, tugging your trousers down and exposing you again, his other hand coming up to your mouth. You took the hint immediately, lips parting as you sucked his fingers in, coating them in saliva, making a show of it with obscene little sounds filling the air as he pressed in closer, erection a solid and undeniable presence against your ass through his sweatpants.

When he pulled his fingers free, he didn’t waste time, slicking you properly and working you open, every push of thick and calloused digits stretching you carefully until your body was pliant and ready, breath coming in needy gasps. He groaned softly at the feel of you, adjusting his grip, shifting his clothes and patting your ass once before the large head of him pressed insistently at your entrance.

Bracing your knees against the table and leaning forward, giving him the view you knew he wanted, only to be met by Paddy on the other side, a wicked grin in place as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your face close to the bulge in his military trousers.

Lion pushed in slowly, filling you inch by inch, the stretch delicious and overwhelming, a broken moan tearing from your throat as he bottomed out with a grunt and you got pushed head first in Paddy’s tent, blunt clothed cock poking your cheek as he laughed low and dirty. “Mind if I use ‘im too, mate?” he asked, voice thick with hunger.

Lion nodded, breath ragged. “This ass is mine fer now.”

Paddy didn’t need more encouragement.

“Y’ heard ‘im. Get t’ it.” Ordered you without preamble and you obeyed, hands shaking as you freed his cock, eyes wide at the sight of him before you took him into your mouth, sucking him down greedily as Lion began to move behind you, groaning as his hips pushed forward, cock sliding over and over your tight hole and makin’ you gasp around Paddy's cock, body stretching to accommodate Lion's thickness.

Paddy's hand tightens in your hair, hips thrusting forward and fucking your mouth in time with Lion's thrusts, causing you to swallow down moans vibrating around Paddy's cock, body sandwiched between the two men.

They start to move in sync, thrusts timed perfectly and filling you completely. You moan and gasp, body trembling with pleasure as you can feel the build, tension coiling in your belly, ready to snap.

Lion groans, cock twitching inside you as his cum filled you and Paddy follows, cock pulsing in your mouth, load of seed hot and salty on your tongue while swallowing it all, body shuddering with release.

You collapse onto the table, body boneless and breath coming in ragged gasps. Lion and Paddy pulls out, their hands gentle now as you look up at them, a lazy smile on your face.

Once Lion’s force that had kept you pinned down with that broad hand became gentler, the pressure eased, thumb brushing along your side in an absent, steady rhythm as his low voice dipped close to your ear, roughened by concern rather than command.

“Ye ‘lright, love?” Lion murmured, accent thick, voice like gravel warmed by fire.

You used your hands to push yourself upright, muscles still loose and a little unsteady, tongue instinctively sweeping across the corner of your mouth to clean away what lingered there and would’ve been lost if you hadn’t caught it in time, gaze lifting to Paddy as you did. He was still leaning back against the table, posture loose but eyes sharp, watching you with amusement and lust.

“Greedy wee thin’,” he muttered under his breath, more like a fond and intimate accusation.

Before you could respond, strong arms slid around your waist from behind, Lion pulling you back into him. You looked down instinctively as you leaned fully into his sturdy body, back settling against his chest as those biceps flexed around your frame.

You answered his earlier question with nothing more than a hum, soft and tired but content, letting your head tip slightly back against his shoulder.

Large hands settled on your left arm and along the side of your face, calloused fingers cupping your jaw with tenderness. Oliver had risen from his chair without you even noticing considering spent you’ve been so far. He stood beside you now, close enough that you could feel the heat off his body.

“Well done,” he murmured, voice low and steady, the praise simple but weighted, as though he chose his words carefully. “Ye did well.”

You looked at him as he spoke and as you did, your eyes drifted past him toward the window. The light outside had shifted entirely while you weren’t looking, sky now deep and dark, sun long gone as darkness overshadowed everything.

They were all still here.

A soft, almost embarrassed sound left you before suppressing it in time, a tiny whine threading into your voice. “It’s… it’s already late.”

Oliver barely reacted, if anything, his smile deepened. “‘S it?” he said mildly, as if the concept hadn’t occurred to him at all. “I was thinkin’ of stayin’ the whole night, if you’d have us.”

He leaned forward as he spoke, close enough that his breath brushed your cheek and began to press quick, warm kisses across your face, cheekbone and corner of your mouth.

