Gannon eyed the white couple walking towards him appreciatively. The bigger man had his arm slung tight around his boyfriend, pulling their heads together to speak directly into his ear. They were beautiful—beautiful individually and beautiful together. Not for the first time, he reminded himself how lucky he was to live in a place like San Francisco where two men could walk down the street obviously enraptured by each other while another man enjoyed the sight.
His complacence was shattered a moment later when the big guy said hey, arresting his movement as they passed each other. Worried that he’d been eye-fucking two guys who weren’t gay after all—who were the type to take offense at being eye-fucked—he almost didn’t stop, but the big guy was smiling, not scowling, so he did.
“Hey,” the guy said again. “I got a proposition for you.”
Well, he had just been admiring the way they wore their jeans. He raised an eyebrow, hoping he was about to get a sexual proposition, not a marketing spiel for a timeshare in Sausalito or a new vitamin-infused juice drink.
“My buddy here needs a fuck.” The big guy jostled the smaller man he still had in a headlock. “Don’t you, Elliott?”
Elliott looked less convinced. In fact, Elliott looked drugged. He moved wide eyes between his boyfriend—buddy—whoever this guy was—and Gannon.
“Buddy?” he asked.
“Yeah, buddy. This is my best friend, Elliott.”
“And you are?”
“Sorry. Mike.” Mike unwound his arm from Elliott’s neck and stuck out his hand for him to shake.
“So, Gannon, you think you can help us out?”
He evaluated Elliott like he was considering it while he tried to figure out what exactly was going on here. Elliott was adorable—plump, pink lips in a boyish face, skin all pale and pearly and freckle-flecked, eyes a mixture of green and brown surrounded by downy lashes, a long neck suggesting lean grace, and a lightweight frame covered in button-fly jeans and a threadbare t-shirt. Adorable.
“What’s he on?” he asked Mike.
Much as Elliott looked almost too good to fuck, he was clearly fucked up. For one thing, he hadn’t said a word yet while the two of them stood there talking about him, either dazed with lust or absolutely terrified. Funny how similar those two expression were.
“He’s as sober as the day is old,” Mike said. “Nothing in him except a little tequila left over from last night. We just woke up.”
He didn’t comment on the fact that it was past noon. Instead he just said “Yeah?” and gave Elliott another once over.
“Here’s what it is,” Mike said. “He came out as gay last night.”
“Ooh, big day then.” He wasn’t being sarcastic. He remembered the first time he’d come out. “Congratulations. Who’d you tell, Elliott?”
“Himself,” Mike answered for him. “Finally admitted it to himself. I’ve been telling him he’s gay for years, but last night he worked up the courage to agree with me. Freaked himself out. It’s a big thing, right? I understand. But I figured if he’s in, he might as well be all the way in, so we went out and got him laid.”
“How’d that go?” he asked, intrigued despite himself. He didn’t know if he was proud of Elliott or felt sorry for him.
“Fantastic.” Mike put a hand on Elliott’s neck and shook him so that he swayed back and forth. “You loved it, didn’t you? He’s a total slut. We found him a nice butch top and they spent half the night fucking. I don’t think my little buddy’s a virgin anymore, are you?”
Mike rocked Elliott again. His whole body oscillated like it was saying no for him.
“You need more?” Gannon asked Elliott. Mike was large and in charge, but it was those wide, shocked eyes of Elliott’s that drew him in.
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Mike said. “We woke up this morning, and he’s back like this again—pupils blown like he’s high on something, can’t put two coherent words together, got the shakes like a junkie. Look.” Mike picked up one of Elliott’s wrists and held it out towards him. The hand extending beyond that wrist trembled so hard it made his eyes twitch to watch it.
“So help out a gay compadre. Come back to our place and give him what he needs. He’s just gotta get used to being gay. He was plenty used to it last night, but it musta wore off.”
“I don’t fuck corpses.” As beautiful as the boy was, Gannon wasn’t sure he was even capable of consent.
“Trust me, he was plenty alert while that guy was pounding him last night. Then it was all ‘fuck me, fuck me.’ He’s like Sleeping Beauty. You can fuck him coherent.”
“How’d you even know I was gay?”
Mike snorted. “Please. Your eyes were all over him.”
“He is pretty.” He stepped in closer to Elliott, inserting his hand between Elliott’s shoulder and Mike’s arm so that Mike dropped back a bit. “Do you know you’re pretty, Elliott?”
Elliott shook his head. That was encouraging. He’d responded at least.
