The Twins Claimed Us for Themselves That Night

Marco’s message reached me on a Tuesday afternoon, when my body was still aching from the last party. I’d been carrying faint marks on my wrists for days, and that odd feeling of missing something I didn’t even fully understand.

—The twins are on the east coast this weekend—he wrote—. They want just the two of us. All night, for them. Are you in?

I took just long enough to reply to make it look like I was thinking about it. Then I sent him a single line.

—Let them come hungry, because this time I’m not asking for mercy.

Marco replied with a three-second audio in which all you could hear was him laughing. He knew, like I did, that line was a lie. We always ended up begging for mercy, and we always loved that they never gave it to us.

***

On Friday the penthouse smelled of wood-wick candle and the cold beer we’d left in the balcony bucket. The bay lights trembled below, orange over the black water, and warm air drifted in through the open terrace doors.

Marco and I had gotten ready in our own way: leather harness, tall boots, nothing else. We were nervous as kids, pacing around the living room, checking that the lube was within reach, laughing at how long we were going to last standing up.

—Do you think they’ll remember my name? —I asked.

—They won’t call you by your name —Marco said—. And you know it.

The doorbell rang at exactly eleven thirty.

***

Iván and Nico walked in as if they’d come to collect a debt. Identical to the point of absurdity: tall, broad, buzz cuts, eyes such a pale blue they looked painted on. Twenty-six years old each, and that look of people who’ve never had to ask twice for anything.

Iván had a backpack slung over one shoulder. Nico carried a small camera and a smile that promised no rest.

—Well, well —Iván said, running his eyes over us without touching us yet—. You dressed up for us.

There were no more greetings. They shoved us against the living room wall, one each, and kissed us like they wanted to swallow us. Iván cupped my jaw with one hand and drove his tongue in until I let out a moan I hadn’t expected to give so soon. His other hand squeezed my chest, fingers sinking into the skin.

Beside me I heard Marco breathing in broken gasps, Nico murmuring something in his ear that made him tremble. Within seconds the four of us were tangled on the floor, boots squeaking against the parquet, eight hands reaching for everything at once.

***

They put us on our knees in the middle of the living room, shoulder to shoulder, as if they wanted to compare us. Iván and Nico unbuckled their pants slowly, enjoying the way we watched them.

—Open —Iván ordered.

I obeyed. We both did, at the same time, Marco and I, taking turns without any order, passing those two men from mouth to mouth while they laughed over us. Iván gripped my hair and set the pace with no patience at all; Nico did the same with Marco, and every so often they switched, trading us back and forth as if we were part of a game only they knew.

—Look at yourself —Nico said, lifting my face with a finger under my chin—. Is this what you wanted.

It was exactly what I wanted. My eyes were burning, my chin was wet, and I wouldn’t have stopped for anything in the world.

***

They took us to the big sofa, the one facing the terrace. They sat me on the backrest, legs spread, my back against the chill of the glass wall. Iván positioned himself in front of me, looked me in the eyes for a second as if asking me something, and when I nodded he pushed in all at once.

I let out the air in one gasp. I clung to his shoulders as he started moving, steady and deep, unhurried but relentless, his forehead pressed to mine. A meter away Marco was the same, spread out over the other arm of the sofa, Nico holding him by the hips.

We found each other with our eyes. We kissed over the gap between us, sharing the moans, the ragged breathing, that dizziness of knowing the twins were moving almost in unison, as if one will controlled them both.

—Take it —Iván said without stopping—. You’re going to take a lot more than this.

***

They brought us down to the floor and set us on all fours, our sides pressed together, our heads nearly touching. Then they really started taking turns.

Iván fucked me for a dozen hard thrusts and moved on to Marco. Nico did the opposite route. I felt the constant back-and-forth, the sensation of never knowing which of them was behind me, only that neither was easing up. The slaps echoed all over the penthouse, dry and sharp, and between one and the next they yanked my hair to force my head up.

—Say it —Nico demanded, leaning over my back.

—More —I panted, not recognizing my own voice—. More, please.

Marco repeated the word beside me, and the twins laughed under their breath, satisfied.

***

Ropes came out of Iván’s backpack. Black, soft, and hands that knew exactly what they were doing. They tied us to the two columns in the living room: arms overhead, legs spread, bodies exposed and at their mercy.

They kept us there for what felt like a full hour. One in front, one behind, rotating every few minutes with a coordination that was chilling. I hung from the ropes, wrists straining, unable to do anything but take it and moan. Every time I thought they were going to stop, they changed positions and started again.

Marco, tied to the column opposite mine, looked at me with glassy eyes. No words were necessary. We both knew we never wanted it to end.

***

They only untied us to take us to the bed, a huge one that took up half the room. They laid us on our backs, side by side, legs lifted up to our shoulders.

Iván settled between my thighs and bent me almost in half. Nico did the same with Marco. They came in again together, all the way, looking us in the eyes as they drilled into us slowly and deeply. He bit my neck, whispered things in my ear that made me arch my back, and every so often they switched beds without warning.

I lost track of who was fucking me. It didn’t matter. They had the same face, the same body, the same strength, and I was too far gone to tell them apart.

***

At some point they stood on the mattress and lifted us in their arms, each taking his own. Me in Iván’s arms, legs around his waist, hanging completely while he lifted me up and down his body with a ease that left me speechless.

—You weigh less than you think —he told me, laughing against my neck.

They passed us from one to the other in midair, laughing at our moans, until exhaustion started shaking in their arms and they let us drop onto the tangled sheets.

***

Near four in the morning came the end. They put us on our knees again in the middle of the living room, the bay lights still shining down below, all four bodies gleaming with sweat.

Iván and Nico stood in front of us, teasing us, brushing our faces, stretching the moment out as long as they could. When they finally let go, they did it almost at the same time, and they made us kiss afterward, to find each other’s mouths while they watched in silence.

—You’re the best we’ve ever had —Nico said, catching his breath.

Marco looked at me with an exhausted, satisfied smile. I smiled back, too worn out to speak, too happy to care.

***

But the twins still weren’t done. They lifted us from the floor with unexpected gentleness and took us to the bathroom, where they turned on the hot water until the mirror fogged over.

Under the shower the whole tone changed. Iván pressed me against the warm tiles, water running down our backs, and took me again slowly, this time with no hurry at all, almost tenderly. Nico did the same with Marco a hand’s breadth away, the four of us packed into that small, slippery space.

We soaped each other up between laughs and slow kisses, hands traveling over every centimeter of sore skin. For the first time all night, the silence wasn’t tense, but something close to calm.

—You two are hopeless —Marco murmured, his head resting on Nico’s shoulder.

—So are you —he replied, and kissed him on the temple.

***

The four of us ended up in bed a little before dawn, wrecked, trembling, laughing at nothing. The first gray light over the sea was coming in through the terrace doors, and a couple of seagulls were shrieking in the distance.

Iván draped an arm over me without a word. Nico turned off the camera, which had been forgotten on the nightstand for quite a while. For a moment, all four of us lay still, listening to our own breathing.

—Again? —Marco asked, his voice rough, when the twins were already getting dressed by the door.

Iván turned around, that half-smile back on his face.

—Next time —he said— you won’t be able to walk for a week.

Marco and I looked at each other. And without saying it, we both knew we’d be counting the days.