Ven

Ven

T horne tracks behind me, those blue eyes already spending the better part of the past ten minutes piercing straight through every guarded part of my soul.

The back of my neck prickles, knowing what is potentially about to happen, while also having no fucking idea.

I give more than I take with Ky. We never had any set rules between us, but more often than not I top him. It's what he enjoys, but every so often, we'll switch roles.

And now… well, I've already had a front-row seat to Thorne Calliano in the bedroom. I've seen, and felt, what it's like to be fucked by him.

A raw shudder goes through me.

I didn't think this is what I'd ever want, but then he gave me that look just now and saw straight through my crap and didn't back down, and if there was anyone I'd trust with this, it's someone who has been through just as much fucked up shit as I have.

My dick is already straining, eager as all hell for this after having had more than one occasion to get acquainted with Thorne's cock.

I flip the shower on, and start to shed my pants. He's doing the same on the other side of the small bathroom. When I'm with Ky, he's usually a smart ass, taunting and quipping and knowing how to wind me up in these sorts of moments.

With Thorne, the air feels like it's filled with static. The tension between the two of us hangs as thick as the building steam with the mirror starting to fog, and the damp clinging to my skin.

"How does this work?" I say. Stepping out of my pants and briefs, now fully naked.

Thorne does the same.

Jesus.

I have to scrub my hand over my mouth, because we're both fully fucking hard.

"No hiding that, then, is there, Ven?" His lips twitch as he takes in the sight of both our dicks leaking and straining for this moment. "Let's clean you up." His eyes roam, and I see the way he catalogs my injuries—temporary as they might be.

Something about that, the way he cares, even long before he ever needed to care, sits squarely in my chest.

Not heavy as such, but weighty.

If that even makes any goddamn sense.

I step into the shower, letting the spray hit my hair, and I take the moment to run both hands over my face and allow the warmth to wash over me from head to toe. There's the familiar, faint tinge of red that runs down the drain between my feet, and the pummeling heat of the water lets everything ease inside me for a moment.

Except, it's only a brief reprieve before the feeling of him coming closer takes over my awareness. Not in an awkward way—I mean, we've fucked together in the shower plenty of times before now—but in a way that is exactly what Thorne does. He commands a space, owns it without even having to say a word.

"Turn around." His voice is a little rougher than before.

I do, and rest my spine up against the tiled wall, letting my eyes rake down his tanned chest.

He lathers up some soap in his hands and runs some through his own hair, before washing it out under the spray, letting himself do exactly as I did a second ago, while I get the opportunity to simply watch him.

It's comfortable. Familiar.

I know exactly what he's doing.

This is Thorne's way of making sure I don't turn around and snap at him like my namesake wolf, which they all like to call me.

He rakes both hands over his hair, water dripping down every angular line of his handsome fucking face, and my dick jerks at the sight of him glistening wet.

Reaching for another pump of soap from the dispenser, he rubs those hands together. Capable, strong hands that I now realize just how curious I am to have them on me as he looks me up and down. That impossibly blue gaze pauses to take in my thick length, and it twitches as he steps closer.

Somehow he's managed to pin me up against the wall, all without even damn well trying.

"You good?" He reaches out and takes hold of my arm, starting to roam across my skin, cleaning off the remains of the fight and the sweat and the dried blood that could be mine or could be the other guy's.

My chin dips.

It's taking everything to sink into this, to fully let him take care of me, when it feels like it's embedded in my damn bones to always be the one who does this for the people who mean the entire world to me.

Thorne doesn't linger, he doesn't go softly. It's functional in many ways, which I kinda appreciate, but it's also a deeply personal and intimate thing. The act of him tracing over the corded lines of muscle and veins and joints of each arm. He methodically makes his way across my chest and down my stomach, and it's only when his fingertips start to trace the lower lines of my abs that we both start breathing like we're running a fucking marathon.

The water beats down, and his hand drifts lower, lower, lower.

My blood feels like it's boiling with anticipation.

With the other hand, he fists his own cock, swiping a thumb over the head, as he runs a finger to trace down the v that leads his attention down to my throbbing length.

That's when it happens.

His fingertips graze my dick, and it feels like time evaporates entirely. All I can watch is the movement of his hands, the way he strokes himself, lengthening and thickening as he does so. The exploring, assured touch of his other hand wrapping around me.

"Christ." The air rushes out of my lungs, and my head tips back against the tiles as he brings us closer and allows the fat, swollen heads to brush together.

"Fuck you feel good," he murmurs, just loud enough to hear over my racing pulse and the beat of the water. "Let me take care of you."

He said those same words just before, but this time, when he repeats them, it feels more like a promise. More like the words of a man who wants this more than one time, when we're stuck what feels like a million miles from home, and the other loves of our life. It sounds like the promise of someone who intends to be like this for me all the time.

