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Harrow was nearly asleep, cum trickling out of her and cooling the insides of her thighs, when Gideon scooped her off the bed, carried her into the living room, and dropped her across Cam’s lap.
A noise tore out of Harrow, halfway between outrage and a squeal. Her eyes snapped open, and Cam’s eyes flicked down to look at her: shadow of Cam’s jaw, those lidded, stone-grey irises, arm slung across the back of the couch: supple forearms, flex of her shoulder, brown bob falling across her eyes as she regarded Harrow, and Harrow’s nakedness and panicking, humiliated scent. Cam’s scent flooded into her mouth, overwhelming this close: smoking wood, burst plum. Harrow arched back, made a whine of protest, realized all she’d done was push out her tits more.
Cam’s scent flared.
Gideon stood behind the couch, watching. Gaze lazy, imperial. Tall, broad shoulders in her black tee, dickprint sizeable in her gray sweatpants even though she wasn’t hard.
Gideon said, “Just knotted her.”
Cam said from above her, eyes dark, still pinned against Harrow’s: “Congratulations.”
Harrow could feel Gideon’s cum seeping down her labia, trickling into her bush, down her thigh. She whimpered, and Cam slid a hand into her hair, thoughtless, reflexive, ran blunt fingernails across her scalp. Calming the squirming omega. Harrow’s eyes lulled, began to grow heavy. Cam kept toying with her hair, and Gideon was saying something but Harrow couldn’t follow, and Harrow could feel her muscles relaxing, liquefying, settling across Cam’s lap.
Then a thumb at her lower lip, pressing, tugging it down. A sting of pain.
Cam’s close voice: “Wow, you really did a number on her.”
Gideon had bitten her lower lip while they were fucking, and Harrow’s eyes fluttered open to see Cam lift her thumb, bring it to her own mouth, lick off the blood. Cam’s eyes were dark and gleaming, but still so casual, so unbothered, even as Harrow’s thighs tensed and her scent plumed thicker; Gideon had come around to Cam’s side of the couch and she was just watching, something almost predatory about her, something wanting and coiled.
Gideon said: “Want to fuck her together?”
Cam said: “Of course.”
And Cam was lifting her up, sitting her down against the couch; Gideon had her hand down her sweatpants, ridges of her knuckles pressing and disappearing against the grey fabric, stroking herself, and she was saying, “Harrow, are you okay with this?” and she knew that Harrow had wanted this, had fantasized about it ever since the night she’d met Gideon: she’d been at a house party and met Gideon and ran away in nerves, then met Cam, and they started fucking. Then Gideon had appeared and carried Harrow away and shoved her down onto the bed and knotted her; they were roommates, she’d learned post-coital, and yeah she was with Gideon but Cam was right there too, delicious and masc and cool-girl.
She nodded; it was all she could muster, their scents were competing and her head was foggy and getting foggier, and two of Cam’s fingers slid into her mouth, and she said, low against her ear: “Suck.”
Harrow did, lathed her tongue across the underside, against the webbing between her fingers, moaned around her as Gideon’s warm hands gripped her thighs and parted them: “Mouth, vagina, or ass?”
Cam said immediately: “Ass.”
Gideon rumbled her approval.
The couch cushion was rough under her labia, damp, and Gideon said, “Pinch her tits, she likes that,” and then one firm hand took her nipple, the barbell piercing there, tugging and tweaking. Cam added another finger to Harrow’s mouth and began thrusting them in and out, stretching the corners of her lips, gliding them over her tongue and deeper down the back of her throat and Harrow was arching, whimpering, warm sparks from her tit and then Gideon’s mouth sealed hot and wet over her clit.
She shuddered. Gideon’s large hands pressed against her inner thighs, forcibly braced them back so her ass flexed back, her mons jutted forward, her clit twitching at attention against Gideon’s tongue, and fuck, fuck Harrow was squirming, keening, making high muffled, embarrassing sounds and Cam’s lips sealed over her nipple and bit down and Harrow came. Shuddering, curling inward, teeth around Cam’s fingers and her head dropping to her chest and her thighs jolting but she couldn’t close them, fuck, fuck, and Gideon said against her clit: “That was quick.”
