The bunker bedroom is thick with the low hum of the air vents and the sound of Dean’s ragged and deep breathing.
He’s sprawled on his back beside you, sheets kicked down around his hips, bare chest glistening with sweat under the faint glow of the hallway lights.
His broad shoulders are tense, abs contracting sharply with every shallow roll of his hips. His massive cock strains obscenely against the front of his soaked boxers, the thick head leaking steadily, twitching and pulsing as he grinds up into nothing, all in his sleep.
Low, needy groans vibrate from his chest, your name spilling out in broken, desperate pants. One big hand fists the sheets while the other twitches at his side like he’s reaching for you even in his sleep.
His eyes fly open suddenly, dark green and hazy with raw lust and without saying a word, he rolls over you, caging your body beneath his massive frame.
One huge hand yanks your sleep shorts and panties down your legs in one rough motion, tossing them aside.
His cock springs free, thick, incredibly heavy, flushed dark and dripping precum all over your thigh.
“Fuck, baby… I need you so bad right now,” he rasps, voice rough and filthy.
“Was dreaming about this tight little pussy and woke up throbbing—can’t wait. Gotta have it. Gotta stuff you full.”
He hooks your thighs around his waist and pushes in with one long, relentless thrust, stretching you wide around his thick cock.
A deep, absolutely guttural moan rips from his throat as he fills you slow, hips flush against yours, the head of his dick pressed tight against your cervix, almost kissing it.
“Shit— so fucking tight. This greedy cunt is squeezing me so good,” he groans, already rolling his hips in deep, desperate strokes.
“Dreamed about ruining you and now I’m finally buried inside my favorite pussy, hmm? Take it, sweetheart. Take every inch of me like the good little slut you are for me.”
Dean’s big hands grip your hips hard, fingers digging in as he fucks you with raw, desperate, needy intensity.
Sweat rolls down the deep grooves of his abs and drips onto your skin with every punishing thrust. You can feel him claiming you, making your pussy his.
“Please, baby—fuck, please let me wreck you,—let me make you feel so good f'me,” he begs between strokes, voice cracking with desperation.
“I need it so bad. Need to feel you fluttering around my cock, clenching—yeah, fuck.. gonna pump you so full of cum you’ll be leaking me for hours."
He leans down, crushing his mouth to yours in a messy, hungry kiss while one hand slides under your ass, tilting your hips up so he can drive even deeper, acting as a makeshift pillow.
Every thrust makes his thick cock drag against that perfect spot inside you, making you twitch and whimper. He's so deep you can feel his abs grinding against your clit.
“Gonna cum so fucking much,” he pants against your lips, sounding wrecked and starving. “Gonna flood this cunt until it’s overflowing with my load. You’re mine. This pussy is mine to use whenever I wake up aching and leaking like this."
His pace turns frantic, hips snapping hard and deep. Dean buries his face in your neck, moaning your name like a prayer as his cock swells and pulses inside you.
"God—yes, atta fuckin' girl, I'm so close already baby.. c'mon, milk me, cum against my cock.. let me feel it, squeeze my cock—yes, shit—make me fill you up.”
Thick, hot spurts of cum flood your pussy, endless and messy, leaking out around his thickness with every shallow grind of his hips.
Even after he finishes, he stays buried deep, lazily rolling his hips to push his cum deeper.
His big arms wrap around you, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other strokes down your side, still trembling with aftershocks.
“Don’t move yet, sweetheart,” he murmurs hoarsely against your skin, voice low and needy. “Still so hard for you.. god—gonna stay right here… then I’m fucking you again until I empty the rest of my balls inside this perfect cunt, hmm?"
His forehead rests against yours, breath warm and ragged, cock still twitching deep inside you as he holds you close.
ⓘ stepbro!chris x stepsis!reader, STEPCEST (DON'T LIKE? DON'T READ), brat taming, jealousy, degradation, humiliation, spanking, fingering, ruined orgasm :(, almost getting caught
based off this request 𖹭
dividers by @/chrisredfieldsfattie
"D'ya think I'm a bitch?" Chris gruffed, glaring at you with jealousy and rage as he slammed his hands down on the kitchen table where you were absorbed in your book. Startled by the sound and vibration, you jumped.
"Maybe," you teased him, the corner of your lip twitching into a playful smirk as you brought your gaze up from the words on the page to his very unamused and rather pissed off expression.
"Ain't messin' around here, kid. Ya must really take me for a bitch, because you've really outdone yourself this time."
"Chris, what the hell are you talking about?" You furrowed your brow in genuine confusion.
You'd obviously ticked him off, but what else is new, you thought to yourself. At least he looked sexy when he was mad, his flared nostrils, his tensed jaw, and the veins in his hands more prominent than usual. You bit down on your lip, your gaze dancing over him.
"This is what I'm talkin' about," he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and setting it down in front of you. It was a rather suggestive photo of yourself that you'd taken a couple weeks prior.
"How the hell did you get that picture?" You snarked back, doing your best to keep your voice lowered as to not disturb your parents one room over.
"You sent it to Kyle. Whore." He didn't take his intense blue eyes off you for one second.
Kyle was one of Chris' buddies. One he hung out with regularly. You knew he wouldn't be happy when he found out that you occasionally sext him and send him revealing pictures.
A devious grin curled on your lips despite your attempts to hold it back. "So?" You cocked an eyebrow. "We're not official. I can do whatever I want."
"Not with my friends. Y'know how I feel about that shit."
"It's not like I signed a contract or anything," you shrugged. "I can send whatever I want to whoever I want."
His jaw twitched in irritation. "The fuck you can," he replied in a low raspy voice. "You're so used to gettin' your way, aren't ya? Ya little brat."
You batted your eyelashes, feigning an innocent little smile before you turned your attention back to the page you were reading.
Chris snatched your book right out of your hands, slamming it shut and leaning down so that his face was only inches from yours. "Did you fuck him?" He searched your expression for signs that you may be lying before you even answered his question.
You stared back blankly, crossing your arms over your chest, the silence hanging in the air between the two of you as you let him sweat a little.
"No," you finally answered, breaking the tension.
His eyes dropped to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own, his jeans growing tighter. He hated that the thought of you helping yourself to one of his friends turned him on a little.
"Do you want to?" He interrogated, immediately regretting the question as soon as it slipped out of his mouth.
You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, your expression softening. "Maybe a little bit," you admitted. It wasn't your fault Chris wouldn't commit to you and had hot friends.
"Oh, you little slut," he growled through clenched teeth as he wrapped his fingers around your throat, pulling you to your feet. "Up. Now."
You rolled your eyes, rising to your feet, obeying him but still giving him that same obnoxious attitude.
"Show me your texts with him. Now."
You took your time, picking your phone up off the table, unlocking it, and pretending to scroll through your messages, your thumb nail tapping against the screen as you stalled. "I mean, I don't know if you really wanna see..."
"Quit wastin' my time and show me your texts with him, dammit," Chris snarled, ripping your phone from your fingers. He narrowed his gaze, tensing his jaw even more when he saw what his contact in your phone was. His name with an eggplant and a tongue emoji.
Your text thread with him was at the very top. You'd messaged him today.
Chris braced himself as he scrolled up, a look of contempt on his face as he skimmed through the texts. They were incredibly flirty to say the least, practically throwing yourself at him. You'd sent him other pictures of yourself as well. Nothing too revealing, but revealing enough.
He stopped when he came across a rather incriminating text from Kyle that read: "I miss your mouth."
"Why the hell would he say that, huh?" Chris wondered aloud, flipping your phone around to show you what he was talking about.
You shrugged, playing dumb and avoiding eye contact.
"Oh, hell no," Chris responded, backing you up against the edge of the kitchen table. "Tell me right now."
"Well, you asked if I fucked him. Not if I sucked him off," you answered smugly.
Chris let out a disappointed sigh that the whole house could hear, shooting daggers at you with his eyes. "You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he snapped at you, raising his voice a bit.
"Hey, quit bickering in there! We're trying to enjoy our show!" Your dad called out over his shoulder from where he was on the couch.
"Chris, honey, watch your mouth and be nice to your stepsister," his mom added.
Chris glanced back down at your phone, continuing to scroll up through the messages, his heart pounding in his chest as adrenaline raced through his veins. "You're such a little slut," he mumbled under his breath as he read the things you'd sent to his friend, telling him how hot he was, how bad you wanted him to fill you up, and even telling him when you were touching yourself.
He practically threw your phone at you, making a disgusted face when he'd come across a nude of his own friend. "Jesus!" Chris yelled in a whisper, not wanting to call more attention to the situation. "He sent you a picture of his dick?"
You giggled and shrugged. "I tried to tell you that you probably didn't wanna see our texts..."
"That's it," he rasped under his breath. "Turn around. Bend over. Now."
You listened, spinning around, leaning over the kitchen table, and glancing back at Chris over your shoulder with your big doe eyes. "I didn't do anything wrong," you protested.
You could feel Chris slowly lifting the hem of your skirt as he scoffed. "All you do is the wrong shit."
You peeked back into the living room where the backs of your parents' heads were turned to you, completely entranced by whatever was playing across the screen, unaware that you and Chris were still bickering, as they'd say.
