17. Cruz #2
I’m off the couch before the word is fully out of my mouth, dropping to the rug between his spread thighs. The ottoman puts him at exactly the right height. I look up at him and his throat works.
“Daddy,” I say, and watch him shudder.
“Don’t—” he breathes, then, “—do.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I work his belt open. He’s already hard against the denim, straining the zipper, and when I get him out his cock fills my hand—uncut, thick, beautiful in a way I never let myself think about back when I was supposed to not be thinking about it.
I lean in and take him, just the head first, tongue swirling. He grunts and his hand finds my hair.
“Christ.”
I sink down further. Take him to the back of my throat. He tastes clean and warm and faintly of soap, and the hand in my hair tightens like he’s not sure if he wants to push me down or pull me off.
Behind me I hear Dante’s belt.
“Coach.” Dante’s voice is silk. “Want a taste of this one too?”
I pull off long enough to look. Dante’s standing now, beside Eli, his cock out and heavy in his fist. Long, dark, gorgeous. I’ve sucked that cock enough times, and the thought of Eli’s mouth wrapped around it does something violent to me.
Eli’s pupils are blown.
“Yeah,” he rasps. “Yeah, I want a taste.”
I get back to work on him while Dante steps in close, angles his cock toward Eli’s mouth. Coach takes him careful, like he’s testing the temperature of bathwater, just the head at first. Then a little more. Dante’s free hand slides into his hair, gentle.
“That’s it,” Dante murmurs. “Just like that, Coach. Beautiful.”
Above me Eli moans around Dante’s dick and the vibration of it hits his own cock in my mouth and I groan back and the whole circuit lights up.
Dakota.
I’d almost lost track of her. I pull off Eli, panting, and twist around.
She’s still on the couch. Hoodie shoved up to her waist, shorts pushed aside, two fingers working between her thighs while she watches us. Bottom lip caught in her teeth. Eyes glassy.
Oh, hell no.
“Sweetheart.” I sit back on my heels. “Get the fuck down here.”
“I’m watching—”
“I don’t care what you’re doing. You’re not coming on your own hand in this house. Not while there’s three of us in the room.”
She makes a noise like I’ve slapped her, in the best way, and she’s off the couch and on her knees beside me before I finish the sentence. I cup the back of her neck, bring her in for a kiss—deep, tongue in her mouth, Coach’s pre-cum still on my lips.
She moans into it.
“Suck me,” I tell her. “I want your mouth on me while I work on Daddy.”
“Yes.”
She drops between my thighs—I’d kicked my jeans halfway down without noticing—and her warm wet mouth closes around my cock and my eyes nearly roll back.
I bend to Eli again. Dante’s still feeding Coach his dick, slow and patient, and the whole tableau is the filthiest thing I have ever been a part of in a long time.
Then I have an idea.
I pull off Eli with a wet sound. He whines—actually whines—and I grin up at him.
“Daddy. We’re doing this wrong.”
He looks down at me, dazed. “What.”
“Look at us.” I gesture around. “Dakota’s on me. I’m on you. You’re on Dante. And Dante’s just—Dante’s just standing there like a king getting served.”
Dante laughs, breathless. “I’m fine with that.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not. Floor. All of us. Square. Eli on Dante. Me on Eli. Dakota on me. And Dante’s mouth on Dakota.”
Dakota lifts off my cock with a pop and stares at me.
“You’re a genius. A somewhat evil one, but a genius none the less.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
Dante’s living room rug is thick and dark and it takes us all.
Dante stretches out on his back. Eli kneels over him on his side, head at Dante’s hips, and I curl in behind Eli, my mouth at his cock, and Dakota lies on her back with her head between my thighs, and Dante—Dante hooks his arms around her thighs and pulls her pussy down onto his mouth like he’s starving for it.
For a second nobody moves. We’re a knot of limbs and cocks and pussy, breathing into each other.
Then Dante’s tongue does something to Dakota that makes her whimper around my cock, and the whole square detonates.
I take Eli to the root. He groans, deep, around Dante. Dante hums into Dakota. Dakota moans around me. The vibration travels the whole circle and slingshots back. Every motion any one of us makes ripples through all four.
