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“He shared that with you, huh? Why am I not surprised?” Logan said.

“Is he stalling?” Rusty asked. “Because it sounds to me like he’s stalling.”

“I do believe he’s stalling,” Roark said.

Logan sputtered. “Now wait a minute!”

“There it is right there,” Roark said.

“Yup, definitely another stalling tactic,” Rusty replied. “Owe! Fuck! That’s three bites I owe you now!”

“I can keep this up all night,” Logan said. “Or at least until I get what I want.”

Roark tsked. “And still, he refuses to tell us about the bribe.”

“Fine. You win,” Logan huffed. “Whoever bites me first gets to name their price.”

Energy reserves Rusty thought had been drained earlier in the night kicked into overdrive as he flipped around, helped by Roark’s attempt to do the same. Roark’s weight no longer acted as a hindrance, but they nearly cracked the top of their heads together in their haste to be the first to pierce their mate’s skin.

Logan snarled when Rusty bit him, growling long and low, the sound drowned out by the echo of their wolves howling in harmony until Rusty let go.

“Who won!” Roark demanded.

“It…was a tie,” Logan groaned, flopping forward to land face down on the comforter. “You two figure out what your prize is. I’m just gonna lie here for a moment and wait for my ears to stop ringing.”

Rusty stared across Logan’s body, locking eyes with Roark.

“I want you in the middle,” Roark said.

“Work for me, that’s exactly where I want to be,” Rusty replied, “but there is something I want first.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” Roark asked as Rusty slid down on the bed so he could kiss and taste as much of Logan’s skin as he could reach.

“Retribution,” Rusty murmured against Logan’s skin. “He’s got to have a few ticklish spots around here somewhere.”

“Don’t count on it,” Logan hissed, squirming when Rusty licked the base of his spine. “I’m not…”

“Found one,” Rusty growled, swirling his tongue around the spot before pressing a kiss there.

Logan’s hips rocked against the bed, ass clenched, as a moan slipped out, followed by a chuckle.

“Guess I am ticklish after all,” he groaned, snickering when Rusty did it again. “Fuck, that doesn’t mean you get to exploit it.”

“That’s exactly what it means,” Roark growled, kissing across Logan’s shoulder, searching for a spot of his own to torment. “Where there’s one, there’s sure to be another.”

Rusty licked the spot again while Roark swept Logan’s hair to the side and nipped the back of his neck, resulting in another gasp and squirm from their mate, followed by a groan and chuckle.

“Not sure if that was tickling or a wave of beautifully soft static, but whatever it was, do it again,” Logan demanded.

“Happy to oblige,” Rusty murmured, lips pressed against the spot so Logan could feel him say it.

“Same,” Roark hissed.

Logan writhed again, then Roark had a thought Rusty could easily get on board with.

Meet in the middle.

Hell yeah!