Chris' palm rubbed slow circles over your exposed bottom before he gave you a swift slap. Your eyes widened in shock. He did it again, drawing his arm back and watching the flesh ripple under the weight of his smack.
Your parents didn't budge, too caught up in their show, their backs to you still.
"Filthy little whore," Chris whispered, his middle finger tracing your plump pussy through your panties that were already soaked with your arousal. Your jaw dropped, and you reached up to cover your mouth as Chris pushed past the material, breaching your entrance.
He didn't waste any time, roughly pistoning his finger in and out of your eager hole as you clawed at the wood beneath you with your free hand while you kept the other cupped over your mouth, faint moans and whimpers spilling out nonetheless.
"Shhh. Don't you dare get us caught," Chris hushed you, adding a second finger, his hard cock throbbing against your bare ass through his jeans. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your knees weakening beneath you.
Chris relentlessly continued, his eyes occasionally flicking up to make sure his mom and your dad weren't catching onto to what was going on behind them, the thrill of being caught adding an extra layer to the encounter.
"Gonna ruin this pussy so good that Kyle's not even gonna want it," Chris commented in a low, rough voice that only you could hear.
Your vision started to blur, your muffled sounds vibrating against your palm. You were so close, your pussy fluttering around Chris' fingers as he drove them into you faster. Harder. You felt the knot in your stomach pulling tighter, your impending orgasm brewing deep in your core.
"I think that's enough of that," Chris chuckled. Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers from your heat, and you clamped your hand down over your mouth even tighter to conceal your defeated yelp.
You whipped your head around, tears pricking the corners of your eyes at the loss of sensation. You stared back at him, your expression steeped in desperation. "Chris. Please," you begged in a quiet voice.
He stared down at you with a contemptuous smile and a dark look in his eye. "Y'think ya get to cum after all that? Nah, we're gonna go upstairs, and you're gonna show me exactly how you sucked off my friend, hmm?"
the one where chris, your boyfriend, and matt, your past college fling, are curious to know who you think is better in bed (10.9K words)
Contains: smut, porn with plot, threesome (no incest), voyeurism, m masturbation, dirty talk, praise kink, slight degradation, dry humping, hickeys, multiple orgasms, body cumshot, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), breast/nipple play, unprotected piv, creampie, soft!dom! boyfriend chris x sub!fem reader x dom!boyfriend's brother matt
The drive to Chris' house was spent quietly, my hand in his, as I watched the city blur past the passenger window.
He'd been talking about this weekend for weeks. “You'll finally meet my brothers. Nick's gonna love you. Matt's an asshole but he grows on you.” I'd smiled and nodded, letting the excitement build in my chest because meeting the family was a step, a real step. These last few months with Chris felt more serious than anything I'd had done before, which meant I was ready to take the necessary steps to show him I was committed to him and this relationship.
I just wished my stomach would stop flipping.
"You okay?" Chris asked, squeezing my fingers.
"Yeah." I turned to look at him, seeing the sharp line of his jaw, and the way a strand of brown hair fell across his forehead. He was beautiful in that effortless way that still caught me off guard sometimes. "Just nervous, I think."
"Don't be." He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. "They're gonna love you. I promise."
The house was bigger than I had expected. Modern, all clean lines and warm wood, settled in a quiet neighborhood with trees that arched over the street. Chris pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, and I took a breath, steadying myself.
"Ready?" he asked.
I nodded, giving him a tight, nervous smile. “Yes.”
The front door opened into a spacious living room with high ceilings, a massive sectional, and natural light spilling through floor-to-ceiling windows. It smelled like home. Like laundry detergent and whatever candle was burning on the coffee table.
"Nick? Matt?" Chris called out, dropping his keys into a bowl by the door. "We're here!"
A voice drifted from somewhere deeper in the house. "Over here in the living room."
Chris grinned at me and tugged me forward.
I heard him before I saw him. That voice, low and lazy, calling out to Chris from the depths of the couch where he was sprawled like he owned the place. I rounded the corner with a practiced smile on my face, ready to meet my boyfriend's brother for the first time.
And then I saw him.
He looked up from his phone.
Time didn't stop. It didn't slow down or fracture or do any of the dramatic things they write about in books. It just kept moving, one second into the next, while my brain scrambled to catch up with what my eyes were seeing.
Matt.
Matt?!
The same Matt who'd spent two years of college pinning me against dorm room walls, who'd learned the exact spot behind my ear that made me shiver, who'd fucked me on my bed more times than I could count, and then disappeared after graduation without so much as a goodbye text.
The one with the same sharp jaw, the same heavy-lidded eyes, and the same mouth that had traced a path down my body numerous times. Same build, same hands, and same infuriating half-smile that was already spreading across his face as recognition flickered in his gaze.
"Wait." He sat up, phone forgotten. "No fucking way."
I couldn't move or speak. The air had turned thick and useless in my lungs.
"You two know each other?" Chris asked, looking between us with a curious smile.
I opened my mouth up to speak, but closed it immediately. My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.
Matt stood, slow and easy, like a cat stretching after a long nap. He was wearing a black t-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders and chest, and grey sweatpants that sat low on his hips. Five years had done nothing but sharpen him, the angles of his face, and the confidence in his posture. He looked the same and different all at once, and I hated that my stomach flipped at the sight of him.
"Yeah." Matt said, and his voice was exactly how I remembered it. Warm and rough around the edges, carrying a hint of something teasing. "We know each other."
It hit me then, like a physical blow. Triplet brothers.
Chris had told me. He'd said it a dozen times, in passing, the way people mention obvious details. “My brothers and I. Me and the twins.” I'd heard the words but never connected them. I never thought to dig deeper because Matt had been a casual thing, a nameless, faceless hookup from a part of my life I'd packed away and left behind.
I didn't know his last name. And I never bothered to ask. Because it never mattered to know.
"What are the odds?" Matt continued, and the laugh in his voice was unmistakable. He was enjoying this. I could already see it in the way his eyes glittered. "Small world, huh?"
Chris' brow furrowed. "How do you guys know each other? Like, from where?"
"College." I managed, and my voice came out strange, a little too high. "We had some classes together." The lie felt flimsy, but Chris didn't question it.
"We had a few classes together. Ran in the same circles."
Ran in the same circles. That was one way to put it.
Chris’ face lit up with that easy grin of his. "Oh shit. That's awesome. Hang on, let me grab us some drinks while you guys catch up." He squeezed my shoulder as he passed, already heading towards the kitchen. "I'll be right back."
Don't leave me alone with him! The words were lodged in my throat, left unspoken.
The silence that settled between Matt and I was heavy and charged, thick with everything we weren't saying.
He simply watched me. With that slow, knowing gaze, that traveled from my eyes down to my lips and back up again, and I felt heat creep up my neck despite every effort to remain cool and unbothered.
"So…" he said, and the single syllable was coated in amusement. "You’re Chris' girlfriend?"
"I am."
"Damn." He tilted his head, the smile on his face sharpening. "You really couldn't get over me, huh? Had to go find and settle with my clone instead."
My face went hot. "Excuse me?"
"Come on." He took a step closer, and I held my ground even though every instinct screamed at me to back up. "Same face, same voice, and even the same way he runs his hand through his hair when he's thinking. You’re telling me that's a coincidence?"
"Chris is nothing like you."
"No?" Matt raised an eyebrow. "Then why does he have the same hands? The same mouth?" His voice dropped, just a fraction. "The same everything?"
My face went hot. I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, and the way my pulse tripped over itself. Matt noticed. Of course he noticed and his grin widened.
"Still gets to you." he murmured, almost to himself. "That's cute."
"No, it doesn't get to me. And it's not like that."
"Then what's it like?" He was close now, close enough that I could smell him. The same familiar scent that I had buried somewhere deep, musky, warm and achingly recognizable. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you never got over our little arrangement. Had to find someone who reminded you of me."
"That's not true." My voice came out sharper than I intended. "I didn't even know he had a brother when we first started talking. You and I, we never talked about anything real. We just had sex, Matt. That's all it was."
The words hung between us, raw and honest.
Something flickered in his expression. Surprise, maybe, or curiosity? It was gone before I could name it, replaced by that infuriating smirk of his.
"Damn." he said softly. "That was cold."
"You asked."
"I did." He reached out, and before I could pull away, his fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch was featherlight, barely there, and it sent a shiver down my spine that I hated myself for. "You've changed."
"Five years will do that."
"True." His hand dropped. "But you're still pretty when you're flustered."
"I'm not flustered."
"You're blushing."
Shit, I was. I could feel the heat in my cheeks, and the way my skin burned under his gaze. It was actually humiliating. Matt had always been able to do this to me, get under my skin, and unravel me with a look, a word, or a touch. And apparently, five years hadn't dulled that particular talent.
"Look," I said, forcing my voice steady. "That was a long time ago. I'm with Chris now, and I care about him. So whatever game you're trying to play—"
"Who said I'm playing a game?"
"You're always playing a game."
He chuckled, a low, delightful sound that caught me off guard. "Okay, fair. But I'm serious. I'm not trying to mess with you." He paused. "Much."
