Page 33 of Shared Obsession

Alex scrolls through movie options, the remote clicking rhythmically in his hand. “Alright, what’s it gonna be?” he asks, glancing at each of us. “Comedy? Action? Something cheesy to lighten the mood?”

Zayn snorts. “No rom-coms. I need something that’ll keep me awake.”

Ayla perks up a little, her voice tentative but hopeful. “What about horror? Something scary enough to make us forget everything else for a while?”

I groan from the recliner, shaking my head. “You all know I can’t stand horror movies. Every time it’s a jump scare, I spill my drink.”

Alex grins, eyes twinkling. “Come on, Dean. It’s a classic cabin experience.”

Zayn squeezes Ayla, teasing. “I’ll keep you safe. And if Dean screams, we’ll know the movie’s actually good.”

I roll my eyes, but it’s all in good fun. “Fine, you win. But don’t expect me to stick around for a slasher marathon. I’ll pass on the nightmares, thanks.”

Zayn grins and squeezes Ayla’s shoulder. “I’ll keep her safe from the ghosts. You just go dream about rainbows and kittens, Dean.”

Alex snorts. “If you hear screaming, it’s probably Zayn, not Ayla.”

I laugh, grabbing the blanket off the back of the recliner. I lean over, brushing a kiss to Ayla’s forehead and letting my hand linger on Zayn’s neck, warm and possessive. “Goodnight, trouble,” I whisper to Ayla, then give Zayn a squeeze and nod at Alex. “Try not to traumatize her too much.”

Alex salutes with the remote. “We’ll try not to.”

I head down the hall, listening to their laughter and easy banter behind me. The glow of the TV and the sound of their voices fill the house, and for tonight, it almost feels like a real home. I smile and head up the stairs toward my room, the sound of Ayla’s soft laughter and Alex and Zayn’s playful bickering following me. Behind me, I hear Zayn teasing, “Alright, Ayla, time to see if you can handle the scary stuff.”

Ayla

I’m curled up with Zayn, his arm snug and protective around my waist, the heat of his body steady against my back. Alex sits close on my other side, his palm resting on my thigh, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles that make my skin tingle. Sometimes his touch drifts higher, pausing just beneath the hem of my t-shirt, like he’s daring me to stop him—or daring me to want more.

I try to keep my eyes on the movie, but it’s impossible to ignore the way Alex keeps glancing at me, never at the screen. He watches every little shift, every nervous laugh, every time I press closer into Zayn. There’s a hunger in his eyes—dark, focused, and patient—that makes my breath catch, makes my whole body buzz with the curiosity of what might happen if I let myself melt into both their touches.

The suspense on screen builds, but the real tension is wrapped around me, wound tight and humming in the hush of the cabin. Zayn’s thumb strokes absent patterns against my hip, Alex’s hand slides a little higher, and the air between us is thick with promise. When the killer finally jumps out, I shriek and practically end up half in Zayn’s lap, my heart racing. Both guys laugh—low, rough, the sound buzzing with something dangerous and thrilling. The movie fades into the background as I realize how tangled up we all are, how touch and want are blurring together with every heartbeat, and there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.

Zayn’s lips suddenly crash onto mine, his hand gliding beneath my oversized T-shirt—the only thing I’ve worn since the storm hit and we never got the chance to pick up clothes for me. I melt into the kiss, matching his energy, breathless and hungry. Alex’s hand slides up my thigh, his touch searing as he grabs my ass, squeezing possessively.

Without warning, Zayn lifts me with effortless strength and settles me astride his lap, my knees bracketing his hips. Our kiss turns frantic, desperate—teeth, tongues, the taste of him dizzying. Alex slips behind me, and I gasp as his hands grip my thighs, guiding me back until I’m kneeling between them, my ass and pussy exposed at the edge of Zayn’s knees, my upper body draped over his chest. I shudder when I feel Alex’s breath ghost over my pussy, making me tremble. Then his tongue finds my clit in one long, torturously slow lick, sending a jolt of pleasure through my whole body.

“Fuck, Ayla, you taste so good,” Alex groans, his voice thick with need before he dives back in—licking, sucking, devouring me like a man starved. My moans spill out, raw and helpless, filling the cabin as Zayn’s hand runs through my hair and Alex’s tongue drives me wild between them, every nerve alight with want.

Zayn’s fingers tangle in my hair; he pulls my head back until my eyes lock with his. The pleasure is so sharp, so overwhelming from Alex’s tongue and Zayn’s gaze, that I squeeze my eyes shut, breathless. “Open them,” he growls, his voice a rough command, and I do—staring up at him, shuddering, lost in the intensity of the moment. “Oh god,” I moan, the connection between us holding me captive as my orgasm builds, threatening to break me apart.

