“Tell us exactly what you want,” Cyrus says, his voice rough against my ear.
I gather my courage, my body trembling with need. “I want you both inside me. Together. Ace in my ass, Cyrus in my pussy.”
Cyrus groans, his hand sliding down to grip himself. “Fuck, Keira.”
They move with practiced coordination, positioning me between them. Cyrus lies back against the pillows, guiding me to straddle him. His hands cup my face as I sink down onto him, the fullness making me gasp.
“We’ve got you,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing my bottom lip.
Ace presses against my back, his chest warm against my spine. I feel him reach for the lubricant on the nightstand—always prepared, always calculated, even in moments like this. His slick fingers prepare me with patient care, stretching and teasing until I’m rocking against his hand, silently begging.
“Ready?” he asks, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it.
I nod, leaning forward against Cyrus’s chest. The position is familiar—we’ve done this before, many times now—but something feels fundamentally different. It’s not just about possession anymore.
When Ace pushes inside, joining his brother, there’s none of the usual forcefulness. No need to prove their dominance or mark their territory. Instead, he enters me with exquisite slowness, pausing when I tense, advancing only when I relax.
“Breathe,” Cyrus whispers, his eyes locked on mine. His hands cradle my face like I’m something precious, not just a body to be used.
The fullness is overwhelming, but the tenderness is what breaks me. I’ve had them both inside me before, but never like this—never with this careful attention to my comfort, this focus on connection rather than conquest.
They move together in perfect rhythm, their bodies communicating in ways that transcend words. Ace’s hands slidearound to intertwine with Cyrus’s at my hips, both supporting me as they guide our shared motion.
“You’re trembling,” Ace observes, his lips brushing the nape of my neck.
I am. Not from fear or pain, but from the weight of what’s happening between us. This isn’t just sex. It’s not even just intimacy. It’s an acknowledgment that something fundamental has changed.
“It’s different,” I whisper, unable to articulate exactly how. “It feels...”
“We know,” Cyrus says, kissing me so tenderly it makes my eyes sting with tears.
Our bodies move in perfect synchrony, the three of us finding a rhythm that builds slowly, deliberately. Their bodies surround me completely—Cyrus beneath me, his eyes never leaving my face; Ace behind me, his breath hot against my neck. The fullness of having both of them inside me at once is overwhelming in the best possible way.
“Fuck, it’s so tight like this,” Cyrus groans, his fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise.
Ace’s hand slides around to where Cyrus and I are joined, his fingers finding my clit with unerring precision. “Can you feel me through her?” he asks, his voice strained.
The question hangs in the air between them, loaded with meaning beyond just the physical sensation. Cyrus’s eyes darken, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then he nods, a barely perceptible movement.
“Every thrust,” he admits, his voice rough.
The tension between them crackles like electricity, and I’m caught in the current. Ace’s fingers press harder against me as his rhythm quickens. His other hand slides up my back, then down again, coming to rest over Cyrus’s where it grips my hip.Their fingers intertwine beneath mine, the three of us connected in every possible way.
“I’m close,” I gasp, my body tightening around both of them.
“Together,” Ace commands, though I’m not sure if he’s speaking to me or Cyrus or both of us.
Cyrus reaches up, tangling his hand in my hair to pull me down into a bruising kiss. “Let go,” he whispers against my lips. “We’ve got you.”
The pressure builds inside me, a wave gathering force until it crashes over everything. I cry out as pleasure rips through me, my body clenching around them both. Cyrus follows immediately, his back arching as he pulses inside me with a shout. Ace thrusts twice more, his forehead pressed against my shoulder blade as he finds his release with a strangled groan.
For a moment, no one moves. No one speaks. We remain connected, sweat-slicked and trembling, three broken people made momentarily whole.
36
ACE
Irotate between the security feeds, a habit ingrained after decades of training. Three cameras in the dance studio. One at the entrance, one in the corner with the widest view, and one focused on the mirrors. I told Felix exactly where to position each lens for maximum coverage.