I rolled my eyes, but the tension in my shoulders eased, just a fraction.
"So..." He let the word hang. "Who's better in bed?"
I blinked. "What?"
"You heard me." Matt was enjoying this. I could see it in the way his eyes gleamed, and the way his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. "Me or him? And don't say you don't think about it. We both know you do."
"That's—" I sputtered. "You can't just ask that!"
"Why not? We're all adults here." He gestured vaguely between us. "I've had you. He's had you. Seems fair to compare notes."
"We're not comparing notes, Matt. This isn't a fucking survey."
"Touchy." He smiled. "That means I'm winning."
"Ugh, you're disgusting."
Chris returned, walking back, holding three cans of soda. He handed one to me, one to Matt, and kept the last for himself. "Everything good out here?"
"Yeah," I said, before Matt could answer. "Everything's fine."
Matt raised his can in a mock toast. "Just catching up. Reminiscing about old times."
Chris settled onto the couch, pulling me down beside him. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, warm and familiar, and I leaned into him, letting his presence ground me. "That's good. I figured you two would get along."
I felt Matt's gaze on me from across the room.
"Oh," he said, taking a long pull from his beverage. "We get along just fine."
I rolled my eyes and sunk deeper into Chris’ embrace, using him as a shield against Matt’s intense gaze on me.
The movie was Chris' choice. Something action-heavy, loud enough to fill the space between us. I tried to focus on the explosions and gunfire, to lose myself in the chaos on the screen, but I could still feel Matt's presence like a weight in the room.
He'd settled into the armchair to my left, legs spread, one ankle crossed over his knee, watching the movie with a lazy half-smile that I recognized all too well. Every time I glanced his way, he was already looking at me.
Stop it. I begged him silently. Just stop.
But he didn't. Of course he didn't.
Halfway through the movie, Chris got up to grab more snacks, and Matt shifted in his seat.
"So," he said, low enough that only I could hear. "How serious is this thing with my brother?"
I kept my eyes on the screen. "Serious."
"Like, serious serious? Or I'm-just-saying-that-because-he's-in-the-other-room serious?"
"Serious serious."
He hummed, a noncommittal sound. "Hmm."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." He took another sip of his soda. "Just interesting, that’s all."
I turned to look at him, narrowing my eyes. "What's interesting, Matt?"
"You." He met my gaze, unflinching. "The girl who swore she'd never settle down, dating my brother. And wanting something serious out of it. Not like you at all."
"People change."
"Do they?" He tilted his head, studying me. "Or do they just find new ways to lie to themselves?"
I opened my mouth to fire back, but Chris returned before I could, arms full of chips and popcorn. "Movie still good? Did I miss anything?"
"Nothing important." Matt said, and his eyes never left mine, but I looked away first.
When the credits finally rolled and the living room dimmed into something quieter, I let out a breath I felt like I'd been holding for hours. Matt stretched, his shirt riding up to expose a sliver of his stomach, and I pointedly looked away.
"Alright." he said, standing. "I'm gonna head to my room. See you guys tomorrow."
"Nick will be back Sunday night." Chris said. "You'll meet him then."
I nodded, barely processing the words. My skin felt tight, and my thoughts were a jumbled mess.
Matt paused at the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. "Nice seeing you again." he said, and the words were innocent enough, but the smile that accompanied them was anything but. "Really."
I waited until his footsteps faded down the hall before I let my head fall back against the couch. "Your brother is insufferable."
Chris laughed, pulling me closer. "Told you he grows on you."
"Like a fungus."
"Exactly." He pressed a kiss to my temple. "Come on. Let's go to my room."
I followed Chris down the hall, past framed photos and closed doors, until we reached his room at the end. It was warm and lived-in, clothes draped over a chair, a gaming set up propped up on his desk in the corner, and the bed unmade. It felt cozy and welcoming.
After I settled in for the night and changed into my sleepwear, I crawled into bed first. I buried my face into Chris' pillow, inhaling the scent of him. It smelled clean, familiar, and most importantly, safe.
Chris slid in beside me, his arm wrapping around my waist, and his chest pressing against my back. For a long moment, we just laid there, the silence being soft and comfortable.
"Hey," he murmured against my hair. "You okay?"
"Yeah." I closed my eyes. "Just tired."
He was quiet for a moment. Then said, "So, where do you actually know Matt from?"
My eyes shot open. "College." I replied, careful to keep my voice even. "I told you."
"Baby." His hand traced a slow line down my arm. "I'm not stupid."
My heart stuttered. Fuck.
Chris waited, patient and unhurried.
I swallowed. "We used to hook up in college. Like a lot." The words fell into the silence like stones.
Chris didn't move or grow tense. After a moment, he simply exhaled softly. "Oh."
"Yeah."
He was quiet for another long beat. Then his chest shook with a chuckle. "Shit. That's actually… wild."
I turned to look at him, searching his face for any signs of anger or jealousy. But there was only surprise, and something that looked almost like amusement. "You're not mad?"
"Why would I be mad? It was before us." He shrugged casually, the motion bumping me against him. "And it's not like you knew he was my brother. How could you have?"
I let out a relieved breath. "I don't know. I just— I didn't want you to think—"
"Hey." He cupped my face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "It was in the past. It's fine."
I nodded, letting the tension drain from my shoulders.
"Although," he added, his grin turning mischievous. "I gotta ask. Who's better in bed?"
I groaned, dropping my head onto his chest. "Not you too."
"What?"
"Matt asked me the same thing."
Chris' eyebrows shot up in amusement. "No way."
"Right after you left to get drinks. Asked me who was better between you both."
"And what'd you say?"
"I told him he was disgusting, Chris."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer he's getting."
Chris hummed, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my hip. "I mean, for the record, I'm just curious too. You've seen both our dicks at this point. Seems unfair that I don't get to compare."
I lifted my head to stare at him, incredulous. "You can’t be serious."
"I'm just curious.” he shrugged.
"Ugh, I'm going to bed."
I said it like a final verdict, like slamming a book shut. I was already turning away from him, reaching for the pillow to burrow my face into. I was done with this conversation and this day, and the way my skin prickled from the memory of Matt's eyes on me.
"Wait, no." Chris' hand landed on my waist, fingers curling against the fabric of my tank top. "I'll be bored."
"Not my problem."
"But—"
"Goodnight, Chris."
I yanked the duvet up to my chin, and closed my eyes. I felt the mattress shift as he adjusted behind me, and I heard him let out a dramatic sigh, followed by the soft click of his phone screen lighting up.
I thought he was just doom scrolling. Mindlessly killing time the way he always did before sleep. I was already halfway to drifting off, my breathing starting to slow down, as the tension of the day released from my muscles.
Then I heard it. The outgoing ringing tone for a video call.
"Hey, Matt. What're you up to?"
My eyes flew open and my body went still.
I stayed perfectly still, face half-buried in the pillow, as my heart slammed against my ribs. The dim glow of Chris' phone screen reflected off the wall ahead of me. I could hear Matt's voice, tinny through the speaker, rough and a little amused even through the distortion.
"Nothing much. Why, what's up?"
Chris' voice was way too casual for my liking. "Come to my room. I wanna settle something."
Settle something?
The words hit me like a splash of cold water. I went rigid under the blanket, every nerve in my body snapping to attention, as I turned back over towards Chris. I knew that tone. I knew exactly what he was doing.
Matt was quiet for a beat. “Yeah? What's your girl up to?"
I heard the smile in Chris' voice before I saw the phone. “Apparently going to sleep.”
He tilted the screen towards me. I was frozen in place, caught in the frame of his camera, lying on my side with my hair fanned across the pillow and the thin strap of my tank top slipping down my shoulder. The sleepset I'd packed was soft and light, a pale pink that barely covered anything, with a low neckline. Underneath the duvet, a pair of matching shorts rode high up on my thighs, from all the tossing. I had packed this particular set because it was comfortable, and I wasn't planning on anyone seeing me in it except Chris.
And I most definitely did not anticipate Matt to see me in it.
Matt’s face appeared on the screen, and I watched the shift in his expression in real time. The lazy amusement flickering into something sharper and darker. His eyes traveled down, deliberately, tracing the curve of my collarbone and the shadow between my breasts. And when his gaze lifted back to mine, there was heat there. Familiar, dangerous, and hungry in a way that made my stomach flip.
The same way he used to look at me before he'd pin me against a dorm room wall and fuck me senseless.
"On my way." Matt said, and the call dropped.
I sat up so fast the duvet pooled around my waist. "What the hell, Chris?"
He was already grinning at me, that infuriating boyish grin that I usually found endearing but right now made me want to throw a pillow at his face. "What?"
"You know what." My voice was high, incredulous. "You just—you invited him over here. To settle something. Are you fucking serious right now?"
Chris shrugged, completely unbothered. He set his phone down on the nightstand and leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed behind his head like he didn't have a care in the world. "What? You heard him. He was free."
"Chris."
"He said he wasn't doing anything."
"Chris."
He looked at me then. That knowing, easy look on his face made me realize he planned this. He'd been turning the idea over in his head ever since I told him the truth.
