Untitled

the fluorescent lights in the emergency room never seemed to dim. even at 8:30 in the night, the hospital was still alive and buzzing as monitors beeped steadily behind closed curtains. stretchers rolled down the polished hallways, overhead announcements echoed through the speakers every few minutes, pulling doctors and nurses in every direction at once. it was chaos, but it was the kind both you and matt had grown used to years ago.

“get another x-ray in thirty,” you said, flipping through a patient’s chart before handing it back to a nurse with a grateful smile. “thank you.” she kindly answered.

you barely had time to take two steps before another staff member caught your attention. “excuse me, doctor?” you turned around at the voice.

“room eighteen’s ct came back.” they informed you.

“i’m on my way.” you replied kindly. the busy environment around youbwas complete havoc. but it was also normal, completely normal for a workplace like this.

you rounded the corner toward radiology when another familiar figure stepped out of a patient’s room, pulling a stethoscope from around his neck.

matt. a face you recognized all too well. he looked just as exhausted as you felt, his brunette hair was slightly disheveled, sleeves rolled to his forearms, hospital badge clipped very crookedly onto his scrub top.

he glanced up from the chart in his hands. “…hey.”

“hey.” the corner of your mouth turned up slightly at the sound of his voice. you still found it comforting, it brought you a sense of warmth and relief no one else could bring you.

the exchange was automatic, comfortable, and professional like it usually had been for a while now. “how’s room twelve?” you asked him casually.

he sighed. “better than they were three hours ago.”

“that’s something.” you replied.

“yeah.” he scratched the back of his head. the conversation could’ve ended there, like most of them did these days. but, you stopped yourself before fully walking away.

“actually…” you turned back around to face him again. “are you doing anything friday night?”

he looked back up, there was the smallest pause that followed. “well, that depends.”

you smiled. “it’s my birthday.”

his expression softened almost immediately. obviously, he knew that. he could never ever even imagine himself forgetting it. “happy early birthday.” matt spoke softly.

“thanks.” you shifted the charts against your hip. “a few people from the hospital are getting dinner after the evening shift, like a little celebration…you should come, it’ll be fun.”

for a second he simply just looked at you, not searching for hidden meaning, just…surprised you’d even asked him, or wanted him to be there. “yeah.” he nodded once. “i’d like that.”

“perfect, the reservation is at 7:30, don’t be late!” you chirped out.

one corner of his mouth lifted. “i’m never late.”

you gave him a look. “…you once showed up forty minutes late to class.”

“that was years ago, and only one time!” he laughed, it slipped out of his mouth so effortlessly, it felt like a breath of fresh air.

“you literally forgot we had an exam, matt.” you raised your eyebrows at him tauntingly.

matt began to speak, “in my defense—”

“don’t.” you laughed, the sound seemed to catch both of you off guard, because for the briefest moment…it felt familiar, natural.

then another overhead alert shattered the moment. “dr. sturniolo to icu.” matt glanced toward the elevators. “welp, that’s me.”

“see you friday.” you cleared your throat awkwardly, the tension was so thick you could slice it with a knife.

“see you.” matt took one last glance at you before walking off. you watched him disappear down the hallway before turning back toward your own patient. however, neither of you noticed the nurse at the station smiling to herself. she’d worked there long enough to remember when the two of you practically lived in these hallways together.

A FEW YEARS AGO . . .

the ER had looked exactly the same, except you were both younger, residents fresh out of med school, running almost entirely on caffeine.

“you absolutely did not, matt!” your voice beamed

“I DID!!” he laughed, nudging your shoulders.

you were laughing so hard you nearly dropped the stack of patient charts in your arms. matt was beside you, carrying two coffees. “the head doctor literally asked who forgot to order the chest x-ray.” he exclaimed, tone cheery.

“because it was you who forgot!” you laughed again as he dramatically pretended to look offended by what you said, the sound of your laughter mixing with his echoed through the hallway.

a nurse passing by smiled. “you two are entirely too cheerful for people who’ve been working for over twenty hours now.”

“it’s sleep deprivation,” matt answered immediately.

“we’ve lost all sense of reality.” your response immediately followed after his. “he tried prescribing tylenol to himself before he’d even had coffee this morning,” you added.

matt gasped dramatically. “that information was confidential!”

you bumped your shoulder into his. “confidentiality doesn’t apply to your embarrassing moments.”

“i’m reporting you for bullying.” he joked, you rolled your eyes.

he handed you one of the coffees. as you took it, your fingers brushed his. it was warm, familiar. without thinking, you smiled, and he smiled right back, effortless, like it was the easiest thing in the world. because during that time, it was.

PRESENT TIME.

your pager buzzed sharply against your hip, the memory disappeared as quickly as it had come. you blinked, and just like that you were back in the hallway, back to years later, where the only thing you and matt shared anymore were patient updates, consults, and polite conversations between shifts.

