Page 63 of Piece Us Together

Last night comes back to me in flashes.

Maison’s grumpy defensiveness about his damn winter hat. Us falling into a routine so easily. The faraway look Maison got when I mentioned cuffs, and how adorably happy Nolan had been to be sent over by me to make him feel better after. Maison admitting to watching my videos and blushing furiously when I asked follow-up questions. His nervous request to help me.

The way Nolan drifted so beautifully for me as I wrapped him in my rope. The way Maison had sucked in his breath when I pressed up behind him, hand on his hip, directing him to explore the ropes. Nolan shivering with every lingering touch, his poor cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs. The way Maison had seemed to just melt against me like that’s what he was made for, his breathing going shaky, his ass pressing back into myerection. The way he’d grabbed my hands when I tried leaving, a wordless plea for me to keep controlling him.

The way Nolan had turned in shock and delight when I asked Maison his color and he saw my hands about to pull his boyfriend’s underwear down for him. Maison giving me permission to touch him more. How fucking soaked Maison’s cock was with precum, to the point where I almost wondered if he’d come already.

Him answering my question meant for Nolan, responding to the pet namedarling. The way he’d looked at me when he realized I’d stepped away from him, halting his thrusts, his tiny, vulnerable“where’d you go?”followed by his grumble that he didn’t need my help. How he started to tremble after I called himsweetheart, making desperate little sounds whenever I whispered praise to him, the single tear that fell down his cheek as he came beneath my hands.

The way he’d let me guide him onto the bed so he could give his spent cock to Nolan to suck on. The eye contact he allowed me to make as I pushed into Nolan using his cum as my lube and the tight heat of Nolan around me as Nolan sobbed with need. Maison praising him for being good for us like we’re a team. The way they’d looked together, all happy and fucked-out, Maison loose and sated without all that weight he seems to carry around on his shoulders.

Maison watching breathlessly as I approached my orgasm, Nolan shaking in desperation between us as I let myself unravel before ordering him to join me over the edge. The happy whines he made when I praised him, a boneless trust given to me as he let himself completely float away. The way he blinked up at me as he came back to himself, giving me shy smiles and soft sighs, his hands sometimes gripping the fabric of my clothes for a moment like he was afraid I was going to disappear until I hushed him and murmured that “I’m right here, I’m not goinganywhere.” Maison’s eyes on me the whole time, not feeling any need to step in, trusting me with the man he loves. Nolan’s soft, happy little “thank you, sir” whenthe aftercare was finished.

Maison saying my name in that voice I’d never heard him use before, the nervous hope in his eyes when I looked at him, hissoft request of “sleep with us?”that made me fucking ache. The weight of his gaze on me as I stripped down to be comfortable. The shock in his expression with heat running just beneath the surface. His weak“you’re not my dom”that I’m not sure he even wants to believe anymore. Nolan’s sleepy sigh because we were talking and he really just wanted to go to bed. The way Maison obeyed my order to get some rest instead of lying there overthinking everything.

And now, apparently, the way Nolan has curled into the side of my body, and Maison has curled around him. I can feel the warmth of Nolan’s breath on my bare chest. I can feel the weight of Maison’s hand on my hip, calluses against my bare skin, his fingertips warm through the thin cotton of my briefs.

I can see them just enough in the dim light of dawn to make out their faces. Well, only the top half of Nolan’s face, his chin tilted too far toward my chest to see the rest. There are messy strands of hair falling over his forehead. I get the urge to brush them back and kiss the skin there.

I can see all of Maison’s face, his head propped up on a pillow. I’ve never seen him look so relaxed, not even when orgasming or the floaty way he got after our first time together. There are no worry lines or furrowed brows or heaviness in his eyes. His lips are pulled down like they can sense the weight that’s always pressing onto his shoulders.

They are so fucking beautiful it hurts. Not in the abstract way it’s been hurting from the start either, but a deep sort of hurt, one that settles into my bones and squeezes my heart. I know why. It’s because I’m starting to actually know them now,beneath the surface of kink and sex. It isn’t just their bodies that are beautiful anymore, it’sthem, all the little pieces of them.

It’s the way Nolan melts beneath my touch and bounces around the kitchen when making breakfast and calls mesirwith just the slightest touch of attitude when I tease him. It’s Maison wearing a hat and blushing whenever I say something particularly filthy and the relief in his eyes when I take control for him.