"You know, I just realized something." he spoke up, and I stared at him with my heart pounding in my chest. "This whole time you didn't exactly say no either."
My mouth opened and then closed again, dumbly.
"You didn't stop me or tell me to hang up. You just laid there and let it happen."
"I was shocked." I managed to say, as my throat dried up.
"Were you?"
The question hung between us.
I wanted to be angry. I wanted to grab my pillow and storm out and say this was insane, that he was insane. I wanted to scream that we were not doing this, but the words never come. Because some small, traitorous part of me, the same part that remembered Matt's hands and mouth and the way he used to whisper filthy things in my ear while he fucked me, was silent… waiting.
Chris saw it. I knew he saw it, because his smile softened into something almost tender. "He'll be here in a minute." he said. "So you've got that long to decide if you really want to kick him out."
I swallowed. The silence stretched. And somewhere down the hall, I heard a door creak open.
Before I could formulate a response, and figure out whether I wanted to scream at Chris or bury myself so deep in the mattress that I ceased to exist, the knock came. Three short, confident raps.
Chris didn't even look at the door. His eyes were on me, that same knowing smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. "Come in."
The door swung open.
I did the only thing my panicked brain could think of: I grabbed the duvet and yanked it over my head, disappearing into the dark, muffled cave of Chris' bedding. I pressed my eyes shut like a child pretending that if I couldn't see them, they couldn't see me.
"Seriously?" Matt's voice drifted through the room, rich with amusement. "She’s hiding?"
"She’s nervous, I think." Chris said, and I could hear the grin in his voice.
"She wasn't nervous when I had her bent over the sink in my dorm room."
"Matt!"
His laugh was deep and warm, and despite myself, I peeked. Just a crack, a sliver of space between the duvet and the pillow.
Matt was standing just inside the doorway, one hand still on the doorframe, and the sight of him hit me like a physical blow.
He was wearing a white tank top. The thin fabric clung to the broad span of his shoulders, the defined curve of his chest, and the cut of his arms where his tattoo sleeve wound from his wrist up past his elbow, disappeared beneath the strap. I had traced the same tattoos with my fingers before. I remembered the feel of them under my fingertips, the way his muscles would shift as I touched him.
And below that—god—those fucking grey sweatpants of his. Hanging low on his hips, the waistband loose enough that I could see the sharp cut of his hip bones. They hung on him like they were barely staying up, like one wrong move and they'd slide right off.
I swallowed, thick and audible. And both of them heard it.
Matt's eyes found mine through the gap in the duvet, and his smile sharpened. He knew. He knew exactly what he looked like, and what that look did to me. He'd always known.
He stepped further into the room, letting the door click shut behind him. The sound was final and heavy, sealing the three of us in the dim glow of Chris' bedside lamp.
Chris shifted on the bed, making room, and Matt moved towards us with the easy confidence of someone who had never been told no in his life. His gaze traveled over the bed, to Chris, and across the lump of the duvet that was supposed to be hiding me, and that smile of his never faltered.
"So… this is cozy." Matt said, settling onto the edge of the mattress. The frame groaned under his weight, and I felt the dip of the bed through the layers of fabric. "What a shame, she’s hiding."
"I'm not hiding." I snapped, my voice muffled through the duvet. "I'm trying to sleep. There's a difference."
"Is there?" Matt's voice was closer now. He must have shifted. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're hiding."
I ripped the duvet down, sitting up so fast that the fabric tangled around my waist. "I'm not—" The words died in my throat.
Matt was right there. Close enough that I could see the individual lines of his tattoo, and the faint scar near his eyebrow that I had kissed once, a long time ago. His eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my stomach drop.
Chris was on my other side, equally close, his hand finding my bare thigh under the duvet. His touch was warm and grounding, a stark contrast to the heat rolling off Matt's body.
They exchanged a look between me, wordless and knowing. Then the both of them turned to me, with identical smiles curling at the corners of their mouths.
I was trapped between them. Literally and figuratively, in every way that mattered. And I had no idea what I was supposed to do next.
Matt's voice cut through the thick silence, smooth and casual. "So, Chris. What exactly did you wanna settle?"
He said it with a wicked smile. His eyes flicked to me briefly, then back to Chris, and I could tell he already knew. He'd walked in here knowing exactly what his brother had planned, and he'd come anyway. Willingly and eagerly.
Chris shrugged, the picture of nonchalance, his hand still warm on my thigh. "Just a little debate, that's all. She won't tell me who's better in bed." He said it like he was discussing the weather, like he hadn't just thrown me into the middle of the most uncomfortable conversation of my life. "Figured we could settle it once and for all."
I stared at him, mouth slightly open, absolutely certain I had misheard him.
"Funny thing." Matt's voice dragged my attention back to him. He was leaning back on his palms, the thin fabric of his tank top pulling taut across his chest. His eyes glinted. "I wanted to know too."
"Oh my god." The words escaped me before I could stop them. I looked between them, the both of them wearing the same infuriating smirk. "Is this some kind of weird twin shit I don't know about? Do you guys not have any concept of privacy or TMI?"
They exchanged a glance, and something passed between them… almost like a silent communication that made my stomach churn.
"Not really." Chris said, and his voice was lighter now, more honest. "We grew up sharing a room, sharing food, and almost everything else. There's not much that's off-limits between us."
Matt nodded, his smile turning thoughtful. "Especially not when it comes to girls." He paused, letting the words hang. "We've shared one before. At the same time."
My heart stopped. Literally. I felt it stutter in my chest, skip a beat, then slam back to life so hard I could feel it in my throat. I stared at Matt, searching his face for any sign that he was joking, that this was some elaborate prank.
But he wasn't smiling anymore. Not even teasingly. He was watching me with a steady, serious gaze that told me everything I needed to know.
I turned to Chris. He met my eyes, and there was no denial there. Only a quiet confirmation.
"You've..." I swallowed. My mouth was dry. "You've both... shared a girl. At the same time?"
"Yeah." Chris said softly. "Once. A while back."
The silence that followed was deafening. My brain was scrambling, trying to process and keep up with the implication that was slowly, steadily unfurling in the space between the three of us. They'd done this before. With someone else. And now—
No. They couldn't possibly be implying...
I looked at Matt. Then at Chris. Then back at Matt.
They were both watching me with the same expression. It was calm and expectant. Like they were giving me time to catch up to what they were already thinking.
"Wait." My voice came out higher than I intended. "You're not suggesting—" I gestured vaguely between the three of us. "Right now? That we—" I couldn't even finish the sentence.
Chris' hand squeezed my thigh, gentle and reassuring. "I'm not suggesting anything you don't want."
"But you're thinking it."
He didn't deny it.
Matt let out a low chuckle, and the sound sent a shiver down my spine. "Relax. Nobody's gonna push you into anything." He leaned closer, and I caught the scent of his skin. "But I gotta say, the thought has crossed my mind a few times tonight."
"Same." Chris added, and his voice was softer now, more vulnerable. "But only if you want it. Only if you're okay with it."
I looked between them, my heart hammering, my skin flushed, and my thoughts a tangled mess of this is insane and why isn't my mouth saying no.
Because I hadn't said no. Not once. And they both were very much aware of it.
The air between us thickened until I could taste it, something electric and something that hummed in the space between my skin and theirs. I was frozen, caught in the crossfire of their gazes, my breath shallow and quick in my chest.
I couldn't move. But I also couldn't look away.
My heart was a war drum in my ears, pounding out a rhythm that I felt in my throat, my fingertips, and the space between my thighs. Every nerve in my body was alive, attuned to the two pairs of eyes fixed on me like I was something precious… and wanted.
I should have been terrified. I should have been scrambling for an exit, for a laugh to break the tension, or for any excuse to retreat back under the duvet and pretend this conversation never happened.
But I wasn't.
Because lying to myself had never been my strong suit, and right now, with Chris' hand warm and steady on my thigh and Matt's gaze burning a path across my skin, I couldn't pretend I wasn't intrigued.
Matt still got to me. Five years later, in a serious relationship with his brother, and a whole life lived between then and now, but none of it mattered. The pull was still there, magnetic and undeniable, humming just beneath the surface of my skin.
And Chris... he was right beside me. Trusting me. Urging me. His hand was a gentle anchor, keeping me tethered even though I felt as if I was floating away into uncharted waters.
I was surrounded by two of the most attractive men I'd ever laid eyes on. And somewhere between the shock, the confusion, and the sheer absurdity of the situation, I realized I trusted them both completely.
Matt moved first, slowly.
His fingers found the edge of the duvet where it was bunched around my waist, and he tugged gently. His gesture, a question more than a demand. His eyes never left mine as the fabric slid away, inch by inch, until the cool air of the room hit my bare skin.
I sucked in a sharp breath. My tank top had ridden up, baring a strip of my stomach. The shorts I was wearing had hiked high on my thighs, leaving little to the imagination. I felt exposed, laid bare under the dim light, and the way Matt's gaze traveled down my body made my skin flush.
Matt looked at me like he was starving. His eyes traced the curve of my hips, the dip of my waist, and then the length of my legs. He lingered on the thin fabric of my tank top, on the outline of my nipples hardening against the thin cotton. His tongue darted out, wetting his lower lip, and when his eyes met mine again, there was something predatory in them.