A FEW DAYS LATER . . .

friday, or—your birthday, came faster than either of you expected. the restaurant is loud in the comfortable kind of way, silverware clinks against plates. someone at another table laughs too hard at a joke. candles flicker inside little glass holders, reflecting against the windows that overlook the city. it’s one of the few nights most of your friends from work have somehow managed to get the same evening off after a shift, and gather together.

you smooth down your sparkly, and elgegant dress as you stand near the front with your boyfriend, waiting for everyone else to arrive. “you nervous?” he asks, lacing his fingers through yours.

“a little.” you smile awkwardly.

“what? because i’m meeting everyone?”

“yep.”

he laughs. “i’ll survive.” before you can answer, the restaurant door opens.

matt walks in, he still carries himself exactly the same. his hands are tucked into the pockets of his coat. his eyes slightly tired from another twelve-hour shift, and his hair a little messy from the wind. he spots the group first, and then he spots you. he smiles politely, “happy birthday.”

“thanks for coming.” your eyes lock with him. he steps closer, except his eyes drift naturally to your hand that’s intertwined with someone else’s. just for a second, it’s almost impossible to notice, but his smile never drops.

you suddenly realize. “right—” your stomach twists. “um, matt…this is ethan, my boyfriend.”

your boyfriend smiles immediately. “i’ve heard a lot about you.”

matt looks at him, then back at you, and then offers his hand.“nice to meet you.”

ethan shakes it. “same here.”

if anyone were watching from another table, they’d never guess you and matt had once shared a tiny apartment during med school, or survived thirty-hour rotations together, or fallen asleep over textbooks on the same couch, or how many times he’s carried you from your desk to your bed when you fell asleep studying, cuddling you shortly after, or how you planned a future together. they would never know the history between you two that was now tucked away completely, as if there had never been anything there in the first place.

“come on,” someone calls from the table.

“birthday girl’s here!”

everyone starts stitting down, you end up across from matt with ethan right beside you. someone orders appetizers, someone starts telling an embarrassing story, everyone laughs, and matt laughs too.

matt asks ethan questions, like where he works, and how long you two have been together. he’s polite, he nods at every answer, he even smiles at ethan before speaking again, “take care of her.” it’s said lightly, almost jokingly.

ethan just grins. “that’s the plan.”

matt nods once. “good.” you catch his eyes for just a second. there’s warmth inside of it, laced with kindness, nothing bitter, not at all, because that’s not the kind of person matt is.

the cake arrives eventually, its your favorite kind. everyone sings, of course, you’re embarrassed and shy, blushing the entire time as ethan kisses your temple while everyone cheers dramatically.

someone whistles, someone pretends to gag, you laugh so hard you nearly knock over your water. across the table—matt smiles, a real one. you’re happy, you’re laughing, and despite everything…he still likes seeing that, it means everything to him even all these years later.

later, everyone starts splitting the bill, and hugging goodbye, and also making plans that everyone knows will probably get canceled because hospital schedules are impossible.

you go up and hug matt, it’s brief and friendly. “thanks again for coming.”

“wouldn’t ever miss your birthday.” he replies politely.

the conversation ends just as quickly as it had started with a simple, “drive safe,” and “you too,” in response. you smile, ethan wraps an arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk toward his car, you don’t look back.

matt watches you leave, and for a second, he remembers another night. with a different parking lot, a different version of you, when you two were dating.

FLASHBACK . . .

you were both so exhausted, still wearing your scrubs after a sixteen-hour day. you had been complaining about how your feet hurt while he carried your coffee for you, insisting that you were incapable of walking and drinking at the same time.

“you’re so dramatic,” he teased.

you rolled your eyes. “i just spent twelve hours saving lives, matt.”

“you also almost walked into a door because you were staring at your notes.” matt tilted his head at you playfully.

“that is unrelated!” he laughed at your response, and you smiled despite yourself, he gently leaned in to kiss you, you both closed your eyes, feeling the tension of your work day release as you just melted into each other. after matt pulled away, you both stood there under the parking lot lights, too happy to care about anything else but the two of you.

back then, the future felt so easy to tthink about, you talked about residency programs, apartments, maybe getting a dog someday. maybe a house. maybe even a family. everything was a “when,” and never an “if,” scenario.

matt remembers looking at you that night and thinking that somehow, after everything you had survived together, the hardest part was over. he didn’t know then that the hardest part would be learning how to live without you by his side.