Behind you, Lion made a low sound of agreement in his chest, a rumble you felt more than heard while leanin’ in as well, lips brushing along the column of your neck and leaving gentle kisses in his wake, hands tightening at your waist.

The realization that he was coming made you tense from anticipation, coiling sharp and sudden in your gut.

Paddy straightened a little from where he was still leaning against the table, head tilting, eyes narrowing with interest that edged into concern. “Oi,” he said, tone light, joking, but not careless. “What’s that for then? Ye look like someone’s just told ye the war’s back on.”

Oliver and Lion pulled away at once, both of them registering the shift in your expression, expressions sobering. Oliver’s hands dropped while Lion’s arms loosened as they exchanged a brief glance before looking back to you.

“Too much?” Oliver asked quietly. “Did we… overstep?” Lion added, voice careful now, protective in a different way. “We can go, if tha’s—”

“No—no,” you said quickly, the words tumbling over one another as you shook your head. “It’s not tha’ a’ all. I swear.”

You hesitated, searching for the right way to explain, fingers curling into the fabric at Lion’s chest as if anchoring yourself.

Paddy pushed off the table then, posture changing completely as he stepped closer, looming over. “Then wha’s it, sweetheart?” he asked, voice dropping, nickname rolling off his tongue with dangerous ease. “Spit it out.”

You let out a soft sigh, shoulders slumping just a fraction. “I’ve…I’ve been seein’ someone,” you admitted. “Recently. He only comes at night.”

Silence fell thick and sudden around the four of you, heavy enough to feel like pressure in your ears before Paddy spoke again.

“Who’s it?” Too quickly, eyes already hardening and jaw tightening, hint of possessiveness flickerin’ there now tha’ he didn’t bother t’hide.

Your eyes darted around the room once instinctively before lifting your hand and pointing toward the door.

“Him.”

They turned as one and found Remmick standing at the edge of the doorway outside the threshold since he couldn’t cross the edge. The stained white tank top he wore clung to him, cotton darkened with sweat, dirt and something darker, fabric stretching over the hard lines of his chest and shoulders, outlining muscle built over time.

His arms hung loose at his sides, fingers flexing slowly and restlessly.

Paddy stepped half a pace forward, shoulders squaring and chin lifting in defiance, eyes narrowed and assessing.

Lion’s grip on you tightened again along with a widening stance, weight settling like he was bracing for impact.

Oliver moved subtly to your other side, gaze never leaving the figure at the door.

Remmick grinned, wide and unapologetic, sharp fangs catching the low light, drool glistening at the corner of his mouth as he tilted his head. “Evenin’,” he said smoothly, voice rich and almost amused. “Pleasure t’ finally meet the men who keep my sweetheart warm an’ well-loved.”

Paddy didn’t flinch, stepping forward another inch, eyes cold. “An’ how long’ve ye been watchin’?” he asked, tone casual in the way that meant anything but.

Remmick chuckled softly. “A while,” he admitted easily. “But only recently spoke to ‘im.” His gaze slid back to you then, heavy and hungry in such intensity that caused your skin to prickle. “Very sweet company, ‘specially a’ night.”

Paddy smirked slightly, lookin’ back a’ you an’ extendin’ an hand fer yu t’ take.

Once you were right next t’ him an’ your fingers slipped into his, the sheer size of his hand swallowed your whole, rough skin warm and familiar, grip closin’ with unmistakable ownership.

He didn’t tug gently, arm came ‘round your waist in one smooth, practised motion, forearm solid as it looped low and pulled you flush against his side, chest to shoulder, hip to hip. The smell of sweat and gun oil clung to him and his large palm slid down without hesitation, fingers splaying over your still-exposed arse, giving it a slow, deliberate squeeze.

“Right then,” he murmured. “Wha’ d’ ye want, eh?”

“Well now,” Remmick drawled, tone smooth and almost amused, red eyes glowin’ steady in the low light. “Wos hopin’ I’d get a turn as well.”

His gaze dragged over you with open hunger, head tilting just slightly as he smiled, fangs flashing. “Wouldn’t mind havin’ yer lad f’me fer a bit.”He added, voice rich and lazy.

Paddy let out a short huff of a laugh, not lookin’ away from Remmick as his hand stayed heavy on yer arse. “Is tha’ so?” he asked mildly. “An’ yet yer jus’ standin’ there.”