Or at least that he wants to, if I'll let him.

He keeps stroking the both of us, letting the sensitive tips of our cocks rub together as he does so, and holy fuck does it feel insanely good to have his hand gripping me.

Before long, my hips are bucking into him, and I'm clawing at the wall behind me for purchase.

"You wanna turn around for me?" He isn't really asking, and I'm out of my head enough with this moment, that I don't question it.

I've barely shifted in place and planted my hands on the wall when I feel him move behind me. Thorne encourages my feet to spread wide, and uses that moment to quietly run soap over my back, my shoulders, and down the slope of my spine.

Then he's at my ass.

Well, shit.

He kneads and slides the soap around back there, while I'm damn near climbing the walls at how good it feels to have him right behind me, taunting me but also taking care of me, and it's fucking with my head.

I don't hate it.

I don't know what to think.

It's Thorne, and I trust him, and that's about all I can damn well concentrate on.

He lets the spray fall over every place that he's so carefully attended to, and that's when we really fucking step across the point of no return. His fingers spread me, and his mouth closes down while my head falls forward on an involuntary groan.

"Fuck. Holy fuck. Thorne." I choke out.

His tongue swirls and explores, eases into every part of me, and gradually pushes forward. I feel his own noises of pleasure against my flesh, and even though I can't see what he's doing, I know what this scene looks like all the same, of what this looks like when I've watched him do this before now, and that memory imprinted in my mind's eye is more than enough to have me squeezing my eyes shut with a dark, gritty noise escaping my throat.

He takes his damn time, while heat pools and builds in the base of my spine with each lap and press of his hot, wet mouth.

For a moment, he stops; I feel him shift his weight, and then his hand reaches around to fondle my balls and roam up and along my length at the same time as his tongue sets back to work again. Jesus. His hand is coated in spit, and it's so goddamn slick and good that everything is throbbing now.

Just when I'm damn near shaking, he pulls away.

Over the racing of my blood in my ears, and the drone of the water, there's a click of a cap and the cool sensation of lube over my ass.

Thorne's fist brushes up and down against my cheeks as he works over his cock, before fitting himself there.

"You're good?" He checks in. The way I've seen him do what feels like a hundred different times with Ky and Fox and now it's that same dangerously smooth voice brushing up against my ear.

"Yeah. You?" I tilt my head, and the feel of him brushing up against my spine is fucking electric.

He chuckles a little and blows out a breath. "Didn't think this is how tonight was gonna go, that's for sure." I feel his cock twitch up against my ass.

"What are you waiting for, then?" My palms flatten over the tiles.

"Hmm, eager are we?"

"I'm not your pretty boy to tease," I growl.

He strokes around my hole, and starts to press forward with a lubed-up finger.

My eyes fall shut with the burst of pleasure roaring through me.

"No, you're not."

He works me, easing forward, and goddamn I just want him inside.

"Relax for me, Ven. Just like that." Thorne's words are velvety and hypnotic, as he keeps on saying words that, from anyone else, I'd most likely ignore. In fact, if it were anyone else, we wouldn't be in this position at all. Only, it's this man, and he somehow turns my brain inside out as he gradually builds up to adding another finger, and probably against my better judgment or sanity, I turn to putty in his hands.

Pretty soon, the head of him nudges, right there, and as he fits himself against my ass, we both make a rough noise.

"Christ." A strangled groan comes out of Thorne as his tip slips in. One hand slaps the wall just outside mine, and it's a sight that leaves me gaping for air.

I've seen his hands, veined and tanned and strong, when they've teased our sweet little fox's cunt. I've watched them stroke Ky's cock and play with his piercing. I've watched him fist his own dick plenty of times.

Right now, right this second, that hand is next to mine, and it's because we're finally allowing ourselves to tumble into this place that feels so damn right and natural.

Or maybe that's just my dick talking.

We're both panting as he keeps working himself deeper, easing forward with shallow thrusts as my body stretches to accommodate him and fuck my fucking life; I'm seeing stars as his cock starts to gradually stroke in and out.

Eventually, he's fully seated inside, with hips fitted together in a way that can't be a coincidence that our bodies already seem to know how to do this.

"Goddamn you feel unreal." Thorne damn near gasps as he draws back and then presses forward.

A dark noise bursts out of me.

"Ky is our good boy…" He withdraws again, then slides deeper, and it's so fucking hot and slick, and our skin is damp with sweat and the steam.

"But you're not good, are you?" This time, he reaches around and closes his lubed-up fist over my rock-hard length, and pleasure shoots down to my toes.