PRESENT TIME . . .

matt snapped back into reality immediately as he waits, he always waits until everyone else leaves, it’s just a habit of his. he unlocks his car and slides into the driver’s seat before shutting the car door, the silence of the night suddenly feeling louder than ever.

for a while, he just sits there. the dashboard glows softly, the light reflecting on his face, extenuating his features. his phone buzzes suddenly, interrupting the silence, its just another one of his co-workers in the emergency department asking about tomorrow’s rounds. he ignores it.

instead…his eyes drift toward the empty passenger seat that you used to sit in, he remembers your birthday years ago, in med school, when you two were inseparable.

you’d insisted instant ramen counted as a birthday dinner because neither of you could afford anything else, you wore one of his hoodies because your apartment’s heating system was broken. he’d stolen a cupcake from the student lounge, you’d jokingly called him a criminal. he’d told you, “for you? absolutely.” you’d laughed so hard that day you’d cried.

he remembers thinking—one day, i’m going to marry her.

his chest tightens at the memory. slowly…he reaches toward the center console and opens the small compartment, inside there’s an old velvet box. he already knows it’s there, because it’s always been there. his fingers hesitate before picking it up, the box is worn now, the corners softened with time and heartbreak.

he flips it open, and a beautiful diamond ring catches the dim light from the parking lot, it was simple yet so elegant. it was exactly what you’d once pointed out in a jewelry store window years ago. ethan would never know that, he wouldn’t know as much about you as matt does.

“ehhhh….nothing huge,” you’d said that day. “i’d rather it looked like something i’d actually wear every day, simple but still pretty, y’know?”

he’d remembered, every single detail. he’d bought it three months before everything fell apart, three months before the conversations became shorter, before work consumed both of you, before exhaustion took over, before neither of you knew how to ask for what you needed anymore, before the breakup that hadn’t involved screaming, or cheating, or any sort of betrayal.

just two people who loved each other, and somehow still couldn’t make it work no matter how much you wanted it to. matt suddenly remembers the night it all ended between you guys, the worst part of it wasn’t even the words said itself, it was that it didn’t even involve screaming or yelling…it was just so full of bottled up hurt that had erupted that very night.

matt remembers that you were sitting on the kitchen floor of your guys’s apartment, still wearing your hospital badge because neither of you had even bothered changing after your shifts, there were two untouched cups of coffee on the counter, you had been waiting for him to come home.

“i don’t know how to keep doing this,” you had whispered.

matt just looked at you, exhausted. it was all he had the energy to do at that point. “doing what?”

“feeling like i’m alone while i’m with you.” the words had left your mouth before you could even think about them.

but he knew you meant them, and you knew he didn’t mean to make you feel that way. “baby, i’m trying,” he’d said quietly.

“i know you are, and i appreciate that more than ever.” you’d looked down. “but that’s the problem. i know you’re trying. i’m trying too. and somehow we’re still managing to hurt each other. i barely even see you anymore, matt. and when i do…we just argue.”

he sat beside you, but neither of you reached for the other, and for the first time in years, being close didn’t feel like enough. “do you still love me?” he asked, his voice shaking.

you’d cried before you answered, because the answer was obvious. “yes, i never stopped. i couldn’t ever stop loving you.”

his eyes closed. “i love you too, so damn much it hurts.” his voice wavered as he spoke. that specifically was what made things so difficult, the fact that neither of you stopped loving each other, you just stopped knowing how to be happy together.

you never even knew he was going to propose, that there had been a reservation at your favorite restaurant, that he’d even asked your parents for permission, that he’d spent weeks carrying this ring around because he couldn’t wait for the right moment. but there just…hadn’t been one. before he could even get on one knee, and devote his life long love to you, everything just fell apart. it never happened, the future you had planned out. he bought the ring when an anticipated forever with the woman he loved most still felt like something you both had time to reach. what he hadn’t expected, was that time would run out before he even knew it.

matt’s thumb brushes over the diamond. outside, he sees you through the windshield, ethan opens the passenger door for you, and you smile at him, you laugh about something, and then the car pulls away, its taillights disappear into traffic. matt watches until he can’t anymore. only then does the first tear fall from his eyes. he laughs once, quietly, not filled with any sort of amusement, however.

“good,” he whispers imperceptibly. “i’m glad you’re happy.” his voice breaks on the last word, he closes the ring box carefully and places it back into the compartment. not completely because he’s waiting, or that he thinks someday you’ll come back to him like he wishes you would, but because after all these years he still hasn’t figured out how to let go of the future he’d once carried in a little box. maybe he won’t ever be the cure to making you happy. and if he can’t be, at least someone else can be that person for you.

that alone, is more than enough for him.

©𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐇𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

as soon as chris walks through your bedroom door that friday afternoon and you see his worried eyes, you know it's going to be a very long few hours.

you didn’t hear loud voices coming from downstairs after the front door opened, so you assume that chris hasn’t blabbed to them about what happened on monday at the library. you take a mental note on how maybe chris is someone who keeps his word.

“hey.” chris closes the door after him, lingering in the doorway of your room as he always does.

“hey.” you repeat without looking up as you finish folding your clothes in the closet. you’ve already taken your entire wardrobe out and put it back at least three times today.

he nods and sits down in his regular chair, taking off his cap and brushing his messy hair back as the question you were expecting comes. “how are you feeling?”

“i’m fine.” you respond on autopilot, always giving the same answer.

“really? are you sure?” he insists, narrowing his eyes slightly as if he doesn’t believe you completely. “after what happened on monday?”