“I’m so close—don’t stop,” I beg, the words tumbling out just before pleasure crashes through me in a wave that leaves me shaking. I have no time to catch my breath before Zayn slides two fingers between my lips, pushing them deep into my mouth, making me gag on the intrusion. He doesn’t let up, his fingers holding my jaw open, owning every sound I make as I ride out my orgasm on Alex’s tongue. The combination of pleasure and submission has me dizzy, helpless, and unraveling.

When my body finally goes limp, Zayn withdraws his fingers, a thin strand of drool connecting my lips to his hand. His eyes are dark with approval, hunger, and a wicked edge. “You look so fucking pretty when you gag,” he rasps. “Now do it again.”

Alex shifts me roughly onto all fours between Zayn’s legs before he slides his sweatpants down. My eyes are drawn to the piercings glinting on his cock—silver and heavy, demanding my attention. I flick my tongue over the tip of his cock, slow and soft, teasing him with every lazy swirl. Zayn growls, a low, dangerous sound that makes my skin prickle. “You being a little fucking tease, huh?” he rasps, and I just smirk at him, letting my eyes glitter with challenge. That only makes him rougher. “I told you to fucking gag,” he snaps—then grabs a fistful of my hair, guiding my head down hard, forcing his cock deep into my throat in one relentless push. I gag, tears stinging my eyes as he holds me there, his hips rolling in a steady, punishing rhythm. Drool leaks from the corners of my mouth, slicking my chin as Zayn fucks my mouth, using me with a control that’s both brutal and exhilarating. I surrender to it, rocking into the rhythm he sets, letting him take what he wants. I’m so lost to Zayn’s rhythm—his cock deep in my throat, the rough grip in my hair—that I barely register Alex moving behind me until I feel his hands slide up my thighs. His fingers find my clit and circle it in slow, torturous strokes, teasing me until I’m trembling. Just as my body arches into his touch, he pulls away, leaving me sagging with need. Zayn slows, letting me breathe as he rocks in and out of my mouth, his gaze never leaving mine.

I hear the soft rasp of Alex’s zipper, then the blunt, hot press of his cock nudging against my clit. I moan around Zayn, the vibration making him curse, and then Alex presses inside me—slow, relentless, the cold thrill of his piercings dragging along my walls. The sensation is all new and overwhelming, making my whole body shudder. He grabs my hips, holding me steady as he sinks all the way in, his thrusts deliberate and slow, drawing out every flicker of pleasure, every desperate ache. Zayn continues to fuck my mouth, varying the depth—sometimes deep and rough, sometimes shallow and teasing—giving me just enough moments to catch my breath before he takes it away again. I’m suspended between them, every nerve raw, every sense alive, lost in the dizzying pleasure of being theirs.

Alex’s thrusts grow harder, more desperate, each one rocking me forward. Zayn grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head up so I have no choice but to meet his eyes. “Look at you, fuckin’ wrecked—crying, drooling, taking us like our perfect little slut,” he snarls, voice filthy and raw. He wipes the drool from my chin, his grip possessive, and the filthy words only make my pussy clench tighter around Alex.

Alex’s voice is low and deep, a rough rasp that vibrates through my whole body. “God, Ayla, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, the sound almost a growl as he slams into me.

“You love my cock in your throat while he fucks you like a whore, don’t you?” Zayn growls out.

I nod, moaning out, loving every filthy second of it, loving being between them, used and adored. Zayn grins, animalistic and hungry. “That’s my girl—open up. Gag on it for me again.” He thrusts back in, rougher, his cock filling my mouth again, his grip in my hair unrelenting.

I feel my orgasm building, the sensation like nothing I’ve ever felt before—hot, dizzy, wild. Alex’s hand is bruising on my hips, his thrusts relentless. “She’s gonna cum like a good little girl,” he growls, voice deep and throaty, and that’s all it takes. I moan, shaking, my body clenching tight, pleasure ripping through me as I fall apart on them. Zayn lets me ride it out, his cock still in my mouth, but he doesn’t finish; instead, he pulls out, leaving me gasping, drool and tears streaking my face, still trembling.

Alex groans, his hips jerking, his cock twitching as he cums inside me, filling me up. He pulls out slowly, his breath ragged, and steps back to take in the sight of me—messy, ruined, and still trembling from the pleasure he’s given me. His gaze roams over every detail, dark with satisfaction and awe. For a long moment, he just watches, chest heaving, eyes trailing from where his cum is leaking out of me to the flush on my cheeks.