Chapter Seven
Less than five minutes in a cab and I was there. Feeling that familiar shiver of anticipation in my belly as we pulled up outside the identikit apartment building. Excitement blended with the sense that I was doing something wrong, but which nobody was going to call me out on.
I’d pulled on a t-shirt, jeans, and a hoodie, figuring I wasn’t going to be judged for my sartorial performance. I’d brought a nicer shirt, and mildly fancier jeans, on the assumption that Conner might want to go out for dinner. Instead, some guy was apparently going to watch me nail his boyfriend.
I thumbed the buzzer; pulled the door when the lock hummed.
From the sound of it, and the photo he’d sent, this wasn’t a new arrangement for them.
Frankly, while I knew about the whole cucking scene, I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to be the guy watching rather than on the bed, or wherever the action was happening.
Conversely, though, the idea of someone watching me fuck another guy had clearly been enough to get me hard on the ride over.
I squeezed myself through the denim, as I waited at the apartment door.
He was cute. Slightly older than me, but shorter, twinkier. Lean muscle in a sleeveless shirt and shorts; his hair pulled back, and a smirk that fell just on the suggestive side of lascivious. It didn’t feel rude to look him over. After all, the way he was staring was like he half-wanted to eat me.
“Hey.” He stood aside, letting me into the hallway.
“Oli,” I supplied, toeing off my shoes. I turned, to shake the hand presented.
“William.”
I stiffened, his hand still in mine, as he stroked with the other across my crotch. Watching his smile spread wider, while his fingers outlined the shape of my erection.
“Nice to meet you, Oli.” The amusement was clear in his voice, along with the lust. “I’m glad you could come.”
“It sounded like a fun invitation,” I told him; felt him squeeze me a little more in response. “Is your...”
He chuckled, though that might’ve been at my looking around almost guiltily.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s in the bedroom, waiting. But you’re here to see me, remember?”
I tugged him closer, so that I could stroke down the curve of his spine through the loose shirt. Fingers shaping the ample heft of his ass, enjoying the way William’s grip on me shifted as his hand was trapped between us.
“Do you do this a lot?”
William laughed. “Were you hoping for a virgin? I’m sorry to disappoint.”
I squeezed more, a palmful of his cheek. Relishing the soft muscle, the way it filled my hand. How he lifted, just slightly, onto his toes, to press himself against me.
“I didn’t say I was disappointed.”
Another laugh, and then he pulled away. Still holding my hand, though, to lead me down the hallway and into the bedroom.
Big bed, dim lighting. It felt a little like a hotel room, even, though a nicer one than where I was meant to be sleeping that night. William’s hand groping at me again, as I turned to see the whole space.
Then froze, at the sight of the man in an armchair in the corner.
Flynn’s eyes widened, above the simple leather gag.
He was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, his feet bare on the rug.
The strap across the lower half of his face was the only restraint I could see, even if Flynn’s body language was that of someone tied up, immobilized.
As though being robbed of his voice was enough to render him powerless in all other ways, destined to only observe.
I should say something, I knew I should.
“That’s...” I started.
William eased my face around, away from the intent stare of his boyfriend. “Ignore him, and kiss me.”
We’d not negotiated kissing; I knew some guys weren’t up for it, even if they wanted to have sex. William apparently was not one of those guys, his mouth hungry and urgent.
It was a good kiss, could even have been a mesmerizing one, if it wasn’t for the knowledge of who was watching me do it. A sense of exposure like nothing I’d ever experienced before, Flynn’s gaze feeling like it burned where it touched me.
A flicker of guilt, at William’s fingers tugging at my jeans. I groaned into his mouth as he pushed his hand inside, groping me through my boxer-briefs.
He pulled back, just slightly. Close enough, still, that I could barely focus on his swollen pupils.
“It’s fatter than it looked in pictures,” he purred, approvingly.
His voice was louder than it needed to be, that was my first thought. Until I realized William wasn’t saying that for my ears, for my benefit. A report intended for his partner, sitting little more than ten feet away.
I couldn’t help it, I had to glance over.
Wanting to see if Flynn was ready to leap up out of the chair and drag us apart; if his eyes had narrowed into a hate-filled glare.
I’d thought I could just about understand the dynamic of a couple doing this, on the cab ride over, the motivations of exhibitionist and voyeur.