“yeah. perfectly fine.” you finish folding your clothes, choosing to sit on your king-size bed.

you can see how he still isn’t satisfied, but you hope he doesn’t press further. one only has to look at you to see that you haven’t been well for a long time — that is why, in your mind, nonsensical questions call for nonsensical answers.

“you haven’t told your parents from what i’ve seen.” he points out.

you shake your head, decided. “and i won’t.”

you think he’s going to lecture you like he already did on monday about how you should tell them, but instead he just nods. “i won’t tell them either.”

you let out a relieved sigh, and your gaze softens slightly. you spot the fresh bruises on his hand and knees — visible because he’s wearing shorts today. you, on the other hand, are always covered from head to toe, always feeling cold.

“but i still feel like you should.”

chris’ words pull you out of your head as he finishes his thought, causing you to look away. you know he means well, but he also doesn’t understand your parents’ obsession with everything related to your illness. if you told them, you would spend the entire week at the hospital, and physically you can't handle that.

“i really shouldn’t. not when i’m okay.” when you see his mouth about to open again, you decide to ask him directly. “i don’t want to talk about it, chris. please.”

it feels really weird to have someone like chris in your bedroom, worrying about you, and it’s such a strange feeling that you don’t want it. you could have another boring teenager glued to their phone the whole time, letting you get lost in a book and getting paid for nothing.

but instead you have this boy who seems unable to take his eyes off yours. and if you have something clear, it’s that you’re no one’s saving mission.

“i didn’t know you were a triplet.” you decide to be the one to break the silence for once after having shut him down, fiddling with a loose thread on your sheet

a small smile appears at the corner of his mouth, leaning closer on the chair. “i am. how do you know that?”

you shrug, pushing the nasal cannula deeper into your nose. “my parents told me.”

and they had, a few nights prior at the dinner table. your parents found it hard to hide their growing affection for chris. you might as well start to think they were asking him to come for them, and not you.

“oh. so you like to hear about me?”

“don’t flatter yourself.”

he raises his hands in the air defensively, a smirk on his face, and you roll your eyes. you can’t help but imagine what three people just like chris look like.

“you should meet them.” he says after a few seconds of silence, like an afterthought. “nick would love you.”

you don’t even have time to blush, scoffing immediately at the idea. “yeah. as if i ever could.” you mutter, your tone more bitter than you intended.

chris’ smile falls after that, and you curse yourself internally. but it’s true, isn’t it? you can’t just take a trip to wherever chris lives to meet his brothers, as sad as that sounds.

“that’s bullshit. surely i can steal you for one single afternoon.” he says, his tone sounding as if he’s actually mad about this.

“mhm. you can tell that to my doctors and parents.”

he frowns, and you already hate the pitying look in his eyes that isn’t there yet. if he’s about to tell you all about how sorry he is for you, he better warn you so you can jump out the window first.

your daily alarm setted for this hour rings out across the room, making your heart skip a beat. you are almost grateful for the distraction, breaking eye contact as you head to your medication cart and grab the ones due now.

as you swallow, he suddenly rises from his chair, walking two steps toward you before stopping. you look up at him, wondering what has come over him.

“i’m teaching you how to skate. right now.”

you almost spit out what's in your mouth. what part of “i can’t go out” didn’t he understand? “what are you saying, chris? i told you i can’t-…”

“i know. i know.” he interrupts you, nodding. “you have a huge room. there’s plenty of space here.” he says, gesturing around him to back up his words.

you almost laugh. if anything, this boy’s mind must be an entertaining place. “okay.” you say, crossing your arms over your chest — just to entertain him. “and how do you plan to explain to my parents that you’re bringing a skateboard into their house?”

“uh…” he looks down, as if he hadn’t thought of that. “easy. your window.” he explains after a few seconds, opening the curtains of the only window on your walls.

you bite your lip, shaking your head. under normal circumstances, you would say no without hesitation, but this time you allow yourself to really think about it. what’s the worst thing that could happen? that your parents see chris climbing the walls of the house and they start to think that he’s a lunatic?

“yeah. sure.” you shrug with a faint smile on your face. “but good luck with that. i’m not helping you.”

about ten minutes later — recalling the memory of watching chris go down and come back up with a struggle that was actually funny — chris is now back in your bedroom with the decorated skateboard you had glimpsed on monday and, predictably, he’s without a helmet.

and, despite yourself — and after some dramatic persuasion from chris about how he could have died doing this — you find yourself on top of it, your body trembling like a leaf. you’re almost ashamed to feel this way, but given the lack of enthusiasm in your life, you're not going to hold it against yourself.

“how is it possible that you’ve never done this before?” chris asks to himself aloud. his hands are carefully holding your waist from the side, while you stare at the wall in front of you from the other end.

“if my parents hear this, i’m blaming you.” you threaten him.

“relax. you’re way too tense.” chris says, looking you up and down. you know he’s suppressing the urge to laugh. “just flex your knees a little, look forward and push yourself with one foot. i’m right here anyway.”