“You are. Even from twenty feet away, I could see how beautiful you are. How fuckable.” He kept his voice low and soft, for just the two of them. Elliott was looking at him now, making eye contact with those crazy eyes. “I’d love to fuck you, but only if you want it.” He took another step forward, letting his arm wrap around Elliott’s back, stroking up between his shoulder blades. “Do you want it?”
Elliott nodded, but he couldn’t maintain eye contact as he did it.
“You’re adorable all shy like this.” He stroked across Elliott’s lush, lower lip with his thumb, then tilted his chin up until they were looking at each other again. “But I need you to say the words. Do you want me to fuck you?”
Gannon heard Elliott’s voice at last. What he said was this: please.
As soon as they got the apartment door shut behind them, he went straight back to kissing Elliott. He’d kissed him on the street, that single word please reeling him in like the lips that uttered it were magnetic and his tongue was fucking steel, hard as his dick. He might still be kissing Elliott on the street, because Elliott’s mouth was so soft and sweet and the noises that came out of it were a heady mix of desperate and terrified, but Mike had gotten them separated and marched them back to the apartment where the two of them lived.
He could vaguely feel now that Mike was steering them away from the door. He opened his eyes enough to see a bedroom, the bed an unmade mess of semen-splattered sheets. For a moment he considered complaining, but then the thought of how badly Elliott wanted to get fucked now, after how much he’d apparently gotten fucked the night before, burned away any fastidiousness he might have felt. This virgin slut thing Elliott had going on was hot.
Elliott might be in Bermuda for all he was taking note of his surroundings. Gannon could see that he had his eyes screwed tightly shut even as his lips and hands clung to him. Elliott didn’t initiate much, but he acquiesced beautifully, letting his clothes fall as Gannon stripped them from him.
“So here’s some condoms,” Mike said in a voice oddly like a bellboy showing a customer his room, all disinterested courtesy. “And some lube.”
He didn’t bother to look around at what Mike was trying to demo. He could figure out condoms and lube.
“You’ll use the condoms, right? No bareback.”
“Oral too?” He asked between kisses.
“Oral’s OK. Unless you’ve got reason to think it’s not.”
“I’m negative,” he mumbled into Elliott’s neck, wondering when Mike would go away. He was already working Elliott’s pants off. “And our little virgin? Pure as the new-fallen snow?”
“Only got one set of footprints.”
He grunted a half-assed sound of appreciation for Mike’s joke. Elliott was naked now and he was spectacular, lithe and lean and breathing hard enough to make his chest heave beneath the trace of Gannon’s hands.
“Ever had your dick sucked?”
Elliott’s hands tightened on his biceps and a quiet whimper separated his plump, wet lips. “A little.”
“Liked it, did you?”
Elliot’s smile made his dick throb. So beautiful, so shy.
“I’m going to suck it more than a little. We just need to get you over to the bed.” He was half holding Elliott up already, and that was before he put his mouth on his dick. There was no way the guy could stay on his feet for that. He manhandled him over to the bed and sat him on the edge of it.
“I guess I’ll leave you guys to it then,” Mike said.
Was he still in the room? He didn’t bother raising his head to figure it out. “Stay if you want,” he said before his mouth closed around Elliott’s cock. He really didn’t care what Mike did. If he needed to be all big brother about it, fine.
“It’s just that he’s kind of vulnerable and you’re just some guy—”
He pulled Elliott’s dick out of his mouth with exasperated reluctance. “Dude, whatever. Stay, go, just shut up.”
When Mike didn’t answer, he settled himself back into the moment at hand. Elliott’s dick was the perfect sucking size and his eyes were enormous. He didn’t moan so much as hold his breath. Gannon was tempted to tell him to breathe, but he figured it would happen without prompting once they really got going.
Sure enough, once he wiggled a finger into that nearly-virgin ass, the noise started. Elliott was breathing plenty good now, enough to fill the whole room with the sounds of sex. At first there were no words, only whimpers and moans. When the oh fuck’s started, he figured it was time to back off. He knew where he wanted to be when Elliott came and, as nice as the current view was, it wasn’t on the floor between his legs.
He stood up and pushed Elliott back on the bed, wrestling him around until he lay lengthwise, then crawled on top of him and ground down into him hard.
“Ngh,” Elliott said, as though he wanted to say more.
“Gannon. My name is Gannon.” He wasn’t surprised Elliott had forgotten it, if he’d even heard it in the first place.
“Gannon,” Elliott breathed in a worshipful tone.
“You want to suck my cock, baby? Hmm? Good practice for you.”
Elliott nodded with rushed eagerness.
As he worked on getting himself naked, he caught sight of Mike standing by the doorway, his hand palming the front of his jeans. He hadn’t really expected Mike to stay—the invitation had been facetious—but it turned out he didn’t mind the extra set of eyes. He had the feeling Mike would like to sub in for one of them. He just wasn’t sure which one.
