#crowapple

The tension in your bedroom was thick enough to cut with a blade. 

Not the bad kind of tension where you were anticipating a fight to break out between your lovers. It was the kind of tension where you feared you’d be getting devoured whole instead. 

“Sweetie, how can you be so sure?” Sylus, standing by the foot of your bed, was the first to speak after your bold proclamation . “Because I’ve had them in my mouth, in my hands, in my pussy, in my ass… I'm pretty sure I’d be able to tell the difference between your dicks if you blindfold me.” Caleb, sprawled across one half of your bed, had long since abandoned his doom scrolling. 

“I dunno, baby. Me and Sy don’t exactly give you time to memorize us.” You felt your cheeks warm slightly as Sylus began to laugh, a low grumbling sound that sent a wave of arousal shooting down your spine. “Muscle memory at this point, Cal. I don’t think I really need to study to know who is who.” You were doubling down, chewing on your lower lip and glancing between the two men. Praying they’d give in and try to prove you wrong. 

“Well…” Caleb’s eyes locked with Sylus, flickering over to where you sat on the bed before returning to that crimson gaze. “I don’t want to speak for Sy, but his aethercore is speaking for him.” Caleb doesn’t flinch as Sylus uses his evol to snatch his phone off his chest. Laying it on the nightstand a moment later, not to scare him, but to warn him of what he can do. 

“Sweetie, if you’re so sure…” he spares Caleb a glance, ignoring the colonel’s lazy smirk before stepping closer to you. “We can try it. But as always, we need ground rules. As well as…” he’s already tugging his sweater over his head, revealing the rippling muscles of his tanned skin. “Rewards and punishments. This is a challenge, after all.” 

You were leaping off the bed, an eager squeal escaping your lips as you ran over to your closet. “As for my reward, I’d like to use my vibrator on both of you. Hands restrained of course.” You crouch to shuffle some things out of the way, tugging at a pink container. “You two can come up with your own reward for if I lose. The punishments sort themselves right out.” You can hear undressing happening behind you, neither man commenting yet. 

You found your sink blindfold, a pair of handcuffs, and your favorite vibrator. Setting the two “reward” items off to the side for when you inevitably won this little bet. “So, what do you two want if I lose?” The tension in your legs has the muscles feeling like jelly, only intensified when you saw that Caleb and Sylus had shed every layer of clothing in that short time. 

You freeze, blindfold still clutched in your grasp as your mouth opens and closes. “No extra study time before we start, sweetie.” Sylus’ evol is wrapping around your waist, doing the hard work of walking for you as Caleb’s evol gently plucks the blindfold from your hands. 

“Can’t have you cheating, you know. Wouldn’t be fair.” You’re placed squarely in front of Sylus, unable to sneak one last glance down at either of their stiff cocks before his mouth is hot and wet against your own. You gasp into the kiss, shivering as his warm hands slide around your waist. Your shirt is being tugged on almost immediately, the force of it nearly causing you to stumble back before another hard body is pressing into your skin. 

“Sy, it’s usually my job to be rough…” Caleb’s voice makes you jump, right next to your ear and hot on your skin. “Let me get the blindfold on her.” Your eyes open briefly as your shirt is tugged off, satisfactory groans emitting from both men when they see nothing but a pair of lacy panties clinging to your hips. 

“Ah ah, baby. No peeking.” You catch one last glance at Caleb’s flushed cheeks before the blindfold is placed over your eyes. Your head is pushed forward, fingers instinctively reaching out for Sylus as his fingers tug at your lace. “Tie it tightly, colonel.” He already sounds wrecked, your lips parting in anticipation for the kiss that crashes against your mouth once more. 

The movement doesn’t stop Caleb from effectively, even as Sylus devours your tongue. You barely hear his little content “done” too engulfed in shoving your own tongue right back down Sylus’ throat. Your nails dig into the heated skin of his shoulders, grounding you to him as Caleb presses his cock against the swell of your ass. “Can’t even focus enough to see your actions through, Sy? What happened to getting these off?” 

You feel their fingers brush, Caleb’s tapping at Sylus’. He’s got your lacey panties twisted up in his grip, tugging them to one side while simultaneously tugging them up. You gasp into the warm cavern of Sylus’ mouth, forcing yourself up on your tip toes before the pressure becomes too much to bear. “Easy…” Caleb’s voice sounds like it vibrates his chest, gripping Sylus’ fingers to release them. “You’re gonna give our baby a burn with all that friction.” 

You and Sylus part with a gasp, noses still pressing together as you both drag in some much needed air. Your world is still dark, the silk blindfold barely letting in a tinge of light from your surrounding bedroom. “She knows when to tell me to stop.” Sylus murmurs, the kiss that follows is softer, as if solidifying his words. “S’okay Cal, it felt good…” 

“Mm, I’m sure. But let’s not forget…” His nose scrunches slightly, amused as Sylus buries his face in your neck to suck and nibble on your pulse. “There are some high stakes in this little game. And Sy and I haven’t even decided on our reward when you lose.” 

“M’not gonna l-lose, Caleb!” Your sentence tapers off with a moan as the sharpness of Sylus’ canines dent your skin. “Time will tell.” You gasp as you feel Caleb’s evol tugging Sylus back from you, the other man cursing under his breath as he’s set down a few feet away. You can only feel the absence of warmth, your hands now clinging to nothing. 

“How exactly do you plan on doing this, hmm?” Sylus’ voice filled the space as Caleb gingerly tugged your panties down. “Do you want to use your hands, your mouth, or your cunt?” You felt oddly vulnerable stepping out of your underwear, neither man touching you momentarily as Caleb tossed the garment off to the side. “I think my pussy would be the best. Given that there is much more to be felt if I use my hands or mouth.” 

Hell, you were pretty sure you’d be able to tell Sylus and Caleb apart based on the texture of their pubic hair. It was absolutely ridiculous but you truly wanted to challenge yourself. “Sounds good, princess.” You yelp as Caleb’s evol lifts you to quickly deposit you on your bed. You fall backwards, catching yourself on your elbows as you feel warmth crawl over you. 

“Sy had his fun, now I can have mine.” You barely make a sound before Caleb’s lips are crashing into yours with the same level of ferocity that Sylus had. The strength you used to keep yourself up diminished the second Caleb pinned you down. Being extra mindful to not press his cock against you, even if it killed him. “Look at your hips, colonel.” 

Sylus was slightly muffled over the noises of your mouth, Caleb’s teeth biting down on your kiss-swollen lips only added to your melting mind. “Humping the air like a dog in a rut.” Sylus’ hands slid over Caleb’s thick thighs, inching up to his hips before cruelly dragging his nails down his skin. Caleb’s breathing stuttered at the feeling, hips bucking hard and narrowly missing your heated skin. 

“You act as if I was being feral with her, now look at you? Damn near pathetic.” Precum dripped onto your abdomen, Caleb’s cock leaking needily at the feeling of Sylus’ degradation. “You want me to touch your cock, colonel? Or are you worried you’ll be too spent before our baby has a chance to feel you and make her best guess?” Reluctantly, Caleb pulled away from your mouth, placing two chaste kisses before turning away entirely. 

“You love to run your mouth, boss-man.” Even with the blindfold, you could feel their glares, you could feel the tension. The type you simply had to fuck out of each other. “Boys, please.” The noise is something akin to a croak, your cunt throbbing with need. “The quicker I win this challenge, the quicker I can get you two off. Just… you both have to prep me…” 

They were big, massive even. Just what their already inflated egos needed. They both owned a cock that was large enough to warrant their cockiness. It kinda pisses you off sometimes. 

“Sorry, baby. Blame Sy for trying to start shit.” The kiss that followed landed on your sternum instead of your lips, wet and hot as he trails himself to your left breast. “Am I even invited to this party?” Sylus’ voice is gruff, the comment sarcastic as the bed dips. “Sylus…” nothing else seems to leave your mouth, Caleb’s lips suckling your perked nipple into his mouth and effectively short circuiting your brain.

You feel them shifting around you, Caleb settling to one side while Sylus settles on the other. Both keeping their lower halves away from you entirely. “My pretty girl.” Sylus’ voice sounds right next to your ear, a large hand covering the breast Caleb isn’t sucking on. “You’re so cute.” He squeezes, the feeling of your pliant flesh molding around his hand makes your back arch. 

“Does Caleb’s mouth feel good? He’s really slobbering all over your breast.” Sylus nips at your jaw, breath hot on your skin as you feel another hand slowly sliding down your stomach. You guess it’s Caleb’s, his mouth too preoccupied to shoot something back at Sylus for being snarky. “I-it feels really good…!” You spread your legs further, encouraging the hand lower. 

“Should the colonel and I finger your pretty pussy together? Or do you want one of us to play with your clit while the other fingers your sweet spot?” You feel blood rush to your face, thankful for the blindfold because you’re not sure you’d be able to meet his gaze otherwise. “Fuck sake, Sylus…” you draw out every letter in his name, trembling as the hand rests on your pubic bone. 

“Answer us, sweetie.” Your mind feels fuzzy already, and all you can think about is that smart mouth being occupied with something else. “Sy, I want you to eat my pussy while Caleb keeps it spread for you.” The noises they make have you mewling. Caleb’s groan vibrates your chest, his teeth clamping down on your nipple so hard you thrash slightly. The hand moves lower immediately – Caleb’s – and gingerly spreads your lips apart. 

“Good girl, saying exactly what she wants. Just like we taught you.” A soft kiss lingers on your heated cheek before the bed shifts again. “Don’t get distracted Colonel, maybe she’ll let you have a taste after.” Caleb’s eyes flicker down momentarily, watching Sylus kneel on the floor at the foot of the bed. “Easy.” Whispered, and Caleb barely unlatches from your breast as Sylus grabs your ankles and tugs you down. “You’re on a roll tonight.” 

It’s spit at Sylus, and you can’t help but reach blindly for Caleb to return to you, fingers sliding back down to spread you again as Sylus hooks both of your knees over his shoulders. “Just have to make sure everything is up to our baby’s standards, Colonel. Is that such a crime?” Caleb grumbles something unintelligible, turning his head back to your blindfolded one. 

His lips start to litter kisses over your skin again, kissing down to your breasts and purposely leaning over you to plant a wet kiss upon your neglected nipple. “Are you okay with me staying on this side or should I switch before Sy starts?” You ponder for a moment, lips parted as short, uneven breaths puff past your lips. You can feel Sylus, his hands, the slow exhales ghosting your spread cunt. It makes it really, really hard to think for a moment. 

“Just… keep doing what you’re doing. I don’t mind the reach.” Your hand comes up to blindly search for his head, his hand catching your flailing arm a moment later and directing it properly. “May I start?” Your fingers instinctively twitch in Caleb’s hair when Sylus speaks, your voice waivers as you give him the green light. 

Stars seem to explode across your covered eyes the moment Sylus’ tongue comes in contact with your twitching clit. One thick, long lick along the length of your cunt. Starting at your weeping entrance and ending with his lips wrapping around the pulsating bud. “O-oh!” Caleb’s head dips down again, leaning over you to suckle on your neglected nipple. 

His hand remains steady, two fingers keeping you spread nice and pretty for Sylus. “You taste s’good.” Each word is muffled against your cunt, body feeling hot all over as Caleb huffs a laugh against your breast. “S’rude to talk with your mouthful, boss-man.” The hypocrisy would be laughable if they weren’t attacking your weak spots all at once. 

“Get over yourself, colonel.” Still muffled, his mouth too full of your cunt to properly get the words out. Not that you mine, the sensation is drool worthy, making you clench and flutter around nothing at all. “Gotta get her nice and wet, boss-man. I need her to take us real easy.” Caleb retreats from your chest, your hand extended after him. 

Before you can ask him where he’s going, you jump as you hear Caleb spit. His saliva lands on your cunt, right above Sylus’ nose. His tongue had been preoccupied with your entrance, lapping at every drop of your arousal. “Suckin’ her dry isn’t going to help us much.” You expect Sylus to retort, to pull away from his meal and fire something back at Caleb. 

Instead, he pulls away enough to spit too, tongue flicking over your soaking clit a moment later, licking up every drop of the mess they had made. You couldn’t see it, fuck you wanted to see it so bad. You nearly reached up to pull the blindfold free, it’s not like the test had started yet. Instead, Caleb’s evol weighed your hands down, Sylus’ evol instantly wrapped around your thighs to keep them snuggly over his shoulders. “Don’t you dare peek, baby. We can always recreate this for you later.” 