“yeah. right.” you say, taking a deep breath and trying to remind yourself how this is just a normal thing normal people do.

“i can hold you the first time.” he suggests after seeing your expression, not wanting this to be a stressful for you.

you nod, doing exactly as he says and pushing off with your right foot before placing it onto the skateboard as well. the speed you reach in those few seconds is ridiculous, and chris is doing most of the work by running alongside you and rolling you over the floor, but the sensation is pleasant nonetheless. different.

you laugh once you stop and get off, and chris smiles just at the sight. “not so bad, right?”

you brush your hair back, rolling your eyes, but your words give you away. you could understand why he liked to do this so much. “i want to do it again.”

and that’s how you spend your friday afternoon in the least expected way. learning how to skateboard, in the four walls of your bedroom, and with a boy that’s actually nice to you. and that’s how, for once, you don’t want eight p.m. to come.

Contains: smut, porn with no plot, threesome (no incest), mentions of alcohol, food play, slight dirty talk, slight degradation, implied praise kink, oral (m & f receiving), clit play, fingering, finger sucking, hickeys, breast/nipple play, cum play, multiple orgasms, overstim, cockwarming, aftercare(?), unprotected piv, creampie, dom!matt x sub!fem reader x soft!dom chris

The conversation started innocently enough.

Matt, Chris, and I were discussing what our last meals on earth would be. The kind of hypothetical question you throw around when the bottle of red is half empty and the takeout containers are pushed to the center of the table, while you're too full to move but too wired to call it a night.

I said my grandmother's lasagna before either of them could answer, and they both went quiet, like the sincerity caught them off guard. The question circled back to them, but neither spoke up.

But then they exchanged a knowing look before looking straight at me.

"You." Matt said.

Chris nodded, already smirking. "Yeah, you."

No further elaboration or descriptions. Just me.

And somewhere between that moment and the next, an innocent discussion about hypothetical last meals turned into me barefoot on their kitchen tiles, watching Matt disappear into the pantry with a look that promised nothing innocent at all.

The pendant lights above cast warm shadows across the island counter. There were empty plates, wine glasses, and a half melted candle flickering between us. Chris was still leaning against the counter, watching me with a lazy, appreciative look.

"Find what you were looking for?" Chris called out towards the pantry.

Matt finally emerged with a bottle of chocolate syrup in one hand and a can of whipped cream in the other. His grin was filthy.

"Dessert." he said, setting them on the island.

I raised an eyebrow. "That’s not dessert. Those are ingredients for dessert."

"Exactly." He uncapped the chocolate syrup, giving it a shake. "Get on the counter."

Oh.

I looked over at Chris. He shrugged, smiling. "I mean, when he says it like that..."

After clearing the surface, I hoisted myself onto the cool marble, as the edge pressed into the backs of my thighs. I could feel my body begin to thrum from the adrenaline.

Matt moved closer, his eyes traveling down my body with a slow, predatory-like gaze. "Arms up." he said.

I complied, and he pulled my shirt up and over my head in one fluid motion, the fabric whispering against my skin before disappearing somewhere behind him. I was bare to the waist before them, the cool air raising goosebumps across my skin.

His hands found the waistband of my shorts next, working the button loose, and sliding the denim down my thighs. I lifted my hips to help him, as he pulled them free, sliding them down my legs until they slipped off my ankles. My panties went next, hooked on his thumbs, as he dragged them down my skin with an agonizing slowness. The cool air of the kitchen touched everywhere he had uncovered, and I felt my skin prickle in response.

I was completely bare before them, the marble cold against my thighs and ass. Matt's eyes shamelessly ogled my body, lingering on the curve of my ribs, the swell of my breasts, and the way my nipples had already hardened under his gaze and from the cold. He looked at me like I was something he was waiting to devour.

"Lie down."

I lowered myself onto the cool marble, my hair fanning out beneath me, as my body stretched from one end of the counter to the other. Matt circled around, the chocolate syrup in his hand, his eyes never leaving me.

Chris moved closer, positioning himself at my head, looking down at me from above. His fingers threaded through my hair, tilting my head back, baring my throat. 

"Ready?" Matt asked. I nodded, and on cue he tipped the bottle.

The first stream of chocolate hit my collarbone, cool and thick, sliding down the slope of my breast. I gasped at the temperature, my back arching slightly off the stone. The syrup dripped down the curve, pooling at the base where my breast met my ribs. Matt then traced a line down my sternum, over my stomach, and circled my navel before trailing lower. The chocolate pooled in the shallow dip of my belly button, a dark circle against my skin.

"Spread your legs." he said, his voice low and rough.

I obeyed, and he drizzled a line of chocolate along my inner thigh, from my knee to the crease of my hip. The cool syrup against my heated skin made me shiver. He finally stepped back, admiring his work, as the bottle dangled from his fingers.

Matt then pulled his shirt over his head in one motion, the fabric catching on his shoulders before falling away. His hands went to his jeans, working the button loose, and pushing them down his thighs. He stepped out of them, kicking them aside, and stood there in nothing but the low light, his cock already half hard between his thighs.