“Get it nice and wet,” he instructed Elliott. “Little harder. Mm, yeah, babe. Just like that.”
He’d normally have his eyes closed by now—it felt that good—but they were darting between the hulking figure watching him and the sweet sight of Elliott’s hollowed-out cheeks sliding up and down his shaft. The combination got him a little too close to too far gone. He pulled back on Elliott’s hair to slow his pace down to something more sustainable.
“Why don’t you make yourself useful and prep him?” he suggested to Mike, since Elliott’s ass was sticking up in the air pretty much in Mike’s face.
Mike shifted around all embarrassedly as though he’d just been caught watching, even though the two of them had been making steady eye contact.
“We’re just friends.” Mike moved his hand away from the front of his jeans and tucked it into his pocket, like Gannon couldn’t guess what it’d be doing in there. “We don’t—you know.”
He rolled his eyes. “So you can engineer the fuck, you can watch the fuck, but you can’t participate in the fuck?”
When Mike still didn’t jump on the offer to stick his fingers in his friend’s ass, he figured he’d have to do it himself. Which he didn’t mind. He just wished he didn’t have to interrupt what was turning into one of the hungriest blowjobs he’d ever gotten. Elliott might not know what he was doing, but he did it all-out. He was a full-on slobber monster.
Gannon dragged him up to the top of the bed and got him all spread out on elbows and knees.
“This how he fucked you last night?” he asked as he worked a slick finger inside him. He swore he could still feel last night’s lube in there, which was unexpectedly hot. Slut-virgin was his new favorite category of gay guy.
Elliott offered up a shaky yeah in response to the question.
“I can see why. You’re hot like this, pushing your ass back at me. But that’s not how I want you.” He put his hands on Elliott’s thighs and flipped him in a single move that made Elliott shudder beneath him.
“Oh, God. Fuck me.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I got a job for you first, though.”
Elliott whimpered and grabbed for Gannon’s cock like he could force it into himself.
“OK, you’ve got hold of the right piece of equipment there,” Gannon teased him, “but it’s not ready for that move you’re trying to execute. What do we need here?” He waited for Elliott to shift focus to his face. “Come on, baby. What are we missing?”
Elliott licked his lips. His gaze drifted back to the cock in his hand. “Condom?”
“There we go. Hit me, dude.” He held his hand out and Mike passed him a condom which he handed over to Elliott. “You do it. This is a skill you need to have.” He went back to stroking his fingers in and out of Elliott’s ass while Elliott wrestled with the condom. The finger-fucking might be a wee bit distracting but, fuck, sometimes sex was distracting. Elliott had to learn that no matter how hot things got, the condom went on and it went on right.
“Nice,” he said as he felt the latex unwind down his shaft. He reviewed the results with a critical eye and gave Elliott a pass. “You did that good, baby. You deserve a little reward, don’t you?” He crooked his seeking fingers inside Elliott’s ass, stroking with gentle persistence over his prostrate until Elliott seemed almost to be crying he moaned so loud. “Good, baby?”
“Fuck me,” Elliott insisted.
Gotta love that hungry slut-virgin ass. He pushed Elliott’s hands off his cock, directing them to Elliott’s cock instead. “You take care of that for me. I’m gonna be way too busy fucking you to stroke you off, ’cause you want it hard, don’t you?” He leaned down and kissed him, repeating “Don’t you?” between kisses until Elliott pushed him away with a loud ‘Yes!’
Snickering again, he lined his cock up with Elliott’s glimmering asshole and sank it deep in a single stroke. Elliott’s head arched back. His hand stuttered on his cock, gripping it with unconscious force. Gannon leaned down and licked a wet line up the side of his throat, feeling the wild beat of his pulse beneath his tongue.
As delicious as Elliott’s skin tasted, he knew what Elliott needed from him, so he shifted back onto his knees and grabbed his hips and started letting him have it—deep, forceful strokes, angling up to catch his prostate. Elliott arched his back like a champ, improving both the angle and the view. That body was born to bend.
As Elliott thrust up to meet him, he was treated to some stereo sound stimulation because Mike hadn’t backed off an inch. He was right there at Gannon’s elbow, breathing like he was getting plowed himself and loving every hot inch of it. Between the panting beside him and the wriggling beneath him, Gannon was getting over-stimulated again, ready to dump his load into the waifish white boy who looked like fucking Little Bo Peep being railed under a haystack—all sweet, debauched innocence.
“Blow for me, baby.” He picked up the pace, gritting his teeth against how good that felt and how hotly the ripple of his words ran like hands across Elliott’s body.
