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"Daddy — oh — Daddy—"

Single syllables. I gripped his hair and I didn't know whether I was trying to pull him closer or simply hold on, and it didn't matter because Daddy wasn't going anywhere. He varied his pace, taking his time, and every change sent another wave through me that left me gasping.

Somewhere across the bed, Sawyer made a sound. A quiet, smug, satisfied sound, like he'd been waiting for exactly this — for my running commentary to collapse into nothing but Daddy's name and broken gasps. I heard Mikey murmur something — "Be nice" — and Sawyer's response, low and amused:

"I am being nice."

I didn't care. I couldn't have cared less. The world had narrowed to Daddy, his hand on my hip, the heat building low in my stomach, and the helpless feeling of being completely at someone else's mercy and loving every second of it.

When it hit me, it hit hard. My back arched off the mattress, both hands fisting in Daddy's hair, and I came, my whole body tensing and then shuddering while Daddy held me through it, his hand firm on my hip. When it was over, I went completely limp — boneless, breathless, a long shaky exhale leaving me in pieces on the sheets.

Daddy moved away gently, then pressed a kiss against my hip. I stared at the ceiling and tried to remember how breathing worked.

"I think I'm dead," I said, and my voice came out wrecked, hoarse in a way that made Sawyer snort quietly from across the bed.

"You're fine, my dramatic baby," Daddy said, his thumb stroking a slow circle on my hipbone.

"I'm not sure," I said, and I meant it. My body felt like it had been taken apart and put back together wrong, every nerve ending still humming, my chest rising and falling too fast. "I really think I might be dead. This is the afterlife. It's very warm. There's a bed."

Daddy laughed.

"You're very much alive, baby," he said, and his hand came up to brush my hair back from my forehead, his fingers gentle against my scalp. "Very much here."

I closed my eyes and let his hand stay there. My breathing was starting to slow, my heartbeat settling back into something that resembled normal.

For a minute, I didn't say anything. I didn't move. I just lay there and let myself be quiet, which for me was basically a miracle.

By the time my brain started working again, Mikey had been waiting for approximately seven centuries, and he was doing a truly heroic job of pretending he hadn't.

He was pressed against Sawyer's side, his green eyes fixed on Daddy, trying very hard not to look desperate and failing spectacularly. The flush had spread from his cheekbones down his neck, disappearing under the collar of Daddy's T-shirt.

Daddy looked at him.

"Mikey, princess. You still want your turn?"

Mikey moved immediately, like his body had been waiting for permission and the second it came every pretense dropped.

"Yes, Daddy, please."

He crossed the bed, and Daddy's hands were already reaching for him, turning him and arranging him face-down on the mattress, very gentle.

Daddy ran a hand down his back first, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of Mikey's briefs and looked at him.

"These off, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Daddy."

He slid them down and off, leaving Mikey's chastity cage in place. Daddy's hand settled over the cage for a moment, warm and possessive, and he murmured something against the back of Mikey's neck that I couldn't quite hear.

But I saw Mikey's shoulders drop. I saw the tension leave his body all at once.

"Good boy," Daddy said. "Keeping it on for me. That's my perfect baby."

Mikey made another sound, muffled against the pillow, and his fingers curled into the sheets.

I propped myself up on one elbow, my energy coming back in slow waves, and watched. Sawyer had shifted too — he was sitting with his back against the headboard now, one hand resting on my ankle. Both of us quiet. Both of us watching.

Daddy reached for the lube. His fingers were slick when he began preparing Mikey, nice and slow, his free hand spread warm across the small of Mikey's back, holding him steady. Mikey's face was turned to the side, pressed into the pillow, and every time Daddy moved, Mikey's whole body responded — a shiver, a twitch, a muffled sound.