It’s far too early and far too cold for me to consider what any of that means. I need to pee and try to coax my shitty heater to do its job and drink at least two cups of coffee. Then I can have life-changing revelations.

I slip out of the bed as carefully and quietly as I can, trying not to notice how I immediately miss the warmth of them against me. Nolan adjusts a little before sighing in his sleep and settling.

I give myself a few extra seconds to just watch them. I have an awful feeling the two of them don’t get enough sleep. Particularly Maison, who always looks a breath away from just giving in, giving up, collapsing into a heap of exhaustion as the world crushes him from above. If they were mine—really mine, not just on loan once a week—the first rule I would make would be better sleep hygiene.

The second would be that I get to kiss them anytime I want.

I scrub a hand over my face before grabbing my phone from the nightstand and slipping out of the room. I’m not surprised that I don’t have any missed texts or calls. I’m also not surprised that I had three students think they could slip their papers into my classroom drop box after the midnight deadline without the portal sending me emails letting me know they were past due. I’m surprised by the severe weather alert though, and when I glance out the window after using the bathroom, I groan. It dumped on us last night and it doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon.

I usually love a good snowy morning, especially on days like today when I have nowhere to be. There’s something soft and gauzy about them. Something that makes me want to try to start a fire—though there’s only ever about a twenty-five percent chance I’ll actually succeed—and curl up with a blanket and a book or a documentary. Today is different though. I can already tell the roads will be a nightmare. Not to mention the fact that Maison’s car is buried.How will he react to the notion that he’s temporarily stuck? Do I have it in me to argue with him if he tries to leave despite how stupid and dangerous it’d be? Is it even my right to argue about that?

My mind wanders as I quietly get the coffee pot started. I’m anxious to see how Maison will react to me in the light of day, snow aside.Will he pretend nothing was different last night? Will he be angry I touched him and push me away? Will he try to run, snow be damned?

I should stop this thing I’m doing with them. If I had any hope of protecting my heart, it’s quickly fading. The two of them are so different, yet they each feel so fuckingvital. They fill in these cracks I hadn’t realized I had. Sure, I knew I needed a sub, preferably a partner instead of just someone to play with, but Nolan is another level. He’s the kind of submissive that makes the dominant in me feel like he’s breathing for the first time. The way he looks at me, the way his eyes flash, the way his shoulders relax, the way he arches and pants and moans and fucking smiles. The calm that radiates off him whenever he’s on his knees. The tilt of his body toward me like he’s constantly seeking out my reassurance, my touch, my praise. The soft flush in his cheeks when we tell him how good his food is, the careful excitement when he slips in little facts about his love of snow and holidays. The way he confidently teases Maison, the way he bosses him around, the way he can get him to shut up with a single look.

And Maison—he’s something I never saw coming. Not in a million fucking years. He’s a walking contradiction. He’s dominant, but not. Submissive, but not. He’s strong and vulnerable, closed off and trusting. He’s terrified and brave. He’s all hard lines and cold looks and forced smiles. He’s all gasped breaths and flushed cheeks and whimpers. He’s a set of dog tags he keeps hidden and shirts he refuses to remove. He’s a man who fiercely protects, who would do anything for those he loves, who willingly hands over his boyfriend to me. He’s all secrets and truths, hating me, trusting me, looking at me like I disgust him, looking at me like I could save him. He terrifies me in ways I never knew I could be afraid. He makes me unsteady. Unsure. Unconfident. And yet, in the moments when he trusts me, when he leans into my touch, when he quiets under my control, he makes me feel invincible.

I’m falling for each of them. Or maybe falling for the combination of them. Or maybe just falling, hopelessly, for all of it, all of us, all of what we could be.

That wouldn’t be a problem if I thought they could be feeling the same, but I’m not an idiot. I’m their service dom, just like Wells warned me I would be.And why would I be anything more?We never talk about things other than what they want me for—sex and dominance. Anything else that slips in through the cracks is accidental.

Still…I’m falling for them. Maybe they could feel the same, after a while. Maybe they could grow to want something more.

Or maybe I’m a hopeless idiot destined for heartbreak.

I hate when Wells is right.

“Morning.” I nearly drop the empty coffee mug in my hands as I whip around to face the deep voice that greeted me. My heart pounds in my chest, threatening to lurch right out of my throat. Unfortunately, the problem only gets worse when I register thesight before me.Maison. He’s all sleep-rumpled and blurry-eyed, his hair an adorable mess.

Fucking beautiful.

And not mine.

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