Remmick’s eyes narrowed a fraction, glow intensifying but the rest of him didn’t move. He stayed exactly where he was, shoulders relaxed, expression barely shiftin’ like a predator content to watch its prey squirm.

A slow line of drool gathered at the corner of his mouth, slipping free and trailing down his chin, thick and glistening.

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” Remmick said calmly, eyes never leavin’ ye. “Not after all the things we’ve done together.”

Paddy’s grip tightened once, fingers digging into soft flesh before his hand drifted, lifting from your arse to your hip, thumb hooking firm. With a sharp pull, he drew you forward and then manoeuvred you directly in front of him, both arms wrapping ‘round your waist from behind and boxing you in completely.

No mistaking from the hard, insistent bulge straining against those sand-coloured military trousers, pressing flush to your arse. He rolled his hips just enough for the blunt head to nudge against your cheeks through the fabric, pressure elevate.

He bent his head, mouth brushing the shell of your ear as he murmured in a husky, commanding tone, “Get down. All fours fer me.”

You turned your head slightly, brow lifting as you glanced back at him in question, but Paddy didn’t even look. His stare stayed locked on Remmick, challengin’ and daring. “Why’re ye disobeyin’?” He muttered under his breath.

A smirk tugged at your lips anyway, heat pooling low in your belly as you complied, lowering yourself down until your palms met the floor and your knees followed, back arching instinctively.

Paddy moved in behind you, that dull weight pressing into your arse again, his voice dropping just enough to carry. “Funny thin’,” he said conversationally, “how much this one talks.”

Oliver and Lion hovered close by, both of them leaned against the table now, eyes sharp and watchful, bodies tense even as their gazes kept flicking back to Remmick.

Paddy’s hands worked fast, buckle undone and zip dragged down, sound alone causing your stomach to flip. Then his cock was free, thick and heavy, the blunt head pressing hot and real against your hole, nudging insistently.

You lifted your gaze just in time to see Remmick’s hand sliding inside his own trousers, fingers wrapping around his cock as he stroked himself slow, eyes burning red, drool spilling freely now, running in a messy line down to his collarbone, watching you getting lined up like it was his favourite show.

Paddy’s hand came down on your shoulder, grip firm and when he pushed in from behind, the gasp tore from you raw and loud. His cock filled you with brutal ease, sliding in thick and deep, aided by what Lion had already left earlier, body taking him greedily, muscles stretching and clenching.

“Christ,” Paddy groaned, breath hot at your ear.

He started to move almost immediately, slow at first, then harder, cock dragging in and out of your slick hole. “So,” he grunted, punctuating the word with a sharp snap of his hips that made ye choke on a moan, “wha’ ‘ave ye done wi‘im?”

You tried to answer but every time you tried to spoke, Paddy drove in harder, makin’ your words dissolve into breathy sounds.

Your eyes lifted again to Remmick as he fucked his fist, gaze locked on you, mouth open in a feral grin. “Tell ‘em,” he said softly.

Behind, Paddy shifted, hips rocking with an unhurried confidence that said he had all the time in the world to break you open exactly how he wanted.

Oliver and Lion leaned against the wall opposite, both of them still, eyes sharp. Oliver’s arms were folded across his chest, jaw tight, expression unreadable but intent, neither of them trusted Remmick in the way their gazes kept snapping back to him.

“I—” You had to swallow, breath catching. “Told him things.”

A low sound slipped from Remmick’s throat at that, fingers curling deeper as his head tipped back just a fraction, throat working.

Words tumbling faster now, loosening as Paddy’s grip tightened briefly at your hip. “Let him watch me touch myself while thinkin’ bout all of you.”

Oliver’s eyes darkened immediately, nostrils flaring. Lion’s jaw clenched, hands flexing at his sides.

“Told him what ye do t’ me,” you said, voice shaking now, heat rushing.

Paddy punctuated that with a deeper, harder push, a low grunt rumbling out of his chest as he leaned closer, mouth nearly brushing your ear. “Careful now,” he murmured, voice thick. “Ye’re doin’ this to yerself.”

Remmick’s hand was moving faster, slick sounds echoing faintly in the room, gaze locked on your face. “I remember every filthy thin’ ye fed me, darlin’.” he said softly.