You whined, head falling back against the mattress as you breathed out. “M’gonna cum…” 

“That fast? That just might be a record.” Caleb sat by the foot of the bed, fingers still spreading you as wide as your folds would allow. Watching Sylys devour your cunt as if it were the man’s last meal. His cock was throbbing, leaking precum all over his taut abdomen, the tip an angry red. Every part of his mind screamed to touch himself, but he resisted. His free hand threading through Sylus’ hair and guiding him in a repetitive motion. 

“Just like that, you can see her thighs tensing, Sy. She’s so close to cumming for you. You’re such a good boy…” You can’t stop the whimper that escapes you, Sylus’ groan vibrating your cunt in a way that has your entire body tensing up in anticipation. “And you…” You can't see, but you can feel Caleb’s eyes on you. Eyeing your spit slicked chest, the little bruises forming all over. “You’re being such a good girl, you have our permission to cum, baby.” 

You grit your teeth, fingers twitching erratically as you search for something to grab but Caleb’s evol is keeping you in place. You barely twist around the blanket before you’re shattering all together, entire body tensing as whimpers and moans fall from your lips. “N-No more! Please! S’too much!!” Sylus never stopped sucking, lathering your overly sensitive clit until your hips thrashed and your body went slack against the sheets. “Ease up.” 

Caleb’s hand was still in Sylus’ hair, the colonel gripping harder and yanking him back from your cunt. The air seemed to stutter in your lungs, sweet relief making your bones feel like jello. “Don’t start.” Sylus’ words are a hushed hiss, enough to make your own skin prickle from the intensity. The two of them always fought like cats, irritating the other on purpose. 

Caleb must have let go, because Sylus had begun to place random little kisses over your cunt and thighs. “We’re going to start the true test now, sweetie.” Both men had stepped away from the bed, just their voices letting you know they were still present. “Y-you still haven’t told me what you want if I lose. I-I need to know how high these stakes are.” You were greeted by a few beats of silence. You assumed they were looking between each other to figure it out. 

“If you are unable to differentiate by our dicks.” Caleb started slowly, still nowhere near you. “Then we’re going to try double penetration, same hole.” Sylus finished, and they could see your jaw go slack at the idea. “I thought you two were against that! You said it would hurt me too much when I begged for it last time!” Really, your punishment would be another reward. 

“Should we begin?” Evasion was their tactic, not willing to express why the sudden change of heart. Despite it, you’re grinning, legs still spread and waiting. “Yes! Please… I need you both so badly.” They both acknowledged you with their own noises, and then silence enveloped you again save for the slight shuffling. You could feel one of them standing between your thighs, their hands gathering your legs up and pushing them towards your chest. 

This new position allowed for whoever was touching you to get on the bed with you. They were similar in height, and you couldn’t possibly tell by the way the mattress dips around them. Even their hands were relatively similar in size. At that moment, you truly couldn't tell who was on you right now. You shift a little at the silence, finding it a tad comical. Maybe you should have thought about putting on some sort of music or maybe even the tv…

“Oh…!” His cock slid along your glistening, puffy folds. Though you couldn’t think about that for much longer as the bed suddenly dipped again. “B-both of you?!” Neither man would respond, fearing their voice would give away their position. But it made more sense for them to do this together. If you could decipher who one was, by process of elimination it would be painfully obvious who the other was. 

The second cock was also prodding at your folds, slapping against the other with a wet thump. Your lips press together, swallowing up the whines begging to claw out of your throat. Both men take turns rubbing their aching cocks on your cunt, letting you feel them, memorize every curve and vein, letting you try and figure out who was who. 

Sylus was long, curving up slightly. And he was thick, painfully thick but you had come to crave that stretch. To the point nothing else could really satisfy you… except Caleb. He wasn’t as long as Sylus, but even then the difference came down to centimeters. He was just as thick too, but he swelled a bit just below his head before slimming out by the base. You truly believed you’d be able to tell the difference, the way they’d notch in just right, muscle memory. 

Before you could open your mouth to whine about their teasing, you could feel the thick head of one of their cocks positioned at your entrance. Your lips parted, a sigh of relief tumbling out as the pressure built. You were soaked, there was truly no resistance to slip inside, but they held themself back. Pressing just enough that their head stretched your entrance but not going further. “D-don’t tell me that’s all you’re going to give!” 

Still, no verbal response was given. They were playing dirty. 

They pulled back, the sensation fleeting as you immediately started tugging against their makeshift evol restraints. “That is so not fair! Hell, just for that I want to say it’s…” Sylus. But you stop yourself, if you threw away your answer that quickly and were incorrect you’d feel like a fool. You had to win this, had to prove them wrong. 

The dribbling head of a cock is pressing against your entrance again, and you can immediately feel that it’s different. “You guys changed places…” And for a moment, you feel his hips stutter. A victorious little smirk curls your lips, they really didn’t think you’d notice? 

Whoever was pressing into you began pushing in all the way, your jaw going slack at how easily they slipped in. Maybe you were a little too wet, you had been certain you’d know if it was Caleb based on his shape. But your cunt was too slippery, too ready. “Oh my fuck…” They slide into the hilt, leaving you impossibly full before carefully, agonizingly, pulling out. 

He repeated the motion, thrusting experimentally while gripping your calves for support. Your velvety walls clench, clamping down on the man inside of you in a way that has you moaning. Still, he keeps thrusting, struggling a little with the way you’re gripping him but thrusting nonetheless. “Oh fuck… that feels s-so good… Sylus!” 

All movements ceased, your brain taking a second to process you had just uttered a name. “C’mon…” You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to feign confidence. “Tell me if I was right! I have to be, I know you too well!” Your body does, even if your brain doesn’t want to cooperate initially. Instead of a verbal response, the man inside of you pulls out altogether. 

You don’t bother complaining, feeling them shifting around before someone else is pressing at your entrance. The plunge is quick, deep ,and devastating all at once. Your mind swims in the euphoria of being filled again. Those hips working you at a normal pace, until… 

“This is still Sylus! Quit trying to trick me, I know I’m right!” Only then do you finally hear some noise, the kind of chuckle that could only be Caleb. “Well shit, baby. You’re one smart cookie.” You’re slightly startled as the blindfold is removed, blinking rapidly to clear your vision. It takes you a second to adjust, but sure enough, Sylus is the one plunged inside of you. 

“You were right both times, sweetie.” He was twitching now, utterly turned on that you could truly pick him out just based on the shape of his cock. “This pretty pussy was made for me.” Caleb moves to slap the back of Sylus’ head but –wisely – stops himself. “I think Sy has more than enough time with your cunt, baby. I haven’t had a single bit.” Caleb is pouting, fingers running along your bent leg before moving further up the bed. 

“In your dreams, Colonel. You can lick her clean after I cum in her.” 

You gasp at that, cunt instinctively clamping down around his length. “Let me suck you off, Cal. I’ll make you feel better.” Sylus starts moving again, tugging your legs up to rest over his shoulders yet again. His body weight follows, squishing you into the mattress to better piston his cock in and out of your fluttering entrance. “You heard her, give her your cock.” 

The angle Sylus had contorted you in was proving to make that a tad difficult. Your head and upper body twisting towards Caleb enough that he finally let his evol relax. Your arms are freed from their invisible prison. “Sylus, can’t you fuck me in doggy? It would be easier…!” Months of being their lover has truly taught you to forgo any shame or embarrassment. “You are the winner, sweetie. Whatever you want, I’ll do.” 

You’re manoeuvred without Sylus so much as pulling half way out, your legs suddenly struggling to support your weight as they dig into the mattress. “They’re asleep, hmm? The colonel and I had you bent out of shape for too long.” Large, hot hands grab your waist, hoisting you up and supporting you. “Don’t tease me, Sy. Caleb, sit in front of me.” You stated your orders without hesitance, trying to get everything in order before Sylus completely wrecked you. “Yes ma’am.” He shuffles, nearly collapsing against the headboard with his legs spread around you and Sylus. His cock looked beyond needy, so red at the tip it could be considered purple. “Poor baby, Sy didn’t give you a chance, huh?” Caleb’s cheeks are flushed, his abdomen shining with the arousal that had been oozing out of him. 

“Nope, he’s hogged you this whole time and I’ve been such a good boy barely complaining.” You wanted to laugh, the roles switching between the three of you always happened without you realizing it until you were too deep in. You reach for him, fingers wrapping around his mid-section and bringing his tip right to your lips. 

Sylus starts moving again, hips setting a brutal but satisfying pace. You don’t bother licking or teasing, your jaw goes slack as you shove the fat head of Caleb’s cock between your lips. A symphony of sounds fill the bedroom, the lewd slurping of your mouth around his cock, the sinful slap of skin hitting skin, and the harmonies of moans and groans filling the space. 

Your eyes welled with tears as you forced your mouth further down his length. Every drag of Sylus’ his had his cock pressing against your sweet spot, only adding to the onslaught of tears dripping down your face. “Feels so good, baby, don’t stop.” Caleb’s hand was hot as it landed on the back of your head, cruelly shoving more of his length into your mouth. “Careful, Caleb.” Sylus’ voice was a strained warning, cock throbbing between your velvety soft walls as a loud gag restricted your throat. 

“If you hurt her I’ll have to make sure to return the favor.” The implications were loud and clear, and Sylus couldn’t help but laugh as your cunt suctioned to him. “Oh, you like the sounds of that, baby? Like the thought of me throat fucking Caleb?” The room was spinning, the pleasure so overwhelming you felt like you’d pass out from the intensity. Your noise of response was a garbled mess, drool dripping down your chin as Caleb eased up. 

“I-I’d love to see you try, Boss-man.” His cheeks are red, sweat beading at his temple as you suck him off. He’s close already, abdomen and thighs flexing every time you swallow around him. Your hands find their way to his skin, clawing roughly and leaving bright red nail marks in your wake. The pleasure is overwhelming, your cunt feeling so good that you’re struggling to resist the urge of crawling away from Sylus’ relentless hips. 

“Y-you’re going to cum, aren’t you, pretty girl? I can feel it.” Sylus’ fingers dig into the fat of your hips, dragging you back to meet his hips again and again and… 

Something akin to a scream tore out of you, warm liquid spraying down Sylus’ thighs as your cunt spasmed erratically. The motion causes you to take Caleb deeper, his thick head hitting the back of your throat. His orgasm was just as sudden, head tossing back hard enough that he nearly knocked it on your headboard. Sylus watched with a slack jaw, the tension in his gut tightening until he couldn’t contain himself any longer. 

White hot ropes of cum spill inside of you, painting your walls a sticky white. You could barely process anything, tugging your head back and swallowing whatever of Caleb’s release didn’t dribble down your chin. Your poor arms truly felt like jelly now, head thumping against Caleb’s thigh as you struggled to catch your breath. The warmth of Sylus bending over you had your eyelids feeling heavy. “You did so good, are you alright?” A gentle kiss on your hot cheek. 

“I didn’t hurt you, right?” Caleb’s hand had loosened its grip on you, running his fingers over the hair he had tousled. “M’good, it felt great.” Your words slurred together, cheek pressing hard into Caleb’s thigh as you felt sleep claw at your eyes. “You did win the bet, after all. You were able to tell who was who based on their dick… even if I never got a chance to be inside…” Caleb pouted slightly, glaring at Sylus who only grinned wickedly in response. 

“If she’s not too tired, you can always clean her up.” You blink your eyes open, blearily looking up at both men. “M’sleepy but I wouldn’t mind cuddling while Caleb cleans me up.” Sylus was still plugging you up, keeping every drop inside of your warm cunt. “You heard the woman, Colonel. You’re not gonna back down, right?” 

“Course m’not.” Caleb looked honestly offended by the idea, as if he’d ever turn down a chance to eat your pussy. “You just gotta remove yourself from her, boss-man… hogging her this whole time…” Clearly, Caleb was still annoyed by the whole thing. “Eh, it’s so warm in here, I think I’d like to give myself another minute or two.” Caleb’s mouth fell open, an incredulous look on his face. “You’re a real piece of work, Sylus.” A deep chuckle followed, the tension steadily building once again. 

Despite the exhaustion creeping up your spine, you had a feeling your night was far from over. 

“You’re dripping.”

Caleb cracks one eye open. The bag of frozen peas you set at his neck fifteen minutes ago has gone soft, condensation tracking down his throat and disappearing into the collar of his henley.

“I’ll get him a new couch.”

You cross your arms and raise a brow. “With what money.”

“He can add it to my tab. Right under the chiropractor bill.”

“Careful with the tab, captain,” Sylus warns drily. “I’m very creative about collecting, and I’m starting to think you enjoy owing me.”

Caleb chucks a pillow across the room. Sylus catches it without flinching and tucks under his arm like he won it fair.

“You boys—” you look between Sylus, settled into his armchair like a throne, and Caleb, sprawled on the couch “—are going to play nice.”

