Page 19 of Ours
"Good boy," Luca murmured, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin just below Cole's hip bone. "What about this?"
Different hands now, rougher, more demanding. They gripped Cole's waist and pulled him forward slightly, thumbs pressing into the hollows of his hipbones with just enough pressure to make him gasp.
“Blake,” Cole breathed, and felt those hands squeeze in approval.
"Very good," Blake’s voice, rough with want. "But let's see how long you can keep track."
They began in earnest then, hands and mouths everywhere. Blake's patient fingers mapping every inch of Cole's chest while Luca's mouth worked at his throat, teeth scraping over skin that was already marked from previous nights. Cole tried to catalog every sensation, tried to maintain some awareness of who was touching him where.
Blake's lips found his nipple, tongue flicking over the sensitive skin in a pattern Cole had memorized weeks ago. At the same time, Luca's hands slid down his back, fingers tracing the line of his spine with possessive intent.
"Blake's mouth," Cole gasped, back arching. "Luca's hands on my—oh fuck."
"Language," Blake teased against his skin, but his voice was fond.
Then they switched, so smoothly Cole almost missed it. Luca's mouth replaced Blake's, hot and demanding, while Blake's hands settled on Cole's thighs, spreading them wider. The different techniques, the different rhythms, made Cole's head spin.
"Who's who now?" Luca asked, voice muffled against Cole's chest.
Cole tried to focus, tried to separate the sensations, but Blake chose that moment to roll his fingers against the spot just behind Cole's balls that made him see stars.
"I—I can't," Cole stammered, hands fisting in the sheets. "You're both—it's too much."
"Too much?" Blake's voice was teasing, fingers continuing their torment. "Should we stop?"
"No!" Cole's response was immediate, desperate. "Please don't stop. Never stop."
They laughed, the sound vibrating through him, and Cole felt that familiar rush of affection mixed with desire. Even like this, even when he was falling apart between them, they made him feel safe. Loved.
More touches, more kisses, until Cole lost all sense of time and place. Someone's mouth on his inner thigh, someone else's fingers tangled in his hair. Teeth scraping over his shoulderblade while hands worked between his legs with maddening precision.
"Please," he whispered, not even sure what he was asking for anymore.
"We've got you," a voice murmured—Blake, maybe, though Cole couldn't be sure. "Always got you."
Hands guided him onto his back, and Cole went willingly, blindly trusting. He felt the bed shift as one of them moved between his legs, felt careful fingers preparing him with familiar ease.
"Who do you think it is?" The question came from somewhere above him, voice thick with arousal.
Cole tried to focus, tried to analyze the touch, but then a mouth found his and he lost the ability to think at all. The kiss was deep, demanding, and definitely Luca—he could tell by the way Luca's tongue swept through his mouth, claiming and eager.
Which meant it was Blake between his legs, Blake's careful fingers working him open with the patience that was so uniquely his. Cole moaned into Luca's mouth, caught between them exactly where he belonged.
"That's it," Blake murmured, voice rough with want. "So perfect for us. Always so perfect."
When one of them finally pressed inside him, Cole's back arched off the bed, a broken cry escaping his throat. The sensation was overwhelming—heat and pressure and connection, the feeling of being claimed all over again.
They began to move then, setting a rhythm that had Cole clutching at the sheets. Strong hands were everywhere, pinningCole's wrists above his head one moment, tracing patterns on his chest the next. The dual sensation of being held down and taken apart was intoxicating.
"Who's fucking you, baby?" Luca's voice, rough and teasing. "Tell us."
"Blake," Cole gasped, sure of this touch, this careful rhythm he'd memorized. "It's Blake."
"Correct," Blake praised, voice strained with effort. "But let's see how long that lasts."
More switching, more confusion. Sometimes fast and demanding, sometimes slow and thorough. Cole gave up trying to guess, gave up trying to maintain any awareness beyond the sensations overwhelming his body.
"That's it," a voice praised—Blake's voice, he thought, but he wasn't sure of anything anymore. "Just let us take care of you."