Cam laughed.
Her eyelashes were wetting with tears now, and Harrow made a long low moan and Cam pulled out her fingers and Harrow’s mouth was suddenly cold and empty; in post-orgasm she was drifting, heart pounding, and there was embarrassment now, and fear—not shallow but more primal: she was an omega beginning to take two alphas and this was the stuff that stories always warned omegas about, about getting ruined, not just socially but maybe in the soul: and Cam said, scent lashing, “She’s crying,” and there was worry there.
Two large warm hands cupped her face. Gideon’s face swelled into view, her molten-gold eyes, the thick scent of cardamom and old magazines, and her voice was very low and her words slow and quiet: “Harrow, are you okay?”
Harrow nodded, and Cam leaned in and said, eyes stone-gray, serious: “Will cumming again make you feel better?”
Harrow sniffed, gut aching. Mouth empty. Fuck.
Cam, Gideon. She was in trouble. She needed trouble.
And she nodded.
Cam smiled and Gideon said, “Bed,” and two firm, muscled arms scooped her up and she listened to Cam’s heartbeat, which was strong and fast, faster than an alpha’s should have been unless they were pumping copious blood to their cock, and fuck the feeling of contentment that was spreading across her limbs, the bottoms of her calves and the sensitive soles of her feet, and then the air shifted. Cardamom thickened, honey-sweet, spicy—they’d entered Gideon’s bedroom where Harrow had been knotted not twenty minutes earlier, wet spots still on the bedsheets, the musk of sweat and sex.
Cam said, voice vibrating against Harrow’s ear, “I’m getting your cum on my forearm,” and Gideon said, “Lick it off.”
Harrow’s back met soft bedsheets, a wet spot under her elbow and her thighs clenched—Cam said, “On your stomach, sweet girl,” and Harrow rolled over, spread her thighs. Gideon slipped a pillow under her hips and there was that familiar stretch across her front, in the expanse over her mons, and then a smooth finger pressed against her rim. Circled. Cam, low: “Has she ever done anal before?”
Gideon: “I’ve fucked in a few times,” and Cam’s finger slipped up to her first joint inside Harrow, beyond that tight ring of muscle, and Harrow clenched. Cam said: “Ever knotted in here?”
Gideon’s voice came from beside the bed, above Harrow’s hip: “Once. It was overwhelming for her. She stopped talking. Cried around my cock.” A pause. “She’d do it again, though.”
Cam said, “Hmm,” contemplative, and her finger pressed down, deeper, all the way to her knuckle. Harrow cried out, bucked her hips, and Cam said, “We should keep her quiet,” and Gideon said, “One step ahead of you,” and Harrow smelled Gideon’s pre-cum hit the air, that delicious musk-iron tang. Saliva flooded her mouth without thought.
Cam tapped her to turn on her side, and then Gideon was there, standing at the edge of the bed, hips square with Harrow’s head, and her cock pulled out of her sweats: tall muscular jut with the head pinkened and weeping, Harrow’s favorite cock, and Harrow made some kind of noise: needy, wanting.
Gideon said, “I know, I know,” and fed her cock into Harrow’s mouth.
The head gliding across her tongue, flood of salt and sweat and sliding deeper, slit dragging across the roof of her mouth and into the back of her throat, and Gideon didn’t press further, just kept that length: Harrow’s lips stretched around her, tongue trapped against her underside and making small twitching movements as Harrow tried to breathe, focused on breathing and bobbing her head forward and back, tongue cupping taut skin, the head of Gideon’s cock stretching the back of her throat, so full, so fucking full, and Cam slipped another finger inside her and she moaned around Gideon. Felt Gideon’s cock twitch against her tongue. Felt Gideon begin to move.
Harrow closed her eyes and tears pricked at them and she took it. Gideon, sliding into her swollen throat steadily and tangling a hand into her hair and murmuring, and more pre-cum dribbling down the back of her throat, and Cam’s fingers lodged warm deep inside her, opening her up with ceaseless insistent presses. Harrow clenched and groaned. She was slick there, everywhere; even saliva dripped down her chin, fuck, and Gideon said, “Such a good girl,” and the rhythm inside her mouth was carrying her away, drifting, and the stretch and burn at her asshole.
