Page 124 of The Silent War

“Fuck,” Luca muttered against my throat.

Bastion’s grip tightened. “We can’t give her what she wants like this.”

And then suddenly, Bastion pulled free, lifting me, Luca steadying me as they moved me off the bed.

I cried out when they filled me again, this time standing—Bastion in front of me, Luca behind, their arms around my body.

The shift alone made me moan loud, my head dropping back on Luca’s shoulder.

“Like that, baby,” Luca coaxed, teeth grazing my ear. “Feel the stretch of us? That’s what you begged for.”

Bastion’s hand cupped my cheek. “Colors, angel.”

“Green,” I panted, trembling. “Please.”

“If it’s too much?”

“Red,” I gasped. “Yellow to slow down.”

“Good girl,” they groaned together, kissing me, holding me tighter.

Bastion adjusted my hips, sliding my legs wider over his, locking the angle deep. Luca shifted me back, arching me until every thrust was sharper.

I sobbed into Bastion’s mouth, barely breathing as they started to move, rhythm brutal now that they had leverage.

The pain hit first—sharp, splitting. But it melted under the wave of pleasure that swallowed me whole, every nerve screaming.

“You’re perfect, angel. Taking both your daddies like this—so fucking perfect.” Bastion’s voice burned against my ear, low and reverent.

Luca kissed the tears off my face, groaning as he drove into me. “Look at her. In the air, dripping down our cocks, still begging for more. She’s ours, brother. Always ours.”

Their pace grew savage, rocking me between them, their hands gripping tight, holding me open, keeping me exactly where they wanted me.

And all I could do was sob, beg, cling to them, every word breaking.

“Please—don’t stop—please?—”

“Good girl.”

“Daddy’s angel.”

“Fuck, you’re doing so good.”

“Our perfect girl.”

Every thrust, every kiss, every groan wrapped around me like worship.

Every thrust felt like too much, but they held me steady, their arms my anchor. My body was stretched so wide I thought I might break, but their voices wrapped around me, smoothing the edges of the ache.

“So fucking perfect,” Bastion groaned, his forehead pressed to mine, his grip locked tight around my waist. “Daddy’s goodfucking girl. Look at you—taking us both, giving us everything.”

“It hurts,” I gasped, tears slipping hot down my cheeks.

Luca kissed them away. “Awe, we know, baby. It hurts—but look at you, still taking it. That’s our girl. Being so good for us, listening to her daddies.”

“Show daddy, where it hurts?” Bastion fingers traced down my stomach, “How’s this baby? Daddy playing with your clit? That helps doesn’t it?”

My sob turned into a moan when Bastion rolled his hips deeper.