20. Dante #2
I go to my hands and knees in the center of the bed.
Dakota in front of me, mirroring my position, her ass tilted up so I can reach her.
Cruz kneels in front of her face, already rock-hard, watching her with that easy reverence he saves for her.
Eli kneels behind me, his hand sliding up the small of my back like he’s checking I’m real.
Brady moves to the foot of the bed. Sits on the edge. From there he can see everything. Eli behind me. Me inside Dakota. Dakota’s mouth on Cruz.
The visual hits him before anyone moves. I watch his hand go to his thigh and stay there, trembling.
“Lube’s by the lamp.” Eli’s voice, low.
Dakota reaches, hands it back. The click of the cap follows. The cool of the lube. Eli’s finger circles me, careful, then presses in slow.
I let out a long breath.
“Talk to me, Dante,” Eli urges.
“Feels good. You can move.”
He does. One finger, careful, learning the rhythm. I rock back against his hand and his breath catches.
“More,” I breathe.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I can take it.”
Two fingers. The stretch is good. I close my eyes briefly and just feel him learning me. He doesn’t rush. Of course he doesn’t.
“You’re being careful.” I look back at him over my shoulder. “You don’t have to be that cautious, you won’t hurt me.”
His green eyes find mine. Something shifts in them.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Three fingers. And stop treating me like something fragile, Daddy.”
His jaw tightens. The next time his fingers push in, it’s with intent. I groan, drop my forehead against the sheets.
“Christ.”
“That what you wanted?” he asks.
His voice has changed. Lower. The edge of it back.
“Yeah.”
I rock back onto his hand, deliberately, showing him how I like it. He huffs out a breath that’s half-laugh, half-hunger.
To my left, Cruz is stroking himself slow, eyes locked on what Eli’s doing. Brady’s hand is pressed against the front of his jeans, not moving yet. Just pressed. Like he’s holding himself in.
“Eli do you feel how my body has accepted you, how you slide easily in and out?.” I’m breathing harder now. “That’s how you’ll know I’m ready.”
”Got it.” He replies. I hear him slick himself. Feel him line up. His hand on my hip is warm, broad, the hand that wraps fighters and corrects forms and now this.
I reach forward, line up my cock with Dakota’s pretty wet cunt. Her hand drops to mine and squeezes once. Cruz shifts closer to her mouth, his cock heavy in his hand, glossing her lower lip with his precum.
“On three.” Dakota’s voice, steady. “One. Two—”
“Three.” Eli pushes in.
I push into Dakota.
Dakota takes Cruz into her mouth.
The sound I make seems foreign. It tears out of me, low and broken. Behind me, Eli makes a sound I’ve never heard a man make—shock and pleasure and something that’s almost like grief, like he’s mourning the years he didn’t know this was an option for him.
For a long second nobody moves.
I can feel Eli filling me. I can feel Dakota tight around me. I can hear Cruz’s groan as she sucks him into her mouth. And at the foot of the bed, Brady’s breath is audible.
We’re all connected. One line.
“Oh fuck,” Eli moans.
“Move,” I tell him. “Move, Daddy.”
The first thrust drives me forward into Dakota. Dakota rocks forward onto Cruz. Cruz groans, his free hand finding her hair, not pulling, just resting. The chain ripples through all of us and lands somewhere I don’t have words for.
Eli starts slow. Methodical. Coach’s brain still on, finding the angle, the depth, the rhythm. His hands grip my hips hard enough to leave marks.
“Tell me,” he says, rough.
“Harder.” He pushes deeper, and I have to brace my arms or fold.
“Like that?” he asks.
“Yes. Fuck Daddy, yes.”
His next thrust hits deeper, knocks the breath clean out of me. I hear his groan behind me, surprised, like he didn’t know he could make me sound like this.
“That’s it, Daddy.”
“Don’t… ” His voice cracks. “Don’t stop talking to me.”
“Daddy. Fuck. Yes.”
Cruz’s laugh is wrecked, dirty. He’s watching Eli over Dakota’s bobbing head, his hand stroking through her hair.
“Look at you, Coach. Look at you fucking him. Knew you had it in you.”
Eli’s hips snap forward, harder, and I bite back a curse.
“Yeah, that’s it.” Cruz again, his voice dropping into that gravelly Tennessee drawl he gets when he’s close. “You feel how tight he is, Daddy? You feel what you do to him?”
Eli groans, the heel of his hand sides up my spine and it feels amazing. When he reaches my shoulder, he grips it firmly and uses both shoulder and hip to set a deep, dangerous pace, then tugs my hip firmly, making my knees shift and the angle changes completely stealing my breath.
“Fuck. Eli. Right there,” I encourage.
“He likes that, Coach.” Cruz’s hand tightens in Dakota’s hair, watching. “Look at him. Take him. He’s yours right now.”
Dakota moans around Cruz’s cock, the vibration making him hiss.