I heard the rustle of fabric from the head of the counter where Chris stood, the whisper of his shirt hitting the floor also, and the metallic clink of his belt buckle coming undone. The sounds of them stripping echoed off the kitchen tiles, and I felt the heat of their bodies before they even touched me again.

Chris leaned down first, his tongue catching the stream on my collarbone before it could drip onto the marble. He languidly licked a path across my skin, cleaning the chocolate with hums of approval vibrating against my flesh. His tongue then traced the line down my sternum, following the trail Matt had painted, collecting every drop. The way he savoured it made me feel like I truly was the dessert tonight.

"Good?" I asked, breathless.

"Delicious." he murmured against my skin, his breath warm on the wet trail he had just licked.

Matt’s mouth descended onto my stomach, licking the chocolate from my navel in long, flat strokes. His tongue swirled around the rim, dipping inside, lapping up the syrup I could feel collecting in the hollow. He worked his way up, leaving a trail of wet heat across my ribs.

"You taste so good, sweetheart." Matt husked.

I whimpered as Chris’ tongue found the curve of my breast next, licking the chocolate from the underside, following the trail Matt had drawn. He took his time, his tongue swirling around the perimeter before closing over my nipple, sucking the chocolate clean. The combination of his tongue and the lingering sweetness sent a jolt straight to my core. Matt mirrored him on the other side, his mouth closing over the chocolate slick peak of my other breast, and I gasped, my hands flying to their hair, fingers tangling in the mess of it.

"Ohh–" I moaned, my back arching off the marble.

"That’s it." Matt hummed against my skin, the words vibrating through my chest. "Let us hear you."

Chris pulled back first, his lips wet, as his tongue darted out to catch the last traces of chocolate. He picked up the can of whipped cream next. He shook it, the sound loud in the quiet kitchen, and sprayed a dollop onto my right nipple. The cold was shocking, making me gasp, and my nipple hardened instantly under the cream. Chris’ grin widened as he sprayed another dollop onto my other breast, then a line down my stomach, and over my hip, pooling in the hollow of my navel.

His tongue swept across the whipped cream on my left breast, circling my nipple, the cold and the warmth of his mouth combining into something that made my hips shift restlessly on the counter. He sucked gently, drawing the cream and my nipple into his mouth, and I let out a soft moan.

“Oh, fuck.” I whimpered.

Matt attended the other breast, his tongue trailing a path through the whipped cream, his lips closing around my nipple with a gentleness that made a knot twist in my stomach. They worked in tandem, cleaning me with their mouths, their tongues alternating between soft licks and harder pressure.

Matt pulled back first, his lips wet, and his eyes dark. "Not bad. But I think we missed a spot."

He picked up the chocolate again, drizzling a thick line directly over my cunt. The cool syrup pooled against my folds, and I shuddered at the wet sensation. He set the bottle aside and picked up the whipped cream, shaking the can, the metallic hiss filling the charged silence of the room. He sprayed a thick cloud directly onto my mound, the cold making me bite my lip, as my hips jerked against the marble.

"Sensitive?" 

"You know I am."

"That’s what makes it fun.” he grinning wickedly. "Chris, want the first taste?"

“Don’t mind if I do.” Chris' licked his lips as he lowered himself between my thighs, holding them apart. "Shit, you’re dripping."

"Then do something about it." I snapped, the anticipation began to hurt, as I parted my legs further.

And Chris did, as he leaned in closer. I felt his warm breath against the chocolate that was starting to pool there. He licked first, cleaning the syrup from my folds with long strokes of his tongue. The sweetness of the chocolate and cream mixed with the taste of my own arousal, had him groaning against me like it was the best thing he had ever tasted, and I was making sounds that were barely human.

"You’re doing so good." Matt murmured, as his hand threaded through my hair. "Just relax and let him eat."

Chris’ tongue dove into the whipped cream next, gathering a mouthful before his lips found my clit. I arched off the counter, crying out his name, as my hand flew to his hair and my legs clamped around his head. He sucked the cream off me with obscene slowness, his tongue swirling through the mess, cleaning and tasting me.

"Fuck, that’s good." he said, his voice muffled against my skin. "I could eat you all night."

His tongue worked through every fold and crease, lapping up the chocolate and my arousal in equal measure. He took his time, tracing the outline of my lips, dipping inside me before pulling back to circle my clit with a slow, agonizing pace. My hips rolled against his mouth, chasing the pressure, and he gave it to me in small, teasing increments, drawing it out until I was trembling under him.

"That’s it." Chris murmured against my cunt, the words muffled but unmistakable. "Keep moving like that. Use me."

As I rode Chris’ tongue, I felt Matt move beside me to pick up the whipped cream again. He sprayed a dollop onto his finger and brought it to my lips. "Open." I parted my lips, and he slid his finger into my mouth, the cream instantly melting on my tongue. "Suck," he said, his voice a command wrapped in velvet.