Elliott clamped down as semen started pulsing from his cock in spasmodic gushes, his back bowing into a deeper backbend. Gannon took that as his cue to unload. His eyes closed against the force of sensation surging through him even as his hands pulled Elliott tighter against him.
Deep, deep, deep, he rutted, that crazy biological urge to plant himself taking over.
Good. Fuck. Good.
Mike resumed breathing when Gannon slumped over Elliott’s already-slack body. First came breathing, then the realization that he was standing much too close to the bed. He stepped back hurriedly as Gannon flopped off Elliott onto his back and pulled Elliott over on top of him. Elliott looked as dazed as Mike felt, but a whole lot more satisfied.
“You were supposed to fuck him coherent, not comatose.”
“You still here?” Gannon rolled the condom off his cock.
Mike held up the trash can parked on the side of Elliott’s desk and Gannon executed a nice layup shot that was nothing but net.
“I think I got this now,” Gannon said. “You don’t gotta keep babysitting your friend.”
“I’m not babysitting.”
“Did you do this last night? Hang around and watch?”
He shook his head. He’d listened—he hadn’t had much choice—but he hadn’t watched.
“Why am I special? Because I’m black?”
God, he hoped that wasn’t it. He only knew he’d been having trouble peeling his eyes away from Gannon since first spotting his swagger.
Mike was a big guy—bigger than most, bigger than Gannon—but watching Gannon work Elliott over with seductive confidence had made him feel small and hungry and almost dizzy with yearning.
He’d tried to leave them alone, had almost made it out of the room, but then Gannon had taken his shirt off, and holy fuck. Gannon’s shirt hadn’t been nearly tight enough to prepare him for what lay beneath it: yards and yards of darkly-gleaming skin, like Gannon had been carved out of a single solid block of wood, then stained and polished until his pecs were a sculpture and his abs were the marble pedestal supporting it.
It didn’t have anything to do with him being black though, except, fuck—that cock, the pink tip bulging above the dusky column. He’d absolutely wanted to gobble it down, to push Elliott off the bed and all the way out of the room and shut the door behind him and dive between Gannon’s legs and consume it.
It might have something to do with him being black. Did that make him a bad person?
“I’m attracted to you,” he admitted.
“Oh? It’s not that you don’t trust me with your friend?”
“Oh, no. No. Shit.” He looked away at last, his thirst disrupted by embarrassment. He might be sort of…lusting after Gannon—he certainly was lusting after Gannon—and it might have something to do with Gannon being black, but he wasn’t a racist.
“It’s just that you want a piece of this?” The rancor was gone from Gannon’s voice. In its place was a low flirtatiousness. Was Gannon suggesting—
He looked back over at the pair twined together on the bed. Gannon had a hand on his dick, stroking it absently as it grew beneath his fingers. Mike licked his lips and caught Gannon’s answering smirk.
“You’re not too worn out?” he asked, despite the obvious evidence Gannon had produced.
“I wasn’t fucking all night last night, poor me. I wasn’t in on this orgy.”
“Me neither.” He’d jerked one out listening to round one of Elliott losing his virginity. Elliott might be his very best friend and not a guy to be fantasizing about, but hot was hot, and a twink whining to be fucked was hot, regardless if that twink was going to wake up the next morning and go back to being his buddy Elliott.
“Come here,” Gannon said. “You’re not my usual type, but if you’ve got a hankering for some D, I can help a brother out.”
Mike pushed himself off the wall that had been supporting him, since his legs didn’t seem to be functioning at full power, and walked the few steps to the bed where he got a better view of Gannon’s hands moving mesmerizingly over his cock. “What about Elliott?”
“Doubt he’ll wake up enough to even notice.”
“You fucked him so good.” A shiver ran down his spine at the memory. At the idea. He was a top. He never bottomed. But God he wanted to bottom for Gannon. When Gannon had flipped Elliott like a rag doll, he’d had to jam his hand against his cock to keep from coming. Thank God he hadn’t been able to see Gannon’s cock slide into Elliott’s ass because that would’ve done it. All he’d been able to see were the muscles in Gannon’s ass tightening like a fist before a fight. And that had been near enough.
“You want me to fuck you like that, don’t you?”
He exhaled all the yes in a single, shuddering breath. He couldn’t say it. His chest was too tight and his head was too loose. All he could do was breathe it.
“Get those clothes off then, and get your bare ass in this bed.”
“We could take it to my room,” he managed, hesitating.
“I want to see it,” Elliott mumbled, although his eyes were still closed where his face lay cuddled under Gannon’s arm. “You watched me.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“Not sleeping, just happy. Let him fuck you, Mike. It’s sooo good.”
