His hand wraps around my throat.
Not choking. Not cutting off air. Justclaiming.
“Fight me,” he says.
I do.
We roll again—his hips between my thighs, my nails clawing down his back, my teeth bared before he crushes his mouth to mine.
It’s not a kiss. It’s violence and claiming.
Teeth. Tongue. Bruising pressure. His other hand yanks my shorts down past my thighs in jerky, brutal tugs. I kick at him, twist, snarl—wantingthe fight. Demanding it.
And he gives it.
Bodhi’s suddenly there—his hands joining Matteo’s, helping to tear the shorts the rest of the way off until I’m completely naked.
Matteo’s grip shiftshardas he flips me over and shoves me down.
Palms slap the mat. Knees scrape. I catch myself on all fours, breath heaving, body slick with sweat.
“Stay down,” he growls, chest pressing into my back as his hand fists in my hair and yanks my head up.
“Make me,” I snarl.
He laughs, low and ruined, then drags the head of his cock along my slick folds, slow just to piss me off—just to make me tremble in spite of myself.
“You’re soaked,” he mutters like a fucking accusation as he starts pushing inside me.
“You’re delusional.”
But the second I say it, he slams into me—hard.
That first thrust nearly folds me in half. The weight of him, the sudden burn—and the piercings, those fucking piercings—drag a raw sound from my throat.
My arms buckle and I collapse to my forearms, a gasp tearing loose as his cock fills me, thick and brutal and so goddamn deep I swear I see stars.
“Fuck,” I choke out, hips jerking.
He doesn’t give me time to recover. Doesn’t pull back gently. Just drives in again, rougher, and the piercings scrape my inner walls with every thrust like it’s branding me inside out.
Again. Again. And again.
My fingers claw at the mat for purchase. My breath stutters. My body betrays me with every wet, harsh slap of skin on skin echoing off the walls. The sounds leaving my throat are obscene.
And then Bodhi moves into my line of sight.
Bare chest gleaming, rising and falling with ragged breath. His hand fists his cock as he watches Matteo fuck me from behind—watching me collapse a little more with every thrust.
“You look fucking feral,” he says, stepping in front of me.
I bare my teeth but don’t stop him when he drags the tip of his own pierced cock across my lips.
“Open up,” he says, voice dangerously calm.
I glare up at him from under sweat-drenched lashes—but I open.
I don’t just open. I suck him inhard, my teeth scraping against his length just to remind him I canbite.