But he held himself back.
I could see it in the tension of his jaw, and the way his hands were fisted at his sides. He was waiting, restraining himself. For Chris to grant him permission.
Chris' hand never stopped moving. Slow circles on my thigh, grounding me, and reminding me that he was here. And that he was okay with this.
"Hey." His voice was soft, pulling my attention to him. His gaze was warm. "Do you want to kiss him?"
The question hit me like a tidal wave.
I stared at him, breathless. "What?"
"Do you want to kiss him?" he repeated, and there was no jealousy or hesitation in his voice. "You can, if you want to."
"But—you—" I stammered, my brain short-circuiting. "You're my boyfriend."
"I know that, baby." he smiled reassuringly. "And I trust you. I know it sounds crazy, given the circumstances, but I do." His hand squeezed my thigh. "If you want to kiss him, kiss him. I'm not going anywhere."
I looked at him for a long moment, searching his face for any sign of doubt. There was none. Just trust.
I turned back to Matt. He was watching me, waiting, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. The tension in his body was palpable, coiled tight, and ready to spring at the slightest invitation.
I finally made a decision. Slowly and deliberately, I shifted my legs apart. Just a few inches, enough to create space. An invitation. A silent come here.
Matt didn't wait. He moved forward immediately, one knee sliding onto the bed, then the other, and slotted his body into the space I had created between my thighs. The mattress dipped under his weight, bringing him closer, until I could feel the heat radiating off his skin.
His hand came up, fingers brushing my jaw, tilting my face towards his. The touch was featherlight, and it sent a shiver down my spine that I couldn't suppress.
Then he leaned in, and his lips met mine.
And god, it was like being struck by lightning.
The kiss was soft at first, testing, tasting, and reacquainting. Matt’s lips were warm and familiar in a way that made my chest ache, and I felt the years between us collapse into nothing. The hesitation lasted only a heartbeat, before I melted into him completely.
My hands found his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his tank top, pulling him closer. His tongue traced my lower lip, asking for entry, and I granted it without thinking or hesitating. The kiss deepened, and I felt a moan building in my throat as his hand slid into my hair, tilting my head back.
Every memory came flooding back.
Late nights in cramped dorm rooms. The press of his body against mine in the dark. The way he used to whisper my name against my skin. The way he'd look at me afterwards, elated and satisfied, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
Chris' hand was still on my thigh, a warm and steady pressure that kept me grounded as I floated somewhere between past and present. I felt him shift closer, as his lips pressed against my shoulder, a gentle reminder that he was still there. That this was okay.
I broke the kiss, pulling away, gasping for air. Matt’s breath was just as ragged, his eyes now darker and blown wide.
"Fuck." he whispered. “I missed that.”
And I didn't disagree.
Beside me, Chris' lips traced a slow line up my neck, and I shivered, caught between two bodies, and two sets of hands that were slowly and carefully exploring my body.
This was happening. This was really happening.
Matt's fingers curled around the hem of my tank top, the barest brush of knuckles against my stomach. He didn't pull or tug. Just held the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, waiting, his eyes locked on mine. "Can I?"
His voice was rough, stripped of the teasing edge he'd carried all evening. This was real. This was him asking, not assuming. And I noticed he didn't look at Chris this time to seek his permission. His focus was entirely on me, unwavering, like I was the only person in the room.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I should have said no and laughed this off, and crawl out from between them and flee out the room. But my body wasn't listening to the rational part of my brain anymore.
I turned my head, hesitating, searching for Chris.
He was watching us with soft eyes, a small, reassuring smile curving up his lips. He nodded once, it was subtle. Then his voice dropped, low and husky, meant only for my ears. "Whatever you want, baby." His hand squeezed my thigh again. "I know you missed him."
Something in me cracked open. The words hit me square in the chest, loosening the last threads of resistance I'd been clinging to. He knew and understood. And he was giving me this, giving me permission to want, to take, and to fall back into something I had buried away years ago.
I turned back to Matt. "Yes." I said, my voice coming out smaller than I intended. “Please."
Matt didn't waste time. But he didn't rush, either. He reached behind his head, grabbing the back of his tank top, and pulled it off in one fluid motion. The fabric slid over his shoulders, baring his chest, and I forgot how to breathe.
He was broader and more defined than I remembered. His chest was bare, shoulders wide, and stomach tight with muscle that flexed as he moved. A thin line of hair trailed from his navel down into the waistband of his sweatpants, and I followed it with my eyes before I could stop myself.
Then his hands were on me again, and my tank top was sliding up and over my head. The air felt cooler against my heated skin, making me gasp softly. I was bare from the waist up now, completely exposed and vulnerable.
Matt's breath caught. He sat back, his eyes roaming over me like he was memorizing every curve and shadow. His tongue wet his lower lip, and when he spoke, his voice was rough.
"Fuck," he husked. "I missed these pretty tits."
Before I could respond, he tapped his thigh. A silent command saying, come here.
I moved without thinking, swinging one leg over his lap, settling onto his thighs. The heat of him seeped through the thin fabric of my shorts, and I felt it immediately: the hard line of his cock pressed against the apex of my thighs, thick and heavy even through the layers between us. A pulse of heat radiated from him, and I bit my lip to stifle the sound that threatened to escape.
Matt’s hands found my waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, guiding me closer. Then he leaned in, and his mouth was on me.
He started slow and languid. His lips pressed against the swell of my breast, trailing a path of open-mouthed kisses across my skin. His tongue traced the curve, tasting and savouring, making my eyes flutter closed.
"Matt…" I exhaled, and the sound of his name on my lips after all these years sent a shiver through both of us.
He hummed against my skin, and the vibration made my back arch, pushing my breast closer to his mouth. He took the invitation, closing his lips around my nipple, and I moaned brokenly, a sound that escaped before I could stop it.
His tongue circled the sensitive peak, before he sucked gently, drawing it into the warmth of his mouth. My hands found his hair, and my fingers threaded through the soft strands, holding him there as waves of pleasure rolled through me.
Fuck. He always knew how to use that tongue.
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention. His hand came up to cup the one he'd just abandoned, his thumb brushing over the wet, hardened nipple. My hips shifted restlessly against his lap, and I felt his cock twitch beneath me, a reminder of how hard he was and how much he wanted this.
In the haze of my pleasure, I remembered I wasn't alone. I opened my eyes, turning my head, searching for Chris through the thick fog of want.
He was leaning against the headboard, shirtless, with his pajama pants bunched around his thighs. His hand was wrapped around his cock, stroking slowly and lazily, just enough to take the edge off and soothe the ache. His eyes were fixed on us, sharp and hungry, but there was no jealousy there. Only lust and patience.
He was waiting and watching. Letting Matt and I have this moment. When our eyes met, he gave me a small, crooked smile, and his hand never slowed its rhythm.
I bit my lip, as heat flooded through me at the sight of both of them, one beneath me and one behind me, both wanting me and waiting for me to lead.
Matt's mouth left my breast with a wet pop, and he looked up at me, his lips swollen and his eyes dilated. "You okay?"
I nodded, breathless. "Yeah."
His hands slid down my waist, settling on my hips. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."
Chris' voice came from behind me. "What do you want him to do to you?"
The question landed heavy in the space between us. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The options were endless, spinning through my mind in a haze of heat and want. I thought about what I really wanted and what I'd been too afraid to admit even to myself.
I wanted to be used. Tonight, I wanted to be Matt’s fuck toy, and his to take apart piece by piece. I wanted to surrender to the feeling of two bodies surrounding me, consuming me, and leaving no part of me untouched.
I looked down at Matt, meeting his icy blue eyes, and I let the honesty bleed into my voice. "Touch me."
The words were simple, but they carried everything. I swiveled my hips, giving him an intentional grind against his clothed cock, and the friction dragged a hiss from between his teeth.
"Shit." he groaned, his fingers tightening on my hips. "Yeah, okay."
Matt’s hands found the waistband of my shorts, and he peeled them down my thighs, lifting me just enough to slide the fabric away. The cool air caused goosebumps on my newly exposed skin, and I was suddenly, completely naked, straddling his lap with nothing between us but his sweatpants. He looked down, and his breath caught.
I was already soaked and glistening. The evidence of my arousal was impossible to miss, coating my thighs, catching in the dim light. Matt let out a low hum of satisfaction, the sound vibrating through his chest.
"Goddamn." he murmured. "You're already so wet for me, sweetheart."
His hand moved between us, his fingers grazing my cunt with barely any pressure. I whimpered at the touch, my hips bucking involuntarily, chasing more of his touch. Matt took his time, spreading me open with expert fingers, parting the slick petals so his middle finger could drag through my slit from entrance to clit.
I shook in his lap, my nails digging into his shoulders as a sharp gasp tore from my throat.
"That's it." he coaxed, watching my face. His finger circled my clit slowly and torturously, and I felt my whole body tremble. "You remember this, don't you? You remember how I used to make you feel."
I couldn't answer. My mouth was slack open, as my breath came in short, ragged bursts.