Jealous. Nervous. Embarrassed. So-turned-on-his-dick-hurt.
He wasn’t sure which of those he was. All of them, he guessed.
He stripped his shirt off, feeling inadequate compared to the epitome of masculinity stretched out in front of him. He was tall, he was buff, but Gannon was…what was the word? Chiseled. Marble, wood, granite—he was made out of all things hard and beautiful.
His hands could barely work the button on his jeans. They wanted to be touching Gannon, not his own pitiful horny self.
“You go over there, baby,” Gannon said to Elliott, shifting him off to the side. “Rest up. I’ll be right back at you.”
“Let’s not rush.” He thought he might like to spend forever with this man’s cock up his ass. He also thought he might not be able to do it at all. Elliott had made it look so easy, taking it the way he did—no resistance, no ego, just a puddle of willing flesh. There was no way he’d be so graceful. Even now, there was a part of his brain that choked on his eagerness as he lowered himself down onto the bed next to Gannon, but that part of his brain didn’t seem to be in charge of his cock.
The bed was awkwardly full with the three of them lying side of side. He waited to be manhandled, to be directed, but Gannon only folded his arms behind his head and looked at him with his eyebrows raised, impatient and mocking like he didn’t even have to say the words.
He swallowed the shudder that welled up like a moan and did what he’d been dying to do since he’d first laid eyes on this god of a man—he touched him. The dam that pride had built shattered and he was glad to feel it go. He could touch now, taste. He could stroke and squeeze and lick and linger. Such gorgeous skin—unmarked except for one small tattoo on the right hip—tasting of sex and salt and man, hard and smooth like all those materials he’d imagined it was made out of. Like fucking honey, it was so sweet and silky.
He wasn’t even concentrating on Gannon’s cock, although that glistening pink tip beckoned him. It was all good, all the parts. Arms so magnificently rounded, bulging with biceps and delts even though Gannon lay loose and motionless, abs like boulders jutting up from the placid ocean of his torso, thighs like a vice around his head when he finally lowered himself to that pillar of pink and brown that towered above Gannon’s dark, heavy balls.
Gannon’s dick tasted like the orgasm he’d already had, like decadence and promise. He groaned around it, realizing with a surge of embarrassment that he was making more noise than Gannon. He wanted to keep sucking on Gannon’s shaft, to keep mouthing his balls, nuzzling into the cleft of his ass, but excitement kept his breaths short and rapid. Even with his head down, he felt dizzy with arousal.
“Please?” he asked, trying to shake the sweat out of his eyes so he could see the man watching him.
“Please what? Tell us what you want.”
He hated that Gannon had said us, that he’d given him that reminder of Elliott’s presence. Elliott no longer appeared sleepy. His eyes were heavy with some other emotion and his cock was somehow hard again. Mike couldn’t even count how many times Elliott had come in the last twenty-four hours. Damn it, this was his turn. Gannon hadn’t made Elliott beg.
He sat back on his heels, almost prepared to walk away, until Gannon, like a fucking mind reader, reared up, grabbed him by the upper arms and had him flat on his back before he could do much more than open his mouth like a slack-jawed idiot. He hit the bed hard, his breath rushing out of him in an urgent moan.
“Fuck me,” he begged, just like Gannon had wanted him to. “Fuck me, please. Please fuck me, please.” He might have gone on for a few more minutes but Gannon laughed and brought his finger to Mike’s mouth.
“Shh. I’m going to fuck you. Give me a minute to suit up, huh?” Gannon rolled a condom down his dick, all the while looking him over with a cocky air of ownership that pushed absolutely all of his buttons. Gannon slapped him on the hip and said, “Over you go.”
Gannon grabbed one of his thighs and rolled him, not bothering to repeat his command. “You think I don’t know what you want?”
He pushed up onto his elbows and knees, sighing into the position. Gannon’s fingers working his asshole were indelicate, rough, like he understood that he could take it, though if you counted all the bottoming he’d ever done, Elliott had more experience now.
But it wasn’t an experience thing. It was a size thing, a man thing. Gannon would fuck him like a football player would tackle him. No mercy offered, none asked.
And he was so, so grateful that he mouthed the words thank you when Gannon pushed into him with an unforgiving, unannounced stroke. He closed his eyes and settled his head on his forearms and let Gannon’s thrusting weight push him deeper into the mattress. The rush of Gannon’s cock against his prostate was nothing like the crook of a finger. It was unrelenting, overwhelming, cruel—like pleasure was something Gannon forced on him.
