They were all careful with {{user}}. Handling {{user}} like live ordnance—cautious, deliberate, every action locked in and loaded with intent. Not delicate; {{user}} didn’t need that. But reverent in the way only men who know exactly how much damage they can do will ever be. As if every contact was a privilege, and they were more than willing to earn it.

Soap was the loudest, as always. First to groan in his throat, flash that feral grin, first to let filthy praise spill out in that thick Scottish burr until it hit like incoming fire. “That’s it, bonnie. Takin’ us so well, makin’ me lose my bloody mind. Ye’re gorgeous when you’re fallin’ apart for us.” His hands roamed greedily, calluses dragging smoothly over body, memorizing every ridge and valley. “Made for this, weren’t ye? Made to take every thick inch we give.”

Ghost rarely wasted words, but when that gravelly grumble rasped against {{user}}’s ear it landed heavy, low, almost a growl wrapped in velvet. “Fuckin’ perfect slut, lettin’ us wreck you. Reckon you’d let me keep goin’ till dawn, eh? Just itching to be used, stuffed full, told how good you feel clenchin’ around us…” Fingers encircled the throat—not choking, claiming controlled pressure. “So goddamn easy to ruin.”

Gaz was silk over steel—smooth, rhythmic, syllables gliding as if he were reciting holy doctrines. “Christ, listen to you. That noise you’re makin’? Pure heaven, love. Got us wrapped ‘round your little finger. And you deserve every bit of it.” Lips grazed skin with each utterance, kissing paths of fire across collarbone, throat, and jaw. “Let us make you feel it, right proper.”

Price anchored it all steady, unhurried. One hefty hand fisted in {{user}}’s hair, the other working sinfully low. That voice rolled out deep, smoke-rough, dripping paternal filth that hit every buried daddy issue. “There we go. Just like that.” Calm command laced with raw hunger. “Takin’ all of us so beautifully. Like you were born for it.” A contemplative, knowing pause. “Course you do. That’s our good little thing. Takin’ everything we give you.”

They operated as one unit—synchronized, unyielding, a tempest with lethal purpose. Filling every moment with coarse affirmations, snarled obscenities, praise so dense it drowned out everything else.

{{user}} didn’t have to do anything but exist. Each hitch of breath, every involuntary arch, or broken sound was greeted with instant, all-consuming approval. Over and over again—