Page 61 of Piece Us Together

I grit my teeth. Close my eyes. Spill into Nolan without permission because I don’t fuckingneedanyone’s permission.

Nolan is sobbing, desperate, writhing against his bindings.

“Go help him,” Hunter tells me, guiding me on shaking legs around the end of the bed. I climb clumsily onto the mattress by Nolan’s head. He takes me into his mouth immediately, suckling me clean, not caring that I was just buried deep in his ass. I ignore the slight pain of oversensitivity, knowing he needs this. I don’t have the energy to run my fingers through his hair, just burying my hand in the strands and letting it rest there.

Hunter is scooping my cum that dripped when I pulled out and using it to coat his cock. I feel fuzzy around the edges. I’m all keyed up and yet fucked-out. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know—I can’t—

Hunter looks at me as he pushes into Nolan. His gaze is intense. I can’t look at him.

“Easy,” I whisper to Nolan. It’s safer to focus on his too-intense sucking, to focus on his overwhelming desperation to come, to focus on him. Just him. Because this whole thing, becauseHunter, is about Nolan.JustNolan. “Doing so good for us, baby. We’re almost done with you. Then you can come. You can wait, right? Such a good boy for us. I know you can.”

Hunter usually joins in the praise. Usually leads it, actually. He murmurs soft things once or twice, but otherwise, he’s quiet. I can’t look at him to see why.

I think I know why.

I don’t want to know why.

He gets louder the closer he gets to finishing though, reverting back to his filthy-mouthed self.

“Fuck, that’s it. Almost there. Good boy.” He grips the group of knots between Nolan’s shoulder blades and tugs him up. The new angle makes a sob fall from Nolan’s lips. Spit drips down his chin, cooling just like it’s cooling on my cock now.

I don’t look at Hunter, gaze completely focused on Nolan.

“Sir!” Nolan wails. I look down, figuring it’s still safe. It isn’t. Hunter’s hand is working Nolan’s cock, slow and teasing. I know what that hand feels like against my skin now. “Sir, wait—wait, I can’t—please—”

I don’t have to look at Hunter’s face to know he’s wearing his evil grin when he says, “You’re a good boy. I know you can do it. Just wait a little longer, darling.”

Darling, darling, darling, but not for me, not me, not my nickname, not my dom, not mine, Hunter’s not mine.

I’m weak. My chin lifts without permission, my eyes seeking out Hunter. His cheeks are flushed, a few strands of hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. Our gazes lock. Just for a second. Then his eyes flutter closed and he breathes, “Oh god,” and tenses, shoving his cock as deep as he can get into my boyfriend. Despite every muscle being tense, his whole face is slack now as he lets his head hang back, reveling in the pleasure for a few seconds.

I realize the moment is allHunter. No sir, no man in charge, no pressure. It’s just a few seconds of blissed-outman.

He looks fuckingbeautiful.

Then he snaps back into focus, his eyes sharp as they lock on me. I can’t look away.

“Come for me,” he orders over Nolan’s babbles. “Be our good boy and show us how happy you are to be filled with our loads.”

Nolan moans.

He comes.

And I wonder, as I stare at Hunter, what just happened. What just changed. Why it feels like things will never be the same.

We fall into our aftercare routine easily, Hunter dismantling Nolan’s ropes before leaving me to pull Nolan in close while he grabs the basket. He cleans Nolan while I clean myself. His eyes dart to my hands, his lips parting, but then he goes back to tending to Nolan. He has us both drink and take bites of chocolate, telling us—no, Nolan, telling Nolan—“You did so good for me. You were so fucking good.”

This is the part of the routine where he sits in the chair. We haven’t talked about that since the first time. We haven’t even talked about the fact that we keep sleeping over even though he told us after that first time we didn't have to anymore. Nolan and I didn’t like the idea of leaving right after the scenes, so we kept packing our bag, and Hunter kept letting us stay, none of us putting words to the situation.

Nolan always lies on the left, just like at home. Me on the right. Hunter in his chair.

I watch him put the basket away as Nolan burrows down in the blankets and lets out a sleepy sigh beside me. If I try hardenough, I can feel the ghost of Hunter’s touch on me. It makes something in me ache. It makes it a little hard to breathe.

Maybe I should tell him he can’t do that again. Make it a rule to have no more touching between us. It’s too much. It made me feel things. It made me want things. Things that can’t happen. Dangerous things.

He heads to the chair.

There’s something in me that wants him to come back. It aches. Then ittugs.