“We’re behaving,” Sylus says.

“Barely,” Caleb adds.

Sylus shrugs. “Barely counts.”

They’ve been like this since tonight’s game. Before the game, actually. Since the first time they met on the ice two seasons ago, since something sparked between them the first time your brother knocked your boyfriend flat on his ass only for the silver-haired menace to come up smiling.

Tonight’s third period had been ugly. Caleb’s team down two, Sylus’s team running clock, and somewhere around the seven minute mark Caleb had taken Sylus into the boards in a way that could have looked accidental from the cheap seats and looked extremely on purpose from the bench. Sylus answered with his fists. The refs let them go for longer than they should have. Both were ejected, and you’d watched them get walked off in opposite directions like dogs separated mid-fight while five thousand people screamed.

You’d had the idea on the walk back to your dorm. Stupid. Catastrophically stupid.

Come over, you’d texted Caleb. Sylus’s place.

Three bouncing dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. He’d called you instead.

“You’re out of your mind, pips.”

“Probably.”

“Meimei.”

“Gege.”

He released a long, suffering breath. “Why?”

“Because I love you and I love him and I’m so tired of being caught in the middle like this.”

“He gave me a split lip.”

“You gave him a bloody nose.”

“And you think this is a fix?”

“I think it’s a try.”

He showed up an hour later, of course. You’d never asked Caleb for something he didn’t give you.

“How’s the nose,” Caleb says without opening his eyes.

Sylus touches the bridge of his nose, more out of habit than concern. “Fine.”

“Shame. Could’ve sworn I did more damage.”

“You always did overestimate your impact.”

“Overestimate?” Caleb’s eyes finally open. “I’ll overestimate my fist up your—”

“Okay!” you interrupt, lifting both hands in surrender. “New rule.”

“This should be good,” Sylus says under his breath.

“Each of you has to say one nice thing about the other,” you announce. “One. Single. Nice. Thing. And then we can move on with our evening like adults.”

“I am being an adult,” Sylus counters. “I haven’t poisoned his drink.”

You scoff. “That’s baseline human decency.”

“For me, sweetie, it’s generous.”

Caleb snorts. It’s the first sound he’s made in Sylus’s direction that isn’t hostile, and you watch Sylus clock it with a small flicker at his eyebrow.

“Caleb,” you say. “You first.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re in his apartment drinking his whiskey and bleeding on his furniture, and I think that earns him a compliment.”

Caleb stares at the ceiling for a long second, jaw working, like you’ve asked him to move a mountain with his bare hands.

“He’s fast,” Caleb says, finally.

“Fast,” you repeat.

“On the ice. He’s fast. Faster than he should be for his size.” Caleb pauses. “It’s annoying. Like a cockroach.”

“That’s not exactly a compliment.”

“It’s adjacent.”

You look at Sylus. “Your turn.”

Sylus takes a sip of whiskey, holding it in his mouth for a moment as he turns over his options. He swallows and tilts his glass toward Caleb.

“He doesn’t quit.”

Caleb glances over.

“Down two,” Sylus says. “Most players know when they’re beaten. He apparently lacks that particular survival instinct. Played the last seven minutes like he could bully the scoreboard into changing.” He takes another sip. “It was irritating.”

“So we’ve established you’re both fast and stubborn and you hate each other for it,” you say. “Wonderful. Truly groundbreaking diplomacy.”

“You asked for one nice thing,” Sylus says, swirling his glass. “That was one nice thing.”

“That was one nice thing wrapped in three mean ones.”

“What can I say? I’m efficient.”

“You’re efficiently a prick,” Caleb fires back.

“Mm,” Sylus hums, entirely unbothered. “Is that what you say when you don’t have a comeback, or is that what you say when your sister’s watching and you want her to think you’re tough?”

Caleb sits up. Drains his whiskey in one go, sets the glass on the table, and lets the bag of peas slide from his neck and thud to the floor.

“Watch it, pretty boy,” he says, eyes narrowed.

“It’s a genuine question. Because you do the same thing on the ice. All those big hits, the scrapping, mouthing off at the refs. It’s very impressive. Very masculine. Especially when she’s sitting third row.” Sylus tilts his chin toward you without taking his eyes off your brother. “Must be exhausting, carrying a crush that obvious for that long. I’m surprised she hasn’t said something.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“She’s a kind girl. Probably doesn’t want to embarrass you.”

“I said shut your mouth.”

“Or maybe she likes it. Having her big brother panting after her like a dog at the door every time she—”

“That’s enough!” you yell.

Both sets of eyes snap to you. You’re not one to raise your voice, and they both know it. You don’t know what you’re going to say next until you’re already saying it, and by then it’s too late:

“If you can’t talk it out, maybe you should just kiss and make up.”

You know it sounds wrong the second it leaves your mouth. You’re tired and tipsy and your brother and your boyfriend are having a conversation about you like you’re not in the room, and all you wanted was for them to stop, and what resulted was the dumbest sentence you’ve said in your entire life.

You try to chase it with a laugh that doesn’t quite land. The room doesn’t laugh with you.

You scramble to walk it back. “Kidding. Obviously. God, your faces. I’m going to get more ice—”

Sylus sets his glass down. The sound of crystal on marble is small, though it lands like a gavel.

“Interesting,” Sylus says.

“I was joking,” you reply, too fast.

“Were you.”

“Yes.”

“Hm.”

Sylus rises from the armchair, crossing to the couch in three steps. He holds out a hand to Caleb.

“What the hell are you doing?” Caleb asks.

“She asked us to make up,” Sylus says simply. “I’m making up. Stand up, captain.”

“You’re out of your goddamned mind.”

“She’s been mediating between us all night, and she’s running out of patience.” Sylus’s hand is still extended, patient and unmoving. “Your poor sister has spent two years trying to keep us from killing each other. The least we can do is give her what she wants for a few seconds.”

Caleb tries to look unbothered, but you catch this jaw tightening at your poor sister. ”She was being sarcastic.”

“Was she?” Sylus glances at you over his shoulder. “Sweetie. Were you being sarcastic?”

You should say yes. You should laugh it off and go get more ice and let the night fade into something survivable.

You just can’t seem to make yourself do anything at all.

Sylus turns back to Caleb, eyebrow raised. See?

“Fine,” Caleb says. “Fine. One kiss.”

He doesn’t take Sylus’s hand. He stands up on his own, because of course he does, and squares up in front of Sylus with his shoulders braced like he’s about to take a penalty shot.

“One kiss,” Caleb repeats.

“One kiss,” Sylus agrees.

Sylus cups the side of Caleb’s face, thumb settling by the butterfly bandage at his brow. Caleb swallows hard, but doesn’t pull away.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Sylus teases. “It’s a kiss. We’ve gotten more physical over a little black puck.”

Caleb’s hands curl into fists at his sides, his face carefully impassive. “Get on with it, pretty boy.”

Sylus leans in and kisses him.

It starts as nothing. A closed-mouth press, chaste, just sufficient enough to satisfy your request. Sylus’s hand stays at Caleb’s jaw. Caleb’s hands stay at his sides. It’s two men doing something for the benefit of a third person they both care deeply about, and nothing more than that.

Then Caleb’s mouth moves.

It’s the smallest shift—his lower lip catches against Sylus’s, and you watch Sylus notice it—tilting his head to change the angle, transforming the kiss from nothing to everything in the span of a heartbeat.

Caleb’s hand comes up to Sylus’s collar, fisting the cotton there. Not pulling, just holding, his split knuckles going white behind their tape. Sylus makes a small sound, approval or surprise or both. His hand slides from Caleb’s jaw to the back of his neck and he deepens the kiss, mouth opening against Caleb’s slowly, like he’s afraid to startle him, afraid for the moment to vanish, and Caleb lets him.

The kiss isn’t for you anymore.

You can see the exact moment it stops being a performance and starts being something private. Caleb’s other hand comes up, both fists in Sylus’s shirt now. Sylus’s fingers curl into the hair at Caleb’s nape, tugging gently. The sounds shared between them are wet and obscene and utterly, nakedly honest.

Your hands are in your own lap, fingers laced tightly together. You’re watching your boyfriend kiss your brother and the thing you're feeling isn't jealousy or shock or any of the things you are supposed to feel. What you feel instead is heat pooling low, the kind that makes you press your thighs together and the friction of your jeans agonizing.

Sylus pulls back first, turning his head just enough to look at you. His eyes scan yours, drop to your lap, then return to your face. His mouth tilts, and he’s beside you on the couch in three strides.

Caleb stands frozen in place, mouth still slightly open.

Sylus pats the empty space beside him. “Sit down, captain.”

Caleb sits.

Sylus settles between you, one arm stretched across the back behind your shoulders, the other behind Caleb’s.

“Well,” Sylus says to no one in particular. “That was overdue.”

Caleb is staring at the muted TV, jaw working, suddenly captivated by what might be the least consequential Division III basketball game of all time. His lip is bleeding again, the split reopened from the kiss, but he makes no move to wipe it clean.

“Caleb,” you say.

“Don’t.”

“Your lip—”

“I know.”

“It’s bleeding again.”

“I know, pips.”

Sylus reaches over and swipes his thumb across the corner of Caleb’s mouth, catching the blood. Caleb flinches but doesn’t pull away. Sylus studies his thumb for a second, then wipes it on his own jeans, satisfied.

“Good kisser, by the way,” Sylus says lightly. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

Caleb closes his eyes.

“Very direct. Bit aggressive. Holds on like he’s afraid you’ll leave.” Sylus glances your way. “You should try it, sweetie.”

Whatever lust-drunk haze you were in is sliced clean through by the implication, cold and brutally sobering.

“Try what,” you murmur.

“Kissing him,” Sylus clarifies. “You should try it. I think you’d like it.”

Heat floods your face. “Sylus.”

“Hm?”

“You know we can’t—that he’s—” you gesture vaguely between yourself and Caleb, then toward Sylus. “—and we’re—”

“Why not? Because we’re dating?” Sylus asks, sounding genuinely curious. “Or because he’s your brother?”

Your stomach falls through the floor.

Because you thought you’d hidden it. You’ve been so goddamn careful—with your eyes, your hands, the way you angle your body when Caleb sits too close and the way you laugh at his jokes exactly as long as a friend would and not one second longer. And Sylus just picked up everything you’ve been hiding and set it on the coffee table between the three of you, and now you’re all staring straight at it, and there’s no putting it back.

“Both,” you say. “Obviously both.”

“What if it’s neither,” Sylus says, holding both of you in the loose parentheses of his arms, as if he doesn’t find any of this complicated at all. ”What if the problem is that you’ve both wanted each other for so long you’ve turned it into something you’re not allowed to have, and the not-being-allowed has gotten so big you can’t see past it anymore.”

Caleb is staring blankly at the TV again. His throat works around his response.

“She’s your girlfriend, Sylus.”

“She is.”

“And I’m her—”

“You’re her brother. Yes. You’re also in love with her. We all know this. We’ve known it all night. We knew it long before tonight.” Sylus inspects his nails, nonchalant. “So let’s stop building the case and move to the verdict, shall we?”

“Sylus,” you whisper.

“Sweetie. Look at me.” You do. He’s giving you the look he gives when he wants your full attention, a look he doesn’t use often and one you’ve never been able to refuse. “Listen to me. Both of you. I’m going to say something, and I’m going to say it once, and after I say it neither of you gets to pretend you didn’t hear.”

You nod. So does Caleb, in sync, and you watch the small flicker pass across Sylus’s eyes that means he noticed.

“Your big brother won’t touch you,” Sylus says to you. “You know that. I know that. He knows that. He’s spent—how long, Caleb?”

Caleb blinks up at the ceiling.

“How long,” Sylus insists.

“Since I was thirteen.”

“Since he was thirteen. All those years deciding he’s not going to touch you. He’s not going to undo that tonight. Not for me. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

Your heart beats so heavily you’re certain the whole room can hear it.

“But,” Sylus continues. His arm tightens behind your shoulders. His other arm tightens behind Caleb’s. “He can touch me. Can’t you, Caleb?”

“...Yes.”

“And I can touch her. Can’t I, kitten?”

“Yes.”

“Then look at that. Look at how convenient that is.”

Caleb leans out of Sylus’s reach, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “Did I knock something loose up there, Qin? Lay into you a little too hard tonight?”

“Not nearly hard enough.” Sylus smirks, the amusement fading into something more focused. “Nobody touches anybody they’re not supposed to touch tonight. Everybody goes home having had exactly the experience they pretend they didn’t want.”

“That’s a nice speech. You rehearse that in the penalty box?”

“I had five minutes. Figured I’d make good use of them.”