He slid one finger inside me, then two, curling them upwards, pressing against that spot that made stars burst behind my eyes. His thumb kept working my clit in tight, wet circles, and he watched my face contort from the pleasure, his own expression mirroring mine. He was feeding off my pleasure like it was his own.
"Look at you." he said, his voice rough with unadulterated lust. "Taking my fingers so fucking good. You always did. You always took everything I gave you."
All I could do was moan in response, broken and breathless, as my hips rocked against his hand.
"Tell me how it feels." he demanded.
"Good." I gasped. "So fucking good, Matt."
"Yeah?" His fingers pumped faster and deeper, the wet sounds of my cunt filling the room. "You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?"
Behind me, I could hear Chris. The rapid pumping of his fist around his cock, the broken moans slipping past his lips, and the rushed, ragged breaths that told me he was just as lost in this as I was.
"You're doing so good, baby." Chris panted, his voice coming out strained. "Keep going."
I was overwhelmed. The praise, the filth, the feeling of Matt's fingers inside me, and Chris' voice in my ear, it was too much and not enough all at once. My body was wound tight, trembling on the edge, and Matt could feel it.
"That's it." he grinned, his thumb pressing harder against my clit. "Come on now. I've got you. Let go for me."
And I surrendered completely. The orgasm crashed through me, violent and all-consuming. My back arched, my nails dug into Matt's shoulders, and a cry tore from my throat as I came undone on his lap and hand, slick, hot, and shuddering.
He worked me through it, fingers slowing, more gentler now, drawing out every last wave until I was slumped against him, gasping, with my forehead pressed to his.
Matt pulled his hand away, and I watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he brought his soaked fingers up to his mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied smile.
Chris' voice came from behind me, low and gruff, cutting through the haze of my spent orgasm. "Come here. Let me clean up that mess."
I peeled myself off Matt's lap, my legs shaky, and my skin still humming from the aftershocks. Chris reached for me, his hands finding my waist, guiding me down onto the bed beside him. He moved over me, settling between my trembling thighs, and I felt the cool air hit the slick evidence of what Matt had done to me.
He looked down at where I was still dripping and splayed open, and let out a hum of approval. "Fuck," he murmured, licking his lips. "You made such a mess for my brother, huh? Such a slut for him, and you couldn't help yourself."
I whimpered at his dirty words as he lowered his head, his breath warm against my oversensitive skin. His tongue traced a slow line through my folds, collecting every drop of what Matt had caused. The sensitivity sent a jolt through my body, and I bucked against his mouth, a broken cry escaping my lips.
"Chris—"
"Shh." he soothed, his voice vibrating against my clit. "I've got you."
His mouth was different from Matt's. Slower and more tender in a way that made my chest ache. He licked into me like he was savouring something precious, his tongue circling my clit with gentle precision that built a new pressure low in my belly. My hand found his hair, tangling in the soft strands, keeping him close as I rolled my hips against his face.
I looked down, to watch Chris work, and that's when I saw Matt.
He had moved, kneeling beside me on the bed, his hand wrapped around his cock. It was just as I remembered, thick, pink, and heavy. The tip was already glistening with precum, and my mouth watered at the sight.
Fuck, I missed his cock.
Matt caught me staring and grinned, that familiar, wicked grin that had always undone me. "You wanna taste it, don't you?" His voice was rough, but strained. "I can see it in your eyes."
I nodded, already reaching for him, my hand wrapping around his shaft. He was hot and silky in my grip, and I pumped him slowly, watching the way his stomach tightened with each stroke.
"Let me feel that pretty mouth of yours on me." he ordered. "I know you suck dick good. You always did."
I leaned forward, my tongue darting out to catch the bead of precum at his tip. The taste of him flooded my senses, it was salty, familiar, and him. I simultaneously moaned at the sensation of Chris' tongue still working through me between my legs.
I wrapped my lips around the mushroom head, taking Matt in slowly, my eyes locked on his. His breath hitched as I hollowed my cheeks, sucking gently before pulling back to trace the length of his shaft with my tongue.
"Fuck," he hissed, his hand finding my hair. "Just like that."
I took him deeper, letting him slide past my lips until he hit the back of my throat. The vibration of my moan, pulled from me by Chris' relentless mouth, rippled through Matt's cock, and he bucked his hips with a sharp groan.
"Shit." he gasped. "You're gonna make me lose it."
His grip tightened in my hair, and he started to move, fucking my mouth with slow, deep thrusts. Each one pushed him further down my throat, and I took it, my eyes watering, and my hands gripping his thighs for balance.
"Look at you." he praised, his voice sounding ragged. "Taking me so fucking well. Good girl."
Below me, I felt Chris humping the mattress, his hips rutting against the sheets as he ate me out with increasing urgency. His moans were muffled against my cunt, but I could feel them vibrating through me, adding another layer to the overwhelming pleasure.
I was floating. Caught between two bodies that knew exactly how to take me apart.
Matt's thrusts grew faster and more desperate. "I'm close." he warned, his voice strained. "You want it? You want me to cum in that pretty mouth?"
I moaned my answer around him, the sound muffled and broken.
My own orgasm crested suddenly, crashing through me as Chris' tongue pressed hard against my clit. My back arched, a scream caught in my throat as I came undone around nothing, my hips grinding against Chris' face as he worked me through it.
The vibration of my climax sent Matt over the edge. With a guttural groan, he spilled into my mouth, hot and thick, flooding my tongue. I swallowed around him, taking every drop as he pulsed against my lips.
"That's it." he groaned. "Take it. Take all of it."
When Matt finally pulled out, his chest was heaving, and his eyes were blown wide with satisfaction.
He looked down at me, a gratified smile spreading across his face. "Open."
I parted my lips open, showing him the empty cavern of my mouth.
"Good girl." he said, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. "You took all of it."
Pride bloomed warmly across my chest, hearing Matt praise me like that.
My attention strayed from Matt as Chris crawled up my body, and his lips found mine in a kiss. He tasted like me, and I moaned into his mouth as he rolled us both onto our sides, facing each other. His hand cupped my jaw, tilting my face to deepen the kiss, and I melted into him instantly. His mouth was tender, and every movement felt like he was saying I love you without actually saying the words. His thumb traced the line of my cheekbone as he kissed me, slow and thorough.
I turned fully towards Chris, my hand finding his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palm. His tongue swept across my lower lip, coaxing, and I opened for him, letting him in. The kiss deepened, and I felt his smile against my mouth, that sweet, familiar smile that had made me fall for him in the first place.
Then I felt Matt. He settled on my other side, the mattress dipping under his weight, the heat of his body seeping into my skin before he even touched me. His fingers found my thigh, trailing upwards with a slowness that made my skin prickle. They danced across my mound, featherlight and teasing, before skimming up my stomach and over my ribs.
His hand then found my breast again, and he cupped it, squeezing gently, as his thumb circled my nipple until it hardened under his touch. The sensation made me gasp into Chris' mouth.
Soon after, Matt's lips found my neck, and he wasn't gentle about it. He bit down, just enough to sting, before his tongue soothed the spot, definitely leaving a mark of him on me. His mouth traveled down my jaw, open, wet, and filthy, and I felt the scrape of his teeth against my skin.
"Missed the way you taste." he murmured against my throat. "Missed the sounds you make when I touch you."
Matt’s fingers rolled my nipple, pinching lightly, and I whimpered, breaking the kiss with Chris to arch into Matt's touch. My head fell back, and Matt took full advantage, his mouth latching onto the column of my throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark I'd find tomorrow.
Chris didn't stop. His lips found my shoulder, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the slope. His hand slid down my back, fingers tracing the ridge of my spine, before settling on my ass. He squeezed, kneading the flesh, his touch firm and possessive in a completely different way.
The contrast was driving me insane.
Chris was romance, slow kisses and gentle caresses, the kind of touch that made me feel cherished and safe. His hand massaged my ass with a tenderness that bordered on worship, as his lips trailed soft patterns across my skin.
Whereas Matt was filth, bites, bruises, and hungry hands that took what they wanted. His mouth worked my jaw, my throat, and my collarbone, leaving a trail of wet, open kisses that made my breath come in short, sharp gasps. His hand never left my breast, rolling, pinching, and teasing until I was writhing between them.
I turned towards Matt, my body seeking his, arching into his touch like a plant reaching for sunlight. He caught my face in his hand and kissed me hard, and it was nothing like Chris' kiss. It was all tongue, teeth, and desperation, as his mouth claimed mine like he was trying to devour me from the inside out. I moaned into him, and he swallowed the sound, his grip tightening in my hair.
Chris shifted behind me, his hand moving my hair out of the way, exposing the back of my neck. His lips pressed there, soft and warm, a stark contrast to the brutal kiss Matt was giving me. His fingers continued their exploration of my ass, squeezing and massaging, his touch lingering in a way that made me feel cherished.
It was two entirely different kinds of worship. And both of them were undoing me in their own ways.
Matt broke the kiss first, panting. "God, I forgot how good you feel." he heaved, as his thumb traced my lower lip. "Every fucking thing about you is perfect."