Behind, Paddy finally lost his steady cadence, thrusts turning uneven and desperate, breath tearing from his throat in harsh sounds as he pressed in close, chest to your back, mouth right at your ear.

“Fuck—” he bit out, voice breaking on the word as his grip tightened and he drove in deep, holding you there as a guttural grunt ripped from him, body tensing hard as he spilled himself inside you, heat flooding heavy.

He stayed there for a moment, forehead pressed to your shoulder, breath shuddering out slow and satisfied. “Christ,” he muttered softly. “Tha’s my lad.”

Paddy pulled back slow, hand stayed at your hip, steadying you as he withdrew, heat lingering and some spilling from his withdrawal.

Remmick hadn’t stopped, hand working without shame, rhythm broken and greedy, red eyes locked on you with such intensity it made your pulse thrum in your ears. Drool slipped freely from the corner of his mouth, catching the moonlight as it fell.

Paddy followed your line of sight, then glanced back down at you.

“D’ye want him?” he asked quietly, curious and measuring.

You turned your head enough to look up at the ocean-blue of his eyes, sharp and searching, lit with want but edged with trust and responsibility.

“I do,” you said, voice rough but steady. “I trust ‘im.”

Remmick had more chances than anyone to kill them all with how many nights he could’ve struck and never did.

He stayed instead, always just at the edge and keeping his word that all he wanted was you.

Paddy’s mouth flattened into a thin line as he listened, jaw working as he considered it.

Then, finally, he nodded once.

“Go t’ him.” He muttered and you didn’t hesitate.

Crawling toward Remmick, palms pressing to the floor, knees following, body still trembling from everything that came before, moonlight spilling across your skin, silvering your flushed face to him.

“Jus’ like last night,” you murmured, barely louder than a whisper, eyes lifting to meet his and Remmick’s breath hitched hard.

The loud beating of your heart echoed in his ears and Remmick let out a low groan, hand moving faster on his cock, eyes rolling back as he came, thick streams of cum shooting out of his cock, landing on your chest, stomach and thighs. He stumbled forward, body convulsing as he rode out his orgasm, hand still moving and milking every last drop from his cock.

When it was over, he sank down onto one knee so he was level with you, close enough that you could feel the smell of iron clinging on him. His hands hovered at your sides, not touching yet, eyes searching your face with something that looked dangerously like tenderness.

“Sweet thing,” he murmured, voice wrecked. “Darlin’…let me in.”

He leaned closer, forehead nearly brushing yours if it wasn’t for this invisible barrier that kept him outside. “I’ll make you feel so good,” he promised softly. “Better than you remember.”

You turned your head then, looking back at Paddy, Oliver and Lion standing close together and discussing, voices low and tense. Paddy’s posture was easy but alert, Lion tugging the red tape loose from his hands with sharp, efficient motions, Oliver watching Remmick like a hawk, jaw tight.

Paddy broke the quiet at last. “Reckon it’s safe,” he said slowly. “Wouldn’t fancy bein’ in his place, would I? Watchin’ and never touchin’.”

Lion snorted softly. “I’ve got a match comin’ up,” he muttered. “Fer me brother.”

Oliver added quietly, “An’ I’ve still got a dog t’ feed.”

Behind, Remmick huffed a low laugh, sharp and dismissive. “Couldn’t give a shite ‘bout any o’ you,” he said plainly. “All I care about is my darlin’ here. An’ makin’ him feel good.”

Paddy met your gaze and gave a single nod.

Lion finished unwrapping his hands but didn’t move to stop anything.

Oliver watched you a moment longer, protective instinct warring with trust before sighing barely and inclining his head.

Smiling at all three of them before turning back to Remmick.

“You can come in.”

He wasted no seconds once those words left yer lips, Remmick surged forward like a beast loosed from its leash, he grabbed you with a snarl-soft grunt, claws sinking into the meat of your hips to make your blood jolt, wrestled you down onto the wood floor like some desperate animal reunited with its mate.

Your back hit with a dull thud, head lollin’ briefly from the impact as his weight came over and that mouth crashed into yours.

A thick string of drool, hot and foul with the copper tang of old blood, spilled from his mouth mid-lunge and splashed against your lips, down your cheek and chin, jaw unhinging with the kiss, lips wide and desperate, whole face pressing so hard to yours as the taste of blood and spit took hold of everything.

