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16

Hayes

“Is Greyson’s dramaticism rubbing off on you, brother?” I turned, spotting Hudson leaning against the doorway leading from the living room to the front of the house. Oliver whined as I continued thrusting up into his clenching hole.

“Fuck off.”

“Hm, no. Imagine how sad our pet would be if I left without saying hi.”

I rolled my eyes, focusing my attention back on the beautifully wrecked boy bouncing on my dick. His glittering brown eyes were always so expressive. There was something breathtaking in his vulnerability—something that predators could scent from miles away—that made me want to never allow another human being to lay eyes on him ever again. The longer we had him home, the more I wished we’d just taken him from the start, that day at the coffee shop.

“Turn to the side and twist him around to face me,” my twin ordered, rudely breaking my focus again. “Damn, did you whip him? I’d complain about missing out, but those marks are gorgeous.”

Keeping Oliver impaled on my cock, I moved us briefly so that I could turn and kneel on the couch. I considered twisting him around while still on my dick, but ultimately decided to lift him off of me for a second, turn him to face Hudson, and then reenter his tight little ass. He groaned, his head lolling to the side, as I worked my way back into him.

“Hi, pet,” Hudson purred at Oliver. “I have your favorite treat right here for you.” He cupped his erect cock through his black sweats. In a swift yet sensual move, Hudson peeled his pants and briefs down, leaving them just below his balls. Speaking over Oliver’s head, he asked me, “Can you hold him up under his knees?”

I hooked my forearms underneath the back of his knees, lifting him off of the couch completely and exposing his cunt to Hudson’s lecherous gaze.

Oliver squirmed in my arms under my brother’s scrutiny. I knew when he suddenly released a drawn-out moan that Hudson had stroked his little dick. My breath stuttered from Oliver’s channel squeezing down around me.

Hudson chuckled, “That feel good, pup?”

“M-mhm,” Oliver whimpered.

“Yeah? And does our needy little cockslut need his front hole filled?” Hudson wondered, rubbing his tip against Oliver.

Oliver groaned, shaking his head.

Hudson slapped his cheek.

Grabbing Oliver’s shocked face, he snarled, “Don’t lie to us, pet. As much as you would hate to admit it, you know you need our cocks. You’re addicted.”

Oliver wailed, throwing his head back, as Hudson sheathed himself in the wet, hot depths of his pussy. I shuddered at the feel of Hudson’s cock thrusting alongside my own. I wouldn’t last much longer.

“Fuck, that’s tight. Shit,” Hudson panted. “We own you, Oliver. You will never —fuck—never have anyone else inside you. It’s just you and us now, baby. Just you and us.”

Oliver’s back arched from the sheer strength of his orgasm. Both of his holes clamped down, milking our cocks until every last drop of cum had been sucked from our balls.

He really was such a good boy.

* * *

As the days passed, we could see that Oliver was slowly falling deeper down the rabbit hole. Each day brought us something new. The first time he had initiated a cuddle, the first time he had asked to suck our cocks—without any coercion on our part.

He became needier; always wanting to be close, pressing into our touches, whining when we told him one of us needed to leave the house for a job.

It was heady.

His brain was finally seeming to accept that he wanted to be ours. That, really, he should’ve been grateful to us for taking him from that useless life of his and bringing him home where he belonged. There was nothing out there that would ever truly satisfy his need to be wanted, and he knew that now. He knew he wasn’t made to survive without us and our affection.

Our attention.

He’d never have to be anxious anymore over whether or not anyone would ever want him or need him. Once the training period was over, we planned on spoiling the fuck out of him. Sometimes we needed to travel for work, and wouldn’t it make trips so much more enjoyable to have him with us? I wondered if there was anywhere he wanted to go that he thought he’d never be able to experience. New York City? Puerto Rico? Thailand? Anything he wanted, he would have. Our pet deserved only the finest.

I’d buy him a damn horse stable if he wanted one. We’d get him an octopus or shark if he asked. Granted we would definitely not be the ones in charge of actually keeping the animals alive and shit.

Actually, no—he couldn’t have anything he wanted. For instance, if he ever asked us to let him go, we’d laugh in his face and fuck his brains out until he was reminded of the simple fact that he belonged to us. Forever.

Also, if he ever asked for his store back, or just to have a job in general, the answer would be no. Why would a pet have a job? So, again, we’d laugh in his face and give him as many orgasms in a row that it would take to shut down any thoughts of becoming less dependent on us.

He was never getting away from us.

Ever.