Behind me, Chris' hand left my ass, and I heard the slick sound of him stroking himself. Then I felt the blunt pressure of his cock nudging against my opening from behind, sliding through the wetness that still coated my folds.
I softly gasped against Matt's mouth, my back arching, and Matt’s tongue swept in, swallowing every sound I made, sealing it with a kiss.
Chris' voice came low and rough against my ear. "This okay?"
I managed a broken sound that might have been yes, and he took it as permission.
Chris pushed in slowly. So slowly I felt every inch of him stretching me open, filling me inch by inch. I was still wet from everything that had happened, from Matt's fingers, Chris' mouth, and my own cumulative orgasms, making him slide in almost effortlessly, the wet sound of it loud and obscene in the otherwise quiet room.
"Fuck." Chris gasped, his forehead pressing against my shoulder. "You feel—fuck, baby." He then bottomed out, his hips flush against my ass, and I felt so full I couldn't breathe.
He started to move. Slow, deep thrusts that reached places I didn't know existed, each one pushing me further into Matt's mouth. My hands scrambled for purchase, one finding Matt's shoulder, and the other twisting in the sheets, as Chris set a rhythm that was steady and relentless.
Matt broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at me. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and his lips were wet and swollen. His hand slid down my stomach, fingers finding my clit, and began to circle it in time with Chris' thrusts.
"You like that?" Matt's voice was rough, teasing. "Getting fucked by my brother while I watch? Look at you, can't even keep your eyes open."
I tried to respond, but Chris thrusted deeper, hitting something that made my words dissolve into a moan.
"She loves it." Chris grunted, answering for me. "Can feel her clenching around me."
Matt's grin was filthy. "Yeah? She always did love attention."
Chris' hand gripped my thigh, fingers digging into the soft muscle, holding me open for him as he fucked into me. His pace was persistent, each thrust pushing me harder against Matt's hand.
And then Matt's voice cut through the haze, as his eyes locked on mine. "Wait, Chris." His hand came up, cupping my jaw, turning my face towards his. His thumb traced across my lower lip, and I felt the weight of his gaze like a physical thing. "I need to feel that pussy squeeze my cock and cum on it. Might never get the chance again."
The crude words stole the air from my lungs.
Behind me, Chris let out a sound, something between a laugh and a groan. "Fair enough." He pulled out slowly, and the absence of him left me aching and feeling empty. But before I could adjust, Matt was already moving.
He shifted me, guiding me so my leg wrapped around his hip, as he positioned himself at my needy, quivering hole. Matt’s chest was pressed up against mine, and from behind, I felt Chris' warmth at my back, his knees bracketing my shoulders as he knelt above us.
Matt pushed into me in one smooth motion, with no hesitation or gentle easing. His thickness stretched me in a way that made my eyes roll back, making my head fall against Chris' thigh.
"Oh—fuck—"
There was no mercy in Matt’s pace. He set a rhythm that was hard and fast, his hips slapping against mine as he drove into me again and again. My body remembered him, the weight of him, and the fullness of him, as it opened up for him like it had been waiting five years for this exact moment.
The difference between them was staggering.
Chris was longer and slender, hitting places deep inside me with a precision that made me see stars. Matt was thicker and fuller, stretching me open with every thrust, filling me in a way that made me feel like I was being split apart in the best possible way.
Neither was better. They were just... different. Both good in their own way and undoing me in ways I couldn't articulate.
My back arched off the mattress, my body twisting as Matt fucked into me. From this angle, I could see Chris above me. He was kneeling behind my head, his knees planted on either side of my shoulders. He was stroking himself slowly, his cock slick and straining, as his eyes were fixed on the spot where Matt's thick length plunged into me over and over.
I could see everything. The way his jaw was tight, and the way his chest heaved with each ragged breath. His gaze met mine through the haze of pleasure, and there was something soft in his eyes… something fond.
"You're doing so good, baby." His voice was rough and strained, but warm. "Taking him so well. Look at you—fuck. That's my girl."
I tried to respond, but all that came out was a broken moan as Matt drove into me deeper.
"You like that, huh?" Chris continued, his hand speeding up on his cock. "You like getting fucked by both of us?"
I managed a keening sound, something that might have been yes or please or don't stop. It didn't matter. The noise was enough.
Matt's mouth was on my neck, sucking, biting, and marking me with a desperation that bordered on feral. His teeth scraped against my pulse point, and he soothed the sting with his tongue before moving lower, leaving a trail of bruises down my throat. I felt each one bloom against my skin, and the thought of waking up tomorrow with his marks on me while I was dating Chris, sent a thrill straight through me.
He was on a mission. Licking, sucking, and claiming every inch of exposed skin he could reach while his cock kept driving into me with that relentless rhythm.
Chris was still talking from above, his voice filled with pride. "You're so pretty like this. I knew you'd look perfect between us." And all I could do was let out a pathetic, broken whimper.
Matt's hand found my clit, pressing hard, circling in time with his thrusts. His face was pressed against the crook of my neck, as his breaths came out hot and ragged. "I'm close." he gritted out. "Cum with me. I need to feel you."
With one more deep stroke, and his thumb pressing hard against my clit, I shattered.
My orgasm crashed through me, violent and consuming, as my walls clenched around Matt's cock so hard that he groaned, making his hips stutter. He followed me over the edge, burying himself deep and spilling his load inside me with a guttural sound.
Above me, Chris' breath caught. I watched his head tip back, his hand moving faster, and then he groaned, long and low. He burst, and I felt hot stripes of cum paint across my stomach and ribs.
For a long moment, there was nothing but heavy breathing.
Matt collapsed first, his forehead dropping to my chest, his body feeling heavy and warm. Chris followed, lowering himself down, curling around my other side, his face burying in the curve of my neck. I laid between them, completely spent, my limbs feeling too heavy to move.
But I felt everything. Chris' release cooled across my stomach, trickling slowly down my sides, and Matt's was leaking out of me, warm and wet, spreading against my thighs. And my own arousal amidst it all, clung to my skin, sticky.
The three of us, laid in bed in a heap of tangled limbs, completely undone. I stared at the ceiling, my chest rising and falling from my slow, deep breaths, and let myself exist in the aftermath of what had just happened.
The brothers were still pressed against me, as Matt's lips were brushing lazily against my sternum, and Chris' nose was nuzzling into my hair. Neither of them moved to pull away from me.
The silence stretched, it was thick but comfortable, and was filled only with the sound of us remembering how to breathe again.
Then Matt's voice rumbled against my skin, rough and wrecked, but thoroughly satisfied. "So," A chuckle vibrated through his chest. "Have we reached a settlement?"
I felt Chris huff a laugh behind me, his arm tightening around my waist. "Yeah, baby. I think we deserve a verdict after that performance."
I groaned, the sound pathetic and strained, barely more than a whimper. My voice came out hoarse, scraped raw from all the moaning, gasping, and crying. "I don't— I can't..."
They both waited. They looked patient, but very much amused at my speechlessness.
"I don't know." I finally managed, and the words slurred together like I was drunk. Because I was drunk on them, on the way they'd taken me apart and put me back together, and on the feeling of being completely, utterly spent between two bodies that had worshiped me into oblivion.
Matt lifted his head, looking down at me with heavy-lidded eyes. His lips were swollen, and his hair a mess. He looked absolutely debauched. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting." I mumbled, my eyes fluttering closed.
Chris pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "That's okay. We've got the whole house to ourselves for the weekend."
My eyes flew open.
Matt's grin spread slow and wicked, his teeth flashing in the dim light. "Plenty of time to reach a unanimous decision."
I stared at them both, at Matt's filthy smile and at Chris' warm, knowing gaze over my shoulder, and let out a breath that was half laugh and half groan. “Ah, fuck.” I muttered.
They both softly laughed, the sound mingling in the dark, and I felt Chris' arm tighten around me while Matt's hand slid down my hip, squeezing once before settling.
I was trapped between them, but I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.
A/N: this wasnt supposed to be this long but I got carried away oops 🫣🤫
✧ ex bsf!matt, ex friends to lovers, protected sex, making out, softdom!matt, mutual pining, hurt/comfort
✧ summary: you’ve been losing matt for months and you can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt anymore. you bring him to your friend group hangout at cabin in the woods as one last shot, but when a thunderstorm traps you together in the dark, all that buried tension finally comes spilling out.
✧ word count: 2.1k
✧ authors note: if you saw me post like 2 other fics before this no u didnt im just indecisive. (soso sorry to everyone on my taglist for the notfis LMAOO) also this is inspired by something i saw on tiktok but i cannot for the love of god find it, but im looking i promise..when i do find it i will for sure link it here.
you've been avoiding the truth for months now.
it's easier that way. easier to tell yourself that people just grow apart, that it's natural, that the empty space where matt used to be will eventually fill with other things. other people.
but it hasn't. and now you're standing in the kitchen of this stupid cabin, watching him laugh at something jenna said, and your chest feels like someone reached in and twisted your heart.
you invited him because sarah begged you to. "it won't be the same without him," she'd said, and you'd agreed because agreeing was easier than explaining that you couldn't remember the last time you and matt had a real conversation.
your texts had become sending each other memes and one-word responses. you'd started leaving him on read because it hurt less than the silence that followed when you actually tried.
the cabin is all wood and string lights, situated on a lake that's currently reflecting the gray sky like a mirror. it's supposed to be a fun weekend.
matt showed up three hours late, hoodie pulled over his head even though it's not that cold, duffel bag practically falling apart because he's had it since high school and refuses to get a new one.
he'd hugged everyone else first, saving you for last, and when he finally wrapped his arms around you it felt stiff. performative. like he was doing it because it was expected, not because he wanted to.