Your lips parted instinctively and his fangs nicked the inside of your cheek, the underside of your tongue, sharp and greedy as his whole body shuddered above and you moaned into it. Every slash of his tongue against yours as your own mouth throbbed with tiny fresh wounds, each new prick of fang and pull of suction makin’ thin threads of blood mix with his spit.

Remmick growled low, chest vibrating as the flavor of your blood hit him, hips already grindin’ down, slotting between your spread legs, grindin’ rough and deliberate into your slicked and tender hole.

“Ahn—ghh!” Whimpering into his mouth again, back archin’, caught between shock and need as the fat head of his cock, thick as three fingers and hot as hell, pressed tight against your entrance, already slick from the earlier messes his rivals left behind.

He spat again right into your mouth as he ground forward before grabbing your thighs with those clawed fingers and with a single brutal shove he split you open.

“F-FUCK!” Body jolting as Remmick’s cock punched inside in one thick, ruthless glide, filling you so deep and sudden your eyes rolled and your nails clawed at his arms, chest and whatever you could reach, clenching on instinct, body tremblin’ and stretched to the limit while he hissed in pleasure, tongue lollin’ out with a hungry laugh.

His eyes flicked sideways, meetin’ the other three staring with tight expressions, all clenched jaws and dark eyes, but he could hear the change in their pulses.

He bent over you, shoved his face against yours, licked a stripe of blood off your lips.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he sneered. “Ye wan’ them too? S’ the leas’ I could do t’ thank’em o’ this.”

You could barely breathe or form the word but you nodded, lips partin’ to give him another moan instead, body quakin’ with how deep he was lodged wi’ that thick shaft carving you open, nudgin’ your gut with each push.

A snarling growl left his throat and his hands curled under your thighs like you weighed nothing, liftin’ your whole frame up into his arms. Remmick rose to his knees, holding you, cock buried balls-deep and then started to move, pullin’ you up and slammin’ you down over and over with inhumane strength.

“Ahhhn—! Nnh—Remmick—!” He bounced you in his arms, thick cock pummeling into your hole with such speed and force your whole body shook with it, knees spread wide for leverage as he used you like his personal cocksleeve, those corded arms tight around your waist, barely breakin’ a sweat. Blood from his lip and yours smeared along your cheeks and chest as his snarling mouth kissed and grunted against your jaw.

Your own dick was leaking freely untouched as your body got rocked up and down.

The moment your mouth parted to breathe, he took it. His hand came up fast, fingers curling at your jaw, thumb pressing enough to tip your head back as his mouth claimed yours fully, lips sealing over yours with a hungry confidence, tongue sliding in and tasting faintly metallic.

Then he broke away just as abruptly.

The loss of his mouth left you disoriented, breath leaving you in a quiet, startled sound as he dipped his head, mouth moving to the curve of your shoulder and before you could register what was happening, pain flared sharp and sudden as his fangs sank into your skin.

Blood now a cocktail of dopamine, oxytocin, endorphins and adrenaline that made it addictive to Remmick with how much and how good it tasted.

Remmick shuddered as he latched on, a low sound leaving his throat as he drank, eyes flaring a brighter, more dangerous red.

“Oi fang-face get the fuck off him!”

Shouts came all at once as all three men stepped forward but Remmick didn’t release his hold immediately.

He stayed there, mouth still pressed to the wound, drawing steadily and deliberately. His gaze lifted instead, eyes locked on the three men advancing.

“Get off now,” Oliver said again, quieter this time but far more dangerous for it.

“Christ, you sick fuck,” Paddy snarled, taking another step forward. “I’ll knock every tooth outta yer head if ye don’t let him go this second.”

Remmick finally pulled back from the bite wound, a soft and frustrated sound leaving him as the connection broke. Blood welled briefly at your shoulder before beginning to slow, sting lingering.

“He likes it,” he said quietly, voice low and edged with something ugly, gaze flickin’ to yer face, then back to the others.

“We don’t give a single fuck what ye think he liked,” Lion snapped.

The room went silent as Remmick stared back at them, jaw tight and red eyes burning but he didn’t argue.

A blood-tainted grin spread on his face. “M’ bad. Got too carried by this sweet thin’ in me arms. Can ye blame me, though?”

“M’lright everyone.” You mumbled softly.

