CHAPTER 86: EW? GROSS? HOT?[M]

Chapter 85

Ciel

Jack’s hands roam over me like he owns every inch he touches, and maybe in that moment, he does. His hand around my cock is firm and steady, the rhythm unrelenting.

Every grind of his hips drags the cool metal of his piercing against my skin, and it’s too much — blinding, sharp pleasure that leaves me half a heartbeat away from coming apart.

The thought slips through me, hot and reckless — how it would feel if I let himin. If I let the line blur a little more. If I wasn’t stuck in my head.

Instead, I let the hunger thread itself through the sound Nolan makes above me. His hand tightens in my hair, and that grounding pressure sends a shiver down my spine. His hips jerk forward, shaky and desperate, and the tremors in his thighs tell me everything.

"Ciel," he gasps, voice breaking open. "Please."

His cock pulses against my tongue, hot and slick, and I push down the ache in my jaw, letting him use me the way he’s holding back from asking for. Jack moves behind me, faster now, his hand on me matching the rhythm of his hips, and I can’t decide which sensation is louder — Nolan’s heat or Jack’s weight at my back.

Nolan’s restraint finally snaps, hips rolling forward in helpless need. My spine arches, a strangled sound caught in my throat.

The rhythm between the three of us blurs into something feral, something that hums in my veins and makes everything else fall away. My hands grip Nolan’s thighs like a lifeline. Jack groans low behind me, a sound that sinks straight into my bones.

Nolan tries to warn me, voice shaking. "Ciel, move— I’m—"

I don’t. I take him deeper. I want to feel him come undone, want the heat of it, the way he breaks when he lets go.

His breath stutters, hips faltering, and then he shudders — a rough sound slipping from him, somewhere between a sob and a sigh.

I swallow, the taste lingering on my tongue. It’s different from Jack that gives me an intoxicating high probably caused by omega hormones, convincing my brain his cum tastes like chocolate.

I like it though, I really do. It’s grounding.

Nolan collapses against the sheets, boneless and flushed, breaths coming too fast. I pull away, lips swollen, jaw sore which makes sense because I’ve been sucking dick like it’s the Olympics today.

Jack doesn’t give me a chance to breathe. He hooks an arm around me and drags me back against him. My spine hits his chest.His hand slides up my throat, not squeezing, just holding, guiding, and then his mouth is on mine.

Kissing me, in a messy wet kiss. His lips are hungry, demanding, and I melt into him, my body still trembling from the intensity of the moment.

***

Nolan

I’m floating. I swear I am.

There’s this heavy, sated weight in my chest, like the world stopped spinning just long enough to give me a second of quiet. And then—

Jack grabs Ciel and kisses him like a damn movie scene.

My brain short-circuits.

I just... and he... did that.

But I just.... Ew.

And Ciel’s melting into him like that’s the most natural thing in the world. Which, okay, it kind of is when it comes to them. Jack kisses like he wants to eat him alive. Ciel tilts his head back like he’s been waiting for it.

It should be gross, right? The kiss?

But Jack doesn’t seem to mind at all.

It’s... hot.

Jack breaks the kiss and looks at me — really looks at me — with that stupid cocky grin that should be illegal. He winks.

I’m burning. My face is on fire. I’m pretty sure there is no difference between a tomato and I in our shades.

Jack leans in close, against Ciel’s ear, and whispers something low — too soft for me to catch.

Whatever he says makes Ciel’s eyes snap open. They shine, hazy and dark, scarlet strands of hair clinging damply to his forehead. He looks at Jack, then at me, then back at Jack again, like he’s trying to process something, like he’s deciding.

My pulse kicks up.

What’s going on?

Jack shifts his hands, slow, deliberate, guiding Ciel with a kind of easy authority that makes my chest tighten. He presses Ciel’s thighs together—not rough, but possessive, practiced... familiar.

And then my jaw actually drops.

Because Jack is fucking himself against Ciel’s thighs.

Just—shamelessly.

So this is why sometimes Ciel’s thighs have these faint reddish marks.

The only problem now is that it’s happening in fullview of me. I can see everything: the drag of Jack’s cock through that tight, slick space, the glint of his piercing catching the afternoon light with every thrust, the steady rhythm that makes my pulse climb.

Ciel surrenders so easily it makes something coil tight in my stomach. I don’t understand this jealousy, or whom I’m jealous of do I want to be Jack or Ciel? I don’t fucking know.

His head falls back against Jack’s shoulder, lips parting, throat arching in a silent, wrecked moan like it’s being pulled straight out of him.

My breath catches somewhere between my chest and my throat.