I closed my lips around his finger and sucked. Hard. My tongue wrapped around the digit, drawing him deeper, and I watched his eyes go dark, his breath catching in his throat. Below me, Chris' tongue pushed inside me at the same rhythm, mirroring the motion, and I moaned around Matt's finger, the vibration making his jaw tighten.

"Fuck." he breathed.

I sucked harder, hollowing my cheeks, and he pressed a second finger into my mouth, stretching my lips. I took both of them, my tongue working between them, my eyes watering as he pushed deeper.

"That’s our good girl." he praised, his words lighting my body ablaze. "Taking the both of us."

I moaned around him, the sound muffled and broken, and below me Chris groaned against my entrance, the vibration traveling through my entire body. His tongue was plunging further inside me, curling against my walls, working me towards the edge.

I was shaking at this point, with my eyes rolling back, caught between Chris' mouth and Matt's fingers. The sweetness of the chocolate and cream mingled with the salt of skin and the taste of Matt's fingers on my tongue was setting me in an overdrive of sensations.

“She’s close.” Matt announced, pulling his fingers out slowly, as a trail of saliva connected his skin to my lips. He wiped it across my bottom lip, smearing the wetness, as he watched his brother eat me out from between my thighs.

When Chris' tongue flicked hard against my clit for the final time, I shattered with a loud cry. He licked me through it, cleaning every drop of chocolate, cream, and cum, to the point of oversensitivity.

When I finally came down, I was a trembling mess on the cold marble. Chris reappeared with his chin glistening, the filthy sight alone turning me on all over again. He looked up at me, his eyes blown wide. "Tell us what you need."

"I need you." I panted, catching my breath, as I looked between them. "Both of you."

Matt and Chris traded spots, with Matt at my lower end now and Chris beside me. The former crawled up my body, his mouth leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses across my stomach, my ribs, and the valley between my breasts. He tasted chocolate, cream, and me, and each swipe of his tongue sent a new jolt of pleasure through my already buzzing nerves.

Chris caught my mouth in a heated kiss, which was slow and deep, and I could taste myself on his tongue, along with the sweetness of chocolate and cream, and the faint bitterness of wine. His hand cupped my breast, kneading it as his thumb circled my nipple, which was still slick and sticky with whipped cream.

When Matt reached my throat, he bit it gently at the sensitive skin there, making me moan into Chris' mouth.

"More." I pleaded when Chris broke the kiss. "I want more. Please."

Chris' hand slid down my stomach, his fingers finding me soaked again. He pushed two fingers inside me, curling them, making me cry out. "She’s ready for you, Matt." he announced, his voice rough. “She’s been so good to us. Don’t make her wait.”

Matt pulled back, looking down at me. My skin was a mess of chocolate, cream and bite marks, with my hair tangled and my chest heaving. I must have looked ruined.

"Beautiful." he countered. “So fucking perfect.”

He lowered his hands, gripping my hips, to shift me forward until my ass was flush against the edge of the counter. The marble was cold against my skin, a contrast to the heat of his body pressing between my thighs, as Matt positioned himself. He then lifted my legs, and draped them over his shoulders. The position opened me completely, with my hips tilted upwards, as I felt the thick head of his cock press against my entrance. He was slick with his precum, my arousal, and the remnants of chocolate and cream that Chris left behind.

"Look at me." he gruffed, and I held his gaze.

He then pushed into me in one fluid motion. The stretch was deep and full, his thickness spreading me open inch by inch. I let out a sound that was half gasp and half moan, as my lips parted open. He filled me completely, until his hips were flush against mine, and he stayed there for a moment, letting me adjust to his size and feel every inch of him.

"Shit." he hissed, his voice sounding wrecked. "You’re so fucking tight."

All I could do was moan from the ecstasy of being so stuffed full of him.

"Tell me…" he heaved, his hips beginning to move slowly. "Tell me how it feels."

"So full." I slurred, my voice cracking. "Matt— fuck."

As Matt set a steady pace, each thrust pushed a sound out of me. We had a harmony of moans, groans, and profanities between us as he plunged deeper and faster into me, making me ricochet against him, as my sweat-misted body glided upon the smooth marble surface under me. The wet clapping sounds of our skin echoed throughout the kitchen, it almost being like a metronome as my brain went into a blurry haze.

At my head, Chris stepped closer, his cock level with my lips, already hard and slick with precum. He threaded his fingers through my hair, gathering the strands, tilting my face up towards him.

"Your turn." he said, his voice rough with lust.

He reached for the whipped cream can, shook it once, and held the nozzle to the tip of his shaft. A thick white cloud bloomed against his skin, covering the head in a swirl of cream, pooling around the ridge and dripping slowly down the length of him. The cream clung to him, cold against the heat of his skin, and I watched a single drop slide down and fall onto the counter.