Yet those mechanisms only made sense when the two people were strangers, I realized: all my explanations fell apart, with the reality that Flynn was an actual, fully-rounded person.
A person now watching his boyfriend ease my jeans down, as he licked and nibbled along my neck.
I rocked on my heels slightly, as William released me. Only for a moment, though; steadied as he crouched down, his hands on my hips. Tugging my pants to my ankles, then off completely as I instinctively, obediently, lifted each foot in turn.
His face was hot through the white cotton of my trunks, as he pressed his cheek against my erection. When I looked down, it was to see a glazed sort of pleasure in his expression. I felt the twist of his grin.
“Take your shirt off.”
It was easier to watch him as I did it, to hold his eye rather than allow my gaze to once again be dragged across the room.
Enjoying, too - despite everything: the shock, the sense that all of this was deeply wrong, somehow - the clear lust in William’s stare as he eyed my torso.
How his fingers tightened on the backs of my thighs.
“That’s hot,” he murmured.
My grin was automatic. “I’m glad you think so.”
I would’ve killed to know what Flynn thought, in that moment.
No way to ask, though; at least, not within the rules of whatever game this was. However this had been negotiated between them, and my role in it that of latecomer and foil.
“Fuck, you’re leaking.” William sounded delighted, his voice thick. Tongue rasping across the smooth cotton.
I’d thought it would be a mood-killer, realizing it was Flynn there, watching. Only my cock was as hard as I could ever remember it being. William lapping eagerly through my underwear.
I held my breath, as his fingers dug under the waistband and dragged it down.
Wondering, too, what Flynn was looking at now, where his attentions landed: the familiarity of the man he was in a relationship with, on his knees preparing to suck a stranger; or, the body of someone who was meant to be a complete unknown, only who turned out to be far from that.
My brain may have been conflicted, but apparently I wasn’t thinking with that organ any more.
Hard and thick, slapping against William’s cheek. Already leaving a gooey trail across his skin, as he tilted his head to capture me between his lips.
For a split-second I thought my legs would buckle, as he plunged his mouth onto me.
No preamble, no teasing: just the full, hot, wet sleeve of him around me, and his fingers squeezing my legs fit to bruise. Only pulling off reluctantly, it felt like; gasping even as his mouth quirked into a contended smirk.
He stared at his spit-slicked handiwork. “Fuck, I knew it’d taste good.” William brushed his half-closed lips against me.
I glanced across, to the person I was meant to ignore. Almost fearful of what I might see, of the fury that might be visible. Only, while Flynn’s eyes were narrowed, it looked like it was with lust not rage.
The clear erection, outlined through his sweatpants, was the other giveaway.
No mistaking how hard he was, straining against the gray fabric. Jutting straight up from his lap; I knew instantly that he wasn’t wearing underwear. And yet his hands were still loosely gripping the arms of the chair, making no move to touch himself.
It was a mystery, but one I lost the ability to focus on when William bobbed down onto me again.
The kiss had been good, but the blow job was even better. Loud, and sloppy, and eager: no way to confuse whether he was into it, was enjoying himself. Hands urgent upon me, as though he wanted to map out my flesh without sight.
My hand found the back of his head without my even meaning to. Fingers pushing through his hair, easing it out of the elastic band holding it back; twisting through its soft strands, then gripping tight. A fist with which to yank him in close, until I felt his lips pressed against me.
He gurgled, happily, when I tugged him free again. Spit glazing his chin, eyes wide as he stared up at me. “You like fucking my throat?”
I nodded, panting.
“Say it.”
My own throat felt thick; it was hard to swallow. For a moment, I worried that my voice would crack. Brittle, like a teenage boy’s.
“Yeah.” It was more a breath than a word.
“Yeah, what?” William’s expression was intent, fascinated.
“Yeah, I like fucking your throat,” I told him, obediently.
He pulled against my hand, just once, but it was enough for me to get the message. Hugging him to me again, as my head tipped back and I savored the incredible, massaging friction.
I was going to fuck Flynn’s boyfriend, on their bed, while he watched me do it. The knowledge of that - and the knowledge that Flynn himself knew it just as much as I did - was more dizzying than anything else.
William was pulling at his shorts, sitting splay-legged at my feet. Not letting up on me, though; efforts redoubling, even.
I shoved him back, suddenly fearful of too much pleasure, too soon.
William’s shoulders hit the edge of the bed, his grin spit-slicked and wide. “More?”