Fairest Of Them All - Part 2

The door sits open like a bad promise. Prince steps in, flowers dying in his fist. Snow's on the couch, eyes glassy, lips parted like she's already halfway gone. Then the Queen steps out of shadow, grin wet and crooked. Snow sees him and the heat jumps in her cheeks, but her hand's already drifting south, reaching for the Queen first. Back and forth. Greedy little witch. The Prince knows what this smell is—poison with lipstick on it. "Winner takes her," he spits. "Make her scream loudest, she belongs to you." The Queen laughs once, low. Snow's dress is already hitched. Two mouths, four hands. The Queen rides her face while the Prince drives between her legs, Snow jerking like live wire between them. Sweat. Tongues. Teeth. Fingers slick to the knuckle. Every time she comes the Queen claims the credit; every time she gasps the Prince bites harder. They trade places, trade grip, trade filth. Snow's caught between them, thighs shaking, begging with her body, hips jerking for more even when she swears she can't take it. The Queen arches, triumphant, when Snow's eyes roll. But the Prince isn't done. He pushes deeper, keeps her pinned, forces the next wave out of her like he's splitting her in half. Snow howls, throat raw, coming so hard her back bows off the cushions. The Queen stares—first time she's looked worried. Snow collapses between them, wrecked, still twitching.