Chris moved closer, positioning himself at my head. His cock was right there, the scent of vanilla and sugar mixing with the salt of him. I reached up and wrapped my hand around his length, feeling the heat of his skin. I held him steady, guiding the mushroom tip towards my lips.

"Fuck, look at you." he said, with a heavy exhale. "Holding my cock like that. Like you already know what to do with it."

I opened my mouth, with my tongue hanging out, as he fed me his cock slowly. The whipped cream melted onto my tongue first, cold and sweet, the sugar dissolving against the heat of my mouth. And then the taste of him replaced it, his skin slick against my lips, as the salt of him mixed with the vanishing sweetness. When I wrapped my mouth around the head, I heard his breath catch above me. My hand stayed wrapped around his shaft, pumping slowly in time with my mouth, feeling the way his hips wanted to thrust deeper but held back.

"You’re gonna kill me.” he groaned out loud.

I took him deeper, my tongue working the underside of his shaft, cleaning every trace of whipped cream from his skin. He did taste like dessert. I hollowed my cheeks, sucking him slowly as my hand worked the base of him. Chris’ fingers began to thread through the strands of my hair, not to guide but just to anchor himself.

Below me, Matt was still fucking me ruthlessly, his strokes steady and deep, each one hitting a place that made my toes curl. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, pulling me onto his cock with every thrust, and I heard his breathing grow ragged above the wet sounds of his skin meeting mine.

"You feel that?" Matt rasped. "Feel how fucking deep I am? How full you are of me?"

I couldn’t answer as I looked at him with heavy lidded eyes. My mouth was full of Chris, and my hand was still working his shaft in rhythm with my tongue. I made a garbled sound instead, a muffled moan that vibrated through Chris' cock, making him groan and shudder above me, as his hips bucked forward.

"She’s fucking insane. Taking us both at the same time. " Chris said, sounding wrecked and in awe. “What a fucking whore.”

“She feels incredible.” Matt added.

Their degrading praises were pushing me further to the brink, and all I could do was helplessly moan in reply. In a funny way, being stuffed full by both Matt and Chris like this, taking them both and testing my limits, made me feel prideful.

Chris' hand tightened in my hair, guiding my rhythm as I bobbed my head, taking him deeper with each pass. The salt of his precum spread across my tongue as I worked him, while my hand stayed wrapped around the base of his length to stroke in time with my mouth.

Matt’s pace quickened, fucking me hard and fast, driven by the sugar rushing through his veins and the sight of me spread out on the kitchen counter like his personal dessert. I felt the pressure starting to build, coiling low in my belly, and I gasped for air around Chris' cock as it mounted. 

"She’s close." Matt announced, his voice strained. "She’s fucking squeezing me so tight."

On cue, Chris' hand slid down my body, leaving my hair, and trailed across my throat and chest. His fingers found my clit through the mess of arousal and chocolate, pressing down and circling in time with Matt's thrusts. The added stimulation made me cry out around him, as my back arched off the counter. 

"That’s it, baby." Chris coaxed, as his thumb pressed down harder. "You’re doing so well." 

"Cum for us, pretty girl." Matt added.

Chris' thumb pressed harder, rubbing faster, and Matt drove into me deep and held. The combination sent me over the edge, making my orgasm crash through me in waves that made my vision go white. A guttural cry erupted out of me as I clenched tightly around Matt's cock, my body shuddering against the marble. 

Matt followed with a final groan, spilling inside me as I pulsed around him, his hips stuttering.

And with one last buck of his hips, Chris spilled into my mouth, hot and thick. I sealed my lips around him, swallowing what I could. Some of it seeped past the corners of my lips, running down my chin in thin trails. He wiped the stray drops with his thumb, and pressed them back into my mouth.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of heavy breathing, ragged and loud in the quiet kitchen. The three of us were a tangle of limbs across the marble counter, amongst the mess of chocolate, cream, cum, and sweat. Matt's cock was still inside me, softening, and I felt the slow leak of him between my thighs. The air smelled like sex and sugar.

Matt moved first, his mouth finding my throat. He pressed a kiss to the hollow below my ear, warm and lingering, his breath hot and uneven against my skin. Chris leaned in from the other side, his lips brushing the curve of my shoulder, trailing up the column of my neck until he reached the spot just behind my jaw. They nuzzled into me from either side, two sets of lips moving across my skin, tender and unhurried, claiming me in the aftermath.

The light above me blurred at the edges of my vision as I let myself feel the weight of them pressed against me. Their warmth seeped into my cooling skin, as their mouths continued to trace lazy patterns across my neck and shoulders.

As I laid there between them with my skin sticky and my body aching, my mind spun with the impossibility of this moment. A hypothetical about last meals had turned into something I never could have predicted, and yet here I was, caught between two brothers who had taken me apart and put me back together piece by piece.

And all I could think was, what a way to go out.

A/N: I wrote this so fast I hope it doesn't feel rushed lmao but after the recent video and the way chratt been having a slut off this week, i just had to write this oops bye i hope yall enjoy it :))

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