Page 117 of Shadow Waltz
Dmitri and Troy moved in front of me, both still flushed and breathing heavy, cocks glistening with the evidence of what we’d done. Dmitri was first—he stroked himself slowly, offering the head of his cock to my lips. I took him in, licking and sucking, tasting sweat, salt, and the last traces of his release. He groaned, hand gentle in my hair, guiding me until he was clean.
Troy watched, heat burning in his eyes, then stepped forward, pressing his cock to my mouth. I licked him clean, my tongue swirling around the sensitive head, savoring the musky taste of him. He cupped my cheek as I finished, his approval a quiet rumble of pleasure.
Luka’s eyes never left me, his gaze molten with satisfaction. “Good boy,” he murmured. “That’s how you show gratitude. That’s how you obey.”
Dmitri and Troy shared a glance—equal parts pride, camaraderie, and possessiveness—before dressing and slipping quietly from the room, leaving me naked and kneeling, still bound, flushed and marked by their hands and mouths.
I barely had time to catch my breath before Luka was behind me, kneeling on the tiles, his hands spreading my cheeks with greedy reverence. His tongue pressed between them, hot and filthy, licking up the mess leaking from my hole. He growled in approval, savoring the taste, his hands keeping me open as he feasted on me—devouring every drop, every trace of their cum, his mouth relentless and worshipful.
The wet sounds filled the room, obscene and intimate, his tongue plunging deep, swirling, making me shudder with fresh pleasure. “So fucking perfect,” he rasped, breath hot against my skin. “You take it all. You let us use you, ruin you, and you’re still hungry for more.”
He licked and sucked until I was shaking, moaning, hips rocking helplessly against his face, the shame and thrill so sharp it almost hurt. He didn’t stop until I was clean—or as clean asI could be, trembling and spent, every inch of me claimed and loved.
Luka didn’t give me time to recover. The second I was shaking from his tongue, he was on his knees in front of me, his hands cupping my face with rough tenderness. His mouth glistened, lips swollen from the filth he’d just licked from my body. He leaned in, eyes locked on mine, and spat a thick string of cum and spit onto my tongue—hot, salty, a mix of him and the men who’d just used me.
“Open wider,” Luka ordered, voice dark and rough.
I obeyed, letting my mouth fall open, tongue out, breath trembling. He bent closer and spat again, the mess landing on my tongue, dripping down my chin. He caught my jaw, pulled me forward, and kissed me hard—lips crushed to mine, his tongue pushing the load between us, hot and sloppy. The taste was obscene, the feel of it sliding between our mouths enough to make me moan, cock twitching helplessly against my thigh.
He drew back just long enough to spit again, this time letting the mess run down over my lips, chin, and throat, marking me with every drop. Then he kissed me again, licking into my mouth, sharing the taste back and forth until I was lightheaded and dizzy with want.
“Swallow it,” Luka whispered, his thumb pressed under my chin, forcing my mouth open. “Swallow all of it, Ash. I want to see you take it, every last drop.”
I swallowed greedily, the taste filling me, the humiliation and pleasure crashing together until I was shaking. Luka smiled, watching every twitch, every swallow, before leaning in and sharing another filthy, spit-slick kiss. His tongue curled under mine, collecting the last traces, before he pressed his lips to my ear.
“You’re perfect. A mess. My mess.”
He stood, his cock thick and hard, already leaking anew. Without breaking eye contact, he lined himself up and rubbed the fat head along my lips. I opened, licking and sucking, coating him in the mess he’d shared with me. He hissed in approval, then pulled away, dragging the tip down my cheek, along my throat, marking me with spit and precome.
He circled behind me again, and I felt the blunt, slick head pressing at my entrance, cum still leaking from my used hole. Luka spat into his hand, rubbing more spit and slick along his cock, making the stretch wet and filthy.
“You’re going to take it all, Ash,” he said, voice heavy with need. “No more holding back. I want you ruined, inside and out.”
He pushed in slow, letting me feel every thick inch, the mess inside me easing the way. The feeling of him, hard and hot, sliding into me with all the cum still filling my body was overwhelming—so much heat, so much stretch, so much filth. I sobbed, pleasure so sharp it almost hurt, hips pressing back to take him deeper.
“That’s it,” Luka groaned, hands gripping my hips, fingers bruising. “You’re so fucking open, so messy for me. Can feel them inside you—feel how well they fucked you before I ever got here. Does it make you feel used, Ash? Does it make you feel wanted?”
“Yes,” I gasped, voice wrecked. “Wanted. Owned. Please, Luka, fuck me. I need it. Need you.”
He started slow, letting me feel the drag of his cock through the mess, every thrust pushing more cum out around him, dripping down my thighs, pooling on the tile. Luka watched, eyes dark with possession, as his cock pistoned in and out, making obscene, wet sounds with every stroke.
He bent over me, pressing his lips to my ear. “Such a good boy. Taking all of it. Letting me fuck it deeper, fuck it out of you. Look at the mess we made—look at what you are for me.”
He reached around, his fingers finding my cock, stroking me with spit-slick hands. The friction sent sparks through my nerves, every touch electric. I couldn’t hold back, couldn’t do anything but moan, bucking into his grip as he fucked me harder, faster, chasing his own climax.
Luka shifted his grip, one hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back so he could see my face. His other hand stayed on my cock, stroking in time with his thrusts, pushing me closer to the edge.
“You want to come, Ash? You want to come with my cock inside you, with all that cum leaking out around us?”
“Yes, Luka. Please. Please, let me?—”
“Then beg. Beg for it.”
“Please, Luka, please, I need to come. Need to be ruined for you, need to feel you fill me up. I’ll do anything, just don’t stop.”
He growled, hips slamming forward, cock driving deep, his body shaking as he reached the brink. His thumb swept over the head of my cock, smearing the leaking precome, and I lost it—my orgasm tearing through me, body convulsing, come spilling in thick spurts over his hand and the tiles.
Luka’s grip tightened, his rhythm stuttering, and he spilled inside me, cock pulsing, filling me with his heat. The sensation was too much—overwhelming, perfect, every muscle singing with the force of it.