Luca was in the shower. My eyes were locked on Bastion, his tattoos, the scars, the sliver chain. I gulped. How did I manage to get both of them.
He glanced over once, catching me. I gestured for him to come over. He didn’t lower the phone as he walked towards me.
I reached for his hand. Guided it down. Pressed his fingers at my zipper.
Bastion took a sharp breath. Then he tugged.
My dress dropped.
His breathing shifted, quieter, heavier. I took his fingers, led them lower, settling them against me. Over my clit.
He moved the fabric aside, touched me just barely—his finger circling soft as his voice turned sharp again into the phone. Another threat. Important, maybe. But I needed him here.
I undid the knot of his towel, let it fall. I dropped lower,slower, my lips brushing his thigh. His hand dragged up my body, rough, reminding me who I belonged to.
“Fuck,” he muttered, low, almost off the call. He didn’t let me stay there. He lifted me up, and set me on the edge of the bed, knees sinking into the mattress.
Luca’s footsteps came closer.
Bastion looked once toward the doorway, then tossed the phone across the room. Luca caught it, as if he’d been waiting. They didn’t need words. One look was enough.
And then Bastion was back on me.
He pushed down my throat, thick and heavy, filling me until my eyes watered. His hand gripped the base of my neck, steady, rocking his hips with controlled force.
“Good girl,” he breathed. “Taking me so deep. Perfect mouth. Perfect angel.”
My throat burned around Bastion, but his voice made it feel like heaven.
“Good girl… choking so sweet on me. Our angel.”
I moaned, the sound muffled. His hips rocked forward again, steady. Controlled. My eyes watered, and he brushed my hair back, thumb at my temple like he couldn’t bear to see me undone without touching.
The bed shifted behind me. A low laugh curved close to my ear. Luca.
“Already crying for him?” Luca’s hand ran along my back, up to my neck, claiming me with a touch as Bastion filled my mouth.
Bastion didn’t look at him. He didn’t have to. They never did. Whatever passed between them moved without words—just the weight of a glance.
Luca’s hand slid under my chin, fingers brushing against Bastion’s hand, controlling the rhythm together. He pressedme down, then eased me back, coaxing me to breathe around his brother.
“That’s it,” Luca murmured, voice low and sharp. “Breathe for us. Be our good girl.”
Bastion groaned above me.
When Bastion pulled free. Wiping my bottom lip, looking at me in a way that my heart twist. Luca thumb stroked my neck.
“You did so good baby,” Luca murmured. “Now let us worship you.”
Bastion caught my chin, tilted my face up to him. “Say it.”
“I want you,” I whispered, the words breaking out of me. “Both of you.”
Luca kissed the corner of my mouth, his hand sliding down, over my breasts, my ribs, lower still until his fingers found me.
“Awe. Baby, you’re needy aren’t you.” Luca said, smug. His knuckles brushed Bastion’s. “She’s soaked, You feel that, brother?”
Bastion’s hand was already there, rougher, pushing in along aside Luca’s. Two sets of fingers, two touches—one teasing, one demanding.