“You’re delusional.”

“And you’re still here.”

That lands. You see it hit in the way Caleb’s mouth opens and stays there, the argument dying in his throat. Because he could leave. The door is right there. He has a car. A phone. Yet he’s sitting under Sylus’s arm and hasn’t taken a single step toward any of them.

Sylus sees it, too.

He reaches up and catches Caleb’s jaw, thumb finding the split in his lower lip, and presses into it. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to feel.

Caleb hisses through his teeth. His hand wraps around Sylus’s wrist but doesn’t pull it away.

“Unless,” Sylus says, his thumb resting in the seam of Caleb’s mouth, “you’d rather go back to arguing about hockey.”

Caleb doesn’t argue. He doesn’t say yes, or nod, or do anything at all except sit there with Sylus’s thumb against his lip and his hand around Sylus’s wrist and his chest rising and falling faster than it ever has on the ice.

That’s enough for Sylus.

He tilts Caleb’s jaw down and kisses him, tongue working in slow and unhurried strokes, like he has the whole night and intends to use every second of it. His thumb slides to the hinge of Caleb’s jaw and rests there. His other hand stays on your shoulder, keeping you close. Keeping you watching. A warm, heavy, point of contact that says stay and watch this and you are not going to look away from what I’m doing to your brother’s mouth.

Caleb’s hand finds the back of Sylus’s neck, and you inhale sharply.

Sylus pulls back at your gasp. His hand leaves Caleb’s jaw and finds yours with the same grip, thumb at the corner of your mouth, fingers curving under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. His eyes scan yours, and something in his expression comes alive and hungry.

“Open, sweetie.”

He kisses you, and it’s a kiss you know. The shape of his mouth, the pace, the pressure of his tongue against yours. You’ve kissed this man so many times you could map it blindfolded.

But there’s something in his mouth that isn’t his.

It takes you a second to place it, a warmth that doesn’t belong to Sylus. A faint copper edge that blooms on your tongue when his presses against it. The blood of a split lip. Caleb’s, carried on your boyfriend’s tongue, delivered to yours with each stroke. You whimper against his mouth, and feel Sylus smile into the kiss—a small, satisfied flex that says his hypothesis just proved correct.

“There,” he says quietly, pressing a parting kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Now you’ve had him, too.”

On the couch behind him, Caleb’s eyes are focused on your face—specifically on your mouth, more specifically on the place where his blood is still sitting on your lower lip and you haven’t wiped it off.

“Now,” Sylus says, turning back to Caleb. “Your turn, captain.”

Caleb opens his mouth and Sylus kisses him, tongue sweeping wet and slow and thorough. Caleb’s teeth close around Sylus’s bottom lip and hold, pulling, tasting the sweetness that’s sitting on Sylus’s lip from yours. The bite pulls a low sound from Sylus’s throat, his eyelids fluttering at the pressure, and Caleb doesn’t let go. If anything he sucks harder, desperately chasing your mouth the only way he’s allowed to. 

Sylus finally pulls back with noticeable effort, running his tongue over his own lip where its newly swollen.

“Well?” Sylus asks, amused and knowing. “Could you taste her?”

“Apple.” Caleb swallows. “Green apple.”

The words hit you hard and low. Your Chapstick. The one he’s bought for you in bulk since you were in middle school and keeps in his glovebox because you always lose yours. The one he tosses into your lap without comment every time you get in his car, the one you reapplied before walking into this apartment.

“Yeah,” Caleb says, rougher. “Yeah, I could taste her.”

Sylus’s mouth curves. “Good.”

“Again,” Caleb says to Sylus, not asking. “Kiss her again.”

Sylus obliges. He turns to you and claims your lips, longer, dirtier, a thin strand of spit connecting your mouths when he pulls away. He turns to Caleb, who catches it with his mouth before Sylus finishes turning, desperate and graceless and nothing like the controlled athlete who commanded the ice earlier tonight. Caleb’s hand comes up to the back of Sylus’s head and holds him there, kissing him harder, letting Sylus feed him the taste of you, only pulling apart when his lungs burn for air.

“More,” Caleb groans.

Sylus huffs a laugh. “Greedy.”

“More, Sylus.”

The rhythm turns hypnotic. Sylus kisses Caleb, turns, kisses you. Kisses you, turns, kisses Caleb. Each pass filthier than the last, a little more urgent, carrying more of your brother to you—not just his taste but his small, wet sounds, his shallow breaths, the barely-held-back noises he keeps making against Sylus’s tongue that Sylus carries to you like gifts.

You don’t know how you end up pressed together.

Caleb’s thigh is flush against Sylus’s, their shoulders overlapping. You’ve managed to end up in your boyfriend’s lap, straddling his hips. And Sylus keeps one hand on each of you the entire time, one at your hip now, the other on Caleb’s bicep.

You lean in after one of the passes and catch Sylus’s mouth before he’s fully turned away from Caleb, the kiss off-center and messy, and you taste Caleb so strongly that your hips buck against Sylus’s.

Sylus laughs. He gives your ass a teasing smack.

“Bedroom,” he says.

Caleb pulls back, eyes widening. “Sylus—”

“We’re moving this to the bedroom. This couch costs more than your car, and your sister’s about to ruin it.”

You frown. “I am not—”

“Sweetie, your hand is on his belt.”

You look down. Your hand is, in fact, on Caleb’s belt.

Not through Sylus, just—your hand, on Caleb’s belt buckle, fingers curled around the leather, and you don’t remember putting it there and you don’t remember Sylus guiding it, and you’re dangerously close to not remembering why this whole thing was ever a bad idea in the first place.

You pull your hand away like it’s been burned.

“Bedroom,” Sylus repeats, an order rather than suggestion. He stands, bringing you with him, your legs wrapped around his waist. He eyes Caleb and tips his head toward the hallway. “Now.”

Nobody argues.

Sylus’s bedroom is all dark wood and low light, with a bed that takes up most of the space. It’s a mattress you’ve been on a hundred times. You know how the sheets feel bunched in your fists, how the pillow positions your hips at just the right angle when he puts it under your stomach, how the comforter feels around your shoulders when he tucks you in with a kiss to your temple.

You have no idea how different it’ll feel with three people on top of it.

Sylus deposits you in the middle of the bed before crossing to his nightstand. 

“Caleb,” Sylus says. He turns the lamp down another notch. “In or out. I won’t ask twice.”

You watch your brother from the doorway, his gaze flicking to and away from you, like the sight of you—leaning back on your elbows, lips kiss-swollen, hair a little mussed, eyes alive and wanting—is too much to bear.

He steps in, locking the door behind him with a loud click. “I’m doing this for her.”

“Of course you are,” Sylus says.

“I mean it, Sylus. This isn’t—I’m not here for you.”

“Nobody asked you to be.”

“Good.”

“Good.” Sylus reaches behind his neck, pulling his shirt up and over his head. “Clothes. Off. Both of you.”   

“All of them?” Caleb asks, still lingering by the door.

Sylus drapes his shirt over the back of his desk chair. “Leave the underwear. We’re not animals.”

“Debatable,” you mutter, and Sylus’s mouth twitches.

The three of you strip in silence, shirts tossed aside, all three pairs of jeans hitting the floor at different speeds— Sylus’s first, folded; yours next, kicked off the edge of the bed; Caleb’s last, shoved down and stepped out of.

You’ve seen your brother shirtless—at the beach, after a shower, when he mows the lawn in the dead of August. What you haven’t seen is your brother in gray boxer briefs that do nothing to hide the way his erection strains against the fabric, tight enough that you can tell where the head of his cock meets the shaft, that you can see the darkened spot at the tip where precum bleeds through.

Caleb catches you staring, eyes finding yours and holding them until you’re the one that breaks. Your cheeks burn violently, fingers fumbling with your bra clasp like you’ve forgotten how it works.

“Eyes up, captain,” Sylus warns, moving to the foot of the bed. “She’ll still be there in a minute.”

“You going to coach me through this like it’s a power play?” Caleb grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“If that’s what it takes. You never could finish without a setup.”

“I have fourteen goals this season.”

“And how many assists?”

Caleb's mouth opens and shuts.

“...Shut up.”

Sylus huffs out a laugh. He pulls you to the edge of the mattress by your ankles, and you yelp.

“I’m going to tell you where to look all night, sweetheart. Get used to it,” he says to Caleb before turning his attention back to you. “Lie back, kitten.”

You settle back. Sylus stands between your legs, one hand braced beside your head, and for a moment it’s just the two of you. He kisses your throat, your collarbone, mouth moving down the center of your chest slow and warm. His free hand finds your waist and holds there, thumb tracing the skin above the waistband of your underwear.

“Caleb,” Sylus says against your skin. “Behind me.”

“I’m not cuddling you, Sylus.”

“Nobody’s cuddling anybody. Get behind me. Hands on mine.”

“This isn’t—”

“For her, captain. You’re doing this for her. Remember?”

Caleb positions his knees on either side of Sylus’s calves, chest close to Sylus’s back but not quite touching. He braces one hand on the mattress, the other settling over Sylus’s at your waist, lining up finger over finger, his broader palm bracketing Sylus’s against your hip. The added weight presses Sylus’s grip firmer into your skin, and you arch up into it.

“There,” Sylus says. “Feel her through me. When I move, you move. Yes?”

Caleb’s voice is barely there. “Yes.”

Sylus’s thumb traces up the curve of your waist. Caleb’s follows—riding the back of Sylus’s hand, tracking every motion. Sylus’s hand slides to your ribs, and Caleb’s follows, up and around. Sylus’s fingertips graze the underside of your breast and you gasp, and Caleb’s knuckle catches the edge of your skin where Sylus’s hand doesn’t fully cover.

Caleb freezes.

“I didn’t—I—”

“Caleb…” you whisper.

You look up at Sylus, but he doesn’t intervene. He watches your face from above, letting you be the one who tells Caleb what’s allowed.

“It’s okay, gege,” you decide. “You don’t have to stop.”

Caleb’s hand unfreezes. His fingers resettle over Sylus’s, and they keep moving.

The next touch isn’t an accident.

It’s the back of his ring finger, tracing a line along your ribs that Sylus’s hand doesn’t cover. A quarter-inch of contact, gone, then back—his pinky, grazing the curve of your waist as Sylus’s hand slides lower, gone just as fast. Ghost touches, so minimal you could pretend they didn’t happen. Caleb finding the gaps and pressing into them, testing, learning you through the spaces between your boyfriend’s fingers.

“Sylus,” you whisper.

“I see it, sweetie.”

“Is he—”

“He’s being creative.” Sylus’s mouth lifts. He shifts his hands enough to widen the gaps between his fingers by a fraction, adjusting his grip to give Caleb more room. “I’m allowing it.”

Caleb presses closer behind Sylus. His chest makes contact with Sylus’s back, and the added weight pushes Sylus’s body down against yours.

“Caleb,” Sylus says, in warning and permission at the same time.

“I know.”

“You’re on top of me.”

“I know. That doesn’t mean I like you.”

“You liked me just fine on the couch.”

“That was—that was the situation. That was for—”

“For her. Yes. You’ve mentioned.”

Sylus lowers his mouth to your breast. His tongue traces the curve, teeth teasing your nipple, and you arch up into him. The motion presses your hips against his, and Sylus’s hips press back against Caleb’s, and Caleb—

Caleb grinds forward.

It’s a small, involuntary roll of his hips against Sylus’s ass that pushes Sylus’s hips into yours, and you feel the force of Caleb traveling through Sylus like a wave cresting against you.

Your mouth falls open.

“Caleb. Do that again,” you urge.

“Pips—”

“Gege, please. Do that again.”

He does it again, harder this time. His hips roll forward, grinding Sylus into you, and the pressure hits you exactly right. You gasp and grab Sylus’s shoulders. Sylus makes a low, strangled sound you’ve never heard from him before, Caleb’s hips driving him forward and yours rocking up to meet him.

“More,” you gasp.

Caleb grinds harder, his exhales ragged against Sylus’s neck. The bed is moving. You’re moving. Caleb’s hands are now white-knuckled on Sylus’s hips and Sylus’s are braced on either side of your head and you’re gripping the sheets with both fists as the room dissolves to nothing but friction and heat and breath.

“Caleb—” Sylus manages, his voice is rough in a way that makes your stomach clench, “Caleb, you need to—fuck—you need to—slow down.”

Caleb doesn’t slow down. His next stroke grinds Sylus into you so hard you nearly scream, grabbing onto Sylus’s shoulders, and your boyfriend shudders—actually shudders—and Caleb’s hips snap forward again, relentless.