Hungry for release from the torment of stimulation, he put a hand on his cock, only to have his arm twisted painfully behind his back.
“Not for you,” Gannon said. “You don’t get that.”
“I can’t,” he whimpered, but he turned his wrist so that his fingers brushed against the hand Gannon used to restrain him.
“Just take it,” Gannon said. “You’re not going anywhere.”
The pounding went on and on. There were no soft words of encouragement for him, only this ruthless rhythm. Gannon’s hands were a crushing force against the points of his hip bones, his laughter a mockery.
He didn’t want to think about the fact that Elliott was watching, but Elliott’s body kept creeping closer until the warm press of it against his side couldn’t be ignored. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, burrowed his head deeper into his arms.
“How’s he look?” Gannon asked, and Mike knew he wasn’t talking to him.
“Like he’s in pain.”
Gannon laughed. “Not in pain, are you, big guy?”
He choked back whatever noise had been about to come out of his mouth, not sure which of the two men he’d have agreed with.
“You can help him out,” Gannon said. “Go on and suck his cock if you want.”
For whatever reason—anticipation, mortification—that was what did it. His orgasm exploded like his balls were grenades, shrapnel flying everywhere. Sharp fragments of pleasure lodged in his brain, flew from his mouth, splattered across the already-filthy sheets.
Gannon’s hand wrapped roughly around his cock to pump out the final rounds. He sucked in a last, heaving gasp. There were tears prickling at his eyes and his breath sounded like someone was sobbing. Behind him, Gannon withdrew. He wrestled Mike onto his back, then stripped the condom from his cock.
“Come here,” Gannon said, almost gently. He put his fingers under his chin and guided his damp face towards the dick he’d just unsheathed. Mike swallowed it gratefully. Sometimes his gag reflex produced tears. That was the only reason he was crying.
It didn’t take as long as he wouldn’t have minded if it had, but by the time Gannon gushed down his throat, his tears had dried and his emotions settled and all that was left was a sleepy peacefulness. Gannon’s semen was like warm milk, lulling him into comfort.
He continued licking lightly even as Gannon turned and settled back onto the bed. He curled on his side and rested his head against Gannon’s thigh and smiled at the stroke of fingers through his hair.
“But I didn’t get to suck him,” Elliott protested, hating the whine in his voice. He’d been seconds away from having Mike’s cock in his mouth when Mike had erupted like fucking Mount St. Helen. He’d managed to scoop up some of his come from the pillowcase, but that wasn’t at all the same thing as getting it right from the source. Now his dick was raging hard and Mike and Gannon were cuddling like he wasn’t even there.
He appealed to Gannon, as though Gannon was in charge of handing out pieces of Mike’s body. But then, he’d never been able to ask Mike directly, had he? That was the whole problem.
“So suck him now,” Gannon said lazily. He rolled his head over to look at him, taking in his erection and probably his pitiful unrequited crush while he was at it.
“He doesn’t want me to.”
Gannon snorted. “Never heard a guy say no to a blowjob. Go on. Try him.”
He looked down at Mike. Mike didn’t look like he wanted a blowjob from him. He looked like he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his nose in Gannon’s groin.
He’d been on the verge, the very cusp, of finally telling Mike how he felt and his inability to get the words out of his mouth had led them down this twisted path whereupon Mike was now discovering that Gannon was his soul mate or some fucking thing.
He liked Gannon OK. Gannon fucked like a porn star and was beautiful to look at and had treated him like he was beautiful too, but what he really wanted was Mike. Gannon was big, but Mike was enormous. And furry. His chest was a big barrel of masculine covered in a curly layer of manliness. His dick sprang out from between two lightly-furred rolls of muscular thigh. His back wasn’t hairy because he had it waxed—which he knew because Mike had told him it hurt like a son of a bitch—but he’d like it just as well if it were. Better even. He’d take Mike’s hair anywhere—especially that patch sprouting wild around his dick and balls.
And Mike was tough, everything he’d never been—good in a fight, unafraid in new situations, confident, strong, resourceful, calm in the midst of chaos. He admired Mike so much that it’d taken him a while to realize that he also wanted Mike. Wanted his dick in his hand, in his mouth, in his ass, in his life.
Even after he figured it out, he couldn’t do anything about it. Mike thought he was afraid to admit to himself that he was gay, but that wasn’t it. He was afraid to admit it to Mike, because then he’d know the truth. Last night, Mike had taken his tongue-tied inability to say what he really wanted to say as an identity crisis and had whisked him off to get laid. Which had been fine. Nice, even. He was happy to learn some skills.
