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The statement should intimidate me, but instead, it sends a fresh pulse of want through me. I want everything they have to offer, everything they want to show me.

"Ready for more?" Zayn asks, his voice still husky with desire despite his recent release.

"Yes," I pant, already squirming into position on my back for him. "Please."

"Good girl," he praises, reaching for the box on the nightstand. "So polite, so eager."

I watch as he removes the toy, coating it liberally with lubricant. It's approximately the size of Zayn's cock at its thickest part, with a flared base that mimics a knot.

"We'll go slow," he promises, positioning it at my entrance. "Tell me if it's too much."

Dmitri's hands cup my face, drawing my attention back to him. "Look at me," he instructs gently. "Focus here."

His consideration touches me, giving me something to concentrate on besides the new sensation. I meet his eyes, letting myself fall into that steady gaze as Zayn begins to press the toy inside me.

The stretch is immediate, more than fingers but not uncomfortable. Zayn works it in with careful patience, never pushing too fast.

"Doing so well," he praises as I take more of it. "Taking it like you were made for this."

Dmitri's thumbs stroke my cheeks, his expression intense but encouraging. "She was. Our beautiful scent match."

Their words wash over me, making the stretch easier to bear, turning potential discomfort into pleasure. By the time the widest part of the toy is pressing against my entrance, I'm panting with need rather than pain.

"A little more," Zayn encourages. "Almost there."

I bear down slightly, working with him rather than tensing against the intrusion. The toy slips past the tightest point, the rest following more easily until the flared base is snug against me.

"Look at you," Zayn says, voice thick with approval. "Taking it so perfectly."

I feel impossibly full, stretched in a way that borders between pleasure and discomfort. Then Zayn presses something on the base of the toy, and it inflates slightly inside me, mimicking the swell of a knot.

The sensation makes me gasp, my inner walls clenching around the intrusion. " Oh !"

"Too much?" Dmitri asks immediately, concern flashing across his features.

"No," I assure him quickly. "Just... intense. Good intense."

Relief softens his expression. "Good," he says, thumb brushing my lower lip. "Very good."

Zayn adjusts something else, and the toy begins to vibrate gently, the sensation radiating through my entire core. I moan, eyes falling closed as pleasure washes through me.

"That's it," Zayn encourages, his hand moving to stroke along my spine. "Feel it all."

Dmitri lets me slip down his lap, so his partially stiff cock is within reach, and guides me back.

I eagerly take it back into my mouth, grateful for the distraction from the overwhelming sensations below.

The dual stimulation—the vibrating fullness inside me, the heavy weight of his cock against my lips as I suckle the tip at a more casual pace—pushes me toward a precipice I didn't know existed.

"Perfect," Dmitri praises, his accent thicker as his control slips. "So good with your mouth, lyubimaya ."

I don't know what the word means, but the tone is unmistakable. Approval, praise, and desire at the same time. It spurs me on, makes me take him deeper, work him harder.

Zayn's hands are on my hips now, guiding me to rock back against the toy, increasing the pressure, the friction. "That's it," he encourages. "Work yourself on it, show us how much you like it."

I comply eagerly, finding a rhythm that has me moaning around Dmitri's length. The vibrations inside me increase in intensity, pushing me closer to the edge with each movement.

"Are you going to come like this?" Zayn asks, his voice rough with arousal. "With your pussy and your mouth stuffed so full? Show us, good girl. Show us how perfectly you take it all."

His words, the praise, the multiple sensations, it's too much. I come with a muffled cry, my body spasming around the toy as waves of pleasure crash through me. Dmitri's hand tightens in my hair, holding me steady as I ride out the intensity of the whole ordeal.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, watching me fall apart.

As I come down from the high, trembling and oversensitive, Dmitri gently pulls me off him. I make a sound of protest, since I wanted to finish him again, but he shushes me with a tender kiss.

"Is okay," he assures me. "We have time. No rush. Don't want to overwhelm you."

Zayn carefully deactivates the toy, the vibrations ceasing, leaving me with just the fullness of the artificial knot.

It's not fully inflated, but if I'm going to take the real thing, I need practice with it coming out, too.

It's about as deflated as a real knot would be.

"I'm going to take it out now, beautiful," he says, his touch gentle on my hip. "Relax for me."

I try to comply, focusing on releasing my coiled muscles as he slowly, carefully withdraws the toy. It catches on my rim, but pops out just on the verge of causing pain. The emptiness that follows is almost disappointing, my body already missing the fullness.

"How do you feel?" Zayn asks, setting the toy aside and stretching out beside me.

"Like I was just spit roasted between two tree trunks," I admit, my voice rough from exertion.

Dmitri chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest where my head now rests. "Our little designer is a poet, too. So descriptive."

"Hush, you," I mumble, too blissed out to manage a better comeback. "Words are hard right now."

"You did beautifully," Zayn says, squeezing my hip in approval. "Took it like you were made for it."

"Does that mean... next time...?" I let the question hang, not quite able to articulate what I'm asking.

"One step at a time," Dmitri says firmly, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. "This was first step. There will probably be a few more before we can actually pop a knot in you without it hurting too much."

"But you're on the right track," Zayn assures me, his usual acerbic nature tempered with genuine warmth.

I can't believe this side of him exists.

I certainly never expected he'd be a praise dom in the bedroom.

"If you keep taking instruction so well, being such a good girl for us, you'll be ready before you know it. "

The praise sends one last shiver of pleasure through me, even as exhaustion starts to pull at my consciousness. "I like it when you say that," I admit quietly, the post-orgasmic haze making me braver than I might otherwise be.

"Say what?" Zayn asks, though the knowing glint in his eye suggests he already knows.

"When you call me your good girl," I clarify, feeling my cheeks heat. "I like... being told I'm doing well."

"Praise kink," Zayn identifies immediately, looking pleased with the discovery. He gives me an absolutely devastating wink. "Interesting."

"Very," Dmitri agrees, his large hand stroking soothingly along my spine. "We'll remember."

I should probably be embarrassed by how quickly they've categorized this newly discovered aspect of my sexuality, but I'm too content, too worn out to care. Instead, I let myself sink into their combined warmth, sandwiched between two very different men who, somehow, both make me feel equally safe.

"Rest," Dmitri murmurs, pulling a light blanket over us. "Dinner won't be ready for while yet, judging by all the clanging pots going on out there."

I hadn't even noticed, but alphas definitely have more sensitive hearing.

"Mmm," I manage, already drifting. "Wake me for food?"

"Promise," Zayn assures me, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to my shoulder. "Can't have our good girl going hungry, can we?"

I smile, letting their continued praise wash over me as I slip toward sleep, thoroughly satisfied and looking forward to whatever comes next.