Sylus throws his weight backward, driving Caleb off him enough to break away. He holds a hand between you and Caleb like a referee calling a penalty—chest heaving, skin flushed, entire body vibrating with the effort of stopping.

“Christ,” he grits out. “The pair of you.”

You stare up at him, breathless. Caleb has one knee up at the end of the bed, hands still shaped around hips that aren’t there anymore.

“We need to slow down,” Sylus says, pushing his hair back with one hand, “or one of us was going to finish in our underwear like a teenager, and I am not going to let that be me.”

“Could’ve been me,” Caleb says, roughly.

“It was going to be all three of us. And we haven’t even started yet.” Sylus looks between you, eyes dark, still catching his breath. “Underwear off. All of us.”

“Thought we weren’t animals,” Caleb mutters.

“We evolved.” Sylus counters, already halfway out of his own boxers. “Take them off, captain.”

You lift your hips and shimmy out of your panties, tossing them off the side of the bed without ceremony. Caleb relents, kicking his underwear off in the general direction of his jeans.

It’s seeing them side by side that knocks the air clean out of you.

Sylus stands tall, lean and carved, all controlled lines and casual strength. A trail of silver hair guides your eyes to where his cock hangs heavy between his thighs, the tip flushed and leaking. Caleb stands broader, rougher around the edges, the bruise on his ribs going green, tape still half-wound around his knuckles. Dark hair runs in a line below his navel, and when you see your brother’s cock for the first time—thick and eager in his hand—you draw your knees together.

Sylus’s hand catches them before they close.

“Uh-uh,” he says simply. With one palm on each knee, he eases them back apart. “None of that, sweetie.”

He guides you back against the headboard, adjusts the pillow under your lower back, running a hand down your calf once he’s finished like he’s admiring his handiwork.

“Comfortable?” he asks, sitting back on his heels.

You nod. “Yes.”

The mattress dips as Caleb moves to kneel behind Sylus. He reaches for your boyfriend’s hip, already angling to resume the position—his chest against Sylus’s back, Sylus between your legs, the structure of this arrangement he knows and trusts.

“No,” Sylus stops Caleb with a hand around his forearm, pulling him to kneel beside you instead. “I want you to see something.”

Sylus settles between your legs, lowering himself on his elbows. His mouth grazes the inside of your thigh, red eyes pinning Caleb.

“You can look, captain.”

Caleb swallows. “I am looking.”

“Then look properly.” Sylus’s breath hits your aching core with each word, and you squirm. “It’s okay. Look at her.”

Sylus holds Caleb’s eyes as his mouth moves higher. He kisses your hip, the crease of your thigh, the soft skin below your navel. Then his tongue teases your clit, and your hips jerk up off the bed. Caleb’s hand, resting on his own thigh, curls into a fist.

“See how pretty she is?” Sylus murmurs against you.

“Sylus—”

“Look.”

Sylus parts you with one long, flat stroke of his tongue, closing his lips around your clit with a teasing suck before pulling away—giving your brother an unobstructed view, you realize hazily. He spreads you open with both thumbs, displaying your swollen, slick pussy with an almost reverent care. You’re so wet that you’ve made a mess of your inner thighs, so wet it should shame you, but the way Caleb is looking at you right now leaves no room for any feeling other than the dizzying certainty that your brother wants you as badly as you want him.

“You did this, Caleb. Your sister’s pretty little cunt is ruining my sheets. All because of you,” Sylus muses. He drags a thumb up through your slick heat, eyes locked on Caleb’s expression as he circles the wetness around your clit. “She’s been like this since you grabbed me by the shirt. Since you made me bleed on the ice, I’d imagine.”

Sylus lowers his mouth to you once more, tongue patient and expert, licking into you the way he knows you like. The sensation makes your toes curl, but you’re faintly aware that the act isn’t for your pleasure, but for the benefit of the man kneeling beside you with bated breath.

Caleb watches intently—the way Sylus’s jaw works, the speed and pressure that makes you gasp, the way your hips buck when he hums against you every few strokes—studying like an exam he’s desperate to pass.

“Caleb,” Sylus says, lifting his mouth just enough to speak. “Spit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t put your mouth on her,” Sylus explains. “But you can give her something from it. Can’t you?”

Caleb exhales hard through his nose, but doesn’t deny it.

He leans over you, and his face is close, close enough that his breath heats your stomach, close enough that you see his nostrils flare, briefly, involuntarily, his lips parting at whatever he finds there. He lets saliva pool under his tongue and glances at you sideways, a silent plea for approval.

You nod, quickly, anticipation buzzing under your skin. “I want to feel you there, gege.”

He spits.

When it lands directly on your swollen clit, you cry out. The streak of saliva runs down your slit slowly, torturously, so erotic it makes you clench around nothing.

“Good,” Sylus murmurs, and drops his head back down. He works it in with his tongue, and the added slick makes you moan. “Feel that, sweetie? That’s all your brother. You’re taking him so well.”

Your hand finds the nearest solid thing—Caleb’s thigh—and grips tight.

Caleb lets out a strained sound at the contact, but he doesn’t pull away. You can feel the small shifts in his weight as he leans closer, pulled in, unable to help himself. He watches Sylus’s mouth on you with an expression that’s long passed hunger and arrived somewhere more primal.

“Sylus,” Caleb says, more groan than word.

Sylus hums against you but doesn’t move.

“Sylus. Let me—”

Sylus lifts his head, mouth glistening. He looks at Caleb with his chin resting against the inside of your thigh and a lazy, knowing expression that makes your stomach flip.

“Let you what, captain?”

Caleb’s throat moves. “Taste.”

“Taste what.”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“I’m going to make you say it.”

“Her. I want to taste her. Sylus, let me—”

“How badly.”

His jaw flexes once. Twice. “Badly.”

Sylus presses a kiss to your thigh before sitting up, giving his cock a few lazy strokes. “Hm.”

He positions the head of his cock between your legs—not to enter, just outside—sliding just the tip up and down the wet of you. You gasp, cunt throbbing, aching to be filled by him—by Sylus, by Caleb, by both.

Caleb is watching with his mouth open.

“How badly,” Sylus repeats, eyes on your brother as he rolls his hips against you this time, dragging the full length of him through your folds.

“Sylus—” Caleb urges.

“Tell me, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.”

“Please.” It falls out of Caleb’s mouth unauthorized. “Please, Sylus, let me—”

Sylus grinds against you again, slower. He makes sure every inch of him is covered, glistening with you, and Caleb is watching with every muscle tense and his hands gripping his thighs hard enough to bruise.

“More?” Sylus asks Caleb, almost bored, like he’s asking about the weather.

“Sylus, for fuck’s sake—”

“That didn’t sound like more.”

“More. Yes. More, just—Sylus, come on—”

Sylus rolls his hips into you one last time, a long, slow grind that pulls a moan out of you and leaves him drenched. He rises onto his knees, cock gleaming with you, and looks at Caleb.

“Come here, captain.”

Caleb moves before the sentence is finished.

His mouth is on Sylus faster than you can process it—tasting you with one long, flat stroke of his tongue from base to tip; a wrecked, thankful sound torn from somewhere deep inside his chest.

“That’s it.” Sylus’s hand finds the back of Caleb’s head and holds there. “Taste your baby sister, Caleb. That’s what she tastes like when she wants you. And she’s been wanting you all night. Can you taste that? Can you taste how badly her body needs yours?”

Caleb’s hands grip Sylus’s thighs as his mouth works—tasting, chasing it, trying to get every trace of you off Sylus’s skin. You watch your boyfriend lose himself for a moment: his hips jerk forward once, and he looks down at Caleb with an expression you’ve only ever seen him give you.

“God, look at you,” Sylus says, low. “This is what you’ve been missing. Years, Caleb. Years of this.”

Caleb lifts his head. His mouth is wet, eyes nearly black. He looks at Sylus first—a look that is somehow both grateful and furious—and then he looks at you.

“I know,” he says, bitter but not at you. 

“Was it worth it? Being noble?”

Caleb shakes off Sylus’s hold, running his hand over the back of his head like he could erase the man’s touch. “Shut up, pretty boy.”

Sylus raises his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not saying anything.”

“You’re thinking it.”

“I’m thinking—” Sylus wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and settles beside you against the headboard. His hand finds your knee, pulling it closer to your chest. “—your sister has been lying here all alone, begging for you to fuck her, while you’ve been busy showing a lot of enthusiasm for a cock you claim to hate.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Qin.” His words are calm. His ears, unfortunately, are bright red. “That was for her, not you.”

“Was it. Then prove it.” Sylus gives your thigh a squeeze. “Do something for her she can actually feel. Between her legs, captain.”

“No. That’s—no. That’s not what we agreed to.” Caleb’s whole body goes rigid. “You said nobody touches anybody they’re not supposed to. That was the rule.”

“We didn’t agree to anything,” Sylus counters. “We’ve been making it up as we go. And so far, everything we’ve made up has worked, hasn’t it.”

“This—this is different.”

“Is it? You tasted your sister on my cock and the world kept turning.” Sylus raises a brow. “What makes you think this will be any different?”

“It’s completely different and you know it.”

“How.”

“Because she’s—” Caleb gestures at you without looking at you. “She’s right there, Sylus, and I—”

“Look at her, Caleb.”

Caleb looks at you, and you don’t soften it. You don’t close your legs or reach for the sheet or give him something to hide behind. You let him see the aftermath of an hour of being touched through another man, what a lifetime of being so close to your brother but never close enough has done to you.

“Caleb,” you say. “Please. Just come here.”

His hands open and close at his sides. “Pips, you don’t know what’s going to happen if I—”

“I know exactly what’s going to happen.”

“You don’t.”

“You’re going to touch me and it’s going to feel like it should have felt a long time ago. And I’m going to be fine. And you’re going to be fine. And I’m asking you, gege. I’m asking. Please.”

He’s quiet. He looks at Sylus—not for permission, not exactly. Giving your boyfriend one last chance to change his mind, to tell him this is wrong, to kick him to the curb and slam the door behind him and pretend none of this ever happened.

“She’s asking, Caleb,” Sylus says gently. “And I’m tired of being the only one who listens to her.”

Caleb closes his eyes with a heavy exhale. Opens them.

He moves between your legs.

“Closer, sweetheart,” Sylus directs from beside you. “She’s not going to bite. Yet.”

Caleb nods and inches closer on his knees, until the front of his thighs are flush against yours. He takes himself in hand and you open for him, drawing both knees tighter into your chest.

“I don’t—” Caleb starts. “What if I—”

“Just the outside,” Sylus says. “You don’t have to go in. Just feel her against you. That’s all.”

That’s all.

He presses the length of his cock flat against you the way he watched Sylus do, sliding slowly through your slick heat without entering, and the weight of your brother against your cunt makes you forget how to breathe.

“There,” Sylus says from beside you. You watch him wrap his hand around his own cock, stroking it in time with Caleb’s slow rolls, the visual sending a new wave of heat down your spine. “Just like that. Easy, captain.”

Caleb rocks his hips in long drags, hot and devastating as he slides through the wet of everything the night has built. His hand is still on himself, still controlling the angle, still holding onto the last bit of restraint he has left.

“Shit,” he manages. “Sylus, she’s so—feels so—”

“I know.”

“She’s—I can’t—”

“You can,” Sylus assures, gentle and genuine. “You’re fine. She’s fine. It’s just the outside.”

Your hips rock up to meet his on the next stroke, shifting the angle, and the head of his cock catches at your entrance.

All three of you gasp at the same time.

“That’s okay. Just a little is okay,” Sylus says, quieter now. He leans closer to rest a hand on Caleb’s lower back. “You can give your sister just the tip. That’s allowed. That’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing—”

“It’s close to nothing. Let it happen.”

Caleb rocks forward and the head of him slides in—just barely inside, the tight heat of you closing around the first inch, your legs falling wider open with a small gasp. He collapses forward, free hand fisting into the sheets beside your shoulder. Your mouths open, only inches apart now. His hand tightens around himself like a brake.

“There,” Sylus murmurs. “See? That’s fine. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid,” Caleb grits out.

“Then go a little further. You can let go of yourself. You don’t have to hold on anymore.” His thumb soothes small arcs on Caleb’s back. “Why don’t you give her a little more. Just an inch. She can take it. Can’t you, sweetie?”

Caleb’s hand releases. He plants it beside your other shoulder.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, more, please—”

Caleb sinks deeper. An inch. Another. His jaw is clenched so hard you can see the tendon at his neck as his eyes lock on yours, searching for the thing that will tell him to stop.

You don’t give it to him.

“More,” you beg. “I can take it. I promise I can take it.”

“Pips—”

“Gege, please. I need you closer. I need more.”

