No Save Point
Chapters (48)
S.L Gray
No Save Point
Copyright © 2025 by S.L Gray
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
First edition
Cover art by K. Jaspersen Designs
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Dedicated to the baddies who saw the twin brothers trope and immediately added this to their tbr, and for the ones who understand that sometimes love is a a game you win by letting yourself be seen.
Foreword
No Save Point is book one in the Co-Op Corrupted Duet, a high-heat, why-choose romance featuring twin brothers. There’s no sword-crossing, but if the idea of siblings being involved with the same woman at the same time isn’t your vibe, consider this your warning — reader discretion is advised. This book contains explicit sexual content, filthy language, and kink elements including mask play, dom/sub dynamics, light choking, somnophilia, a DVP attempt, praise and degradation, and overstimulation. It’s messy and unapologetically smutty. One brother is soft and sweet. The other is chaotic and unhinged. The FMC takes both enthusiastically, repeatedly, and without any regret.
Preface
Playlist:
More than friends - Isabel LaRosa
Me And U - Swelavin
Test Drive - Artemas
All On You - Mos Elian
Pretty Boy - Isabel LaRosa
Velvet Glow - LAGXNA
Sinners - Ari Abdul (ft. Thomas LaRosa)
Wet Dreams - Artemas
Worship - Ari Abdul
Undress - WesGhost
Scream my name - Thomas LaRosa
Red Velvet - Jutes
HELLGIRL - Ari Abdul
Wicked Game - Witchz
Heaven - Isabel LaRosa
1
Haven
The moment my screen fades to black, my fingers go still on my keyboard, my breath stuck somewhere between rage and resignation. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I deadpan, glaring at the bold red Defeat flashing across my monitor. My chat erupts in chaos. My eyes narrow in on a username.
Him again, he’s like a virus in my killfeed. The bane of my streaming existence. Equal parts shadow and showboat, he slips into lobbies like he’s god’s gift to killcams and somehow always ends up being the one who finishes me off, either with a sniper shot I didn’t see coming or some humiliating melee takedown that chat replays for days. It’s personal now, has been for months. But sometimes, despite it all, I find myself enjoying the taunts. They pull at something deeper in me, sparking a competitive fire that I can’t ignore. Keyword there, sometimes.