Page 96 of Knot That Serious

“Fuuck,” Jack breathed, drawing the word out, mouth parted.

Beckett drew his hips back before pressing even deeper.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck,” Beckett agreed, thighs smacking against Jack’s ass. He could see it, too, Eli beneath Jack, her slim fingers tangled in Jack’s hair like she was afraid to hurt him.

Beckett moaned at the thought. “She could suffocate you with her thighs and you’d say ‘thank you,’ wouldn’t you?”

Jack tensed, grinding into him on his next thrust. “Yeah,” he panted. “Fuck, yeah.”

Beckett recognized the way he tightened, his hips moving of their own accord, and curled an arm around Jack’s waist.

“Nonono—fuck!” Jack practically shouted as Beckett wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock, stopping his orgasm.

“So fast, Jack.” Beckett tutted. “Surely you’re not all worked up?”

Once he was certain Jack wouldn’t come, he released him and brushed a finger over his knot. “Who’s this for?”

Jack buried his face in the sheets, muffling his swear, and Beckett snapped his hips into Jack once more before stilling. Just the desperate sight of Jack had him teetering on the edge.

“Couldn’t hear you,” Beckett said softly.

With a curse, Jack turned his head to the side again. “You know who it’s for.”

“Well, it’s not me.”

“It’s Eli,” he admitted, voice tight. “I want to knot her again.”

“You’ve already gotten to help her through a heat. What else could a… friend want?” Beckett asked, emphasizing his words with a shallow thrust.

“M’not friends,” Jack growled, teeth gritted.

Beckett worked his hips slow, deep. Watched himself slide in and out of Jack, a hand flattened against his back.

“No?” he asked on his next thrust. “You told me you liked things… just how they are. As friends,” he accentuated.

Jack pushed his hips into the thrust, as if angry that he was fucking loving it. “No.”

“Then tell me, Jack. What do you want?”

“I want, I want— fuck—”

Beckett waited until Jack was tensing, hips stuttering in their rhythm, before reaching around his body to stop it again.

“Beckett,” he whined, trying to twist away from his grip. With no leverage he did little more than writhe, pinned between Beckett’s cock and his hand. “Fuck off.”

“Not until you tell me what you want,” Beckett demanded, the swell of heat residing as he waited for the orgasm to slip out of Jack’s reach.

It slid beyond his own reach, too, fizzling out despite the clench of Jack’s body.

Once Beckett was sure Jack wouldn’t come, he retreated his hips and Jack attempted to follow even with his limited movement.

“Can’t you be honest with me, by now?” Beckett asked, pressing a hand to Jack’s lower back, tilting him. When Jack’s thighs began to shake with every punch of his hips, he knew Jack wouldn’t be able to last long. Yet he still remained stubbornly silent.

“Tell me, or I won’t let you come,” he said.

Jack’s knuckles were white where he gripped the tie, and Beckett trailed his gaze up Jack’s body, the long line of his back, tensing and shifting with every thrust.

“Right there,” Jack whined. His bottom lip was red and abused from the way Jack kept biting it. Was he aware Eli did the exact same thing?

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