“All the way,” Sylus says, and his hand presses flat against Caleb’s lower back. “All the way, sweetheart. She’s asking so nicely. Give your baby sister the cock she’s been begging for.”

Caleb pushes all the way in.

His forehead drops to yours, eyes squeezing shut. His forearms are shaking where they cage your head, and you’re full of him, completely, finally, and you have never in your life felt more whole.

Your arms come up around his neck, legs wrapping around his waist, and you hold him there, as deep as he can go. Sylus strokes the back of Caleb's head once before returning to your side.

“There you go,” Sylus murmurs. “There. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

Caleb’s breath shudders against your mouth.

“Give me a second,” he says. “Meimei, give me one second.”

You give him a second. You give him several. You lie there with him buried inside you and his sweat-slicked forehead against yours and your breath mixing in the inch between your mouths and you wait.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

When he moves, it’s in rolls, not thrusts. He moves like he’s terrified of the end of this, like if he goes slow enough it will never stop, and you let him, because you’ve waited years and you can wait a few more minutes.

Sylus settles back against the headboard, stroking himself slowly, watching the two of you with half-lidded eyes, his free hand resting on his own thigh. Occasionally it drifts—brushing a strand of your hair out of your face, giving a reassuring squeeze to Caleb’s forearm. Though you can barely register anything aside from the way Caleb is looking at you the way you always dreamed he would, like he’s burning alive and doesn’t want to be saved.

“Faster,” you plead, gripping his forearms for leverage.

Caleb doesn’t check with Sylus anymore. He goes faster.

You dig your heels into his ass, pulling him impossibly deeper. He groans against your throat, the loudest sound the room has heard all night, and his hips snap forward and the bedframe hits the wall with each thrust and neither of you cares. You’re nothing but two people who have been starving trying to eat at the same time, and it’s too fast and too much and not enough and—

“Caleb,” Sylus says.

His rhythm stutters. “What could you possibly—”

“Kiss her.”

Caleb cuts Sylus a sidelong glare, but he doesn’t reply.

“You heard me, captain.”

Your brother looks down at you, hips still rolling in a steady rhythm. He lowers his mouth to your forehead and presses his lips there. It’s the kind of kiss you’ve received a thousand times—at the airport, at graduation, in the parking lot after games. Safe. Known.

Sylus clicks his tongue, dissatisfied. “Lower, Caleb.”

Caleb inhales sharply, eyes scanning your face, contemplating. His hips have all but stilled, as if he needs all of his focus to fulfill the request. He picks a lower spot—the apple of your cheek—and kisses you there softly.

“Gege,” you whisper against the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah.”

“Please.”

“I know, meimei.”

You tilt your chin up, lower lip brushing his. “Please. Just one.”

Caleb kisses you, and the world falls away.

It’s slow, unbearably slow, just the full, warm weight of his mouth against yours for the very first time. His hand comes up to cradle your face, the gesture so tender you feel the start of tears pooling behind your lashes.

Caleb pulls away a fraction and comes back. His lips part, barely, and yours open to meet them. His tongue finds yours tentatively, nothing like the way he kissed Sylus, and you savor the way it glides against yours like it was always meant to. He tastes like whiskey and copper and Sylus’s skin and underneath all of it like Caleb—not number five, not the hockey captain, but your older brother, the one who taught you to skate when you were nine and held both your hands the whole time and never once let go.

His hips start moving again, each stroke matched to the kiss, each deep roll timed to the slide of his tongue against yours. Your hand moves from his jaw into his hair, and you kiss him back and feel a lifetime of careful distance dissolve like it was never there. Like all those years you thought were keeping something out were really keeping something in, something alive and wound tight and desperate for the chance to break free.

Caleb deepens the kiss, hungrier now, tongue licking deeper against yours as his hips snap forward so hard it’s almost painful.

“There he is,” Sylus says, barely above a breath, hand quickening on himself. “Fuck, look at you two. Let go. Together. Let everything go.”

“Gege,” you manage. “I’m close.”

“I know.” Against your lips. “Me too, meimei. Me too.”

“Don’t stop.”

“I’m not—I won’t—I—”

You both let go.

You break around him. His hips stutter. The sound he makes into your mouth is the twin of the one you make into his, and there’s nothing poetic or graceful about it. He holds your face like he’s trying to live inside the kiss, like if he stays long enough it’ll become something he can keep. You feel his release pulse hot inside you, your own orgasm pulling him in even deeper, and you hold each other through every wave, never breaking the kiss. Not even when he’s shaking, and you’re shaking, and neither of you can breathe.

Beside you, Sylus comes with his forehead tipped back against the headboard and his hand in your hair, fingers tangled loosely in the damp strands at the back of your neck while the two people he brought together fall apart. His exhale is long and heavy and sounds, if you’re listening for it, like satisfaction.

The kiss finally, reluctantly breaks.

Caleb pulls back an inch, resting his forehead against yours, the two of you trading shaky breaths while you wait for the room to stop spinning.

“I just kissed you,” he whispers.

You laugh, and it comes out wet. “You did a lot more than that.”

“Yeah, but—“ He wipes away a tear from your cheekbone you didn’t realize had fallen, his eyes glassy and dark and full of so many emotions your chest aches. “I kissed you, meimei.”

“Yeah, gege.” You grin. “You did.”

He smiles. It’s a smile you’ve know your whole life but never from this close, and from here it simply looks like pure, wild joy. And you think, without deciding to, that you’d burn the entire world to the ground just to see him smile like that twice.

Caleb stays inside you for a long time. His face is in your neck, your fingers in his hair, the two of you so thoroughly entangled your heartbeats are nearly synchronized.

Sylus is the first one to move.

He gets up quietly. You hear the tap run in the bathroom, the sound of a drawer opening and closing. He comes back with a glass of water and a warm cloth, sits on the edge of the bed, and rests a hand on Caleb’s shoulder.

“Out,” he says, gently. “Easy. I’ve got her.”

Caleb pulls out—reluctantly, carefully—and rolls onto his side. He reaches for you immediately, pulling you against his chest, arm heavy over your waist, nose in your hair, like he’s afraid someone’s going to call time.

Sylus cleans you up. Sets the water on the nightstand within reach. Pulls the sheet up over both of you, kisses the top of your head, and goes to the other side of the bed.

He lies down beside Caleb. Not touching, giving the two of you your own space to come down together. Caleb’s palm presses into your bare abdomen, soothing circles over your stomach. And after a minute or two, he shifts backward. Just enough that his shoulders meet Sylus’s chest.

Sylus lifts his arm and drapes it over both of you, over Caleb’s ribs, your waist, his palm settling on your stomach on top of Caleb’s hand.

Caleb exhales. His whole body goes slack against Sylus’s chest.

“Don’t you dare say a word, pretty boy,” Caleb murmurs.

“I’m not saying anything.”

“And don’t bring this up ever again.”

“Bring what up.”

“This. Any of this. Not on the ice, not in the locker room, not ever.”

“Caleb, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m asleep. You’re asleep. She's asleep. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Nothing at all, sweetheart,” Sylus confirms. “Though if it had, I’d be putting myself down for the assist.”

“I will smother you with this pillow.”

“That would require you to let go of her first, captain.”

Caleb’s arm tightens around your waist. Sylus’s arm tightens over his. You lace your fingers through both of their hands where they overlap on your stomach and close your eyes.

Somewhere in the living room, the basketball game has ended, the TV humming without an audience. Nobody gets up to turn it off.

Nobody gets up at all.

if u made it this far....thank u for reading, fellow freak ;)

still hungry, sweetie??? -> masterlist | ao3

"I am, now duck before I remove your arm instead of the Wanderer's."

You sigh as you click a new magazine into your gun, about to order them to stop (again) when they simultaneously turn to face you and shout, "Kitten" and "Look out!"

But you're already dropping low and rolling away as the knave's scythe-like blade slices through the air, crashing into the stone pillar you'd been using as a cover. The impact sends a rumble through the warehouse as you scramble over the cracked concrete and behind a large storage container, the metal rusted and warped from years of neglect.

Wincing at the new ache you know you'll have in your shoulder come morning, you bite out at your bickering companions, "I'm good! Can we focus on incapacitating this thing faster, please?"

You inhale the scent of mold and iron as the structure around you groans from the movement of your unexpected battle, support beams listing, concrete crumbling. The winter chill from outside seeps through the fissures in the ceiling and into your bones. Moonlight pours down in thin streams, catching on the drifting dust, the golden adornment's of Caleb’s uniform, the pale strands of Sylus' hair.

"Already on it, pips." The sound of three clean gunshots echoes through the space, followed by a feral screech and the click of a reload. "I just need to make sure he stays outta my way."

After discovering just how deeply Ever was rooted at the center of every thread you'd been pulling, you realized that the only way to reach the truth was to approach it from every possible angle.

If you wanted to get to the bottom of it and uncover everything this meant for you and your origins, you needed to start putting some puzzle pieces together. And Caleb up in Skyhaven, with the authority and access that came with his rank, as well as Sylus, the most powerful figure entrenched in the N109 Zone, where dark secrets hid and malicious conspiracies festered, seemed like the perfect way to start.

Funnily enough, convincing them to work with each other had been harder than convincing either to dig into Ever. Caleb refused to believe that you could stay safe in the company of someone wanted by the Fleet, Hunter's Association, and pretty much every other organization in Linkon, while Sylus didn’t buy a word of Caleb’s explanations for his disappearance. Or his role in the Farspace Fleet.

Still, the uneasy truce that formed between them had made the three of you an unexpectedly powerful force to be reckoned with. With the Association, the N109 Zone, and the Fleet all on your radar, you’d unearthed layers of Ever's corruption, proof of Wanderer experimentation, and finally started chasing real leads — one of which brought you to this storage facility on the outskirts of Charon.

When you stand back up to rejoin the fight, you feel a warm hand rest against your lower back, guiding you forward as a sardonic voice rasps behind you, "Me? Stay out of your way? Remind me-" Sylus' other hand appears over your right shoulder, parallel to your outstretched arms, and shoots twice at the knave's head as you get closer "-how'd the first Wanderer that attacked us get taken care of, hm?"

Though none of you look at the dead Wanderer near the entrance, you all know Sylus’ quick reaction and that powerful burst of his evol had given you and Caleb the seconds you needed to anticipate the knave that appeared right after.

The fact that you or your Hunter’s watch hadn’t even picked up a flicker of metaflux had sent a wave of unease through all of you, however. Since when have Wanderers been able to stay hidden from you?

"Could these be some of the altered ones?" The thought strikes as you move away from Sylus to support Caleb's other side.

It's more of an observation than a question, but you know you're all on the same page when Sylus' brow raises. And as he heads to the other end of the room to attack from a different angle, Caleb considers, "From the looks of it, the dead one didn't have a normal-looking protocore. And this one hasn't even activated its protofield."

A surge in odd Wanderers had been making waves in the news lately, sparking rumours of new species and a call for increased Hunter coverage. But it isn't enhanced abilities or even their appearance that makes them unique. It's their protofields.

Nero and Simone mentioned dangerously unpredictable energy levels and cited two Hunter teams that'd been affected: one duo went missing inside one for three days and reappeared without any memory of the encounter, the other pair made it out of the protofield but haven't spoken to each other since.

Considering all this confirms Ever's experimentation rather than any "new species," it explains why the other encounters were so strange.

“Then this isn't a random Wanderer attack," Sylus says.

"It's an ambush," you conclude, firing off a few shots at the knave's shoulder joints, hoping to disconnect the scythe from its body. All it does is screech again.

"Look's like someone's onto us." Caleb crouches low and aims a couple of well-placed shots at its legs. "But planting altered Wanderers? That's a bold move."

"Bold... or desperate," Sylus adds, instinctively aligning himself with Caleb's position, holstering his gun and raising his fists in preparation for the dazed knave's next move. Just a few more shots and it'll go down, you think.

“Desperate's good, it means we're close to something," you mutter as you click in one last clip. "And desperate people make mistakes.”

Though you don't think you could ever get away with saying it out loud, you’d noticed in the few months you’d been around them that there's a lot of similarities between Sylus and Caleb. The way they lead their people, the way they plan ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room, the way they gather intel through secrets and surveillance. Honestly, with how observant they both are, it's a miracle they haven't noticed their mirrored expressions sometimes: the same smirk, the same glare, the same flare of their nostrils.

Or, right now, the same grin in reaction to what you've said, a mixture of pride and affection.

It’s the sort of look that should irritate you. Feel belittling or patronizing in the way they seem to delight in the ordinary things you do. But making Caleb proud had long since become instinct to you, a reflex carved into your bones since childhood. And from a man who wasn’t impressed by much, earning Sylus’ admiration always felt like being seen.