I have never, in my entire life, felt anything like this. The rightness of it. One of us is missing. Four of us here.
I pull off Eli just enough to gasp.
“Once Brady’s in,” I pant, “we’re doing this every fucking week. Five of us. Giving and taking. All at once.”
Eli moans low, agreement and arousal both. Dakota hums her yes. Dante’s hand thumps the rug twice in what I’m reading as amen.
I take Eli back into my mouth.
We work. I work until my jaw aches, until Dakota’s thighs are shaking around Dante’s head, until Eli’s whole body has gone tight as a wire about to snap.
He’s making sounds I’ve never imagined could be drawn from him—small broken things, half-syllables, please and Cruz and Christ and Dante all running together.
He pulls off Dante suddenly, gasping.
“Wait. Wait.”
We all stop. Dante’s the first to lift his head, mouth wet and shining.
“You okay?”
“I’m gonna come if you don’t—” Eli’s chest is heaving. He turns his head, looks at me. His mouth is swollen. His eyes are wild. “Cruz.”
“Yeah, Daddy.”
“I want to.” He looks down at himself, at me, at the small space between us. “Can we. I saw in—” His face goes red. “Frot. With me.”
My brain stops.
“You want to frot with me.”
“I saw it in porn.” It comes out almost defiant, like he’s daring any of us to laugh. “I want to feel you against me. I want…” His throat bobs. “I want to come on your cock.”
“Fuck.” I sit up so fast I almost knock Dakota over. “Yes. Fuck yes, Daddy, come here. Come here and get that cock on mine.”
He scrambles. I have never seen Coach scramble for anything in his life, and watching it now I think I might come before he even touches me. I shove Dante’s coffee table six inches with my foot to make room. Lie back on the rug.
Eli straddles me. Knees on either side of my hips. His cock dark and dripping, mine the same. He grips both of us in one of those gorgeous careful hands, looks down at me like he’s about to step off a cliff, and then he slides us together.
I make a noise I don’t recognize.
He moves. Just a tentative roll of his hips at first. Then again. Then he gets it, the rhythm, and his eyes flutter shut and his hand tightens and he starts to grind.
Dakota crawls up to the side of us. She watches, mouth open. Dante settles behind her, pulls her back against his chest.
“Sit on me, sweetheart,” Dante murmurs against her ear. “I’m not making it through this without being inside you.”
She nods, dazed, and shifts up onto her knees.
He guides his cock into her from behind, and her gasp shudders out of her like she’s been struck.
She braces her hands on the rug beside my head and stares down at me and Eli, and Dante starts to fuck into her, slow, with his arms wrapped tight around her ribs.
“Cruz.” She’s broken. Her hair hangs around my face in a curtain. “Cruz, look at him. Look at Daddy.”
I look. Eli’s head is thrown back. The tendons in his throat strain. His hand is working us both, his hips snapping in tight grinds, his thighs flexing where they grip my sides. His cock against mine is hot and silk-slick and the friction is going to kill me.
“Daddy,” I rasp. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Look at you. Look at you taking what you want.”
His eyes snap open and lock on mine.
“Cruz,” he chokes. Cruz, I’m—”
“Yeah you are. Come on me. All over me. Mark me, Daddy. Let me see it.”
He breaks.
His whole body locks and he gasps, and then he’s coming, hot stripes of it across my stomach and the head of my cock, his hand still working us through it.
The sight of Coach, my Coach, undone, painting me with himself drags me over the edge a half-second behind him.
I come so hard I see stars, my hips bucking up into his grip, my cum mixing with his on my belly.
He collapses forward. His forehead lands on my collarbone. He’s shaking.
I get one hand in his hair and hold him there.
Dakota is unraveling. I twist my head to watch.
Dante’s got one arm banded across her chest, the other hand splayed low on her belly, and he’s fucking the life out of her now, nothing gentle about it and she looks utterly wrecked. Her mouth is open, soundless. Her hair clings to her sweat-damp neck.
“Baby.” Dante’s voice is in pieces. “Look at them. Look what they did. Look how pretty Daddy made Cruz.”
She sobs.
“Baby, Look at the pretty mess all over Cruz’s belly. Don’t you want to lick him clean before I let you come on my cock? Be our good little cum slut tonight?”