Jack moves with control—hungry and precise. His jaw is tight, his hands gripping Ciel’s hips as though he owns every inch of him, each thrust dragging heat through the room like a spark catching tinder.

Ciel’s cock bounces from the movement, flushed and leaking, the sight obscene.

Jack tilts his head down, mouth brushing the side of Ciel’s neck. His lips find skin slick with sweat, and the sound Ciel makes in response rips right through me.

My spent cock twitches weakly, rising to life again against all laws of human biology, because this—this is the filthiest, rawest, most devastating thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Ciel’s breathing turns ragged, shallow. His head lolls to the side, and he looks at me through half-lidded eyes. Pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed scarlet, lips kiss-swollen.

His eyes pin me to the spot, I can’t look away honestly even if I wanted to. I don’t think I could have.

Jack thrusts again, sharper this time, and the soft slap of skin against skin short-circuits my brain. The rhythm is relentless, merciless, each glide dragging against Ciel’s cock in just the right way to pull another broken sound from his throat.

I’ve heard those sounds through closed doors before. Late nights. The kind that made my heart race and my chest ache with something I never said out loud.

And now I know exactly what they look like.

And I know, down to my bones, that this scene has burned itself into me.

It’s never leaving my head. Not tomorrow. Not years from now. Not ever.

Jack’s pace shifts—subtle at first, then deliberate.

Not fast, not messy. Controlled. Calculated.

He’s dragging every second out like he knows exactly what he’s doing to both of us.

His hands are spread wide across Ciel’s hips, thumbs pressing into flushed skin, holding him steady. Every thrust pushes Ciel a little forward, only for Jack to reel him right back in. It’s obscene, artful even, the way he moves.

Ciel gasps, low and broken, his fingers clutching at Jack’s forearms like he needs something to keep him from unraveling. His legs tremble, but Jack keeps them locked together, thighs pressed tight, giving himself the perfect space to thrust through.

Every thrust has his cock rubbing against his own stomach, leaving faint smears of precum across his flushed skin.

I can’t look away. I can’t.

Jack looks over Ciel’s shoulder at me, smirking—lazy and wicked. "Like what you see, doggy?" he drawls, voice low and rough.

I can’t speak. If I open my mouth, something embarrassing will fall out.

The bed creaks softly beneath them, a quiet rhythm to match Jack’s thrusts. The sound of skin against skin fills the air, slick and hot.

Ciel tries to move his hands, maybe to reach down, but Jack catches one wrist and pins it gently against Ciel’s chest. Not hard, just enough to remind him who’s in control.

"Let me," Jack murmurs against his neck, voice like smoke.

Ciel trembles and nods without hesitation.

My fingers clutch the sheets. My chest is tight. My pulse is a drum in my ears.

Jack’s pace picks up the same steady, measured movements. His breathing gets rougher, his hips hitting against Ciel with enough force to make the mattress shift beneath them.

Ciel’s moans grow desperate, climbing higher with each thrust. His cock twitches against his stomach, flushed and glistening, leaking freely. Jack’s hand slips from his hip to wrap around him, stroking in time with his movements.

Ciel’s whole body arches, caught between Jack’s rhythm and his own unraveling.

Jack presses a kiss to the side of his throat, bites down gently—not to mark, just to ground him. "That’s it," he whispers against his skin.

"Come on, sunshine."

And Ciel shatters.

His cry is breathless and broken, hips jerking helplessly in Jack’s grip.

His cum splatters across his stomach and Jack’s hand, hot and slick, leaving pearlescent streaks on flushed skin. His entire body trembles like the world’s come undone beneath him. His head tips back, hair sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead, and the look on his face is almost too much to take in.

Jack doesn’t stop — not right away. His movements stutter, grow sharper, and then—

His breath hitches. His body goes rigid against Ciel’s back, every line in him drawn tight. The sound he makes is low and rough, vibrating through the air, through Ciel. He comes with a few hard, fast thrusts, spilling across Ciel’s thighs and stomach, some of it splattering across the sheets... and some of it — unfortunately — lands on me.

I blink down at the streak on my thigh.

Well. That’s new.

And me?

Yeah. I’m fully hard again. Achingly so.

Jack glances over at me, smug bastard that he is. That glint in his eye says everything — round two? — before his mouth even opens.

I can already hear the snark forming on his tongue.

But then—

"Jack?!"

The sound of Ivan’s voice echoes faintly up the stairs.

We all freeze.

Ivan calls again, louder this time. "Jack! Are you up there?"

Oh my god.

Two hours. It’s been two hours?

Already?