Page 189 of Ruthless Mercy
Cal writhed beneath us, impaled and trembling, his voice nothing but broken gasps and needy whimpers as Ethan and I started to move again—slow at first, then harder, faster, the pressure building with every thrust.
“Fuck, Dom—Ethan—please, don’t stop, don’t ever fucking stop—” Cal sobbed, fingers clawing at the sheets, knuckles white with strain. Every time we drove into him, his whole body arched, thighs quivering, eyes rolling back.
Ethan was grunting now, each thrust deep and forceful, sweat dripping from his forehead onto Cal’s back. “Shit—he’s squeezing so tight—I can barely hold it?—”
I groaned, nails raking Cal’s chest as I pounded into him, feeling my own climax coil hot and savage, stealing the breath from my lungs. “You want to come, Cal? Want to paint us, mark us, show us how much you fucking love this?”
“Y-yes, yes, God, please—” he choked out, words mangled by pleasure, every syllable a plea, every gasp pure desperation.
Ethan’s hand snaked forward, fisting Cal’s cock, stroking in hard, slick pulls that matched the rhythm of our thrusts. The sounds he made—high, desperate, wrecked—were enough to bring me right to the brink, every moan feeling the fire.
“Fuck, I’m close,” Ethan gasped, hips slamming home. “He’s milking me—can’t—can’t?—”
I caught Cal’s jaw, forcing him to look at me, our eyes meeting in the haze. “You’re going to come for us,” I demanded, voice a ragged growl. “You’re going to let go, and when you do, I want to feel you clench, I want to see it—feel it—take all of us, Cal, every fucking drop?—”
Cal was babbling now, half-coherent cries, his whole body taut as a bowstring. “Please, Dom—please, Ethan—I’m—oh, fuck?—”
We didn’t stop. We didn’t slow. Ethan’s cock slammed against mine inside him, the friction white-hot, the heat and filth and surrender turning us all into animals.
“Now,” I commanded, “let go, Cal. Come for us.”
He screamed, head thrown back, cock erupting in thick, pulsing jets—ropes of hot, sticky come splattering across Ethan’s chest, my chin, our faces, the sheets. He shook with the force of it, every muscle spasming, every moan a broken cry of surrender and bliss.
“Fuck—yes, just like that—” Ethan groaned, mouth open, chest heaving as Cal’s body convulsed around us, squeezing both our cocks so hard I nearly lost it right then.
I felt Ethan’s cock thicken, the pulse of his orgasm starting deep and relentless. “Oh—fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming—” Ethan cried, hips jerking, slamming forward one last time as he spilled inside Cal, filling him, cock twitching, groans low and animal.
That was it. The pressure inside me broke, pleasure detonating in a blinding wave. I roared, grabbing Cal’s hips, driving in as deep as I could go, emptying myself inside him, my come mixing with Ethan’s, the heat of us burning away the last of my restraint. “Take it—take all of it, Cal—fuck, you’re perfect?—”
The room echoed with moans and cries, bodies shaking, sweat and come and tears blending on flushed skin. Cal was still twitching, still coming, still writhing between us, cock slapping against Ethan’s fist, mouth open and gasping.
“Fuck—look at you,” I panted, dazed with pleasure and pride, as another rope of come spurted across my chest, hot and sticky. “Fucking ruined, aren’t you? Covered in us—marked, claimed?—”
Ethan kissed Cal’s back, lips soft but frantic, nipping at sweat-slick skin as he groaned through the aftershocks, his hands still on Cal’s hips, keeping him steady while we both spilled the last of our release deep inside him.
We collapsed together, a heap of tangled limbs, gasping for air, the world narrowed to the heat of skin on skin. The bed was a mess—sheets twisted, all of us drenched and marked, our scent heavy in the air.
For a long moment, the only sounds were ragged breathing, the slow, sweet hum of satisfaction, Cal’s quiet moans tapering into gentle whimpers.
Ethan was the first to move, brushing come from his face with a grin, kissing Cal’s shoulder. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
Cal laughed, hoarse and spent. “You’re not so bad yourself. I can’t move—think you broke me.”
I kissed Cal’s cheek, then Ethan’s, then let myself sink back against the ruined sheets, content and utterly spent.
We lay tangled in the sweat-soaked sheets, the storm of pleasure giving way to the quiet hush that only comes after you’ve survived the wildest night of your life. Cal was boneless, eyes drifting shut, a lazy, sated smile curving his mouth. Ethan lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath, tattoos gleaming with sweat in the low light. I found myself tracing idle patterns on Cal’s thigh.
After a while, when the breathing evened out and our bodies cooled, I turned to Ethan, voice quiet but not unkind. “What about Lily?” I asked. “Does this—any of this—mean you’ve finally moved on? That you’re over her?”
The question landed soft but true. I watched him carefully. For years, Ethan had been Lily’s. Even after her death, it was like the ghost of her love was the only thing keeping him anchored. I’d never expected to see him here—like this—open and alive,body pressed to mine, lips swollen from pleasure. I realised, suddenly, that I didn’t even know if he’d ever looked at another man before, let alone like this.
He smiled, a little crooked, a little sad. “Grief’s different in prison,” he said. “Everything’s raw at first. All you can think about is what you lost—what you fucked up. The routine grinds you down. You start to survive instead of live. I hated it, but—” He hesitated, then shrugged. “Somewhere along the line, the pain got quieter. Not gone, just…faded. Like a scar you get used to seeing in the mirror.”
He looked at me then, really looked. “It’s not that I stopped loving her. I’ll never stop. But being locked up, stripped of everything, made me realise life keeps going. I had to keep going. I think… she’d want that. For me to actually live. Even if it means finding comfort—connection—where I never expected it.”
I reached over and squeezed his hand, the bond between us somehow stronger for all that we’d lost and all that we’d just shared. “You deserve that,” I said. “To live. To take what you want, wherever you find it. None of us came out of this clean or whole, but we made it. We’re still here. And maybe that’s what matters.”
Cal, half-asleep, murmured, “She’d want you to be happy, Ethan. I didn’t know her, but I know that much.”
Ethan let out a soft laugh—almost a sob, almost relief. “You’re right. Both of you.” He closed his eyes for a long moment, letting the words settle. “Guess it’s time I figured out what comes next. Time I stopped living for ghosts.”
I smiled, contentment threading through me like warmth after a long winter. “Whatever it is, you won’t do it alone. Not anymore.”
We drifted into silence again, arms and legs entwined, breath mingling in the dark. I felt the weight of grief and healing andhope—all of it balanced in the quiet, steady pulse of three hearts learning to live again.
And for the first time in years, it felt like enough.