Cam said, “She’s almost ready,” and Gideon tapped her chin, began drawing out her cock. The head drew out from between Harrow’s lips with a pop and she caught the last smear of precum, licked it off the inside of her lips.
Gideon said, “Harrow, I’m going to get on the bed,” and Cam was four fingers deep inside her and pulling in and out and curling. Harrow’s hips were twitching, trying to grind into the pillow but Cam kept pinching her asscheek, and she nodded and blinked away the cock-sucking tears.
Gideon said “Good girl,” and then, “I didn’t hurt your lip, did I?”
Harrow tasted only the faintest tang of blood. Shook her head.
Gideon raised her head and said, over her: “You want her to watch you as you enter?” and Cam said, “Let her wonder.” Then Gideon was scooping her to lie on the middle of the bed, on her side, with Cam behind her, exhaling smoky wood down the nape of her neck.
Gideon reclining in front of her, cock still bobbing and shiny from Harrow’s saliva, and Gideon said, “At the same time?” and it was dawning on Harrow and Cam said, “At the same time,” and then both cockheads were pressing into her. She arched and almost screamed, just managed to bite it off as Cam gripped her hip, firm but gentle, and sank down into her ass, and fuck, fuck, she was thick, what was up with her and Gideon, Cam's cock pressing flush against Harrow’s walls and stretching, her narrower cockhead just feeding in the rest of her as she widened, and Gideon was pressing into her swollen, cum-slick vagina, a smooth, deep slide in, opening her up whether she wanted to or not, and Harrow couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t anything but open her mouth and cant her filling hips and twitch; the density, the gravity expanding into her and crushing her chest and Cam groaned behind her. Gideon said, strained, “I can feel you too,” and then a soft thumb was brushing away her tears.
She was breathing rapidly, short, shallow bursts that didn’t feel like breathing at all. Gideon reached down to press a finger against her clit, and Harrow clenched, and the clench ran from her stomach to her gut, around two alphas fully buried into her, and buried close. She was whimpering, head swimming, sound becoming alien even to her, and Gideon kissed her, tongue running along the inside of her teeth. Slow and sloppy.
Then she said, against her lips, “We’ll start slow.”
Behind her, Cam began to move, small short presses in and out, half an inch, an inch, the base of her widening against Harrow’s asshole and her cockhead stirring deep and Harrow was clutching Gideon’s forearms as Gideon began to grind against her, slow waves and the hard expanse of muscle above her base pressing down into Harrow’s clit, happy trail rubbing across her sensitive head. Harrow was shuddering, and every jump of her hips meant either more pressure inside her ass or her canal or against her reddened clit. Her shoulders bowed, her stomach clenched tight and her silver navel stud trembled as she bore down around them, so full, too full, and the rhythmic burn inside her was making her legs so warm, toes curling and tremors of electricity running up and down her thighs.
Gideon began to pick up pace, and Cam picked up the message: Harrow’s tits, jolting up and down, Gideon’s eyes intense against hers and she couldn’t look away, their breath mixing, Cam mouthing into the crook of her neck, the scent gland there, so sensitive, cock stretching into her and out, slamming deep into her ass, into her guts, sending sparks behind her eyes. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.
Gideon parted her again and again, obscene squelches, stretching swollen walls already slick with cum, and Cam was making low agonized sounds into her neck, throat rumbling, teeth dragging over her skin, and Gideon was trembling, too, and inside Harrow, Harrow felt the rub of them against each other, fast, unceasing, with only a thin wall of skin separating, and that thought hit her like an iron-knuckled punch. Her vision dissolved into stars as she came, full-body fireworks, hips jolting and there being nowhere to go, the warm grinding and impact of both pistoning cocks so deep and unrelenting and her toes curled and she came again, a blank roar in her ears, an overwhelming crest, a wrenching: head thrown back, shoulders shuddering, on and on, to the groans of her alphas and their warm muscular press and their scents tunneling into her lungs, sublimating into her bloodstream as she clenched down around them, again and again.
And they didn’t stop. Cam began to thrust faster.