Suddenly, the Wanderer jerks upright with a sound like metal tearing against stone. Sylus takes the opportunity first. Energy coils from his hand, a long tendril of black-red mist snaking through the air and wrapping around its midsection. But as he clenches his fist and prepares to pull the rope of energy back toward him, the creature convulses, its entire frame snapping in a violent surge before swiping at him.

"Sylus!" you call out, firing bullets at its weapon appendage in an attempt to help.

There's no need though, Sylus doesn't even break his concentration as a violet and orange light flare in front of him, bending gravity into a protective barrier seconds before the Wanderer's arm slams into it. Sparks flare as the impact ripples through the air and you widen your stance when the floor trembles beneath you.

“Nice timing,” Sylus quips, finally condensing his evol and pulling, eliciting the loudest shriek from the knave yet. Caleb capitalizes on the opening and the barrier in front of Sylus disappears right as he slams his hand, pistol first, to the ground, pulsing a wave of force toward the creature.

The Wanderer rockets upward, smashing against the crumbling ceiling with a crack. Dust and stone start to rain down, and before you can even think to dodge, you feel yourself yanked by the waist, boots skidding against the concrete to plant themselves at Caleb's side as a large section of the ceiling crashes down.

"Always pullin' you away from trouble," he teases.

"Yeah, trouble you always cause," you laugh, bracing your back against his side and firing two quick rounds into the creature’s chest as it falls.

Fissures form along its armor when it crashes down, writhing, screeching, dragging its blade across the floor in a frantic arc.

Sylus and Caleb react at the same time, and the synchrony of it makes you smile. Sylus’ mist unfurls in a black-red wave, wrapping around the Wanderer's weaponized limb like a snare, while Caleb channels gravity’s weight into its body, the concrete beneath it cracking from the pressure.

“Now,” Sylus growls through clenched teeth.

“Do it, pips.” Caleb presses the thrashing creature harder against the floor, both guns aimed at its head.

You try to steady your hand despite the breaths sawing in and out of your lungs. Ignoring the biting chill of the air numbing your fingers. Ignoring the sudden beeping coming from your watch. Ignoring the creature's protocore, which starts to glow brighter as you take a deep breath.

But just as you squeeze the trigger, everything goes white.

For a few seconds, all you hear are shouts of your name, but by the time you realize it, you can’t make them out anymore, can't feel any sensations.

And by the time you fully lose consciousness, you don't remember if you heard the sound of the killing shot at all.

The first thing your body registers is the warmth.

It’s heavy, enveloping. The kind that presses down on your skin, wrapping around you like a weighted duvet, from your ankles all the way up to the divots of your temples.

You twitch your fingers and find they’re not numb from the cold anymore. Flex your shoulders; the adrenaline that had burned through your muscles is gone. You inhale; no damp, rusty scent in the air. It actually smells familiar, like wood cleaner and linen, a little like…

Your eyes flutter open.

A soft glow blurs your vision first, amber light flickering until your eyes focus on the fireplace a few feet away from you. Logs crackle quietly inside a frame of yellow-toned wood, the finish warm like honey. The flames dance lazily, most likely the source of the waves of heat that are soaking into your skin. Though this time the heat seeps deeper, applying a pressure to your core that feels out of place but… pleasant.

You lift your cheek from the floor — a patterned rug instead of cold concrete — and prop yourself up on an elbow, finding yourself between two high-backed armchairs and a loveseat that face each other.

Your gaze drifts, catching details that pull at old, buried places in your memory. The worn furniture, the warm-toned woods, fabrics in soft greys and blues, mismatched decorations dotting the bookshelves that surround you. Though gran's house never had a library, this room could've seamlessly fit into the only home you and Caleb had ever known.

But something feels… off.

When you sit up fully, the heat prickling under your skin becomes almost suffocating, the pressure behind your navel more insistent. You scoot back from the fireplace and reach for the fastenings of your-

Why are you wearing a wine-red satin top and shorts instead of your Hunter's uniform?

Awareness slams back into your mind. The Wanderer, the warehouse, the white light, Sylus and Caleb shouting your name.

You push yourself to your feet, ignoring tenderness of your skin and the sweat that's starting to break out over your upper lip as you find them only a few feet away, behind the armchairs.

Caleb is slumped on his side, clad not in his Fleet uniform but in basketball shorts and a sweatshirt, the collar damp with sweat. His brows are furrowed, lips parted, breaths quick and uneven as he shifts restlessly.

Sylus is a few inches away, sprawled on his back, one arm half-flung over his chest. He's dressed in a loose cardigan hanging over a soft shirt and dark sweatpants, a deep flush painting his cheeks and neck.

You drop to your knees between them, pulse thundering in your ears. “Sylus. Caleb, hey. Wake up.”

Caleb’s cheek burns under your palm. The low, desperate sound of your name tears from his throat, and his eyes snap open, pupils dilating as they take you in. His hand covers yours, voice like gravel, "You're here."

You nod, relief breaking through your confusion. "Of course I am."

Caleb pushes himself upright, blinking hard, dragging in an uneven breath as he takes in the fireplace, the bookshelves, you. His elbow pushes against the heaviness of your breast when his hand comes up to cup your neck at your pulse point, as if to reassure himself you’re real.

You do your best to ignore the sharp dip of your stomach at the sensation, turning to Sylus when he exhales a shaky breath and sits up. Without warning, you meet molten red eyes and the warmth of his hand on your face. He watches in a trance as his thumb brushes back and forth across your sensitive lip.

"Softer than silk," he purrs. But just as you feel the strange urge to pull his thumb into your mouth, his eyes sharpen and he pauses, staring at his hand like he isn't sure how it got there before removing it and looking around. "Why are we in my study?"

"Your what?" Caleb cuts in as he slowly stands up and begins surveying the room with the practiced precision of a military man. Methodical, alert, assessing every detail.

You also rise, but the air turns thick and hazy around you, weakening your knees and sending you slumping into one of the armchairs, skin prickling, breathing unsteady. It’s only then you realize how wrong this all feels, how wrong you feel. How this pulsing in your veins isn’t from heat or exhaustion.

It’s lust, sharp and desperate and humming right beneath your skin.

"The study in my Skyhaven penthouse." Sylus gets to his feet, fanning himself with his cardigan before giving up, removing it, and looking around. "Or at least, something really similar to it. I've been… spending more time here lately."

"But why would we be here? We were just-" Caleb pauses by the loveseat, brushing his hair away from his damp forehead, looking down at his sweatshirt. "We're in different clothes, in a random room that feels familiar to all of us, it's hot as hell for some reason…"

“Almost there, soldier. Here, let’s dust off that brain together.” Sylus closes the distance between them, his hand sliding up to grasp the back of Caleb’s neck. His other hand cups the side of his jaw, guiding him forward until they’re nose to nose and he continues in his most patronizing tone. “We’re. Inside. A protofield.”

Caleb’s eyes darken, the heat in them mirroring the heat in your body. It's rushing south, tightening the muscles of your abdomen, thickening the saliva pooling in your mouth. You start rubbing your thighs together instinctively, letting the satin absorb your sweat and dripping arousal as it tightens over your clit.

For a heartbeat you’re certain he’ll rip himself away or snap back something cutting.

But all he does is lean even closer. "It's too.." his gaze flashes to Sylus' mouth. "It's too hot in here to think, if you haven't noticed. But if you’re suuuch a genius on protofield anomalies, tell me, Mr. Onychinus," His hands settle on Sylus’ to drag them off his skin. "How do you get out of a protofield when there’s no Wanderer to kill?”

Sylus' crosses his arms with a smirk. “A bit unfair to make me do all the work, don’t you think? But-"

"I’m the one who's been findin' the leads to that warehouse. In your territory.”

"But clearly this protofield is built to tempt you to stay, or… make you forget it's a protofield at all."

Their back and forth gradually blurs in your ears, their gravelly voices dragging over your skin like roughened palms as mindless lust continues to fill every one of your senses. The pulsing beneath your belly has become almost unbearable and rubbing your thighs together is no longer helping.

In the haze, your gaze drifts down, catching on the obscene outlines of their hardness straining against their pants. Pressed upwards to his waistband for Caleb and held down to his right thigh for Sylus.

The image of that is what finally pushes you over the edge, makes you drag your satin shorts off and glue your fingers to your aching center, the pads desperately pressing down to relieve the arousal pulsing from within you.

You're biting your lip on a moan, lamenting the small drop of relief in your empty bucket of arousal, when Caleb's voice, sounding even hoarser than before, finds its way back to you. “…can't be dead if we’re in its protofield. There has to be some kinda task or action we have to do that breaks it. Pip-squeak, did the other Hunters say anything about the—”

Over your heaving chest, you see two pairs of wide eyes and hear two sharp breaths as they take you in, writhing against your fingers in the armchair, slouched so far down your shoulders rest on the bottom cushion. Sweaty, desperate, entirely exposed to their gazes.

There's a rumbling sound from Sylus' chest that could be mistaken for the growl of a feral animal, and Caleb breathes out a, "Pip-squeak... fuck."

"I can't-" you choke on a groan as your finger hits a particularly sensitive spot, "I can't stop myself."

As always, they move in tandem, their instinctive care for you clearly at war with their own arousal as they approach. All clenching fists, and adjusting waistbands, talking over each other with, "it's gotta be the heat-" and "this is not what overheated looks like-" as well as "tell us what's wrong, sweetie," and "what are you feelin'?"

"It's been building and building and-" you stutter out a breath as they hover over you, both visibly hesitant to make a wrong move. "Nothing's helping."

Your free hand comes up to grope at one of your breasts, and while it make's Sylus' gaze shoot to the ceiling and his Adams apple roll in his throat, it seems to spring Caleb into action as he rips his sweatshirt off, sits in the other armchair, and pulls you into his lap. Your back rests against his chest, your ass parts over his hardness, your bare thighs spread over his partially clothed ones.

"I've got you now, pips, shhh, tell me what you need," Caleb coos into your ear as he fusses over you. Pulling your damp hair away from your shoulders, tracing his lips along the crook of your neck, soothing his hand back and forth over your thigh. His words grow rougher and rougher as you nestle into him, his hips giving a small, involuntarily pulses into you. "You know I'll always give you what you need."

"That!" you cry out as a large, hot, amazing pressure suddenly starts moving over your moistened center, making you gasp and press your hips down and elicit a pained grunt from Caleb. "Ohhh, that, that, I need that."

"What, kitten? This?" Sylus' voice is ragged but his tone is earnest, curious, matching his hesitant, almost experimental stance between your legs, like he's ready to rip his hand away at the slightest hint of discomfort.

But you can't imagine a world in which you wouldn't desperately grind yourself into Sylus' finger, wouldn't press your forehead into Caleb's cheek as Sylus nudges it a knuckle's length into you, nodding furiously into Caleb's temple as you command Sylus, "Yes. Don't stop."

The sound of his thumb disappearing into you echoes through the room, but you can't even find it in you to be embarrassed as the ridges and bumps relieve the pressure in your core for the first time since you collapsed into the chair. All three of you groan in unison.

You're so overcome when Sylus obeys, thumb moving in and out in a steady pace as his other hand resumes circling your clit, that you slide your hand into the hair at Caleb's nape, fist it in your palm, and yank his parted mouth into yours.

The sound he makes is raw, a startled whimper of your name that vibrates against your lips before it turns into a something deeper. Hungrier.

His hand shoots up to your jaw, fingers digging in just enough to tilt your face and move his tongue against yours. The flutter in your stomach turns dizzying and every heartbeat feels like a confession you’ve both been holding back for years. Every moment between you leading here, to this universe, to this room that was made for you.

The kiss feels so good, so right, you can’t imagine why either of you had waited so long. It feels like the culmination of everything you’ve done, every version of yourselves that ever existed and grew side-by-side. Like you were always meant to fit this way.

"Wait we-" Caleb makes a noise and pulls back, breaths ragged and eyes glassy. “We still need to find a way out of here,” he stutters out, though both of his hands continue to roam over the space between your breasts and your lower stomach, as if they're not planning to listen to his words.

You shake your head vehemently. In your mind, there has to be a reason you were sent here to experience something like this. Something so unique and beautiful and intimate with the two men you were closest to. No titles, no pretenses, no pasts or presents or futures.

"Then why does this room feel so familiar?" You savor his shaky sigh when you pull him back to you. “Like a world made for us,” you murmur, lips curling into a smile when he finally surrenders and tugs your bottom lip into his mouth. “Let’s stay in it a little longer.”