"See? Come on, I'm sure yer little lad here’d love y’all the join."

“Ye’re here ‘cause we chose t’ let ye in.” Paddy spoke through clenched teeth.

“Hurt him again,” Oliver said, voice low and lethal, “an’ we won’t hesitate t’ impale ye with every bit o’ wood in this fuckin’ cabin an’ leave what’s left fer the sunrise. Clear enough, freak?”

“Deal.” A blood slick snarl as a reply back was all he got.

Lion’s rough hand braced your cheek, thumb draggin’ along your jaw, the concern still there in those deep blue eyes.

“Y’ sure everythin’ s’lright?” he rasped, voice taut with a hint of desire.

You nodded again, grinnin’ through spit and tears.

That was all they needed.

Oliver dropped to his knees behind Remmick, that thick country cock already hard soon in his hand and without a word, pressed the broad head up between your stretched cheeks just under Remmick’s shaft.

Remmick grunted at the contact but stilled, grip tightening and he lifted you up slightly, letting Oliver push in right alongside him.

“F-Fuck, fuck—!” Your mouth dropped open with a strangled cry as you got spread in a way that made your vision blur, both lengths slidin’ into the same hole, the wall of your guts screamin’ from the pressure and fullness, making your cock throb.

Oliver groaned against your back, strong arms encircling your waist to steady you as his cock pushed deep, sliding beside Remmick’s and your head dropped backward into his sturdy chest, mouth open and pantin’.

“C-Colonel~!” Paddy’s breath caught from those whimpers from your throat and he reached out, broad palm slappin’ across your cum-slick cheek, then smearing the globes apart, makin’ space between Remmick’s and Oliver’s thighs.

His hand dipped, fingers catching with the hot cum he’d left earlier in your overstretched hole, before lining up, head of his own large dick pushin’ against that tight, nearly sealed third space.

“Ye wee gluttonous fuckin’ thing,” he muttered, voice twisted from delight. “Still got room?”

Your only answer was a needy, broken whimper as he began to push.

Your vision dimmed at the edges, body bowing in from the sheer, cruel size of all three of them.

Each inch dragged your guts and made your stomach bulge, obscene and visible under your skin. The pressure was molten and mind-breaking, shapes of their shafts grinding together inside, every nerve firing with overload.

They began to move and each thrust was coordinated bliss, hips grindin’ and slammin’, fuckin’ you open like they wanted to split you in two. Remmick held you high, moving you like a fleshlight, while Oliver fucked up into you from behind, mouth against your neck.

“Such a good lad, takin’ it so well…”

Paddy’s fingers dug into your hips, each thrust accompanied by a breathless mutter.

“Little fuckhole’s still tight as ever—”

Lion moved in front of you, hand wrapping around your jaw, guiding you as you opened your mouth and his dick pushed past your lips with no resistance, throat already trained by Oliver, slick with spit and tears as you moaned when the last of them claimed you.

They moved together, each pump timed to drive the breath from your lungs and the sanity from your brain, body bouncing helplessly in Remmick’s grip, stomach distending slightly with each fresh thrust as the sheer amount of cock inside overwhelmed every sensation you had.

Lion groaned as your mouth suckled him deep, tongue workin’ his shaft while his hand stroked your jaw and the other had a grip tight on your hair. Paddy’s voice turned to snarls, fuckin’ you harder and deeper while Oliver’s breath was hot on your back.

Remmick’s jaw opened wide on the wound he caused, fangs grazing but barely puncturing.

Your untouched cock exploded, ropes of cum shootin’ up over your belly, painting Remmick’s abs and chest in long, messy spurts as you wailed around Lion’s cock, whole body tremblin’ and lockin’ up as the orgasm ripped through you.

It triggered them.

Remmick mouth stretchin’ wide as his hips bucked, cock plunging deep and hot cum gushing inside, thick spurts jetting straight into your core, flooding you so hard your stomach visibly pushed outward, the first swell of it achin’.

Oliver joined, seed boiling hot and thick, mixin’ with Remmick’s as your gut stretched again and Paddy grunted against your back, cock plunging one last time and the flood of him had your body shaking anew.

With a feral growl, Lion drove deep, hips tremblin’ as his cock pulsed on your tongue, mouth filled with hot, salty seed as you swallowed it down with frantic gulps, some of it spilling past your lips and down your chin.