She rocks back onto me, then forward onto Cruz, fucking herself between us, taking and giving what she wants in equal measure.
I can feel how wet she is, how she clenches around me every time Eli drives into me from behind.
Her hand grips the sheets white-knuckled.
“Good girl, baby.” Cruz looks down at her, tender even now. “Take it. Such a good fucking girl for us.”
Her moan goes higher. I feel it everywhere.
Eli’s rhythm starts to fracture. His hand slides off my back and grips both my hips, lifting me into him, fucking me with intent now, no longer careful.
“Dante.” His voice is shot. “You feel. Christ… I never…”
“Yeah, Daddy. I know.” I push back to meet him, hear him groan like I broke him. “Feels good, doesn’t it? First time taking a man. Tell me how it feels.”
“Fucking incredible.” It rips out of him. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“That’s right, Coach.” Cruz is gentle and filthy in the same breath. “Tell him. Tell him how good he takes you.”
“He takes me so good.” Eli’s thrust drives me forward into Dakota, drives Dakota onto Cruz, and the whole chain shudders. “So fucking good for me.”
“For who?” Cruz pushes. “Say it.”
Eli’s hands tighten on my hips. “For Daddy. He’s so good for Daddy.”
I lose the ability to form words. Something inside me cracks open.
“Look at that.” Cruz’s voice sounds ruined. “Daddy’s got him. Daddy’s taking him apart.”
“Cruz.” Eli’s voice is half-warning, half-plea.
“What, Coach? You don’t like hearing me call you Daddy?” Cruz strokes himself slow, his hips rocking forward into Dakota’s mouth. “You like it. I can see your face. You love it.”
“I love it.” Eli’s voice breaks on it. “Fuck. I love it.”
Dakota whimpers around Cruz’s cock, her whole body trembling between us. I reach under her, find her clit, and the sound she makes vibrates through Cruz so hard he barks out a curse.
“Jesus.” Cruz’s free hand cups her jaw, thumb at the corner of her mouth. “You gonna come on Dante’s cock, sweetheart? Want me to come down your throat while you do it?”
She nods around him, frantic, and I work her harder, my fingers slick, her thighs starting to shake.
“That’s my girl.” Cruz looks up at me. “Make her come, Dante. Then Daddy can fuck the cum out of you.”
The promise runs through me like a live wire. I drive into Dakota harder, her clit under my fingers, Eli driving into me from behind, and the rhythm of it is transcendent. Cruz’s hand cradles Dakota’s head as she takes him deeper.
“Daddy.” I’m begging now. I don’t care. “Daddy, please, don’t stop.”
“Never.” His hand slides up, grips the back of my neck, holds me down. “I’ve got you, Dante. Come on. Make her come.”
I curl my fingers and Dakota shatters around me. Her cry is muffled around Cruz, and I feel her clamp down so hard my vision flashes white.
“Fuck.” Cruz’s hips jerk forward. “That’s it!”
He comes down her throat, his head dropping back, his hand gentle on her jaw the whole time. She swallows, swallows again, her body still trembling on my cock.
“Good girl.” Cruz’s voice is barely holding together. “So good. So fucking good.”
He eases out of her mouth, brushes her hair back, looks at me and Eli is still chasing it.
Cruz smirks. “Your turn, Coach. Finish him.”
Eli’s grip on the back of my neck tightens. “Come for me, Dante.”
It’s not a question.
I come hard enough to white out inside Dakota’s tight cunt, the word Daddy spilling out of me repeatedly. He fucks me through it, his rhythm breaking, then his groan against my shoulder as he follows me over, his whole body shuddering against mine.
For a long moment, nothing in the room moves, only our heaving chests as we catch our breath.
Then, from the foot of the bed, Brady’s voice. Small. Raw.
“Oh my god.” Brady makes a strangled sound. I lift my head enough to see he’s coming. His cock is out and in his hand. Eyes squeezed shut. His mouth is open in a silent shape that might be a word, might be a prayer.
He came just from watching us fall apart.
None of us move.
We stay where we are. Eli is still inside me. Me still inside Dakota. Cruz’s hand is still in her hair. The chain holding.
Eli pulls out first. His hand stays on my hip. I pull out of Dakota with the same care. Cruz steps back, sits down hard on the edge of the bed, scrubs a hand over his face.
I collapse onto my stomach.
Eli lowers himself beside me, on his back, eyes on the ceiling. His chest is rising and falling fast. His hands are shaking.
Dakota crawls across the bed and curls into Eli’s side, her hand splayed flat on his chest. He covers it with his own without looking. Cruz drops onto my other side, his palm finding the small of my back, resting there. Warm. Heavy. An anchor.
Brady hasn’t moved. He’s still in his clothes with his cock poking out of his jeans. I let my mind drift through what just happened.
Eli topping me felt different than anyone before him. The dominance wasn’t a costume. It was the framework of everything he is. Coach. Daddy. The man who keeps people alive in cages and now, this.