It's a heady feeling, this freedom you feel with them both right now. Holding Sylus' hair in one hand and Caleb's in the other. Having Sylus' kisses all over your thighs and Caleb's all over your neck. Sylus' hums and Caleb's gasps floating through the room.

The pressure and heat coil in your stomach, building quickly and becoming overwhelming. Caleb and Sylus seem to be growing restless too, Caleb groaning, shifting his hips beneath you, Sylus growling in frustration on the floor between your legs. Both moving with an impatient, desperate sort of energy.

Caleb is the first to break with a shaky exhale and a, "W-wait a sec." It takes him a few tries as he battles your grasping hands, like detaching himself from you is taking all of his willpower, but he finally wins and stands you both up.

You respond with a pouting whine as he moves away from you. But your brief glimpse of him removing his shorts disappears and your whine chokes off when, in a blur of motion, two ropes of Sylus' evol wrap around your elbows and yank you from your shaky legs back into the now sweat-soaked armchair.

Sylus leans in, his glassy eyes roving over you, palm cradling the side of your neck and jaw. “Does it hurt?” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly unsteady.

You begin to shake your head, about to say it's more of a deep ache than pain, but with Caleb so far away, and the lack of stimulation and touch at your core, the arousal becomes overbearing again and you nod.

“Not enough." You close the space between you, pull him in for a long, slow kiss that makes him rumble out a long, deep hum. “More. Need more.”

He tugs at your bottom lip with his thumb and murmurs, "You do? Are you certain?"

It's only when you whisper out a vehement "yes" that he slides down your body, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses over the top of your breast, the exposed skin of your stomach, the mound of your pubic bone. Until he's kneeling back at your feet, spreading you open, and sucking every dripping inch of your cunt into his mouth with one greedy pull.

Caleb consumes your responding moan of relief, kissing you with an intensity that makes every thought and sensation vanish. Leaving only the feeling of his tongue on yours and Sylus' tongue sucking hard, rhythmic pulls in time to your bucking hips.

One of your hands grasps at strands of silver. The other greedily roams over Caleb's body and you take advantage of him being bared to you for the first time. His chest, the ridges of his abdomen, the trail of coarse hair beneath his navel, lower and lower until your palm circles and squeezes the silky, slippery head of his cock.

You both part on a gasp and Caleb hisses as you slide your tight grip down to the root of him then back up, loving the way his knees lock and his thighs tense in response.

Your whimpers start to escalate as the aching arousal you've been feeling between your legs eases and becomes more acute at the same time.

"That's it, sweetie," Sylus coaxes. You shiver as the praise rumbles into your sensitive skin. "You want more? I'll happily give you more."

You throw your head back and let Caleb go when two of Sylus' fingers join his tongue, unable to concentrate on anything else except the chant of his name and the thigh-trembling euphoria that starts to wash over you when he pets that spot inside of you over and over and-

Without warning, the chair jolts beneath you and twists sharply to your left, the motion pulling you away from Sylus' mouth and out of his grasp. You let out a startled sound when Caleb's fingers wrap around the outside of your thighs to hold you steady and pull them open again.

It takes your buzzing brain a little too long to realize he's just used his evol to bring you to him. 

He's kneeling now too, a predatory wildness in the violet eyes that lock on yours as he leans in and starts to lave his tongue and scrape his teeth over the every inch of puffy, pulsing, sensitive skin. Painting you with trails of his saliva. Denting your skin with imprints of his teeth. Like he wants to lick away every drop of pleasure you poured out over Sylus and starting over again.

"Like I said, pips," he mumbles, the words barely intelligible to you over your blissed-out shudders. "Always pulling you away from trouble."

“Trouble?” Sylus' huffs a dry laugh. “Me? I was giving her exactly what she asked for. Or are your listening skills as bad as your deductive reasoning skills?"

Caleb unlatches from the bruise he's sucking into the delicate skin next to your labia. “You were overwhelming her.” Gripping the space where your thighs meet your hips, he mutters the words straight into the stream of liquid leaking from your center. "That's not what she needs."

"You sure about that, puppy? Because from here-" You can practically picture the smirk on his face based on his tone alone, but your mental image of it is replaced by the real thing when the arm chair twists again and lands in front of a now-nude Sylus like a compass."You look like the one in need."

You're about tell them both that their tug-of-war is already getting old for you, but Caleb indignantly growls over you, "I'm not the one who-… did you say puppy?"

"Well, there's the yapping, the panting," Sylus hums and you whimper when he pulls back, taking your ankles and lifting your feet up one at a time to rest on the edge of the arm chair, opening you to him even more. "The marking… Isn't that right, sweetie?"

"Yes- n-no- stop," you pant out, too wired and confused and sensitive and close to deal with their arguments now.

"All you need is a good leash-" Framed between your legs, you see Sylus’ evol flare in his hand and yank Caleb toward him so hard their chests collide. "-to rein you in.”

Sylus barely finishes the words before their mouths meet in what looks like bruising clash of kisses, so sudden and aggressive, you can’t tell who moved first.

Hands fisting into hair, teeth sinking into lips, groans synchronizing, a battle of force and hunger that blurs into something almost feral. Something that might've been building between them from the start. Every push met with a pull, every defiance answered in kind.

You can tell they've both lost their battle with the same overwhelming lust that's been plaguing you when they get rougher, more heated, and seem to lose themselves. The sight of it, of two kings brought to their knees by each other, ignites that sharp ache within you all over again, blooming across your cheeks, down your neck, through your chest until it settles deep within your abdomen and burns.

It steals the air from your lungs, makes your fingers start furiously applying pressure to your core again without you even realizing it. An an ugly thought emerges as you submit to the seemingly endless fire burning through you: what if there's no end to this? What if this ache of emptiness never stops? What if the point of all this is to make the three of you break apart in here? Bodies tight as bows, kept endlessly taut, never allowed to release until you all snapped.

It's the first moment of clarity you've had since you woke up and it starts crumbling in on itself as soon as your thighs start trembling, but the fear lingers as you cry out, "I can't take it, this needs to stop."

A consistent stream of whines are escaping your mouth by the time Caleb and Sylus finally part and face you with dazed expressions, their fists clenched over each other's cocks.

You catch a flicker of clarity in Caleb’s eyes first. The reflex to calm you, care for you, breaking through the haze. “Pip-squeak,” he murmurs, voice rough, leaning close on his knees, eye-to-eye with you where you sit in the armchair. “I know. I can’t fight it anymore either.” As your breath hitches into a chant of please, please, please, he keeps murmuring between soft, grounding kisses, “It's okay. Shh… I’ll make you feel better, yeah? No, both of us will.”

Sylus is suddenly flung forward by an unseen force, bracing himself on all fours in front of you and letting out a dark, humourless chuckle.

“Right?” Caleb prods him.

They lock eyes for a moment, something wordless passing between them. Though Sylus’ expression looks more far-gone than Caleb’s — hair damp, breaths ragged, the aether core turning his eye blood-red when he blinks hard to refocus — his tone is low and lulling when he speaks to you. “He's right, sweetie, we'll be okay, just focus on my voice."

"You don't have to do anything, okay?" Something warm and syrupy starts to build within your insides again when Sylus wastes no time resuming his fingers' rhythm from before, just as thick, just as deep, filling the emptiness inside you once more. "Trust me, just like that, yes. Let go. We'll take care of you."

As his parted lips lean toward your center, shackles of force suddenly hold your legs open wide enough to fit both their heads, and Caleb gets there first, drawing every swollen fold into his hot mouth.

You can’t find words, only sound, small, broken, unsteady little stutters at the sight of them cradled by your thighs, each desperate noise timed to the stimulation of Caleb's tongue and the pump of Sylus' fingers. One hand latches onto Sylus' wrist and the other to the muscle of Caleb's shoulder, nails sinking into their skin as that syrupy sensation coalesces into something thicker, more overwhelming.

"That's it, kitten. My kitten with her claws," Sylus starts to dots wet kisses from the side of your knee up your inner thighs. "And her slobbering… little… puppy." Though Sylus slows down when his lips are only a few inches from Caleb's, there's no hesitation when Sylus' tongue licks right over his and they start the most indecent three-way kiss you've ever seen.

Everything starts to blur until you're full and hollow at the same time. All you feel are two tongues lapping and overlapping over your clit, two fingers stroking in and out of you.

The sounds of moans and flesh and sweat collide into a cacophony of noise that make it feel like the very air is humming around you. Heavy, electric, alive.

You feel like you can taste it when your lips part, when you see is your breast vanishing beneath Caleb's large palm, when the arm Sylus isn't using on you disappears, eliciting a whimper from Caleb.

The hum grows louder, until the room sounds like it's filled with static.

“Do you feel that?” your words scrape out of your throat, dizzy and slurred.

Caleb mouths something that looks like "gods, yes" into your cunt while Sylus’ hums a 'feels so good, kitten' around the skin of Caleb's neck. It feels like the three of you are moving as one, breaths syncing, hips rocking, circling, grinding. Until the pull between your bodies feels magnetic, desperate, necessary.

Until Caleb and Sylus exhale long, broken groans, their faces flushing, bodies tensing, muscles vibrating all around you as they reach their peak simultaneously.

Until, all at once, the rope you feared would be pulled taut within you forever finally unravels, igniting an unlit fuse.

And you detonate. Pieces of you scattering in every direction as the orgasm hits you so sharply and suddenly, it feels like the entire universe explodes into white-hot pleasure and pain right in front of your-

You're on your feet again, arms locked from the kickback of your firearm as the Wanderer's scream splinters through the air like a death knell and it collapses on itself with a loud, gurgling crack.

You pant hard, lungs burning, abdomen clenching, your whole body tingling as though you’ve been submerged under a pool of water and electrocuted. Every nerve down to your core feeling used and sensitive and exposed.

When you lift your head, Caleb and Sylus are both there too, standing fully clothed under the rays of cold moonlight and smoke. They look just as stupefied as you feel, eyes half-lidded, sweat plastering their hair to their temples, their breathing shallow and uneven. For a second, no one moves.

When you finally lower your gun, your arms and legs feel like liquid, and your legs shake in the aftermath of the shattered protofield as you drag a hand through your hair and glance between them, wide-eyed and breathless.

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"c'mon, puppy," you cooed in his ear, chest pressed to his as you pecked his lips, "you were acting up because we weren't touching you, so why the fuss now?"

"'s too much-" caleb whimpered, gasping as you thrust forward, your knot pressed right against his entrance, "a-alpha, please!"

"ah ah," sylus' deep voice had caleb shivering, the omega's head resting in his lap as sylus ran his fingers through his hair. sylus' cock was throbbing against his boxers, but he would always put you and caleb first. "you were being bratty, we're only giving you what you wanted. isn't that right?"

"right as always, sy." you teased, hips moving in a way that left caleb whining. one of your hands left his hip to brush his hair out of his eyes, smiling as those purple hues shone with tears. "our poor little omega.. you'll let us take care of you, right?"

caleb had never nodded so fast in his life, his cheek brushing against sylus' bulge and causing them both to moan. his hands scrambled for something to hold, finding sylus' on the bedsheet. "y-yes, yes, 'm gonna be good, s'good for you both, please-"

and sure, you felt bad about it, but you always delighted in seeing him cry. your laugh had him clenching around you, his jaw falling open in sheer ecstasy. "yeah, such a gooood little omega for us."

finding his opening, sylus carefully tugged his heavy cock out, and caleb eagerly turned his head to lick at it, moaning and whimpering. "he's so cute all desperate like this.. do you want our knots, omega?"

"y-yes," caleb keened, moaning as he licked at sylus' base, heavy balls throbbing beneath a pink tongue. "kn-knot me, please!"

"do you really deserve it?" you mused, amusement shining in your eyes at the way his head snapped to look at you, all pathetic and pleading. "you've been ignoring us all week.."

"'m sorry!" and caleb sounded so desperate that it had yours and sylus' chests aching, the instinct to keep him safe, to love on him, to breed, leaving you both breathless. "w-won' do it again, just please, pleaseee gimme your knots!"

"well, who are we to deny such a good little pup?" sylus smirked, meeting your gaze before he readjusted their positions, his balls resting on caleb's face as he thrust into his mouth. "won't you give him your knot, sweetie?"

"y-yeah," you moaned, so turned on by the sight of sylus choking caleb with his cock that you thrust forward, burying your knot deep in his walls. "fuck!"

the heavenly stretch left caleb brainless, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as all he could think was knot, mate, breed, pups-

and as you and sylus both found your peaks, hot cum filling him on both ends, caleb knew there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

a/n : am i proud of this being my first actual writing in a month? no. but it was heavy on the mind. shout out to ☀️ anon and @dandy-lads i smooshed thoughts i had with both together LOL