"hey," he'd said against your hair, and you'd smelled the familiar scent of him, laundry detergent and that vanilla body wash he uses, and felt your eyes burn with tears you refused to let fall.
"hey," you'd replied, and pulled away first.
now it's night. the group has sectioned off into smaller conversations, alcohol passed around freely, someone playing shitty indie folk from a portable speaker.
you're sitting on the floor near the fireplace, wedged between chloe and jake, and you're telling a story about your horrible first attempt at making sourdough. people are laughing. you should feel good.
but your eyes keep drifting to the corner where matt is sitting alone, holding a beer that's probably warm by now, scrolling through his phone like he's somewhere else completely.
"you okay?" chloe asks, following your gaze.
"fine," you lie. "just tired." she doesn't believe you, but she lets it go.
the storm starts around midnight. you'd seen it on the forecast earlier, dark clouds gathering over the lake, but you'd hoped it would pass.
the first crack of thunder is loud enough to make everyone jump, and then the rain starts, sudden and violent, drumming against the roof like a thousand angry knives.
"shit," sarah says, standing up to check the windows. "that's coming down hard."
the lights flicker. once. twice. then die completely, plunging the cabin into darkness broken only by the fire and the occasional flash of lightning.
people groan, reaching for theirs phones, grumbling the usual complaints about losing power. someone suggests finding candles, flashlights, making it an adventure.
you sigh, suddenly exhausted by the idea of performing fun for a group of people who don't know that your heart is currently trying to jump out of your ribcage.
you slip out while no one's paying attention, padding down the hallway toward the back deck. you need air. you need to not be in that room with him, watching him pretend you don't exist.
the deck door sticks, then opens with a whine of wood against wood. the rain is loud out here, mist hitting your face even under the overhang. you lean against the railing and try to breathe.
"didn't take you for the storm-watching type."
you don't turn around. you know that voice better than your own. "didn't take you for the following-people-into-the-dark type."
matt steps up beside you, close enough that his shoulder almost brushes yours. he's not wearing a jacket, just that thin hoodie, and you can see him shivering. "i wasn't following you. i was already heading out here when i saw you leave."
"convenient."
"yeah," he says quietly. "real convenient."
neither of you speaks for a while. the storm rages on, wind whipping the trees, rain coming in sideways now. you feel weirdly calm standing in the middle of it with him.
"your new friends are nice," he says eventually.
"don't."
"don't what?"
"don't do this. don't make small talk like we're strangers."
he laughs, but there's no humor in it. "aren't we, though? strangers? i don't know who you are anymore. i don't know what you like or what you're studying or who you're—" he cuts himself off, jaw working.
"who i'm what?"
"who you're fucking," he says, and the word lands like a slap. "is it him? jake? he looks at you like—"
"jesus, matt, no. jake’s just a friend."
"everyone's just a friend with you now," he says, and his voice is rising, cracking. "i'm just a friend. that's all i ever was, right? matt, the guy who's always there until he's not convenient anymore. until you found better people who actually get your jokes and your references and your—"
"shut up," you say, but it comes out weak.
"—your stupid music taste and your dumb oat milk and your new laugh that i don't recognize because you never laugh like that with me, not anymore, you used to laugh like that with me—"
"i said shut up," and this time you're turning toward him, hands shaking, and he's right there, close enough that you can see the water droplets clinging to his face, the way his chest is heaving, the desperation in his eyes that is exactly what you feel every time you look at him.
"make me," he says, and it's a challenge, a plea, a question.
you're not sure who moves first, but suddenly his mouth is on yours.
it's teeth and tongue and the taste of cheap beer and something sweeter underneath.
he makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, desperate and broken, and his hands are in your hair, pulling just hard enough to hurt, and you grab fistfuls of his hoodie and pull him closer because you can't get close enough. you've never been able to get close enough.
"wait," he gasps, pulling back just enough to breathe. "wait, we can't. your friends—the lights could—"
"fuck the lights," you say, and you mean it. you mean all of it. fuck the lights and the friends and the careful distance you've been maintaining for months. fuck pretending you don't want this. "come on."
you grab his hand and pull him back inside, through the dark hallway, past the sounds of people laughing and talking in the living room. there's a bathroom down here, you remember.
you push him inside and lock the door behind you. it's pitch black, no windows, and for a moment you just stand there breathing hard, listening to each other in the dark.
"this is insane," he whispers.
"yeah."
"we're gonna regret this."
"probably."
"i don't care," he says, and then his hands are on you again, finding your waist, your hips, sliding up under your shirt. his palms are cold against your stomach and you gasp, arching into him. "i don't fucking care anymore, i can't keep pretending—"
"then don't," you say, and you kiss him again, softer this time, slower, trying to memorize the shape of his mouth.
he walks you backward until your back hits the counter, lifting you up to sit on the edge, and you wrap your legs around him and feel him, hard and against you through layers of clothes.
"need you," he mumbles against your neck, sucking a mark there that you'll have to hide tomorrow. "need you so bad, i've needed you for ages."
you pull his hoodie off, then his shirt, and you run your hands over his chest, his shoulders, relearning him. he's leaner than he used to be, more muscle, less softness, but his skin is still warm, still familiar. he shivers under your touch, goosebumps rising wherever your fingers travel.
"your turn," he says, and he lifts your shirt over your head, drops it somewhere on the floor.
his hands cup your breasts through your bra and you lean into his palms, head falling back against the mirror.
he kisses down your chest, leaving wet trails, and when he sucks your nipple through the fabric you moan, loud enough that he has to cover your mouth with his hand.
"quiet," he reminds you, but he's smiling, you can hear it in his voice. "gotta be quiet, baby."
you hate how much you love that. how your body responds to the word like he's been calling you that all along.
he reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, lets it fall, and then his mouth is on you, hot and wet, and you're biting your lip to keep from crying out. his other hand slides down your stomach, slips into your jeans, and when his fingers find you he groans against your skin.
"you're soaked," he whispers, almost awed. "fuck, you're soaked for me."
"always," you admit, because it's true. it's always been true. "matt, please—"
"please what?"
"need you inside. need to feel you."
he lets out a deep and ragged breath, fumbling with his belt, his jeans, and you help, shoving your own pants down until they're tangled around your ankles.
he fishes a condom out of his wallet, (of course he has one, always prepared, always thinking ahead), and you watch him roll it on with shaking hands.
"look at me," he says, positioning himself between your thighs. "hey, look at me."
you do. even in the dark you can see him, the outline of him, the way his hair is falling into his eyes, the tension in his jaw. he pushes in slowly, so slowly, and you both gasp at the stretch, the fullness, the impossible rightness of it.
"okay?" he asks, voice strained.
"more than okay," you say, and you pull him down to kiss you, and he starts to move.
it's desperate and urgent, his hips snapping against yours and the counter digging into your back and your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. you're gasping into his mouth, trying to stay quiet.
"missed you," he pants, rhythm faltering. "missed you so much, you have no idea, every day without you—"
"i'm here," you say, even though you don't know if it's true, even though you don't know what this means. "i'm here, matt, i'm right here."
he fucks you harder, chasing something, and you feel yourself getting close. his hand slides between you, finds your clit, and that's all it takes. you come with your face buried in his neck to muffle the sound, your whole body shaking apart.
he follows not long after, groaning long and low against your hair, spilling into the condom with a shudder that you feel everywhere. for a moment you just stay like that, breathing hard, his weight pressing you into the counter in a way that should be uncomfortable but isn't.
"we should—" you start.
"i know," he says, but he doesn't pull away. not yet. he kisses your forehead, your temple, the corner of your mouth. "just... give me a minute. let me have this for a minute." you wrap your arms around him and hold on.
when you finally separate, clean up, and put yourselves back together in the dark, you can't look at him. you're scared of what you'll see in his face. regret, maybe. or worse, hope.
"hey," he says softly, catching your wrist before you can unlock the door.
you turn to look at him. he's messy, hair wild, clothes rumpled, and he's smiling. a real smile, the one that used to be just for you, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes.
"whatever happens," he says, "i'm glad we did that. i needed you to know. even if it's too late, even if you've moved on, i needed you to know."
"i haven't moved on, matt. i don't think i could if i tried." you breathed.
he kisses you and you feel him smiling into the kiss. when you finally exit from the bathroom, the lights are back on and people are drifting toward their rooms, sleepy and drunk.
no one notices you coming from the same direction.
no one sees the way he squeezes your hand before letting go.
I’m sorry this is the most hottest edit I’ve ever seen. Like omg the way he climbs uppppp omg. Like if he was coming back up for being on his knees omg let me stop.