But then this morning he’d taken a deep breath, pulled together all the tattered scraps of his courage, and…completely frozen. That had led to Gannon which had led to him almost—almost—getting Mike’s dick in his mouth.
Next to him, Gannon heaved a dramatic sigh. He pulled Mike up by the shoulders and settled him in between the two of them. “Elliott’s got something to tell you.”
Elliott glared across Mike’s body at Gannon when Mike rolled over with expectant eyes. Mike still looked fucked out. Nothing about this had gone as he’d expected. His image of Mike had him on top. Always. Seeing Mike so pliant and needy beneath Gannon had been weirdly hot. Mike had been absolutely destroyed and was even now only about half put back together. Elliott wanted to take him the rest of the way apart again.
“What’s up, homeboy?” Mike asked.
God damn. He was so friend-zoned it was ridiculous. Even with him naked, hard, and practically panting, all Mike could see was the buddy he shared an apartment with.
“I’m not your homeboy.” He pushed at Mike’s shoulder. His intentions were angry but once his hand was on Mike’s chest—the crisp curl of hair beneath his fingertips—it didn’t want to leave. He watched it like it was a detached thing, a small animal crawling through the forest of Mike’s chest hair, trailing downward.
Mike caught his hand by the wrist, holding it against his stomach before it could claim the prey it’d been hunting.
“Mike.” He knew he was giving himself away. All the clues were there—tongue tracing hungrily over his lips, cock straining like it could reach far enough to touch Mike’s body. He whimpered because he still couldn’t do it, couldn’t close that distance between them, couldn’t ask for what he really wanted. He willed Mike to understand as his breath came faster. Mike’s hand around his wrist burned with a promise of fire to come.
“You need to get fucked again, huh?” Mike’s eyes trailed down to his erection and then back up to his eyes.
He nodded. Thank God.
But then, no. Shit. Mike was turning to Gannon, trying to switch places with him, and Gannon was shaking his head and pushing Mike back at him, and why the fuck could Gannon figure this out and not Mike?
“You!” The word burst out with all the frustration of three years’ yearning. “I want you to fuck me.”
Mike’s tilted his head to the side as he contemplated him with clinical detachment, then a smirk broke across his face. “Oh, really?”
He nodded vigorously. This was his Mike—cocky, strong, in charge. All those oddly-arousing images of Mike squirming and begging disappeared with a single wink.
Mike rolled onto his back and put an arm lazily behind his head. “That might could be arranged.”
He attacked. It was all the invitation he needed. Mike’s body was spread out in front of him—a wide expanse of strong, sweaty flesh at the center of which was a rapidly swelling cock. Mike could pretend nonchalance, but his cock said otherwise, and he could almost cry from how happy that made him.
Gannon propped himself up on an elbow, watching as he dove into the middle of all that warm fur and wrapped himself around the rod extending from it. He felt like he was sinking as he sucked and licked and kissed, his consciousness narrowing to this single place and this moment.
“OK, enough.” Mike’s voice brought him halfway back to himself, but he had to disagree. It wasn’t enough. He shook his head and resisted the tug of Mike’s hand in his hair. “You want me to fuck you or not?” That got his attention. Without letting Mike’s dick out of his mouth, he rolled his glance up to Mike’s face. “If you make me come again, you’re going to be waiting a while before I can do that.”
He slowly pulled Mike’s dick free, letting his lips give it one last good tug. Mike pulled him up until he knelt with one leg on each side of his chest.
“Let’s see what you’ve got here.” Fingers ran up his shaft. “Not a bad looking dick.” The touch was so light it was worse than no touch at all. He’d never expected Mike to be so gentle, and it was sweet but it was also…not what he wanted.
He squirmed, backing away from the teasing caress, and Mike’s hand closed hard around him. His hand was so big it swallowed his dick whole, owning every inch of it, making his body sing with need. Meanwhile, Mike’s dick was at his hole and he wanted it, wanted to feel Mike owning him from both sides. He pushed back, trying to take it inside him.
“Uh uh. What did we learn about condoms?”
Oh, fuck the condom. He’d known Mike forever and he didn’t care about the fucking condom. But Mike and Gannon weren’t letting him get away with that. Mike grabbed him by the hips, preventing his frustrated attempts to impale himself. Behind him, Gannon’s hands brushed against his ass as he applied a condom to Mike’s cock, then Gannon dipped a finger and a second finger into his ass.
“He’s still pretty slick,” Gannon said. “Maybe looser than you’d like.”
“Nah, it’s good. I don’t want to hurt him.”
“Yeah, you’ve got a monster there, all right.”