She was screaming, screaming, begging, and then something in her chest snapped and her legs spasmed: she was beyond overstimulation, some kind of kaleidoscopic new frontier: her insides fluttering, asscheeks parted, taking it, taking it, tension and rub, and the feverish crush of both muscular bodies moving against her: Cam’s tits pressed against her back, and her hand slid under Harrow’s arm and across her ribs to cup her tit, warm strong hand, whispering good girl, and then her practiced fingers found Harrow’s nipple. She was breathing loud and harsh into Harrow’s ear, a labored living beat that wiped away Harrow’s other thoughts, and Gideon’s hand was rubbing against her navel piercing, then pressing into the soft skin under it. Releasing a burst of warm runny agony as she pressed down against her own cock, pistoning beneath Harrow’s skin.
Harrow was begging now, begging, hot sobs and trembling arms clutching Gideon, jolting forward with Cam’s hips, the wet slapping against her ass, begging for their cum, their cum, she needed her alphas to cum inside her, she needed their knots, please, her mouth running without her, unintelligible, and she needed knotting, alphas, please, help me, take me, take me, take pity on me, sobbing, and then her asshole stiffened and burned and she cried out. She was becoming full, too full, and both motions inside her were becoming an inward press, a bearing down and pinning her between and Gideon’s fingers slid past her lips and over her tongue and down the back of her throat, all four of them, pressing down on her tongue and rendering her speechless and her head was swimming and she was crying and moaning around her fingers as their knots grew. The burn in her ass and her pussy turned into pain, warm waves of need, need, and their knots were swelling larger, so large, she was crying, hips spasming around them, she wanted it so bad, she needed it, but she couldn’t take it, not both, not at the same time, and she was sobbing this around Gideon’s knuckles, grinding her molars against her first joints, protesting sounds wrenching from her chest, trying to wriggle out from between them, impossible, trying to get free, but Gideon grabbed one thigh and squeezed, hard.
Then Cam’s teeth on her scent-gland. Breaking skin. Sinking in.
Harrow dissolved into a nothingness. She was pain and wracking pleasure like a forceful wave crashing down onto her, pulling her down, clenching and pressing down on her body, her ass, her tongue, her tits, and below her waist—the incomprehensibility, the knots swollen gigantic inside her, against each other, and the warring pheromones and the cockheads twitching and the running warmth too deep inside her, the cum, expanding without any space; the pressure was overwhelming, so overwhelming, and she was drifting on a land, pressed between muscle and body, pads of fingers brushing against her clit, her nipples, making her full, making her jolt, and low murmurs from voices she knew, but voices she couldn’t place at all.
#
Gideon kissed her brow, laid her down; Harrow was gone, completely asleep or something beyond it. Cum splattered her dark pubic hair like a pale wet netting; reddened clit, labia, clenching and unclenching and weeping more cum out of her. Her dark-puckered asshole, stretched and oozing cum too.
Cam stood next to Gideon, shirt off, tits out and cock shrunken. They were both naked, and she was gazing down at Harrow, too; their alpha scents were already imprinted into every surface of the room but even now they comingled, appealing.
Gideon’s abs, thighs, back ached; took a lot to thrust into someone who was already half-filled, and even just the pace they’d taken Harrow alone; and their knots pressing tight against each other within Harrow, in the end: that had been near-agonizing, overwhelming.
Cam sighed, stretched one arm above her head, and turned to Gideon. The long span across her shoulders—she looked shameless, but sleepy, suddenly.
She met Gideon’s eyes and said, “I’m going to go take a shower.”
Gideon said, “Do,” and Cam brushed the back of her knuckles against Gideon’s upper arm and left. The bite she’d sank into Harrow’s scent gland was light, of no consequence—it wasn’t like Gideon and Harrow had even bonded, yet.
Yet. The word startled her, and she stared, at Harrow’s open, sleeping face—her dark fan of lashes, her defined philtrum. She felt a crest of something that hurt, crushing down on her, nearly breaking open her chest, and she swayed. Took a step back. Pressed her palm flat to her sternum.
This woman. This woman. Gideon closed her eyes, inhaled Harrow’s quiet, deeply contented scent. Then she squatted down quietly beside the edge of the bed, to cup her hand very gently against Harrow’s cheek, and close her own eyes, and be.