Each time he thrusts now, my cock slides in and out of his strong grip, and holy shit, I can already feel my balls tingling in anticipation of release.

"You're dark…" Thrust . "And twisted the fuck up…" Thrust. "And broken, aren't you." Thrust.

I'm groaning. Chasing his movements. Letting my hips follow his as his words coat me in that rumbling, commanding voice I didn't expect to have such an effect on me. The wet slap of our bodies moving together bounces off the tiles to add to the feral sensation of being together and desperate for each other like this.

"You're our dirty boy."

This time, I grunt from somewhere deep in my belly. My balls draw up, hot skin tightening with need.

"Oh, yeah. The way your ass just squeezed my cock so damn tight, I think you like being a dirty boy."

"Fuck. Fuck you, Thorne. Fuck you for feeling this good." I can't help bucking against his hand, his cock, I'm stuck somewhere in the middle of too much pleasurable sensation, and being the gorgeous asshole he is, Thorne knows it. He feels the way my body can't help but respond to him working me from behind and in front, and fucking hell, I'm getting so close.

"Want me to fuck this ass while you're balls deep in our girl?" He pumps into me harder, twisting his grip on my length with each moment he drives forward.

His cock hits that spot that lights my entire body up, making my toes curl against the wet floor.

"Want me to stuff you full while you've got your tongue shoved inside her pussy? Maybe I'll line them both up like a feast for you… that way you can take turns. Suck Ky's pretty boy cock until he bursts down your throat, then eat your fill of sweet, dripping cunt."

"Oh fuck. Ffuuuck ." I'm out of my head. My dick jerks, and it all drives through me in a wild, triumphant roar. His filthy fucking words do me in, and my dick swells and unloads as he pumps me ruthlessly. I'm bucking into his hand, backing into him with frenzied motions, trying to chase both sensations because all of this is so new with him but also so familiar I can fully let go… all of that potent energy combines and swirls into something that grips my chest and erases any thoughts from my mind.

My mouth hangs open, making desperate, feral noises—or maybe that's Thorne, I don't even goddamn know—as his hips stutter, faltering, and he buries himself deep.

His teeth meet my shoulder, and the sting doesn't even register.

" Unghhhh . Fuck. Christ, Ven." I feel his dick pulsing inside, spilling forward, pumping into me.

Thorne keeps shifting in and out, as we both find our way to come back down.

I don't know what I expected to feel like, being with him in that way, giving him control like that. All I know is that my body trusted him, even if my mind might not have, and there's something settled inside me. This is how it feels when I'm with Fox, and when I'm with Ky, and now Thorne gets added to that list of people who somehow have the key to unlocking that unique sense of safety I've only ever snatched glimpses of until I met them.

He's the one to speak first, still lazily thrusting against me, but his hand on the tiles drifts across to nudge mine. Our fingers line up alongside each other. "Holy shit," he breathes out, voice more than a little unsteady, but sounding like he's just as caught off guard by this as I am.

I turn my head. "You gonna let me return the favor sometime?"

It takes him a long second, gathering his thoughts, and I see him consider what that would mean for him after everything he and his brother have been through.

"Perhaps," he murmurs. Then, after a couple more languid shifts of his hips, he withdraws, and we both let out a hiss as he pulls out, the pace of our breathing starting to calm gradually.

I twist around to face him, grabbing the shower head to clean up. "Think about it," I say. Looking at him standing before me, not exactly in a new light, but knowing that some pieces have rearranged themselves inside my brain and my chest after that experience with him.

"I will." He soaps himself up, and I pass him the stream of water to rinse off.

"I know you love the look of my cock." Resting my shoulder against the wall, I stay there watching him.

"Do I now?" He hits me with the arch of an eyebrow, and those blue eyes aren't quite as startling blue, mainly because his pupils are so blown out with pleasure.

"I've caught you looking."

He slaps the water off, and the silence echoes around us for the first time since we got in here, with just a few drips hitting the floor in a quick trickle.

"Hard to miss that thing."

That's when he steps into me, eyes flickering all over my face, in the way he always does with the others after something particularly intense. Except, instead of asking me, or demanding words like he so often does for them, he simply brushes our mouths together.

It's not exactly a kiss, more of a silent acknowledgment.

"We good?" I say. Letting our foreheads rest together.

He nods, grunting out a very Thorne-noise that comprises a whole lot of things, but mostly is his way of simply saying, yes .

When he finally steps away, it's to grab us a towel each, and after wrapping his own around his waist, he reaches out to take my chin, tilting me to one side so he can get a proper look at the bruise I know is well developed there by now.

"I'll order room service, and we need some ice for your face." He muses, as I dry myself off. "Foxglove will kill me if all I did on this trip was fuck you and take you home looking like that."