He moaned in anticipation. Mike’s dick was so fucking huge. And it was about to be inside him, and he was going to fucking love it. He’d been hungering for it since the day he’d walked in on Mike stroking himself off in the shower. He’d gone in to grab some ibuprofen—it wasn’t like they stood on ceremony with each other—and there Mike had been, leaning up against the tiled wall, water straightening the ringlets of his chest hair, his cock in his hand and his O-face on.
He hadn’t even been able to turn his head away to give the guy some privacy. He’d seen Mike’s dick plenty of times—he knew there was a lot of meat there—but he’d never seen it at full volume before, had assumed that what there was soft was most of what there was hard, but no. Not even close.
He’d always known he liked guys better than girls. He’d just never known he wanted a cock up his ass.
Ever since that morning, he’d known.
Now the dick he’d dreamed of nudged at his asshole demanding entrance. He laid his chest down on Mike’s, letting the soft hairs tickle against his skin, and sighed himself open. Mike slid in a few inches. His hands came onto Elliott’s back where he stroked long swipes up and down the ridge of his spine.
“Ready for more?”
He nodded his head against Mike’s chest. He was ready for all of it. Mike gave it to him, settling him onto his cock like they were puzzle pieces fitting together. He was almost surprised when Mike starting sliding back out again. He’d felt so joined, so locked in place.
Mike steered him up and down his length until he needed more. He sat up and used his own thigh muscles to increase the pace, to increase the force. Despite how many times he’d been fucked in the last twenty-four hours, he felt stretched wide, opened for the first time.
“God, Mike.” He needed the speed, the frenzy, but it was so hard to keep the motion up when his body was floppy and his mind pleasure-soaked.
“Giving up already?” Mike asked with a chuckle. He flipped them so that he found himself breathless on his back looking up at a grinning Mike. “I’ve got you,” Mike said before proving it.
Oh yeah, this was the good stuff. Mike’s body surrounded him, filled him, encompassed him. He clung to Mike’s arms as his head arched back and his hips drove up. He was almost hanging off of Mike, suspended on the hook of his thrusting cock.
His orgasm was slow to build. It seemed a thing apart from him, not what he drove towards. This closeness, this possession, this consummation were the now and forever. His climax surprised him when it came, pulsing out of nowhere, forcing out a few last dregs of semen from the depths of his balls.
Mike grunted and slowed his pace. He lowered Elliott’s legs from where he’d pushed them up around his ears and tilted forward until their chests brushed. The sweat from Mike’s brow dripped onto his chin and he licked down to catch it. Mike’s lips were wet and parted, harsh breaths rasping through them. He locked his hands around Mike’s head and raised himself up until their mouths met. There was a single sweet moment of lip against lip and then everything was hungry and wet and Mike came with a stuttering shudder.
Elliott lowered his shoulders back onto the bed, taking Mike with him as they continued kissing.
“You two are hot together,” Gannon said. “You’ve got me about ready for round three.”
“God, give us ten minutes,” Mike said with a shaky laugh. He stripped off the condom and tied it in a knot and alley-ooped it over Gannon’s head.
“Ten minutes,” Gannon agreed, but his hands started stroking at Elliott’s thighs. “You wanted that, didn’t you, baby?”
He nodded. It was much too late to pretend he hadn’t.
“Shit,” Mike said. “If you wanted me to fuck you, why didn’t you just say so? We wouldn’t even have had to leave the house.”
“I was scared.”
“You don’t gotta be scared. I’ll fuck you any time.”
“It’s not that,” he said, the words bursting out unexpectedly the way his climax had. “Don’t you get it? I like you. I’ve always liked you.”
“Yeah?” Mike tilted his head at him. “I like you too, Elliott. Never entertained the idea of you and me together much but never got it all the way out of my head either.
“Sure, really. You know you’re adorable, right?”
He ducked his head into the hollow of Mike’s clavicle.
“Just didn’t think you were into it. Now that I know you are—” Mike didn’t finish the thought, but he ruffled Elliott’s hair. Elliott grinned. He sat up enough to kiss Mike’s mouth, then twisted around the other way and kissed Gannon’s for the sake of equality.
“So, uh, which of you do I get to fuck?”
Gannon laughed. “You wanted to do the fucking, you shouldn’t have gotten in bed with two tops, baby. You’ll have to pimp him up a twink next,” Gannon told Mike.
“Nah, he’s not nearly done getting fucked yet. I figure we’re going to need at least the rest of the weekend to run through that ass. What do you think?”
“I think I’ve got nowhere better to be. What do you think, baby?”
Elliott sank back down between them. Gannon’s mouth nuzzled into his neck. He rubbed his cheek against Mike’s chest. He thought he was a seriously happy guy. Gay, even.
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