Page 86 of Inextricably Tied

She’s a sloppy mess across the room, squirming like she wants to crawl out of her skin. “Please, Daddy, I need to touch —”

Flint sets a pounding rhythm into Agony. “Why does that sound so fucking good?”

Neither of them answers, Agony drilled into the mattress as Harbinger begs nonsense until Flint turns Agony onto his back. The sight of Flint’s face above him, rife with pleasure, threatens to send Agony over the edge. Then Flint’s wings spread.

“I’m not pulling out.”

Being fucked between the two of them is more spiritual than anything at the Convent. Agony’s emotions shred with Harbinger’s, both of them staring up at Flint like he’s the only thing that can save or destroy them. His wings pump, lifting him off the ground and rocking him deeper into Agony.

Every thrust moves Agony across the bed. He wrestles the feeling begging to rip through him, trying to prolong this, but he can’t hold it off. Not with Flint dragging every last ounce of desire from them.

There’s no word for when Agony breaks. Shadows threatening to shatter, flames flaring higher, a string of curses caught in his throat. Harbinger amplifies everything. Her cry tears through him, blazing a thousand times hotter.

His ears ring like being caught in phoenix fire again, decimated and razed to the ground. When his eyes finally open, Flint holds himself off the bed, chest heaving as he looks at the TV smashed on the floor.

Agony doesn’t try for words. Harbinger can’t open her eyes, hand resting where the TV had been. “Shit,” Flint pants, head dropping closer to Agony, exhausted laughter mingling between them. “We’re gonna have to pay for that.”

“Broken anyway,” Agony croaks.

“Worth it,” Harbinger breathes when Flint pulls out of Agony. Between Agony’s legs, Flint’s cum mixes with a slick coating that glows the same color as Agony’s eyes.

“Is this…?”

“Fuck if I know,” Agony puffs. “Was that coming? It felt good. Very good. Like holding in a sneeze.”

“I don’t think that’s quite…” But Harbinger gives a furtive glance to Agony’s cuffs. He rolls onto his side to face her.

“What was it like for you? Did you come”

Her head tilts back against the wall. “Yes. It was like he was fucking me. More. Like he was inside me. Like I was you.” She looks toward Agony. “Or in you. Or you were in me.”

Harbinger wraps an invisible hand around their connection, pulling closer to Agony.

“And was it ok? For both of you?” Concern is back on Flint’s face, but they don’t give it a second thought.

“So fucking good,” they groan, staring at the ceiling like it might crack open and whisk them away. “I like it when you lose control,” Harbinger murmurs. “When you don’t hold back.”

It’s the first time they’ve spoken about it in front of Agony. Flint’s shoulders are stiff, but he lets the tension out.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she laughs. “Flint, you’re the most cautious person I know. Definitely in this room.” Agony grunts in agreement. “I want to do this with you because I trust you, but you get so caught in your head. I know you’re worried, but it’s so obvious that you’re distracted. Like you’re inside me and thinking about what could go wrong, or who could show up, or if I know how you feel. Remember when you made me hold the headboard still? And you knew I couldn’t?”

Heat twinges in Agony’s stomach. Fuck, he wants to remember that.

“Like that,” Harbinger finishes. “I want that, when you act like the fucking know-it-all that you are. When you patronize. When you’re a little mean. When you give us more than you think we can take and trust us to tell you if it’s too much.”

Us.

Even lying between them, being fucked between them, it’s the first time Agony’s been a part of it. There’s a new softness to Harbinger’s face. When Agony turns his head, Flint’s looking at him, too.

“It helps when he’s here,” Flint murmurs. “Feels less wrong, somehow.”

That unnamable emotion swells in Agony’s chest. He buries it behind a cocky grin. “You just want to fuck somebody you don’t mind roughing up.”

Flint looks away. A knowing smile settles on Harbinger’s face. “That’s not it.”

THIRTY