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The sound of the packet tearing is sharp. Then, he brushes his masked face against my shoulder in some sort of imitation of a kiss.

Before he spreads my cheeks and I feel the coolness of lube on his gloved fingers. He pushes one finger in.

Slow. Measured. Unavoidable.

The stretch burns beautifully. Then comes the second. Stretching me further, coaxing breathless little gasps from my throat. And the third. I whimper, breath catching on the edge of a moan as he fucks my ass open with his fingers. The ropes dig into my thighs as I push back against him, desperate for more friction, more fill.

“You ready?” he murmurs.

“God, yes.”

His response is a gloved hand wrapping around my throat from behind—tight enough to still my breath, not enough to choke it out. Not yet.

His mouth brushes the shell of my ear, voice low and lethal. “Let’s make this clear, little storm—we are your gods now. And it’s only us you’ll ever worship again.”

The words brand themselves into me—hot and permanent and final.

Then Ruin pushes in.

Inch by thick, stretching, unrelenting inch.

The first push burns—deep and delicious—ripping a strangled cry from my throat, but I don’t pull away—I take it. I fuckingfeelevery ridge of his cock, every cold brush of the piercings as they drag over my nerves and light them up.

I tip my head back against his shoulder, mouth parted, gasping. My ass tightens around him instinctively, trembling with every slow glide forward.

He groans.

He holds me, one arm moving to wrap under my ribs as he sinks deeper, slower, until he’s seated fully inside me.

And then Rule is in front of me again.

His hand lifts and shifts my thigh, opening me wider, moving the rope away from my clit and around my thigh to keep it higher. He doesn't rush—no, he watches.Watchesas Ruin holds me still from behind, cock dragging, pushing in and out of my ass. Watches the way my body stretches around him, how my tits rise and fall with every labored breath.

And when Rule finally lines up with my pussy it’s a different kind of ache. I whimper at the first press of him. And then he pushes in.

Slow at first. Deliberate. But unrelenting. He doesn’t stop until I’m split open, completely full—Ruin in my ass, Rule in my pussy, both of them stretching me past the edge of anything I thought I could take.

“Fuck,” I choke, shaking. “Oh,fuck—”

Rule’s gloved hand wraps around my throat. Not tight. Not yet. Just resting. Waiting. Claiming.

Then they start to move.

Ruin rocks forward as Rule pulls back. Then Rule thrusts as Ruin withdraws. Their rhythm is slow at first, deliberate—like they’re syncing with each other through the conduit ofme. Their cocks grind into me in perfect opposition, stretching me to the brink and then dragging me back again.

I’m moaning, begging, gone.

Each thrust stokes the fire higher, hotter. Rule’s cock drags along my soaked walls, his piercings hitting every sensitive nerve ending inside me, while Ruin’s girth stretches me wide, his piercings grinding against places I didn’t know existed.

The air is thick with sweat and filth and heat.

Ruin reaches around, two fingers finding my clit. He circles it firmly—no teasing, no patience—and my vision blurs.

I break.

My orgasm slams through me, sudden and savage, making me scream as my body convulses. They don’t stop. If anything, they fuck meharder—using the slick, the clench, the chaos.

Rule’s thrusts become frantic, his breath coming fast, his hand tightening on my throat until the lack of air turns everything to white-hot static. The pressure mounts again, and I feel him shift his angle, pressing down on the spot above my clit with terrifying accuracy. The tension shifts.