Chapter 10 #3
He adjusted the camera without looking at Beckett’s face, angling the lens lower, intent on capturing where our bodies met as I moved slowly against him, unhurried and deliberate, like I had all the time in the world.
Before Beckett could give a snarky retort, I leaned down and pressed my lips to his.
Sure, it covered the best view, but I wanted nothing more than to kiss him and rub up against him for a minute.
Asher backed up, getting a wide-angle shot instead.
And that was why I trusted him with the camera.
He took film seriously, even while shooting porn.
I knew I needed a better angle, so I reluctantly pulled back and sat up.
“Brace yourself,” I said, letting a teasing wink curl my lips.
The thought of him beneath me, rutting against me until we came, made my pulse spike, but shifting focus would give Asher a shot worth remembering—and drive Beckett just as wild.
Still, the memory of our bodies pressed together lingered, tempting me. That kind of closeness would have to wait for another time…if he ever let it happen without the camera in the room.
Reaching beneath the pillow, I found the bottle of lube, flicked it open with my thumb, and let the cool liquid pool in my palm. I wrapped my hand around both our lengths, pressing them together as I began a slow, deliberate rhythm that made his breath catch.
“Unfortunately, the only head of his that you can blow is in your hand right now.” Asher’s attempt at humor fell flat as his voice betrayed him, dropping an octave lower than usual, his hand already wrapped around himself in slow, lazy strokes that drew my attention despite myself.
Beckett didn’t seem to hear Asher’s comment, his eyes fixed on my hand as it worked over both of us, his lips parted slightly.
His fingers twisted in the comforter, knuckles white with tension.
I reached down, pried one hand free from the sheets, and guided it to my thigh, pressing his palm against my skin with a gentle squeeze. “Show me how good this feels.”
I rubbed my thumb along his slit, gathering the beaded precum. If I hadn’t been holding our cocks together, I’d take a taste, but I didn’t want to let go. Beckett’s hip tried to arch at the sensation, but my weight on his thighs held him down.
“It’s so fucking good, Theo,” he said between pants and groans.
“I can tell by the death grip you have on my thigh, baby. But I like it.” I’d have his marks on me tomorrow. I wanted his marks everywhere. Teeth, fingers, handprints—anything and everything to show the world I belonged, in part, to him. He held half of my heart, and he didn’t even know it.
The rhythmic sound of Asher pleasuring himself caught my attention.
I glanced over, tilting my chin in silent invitation.
This convergence was inevitable—had been since Beckett suggested recording us.
They’d both signed up for this moment, whether they fully realized it or not.
In my experience, shared pleasure dissolved boundaries between men faster than anything else could.
At least, that’s what I was counting on.
Asher stood near Beckett’s head, his hand slowly working his dick in Beckett’s eyesight.
Beckett turned his head slightly to catch a glance, his eyes widening as he took in the glorious view, though I wasn’t sure he thought the same about it as I did.
He would one day. My best friend had a submissive bottom side to him ready to come out to play, but didn’t know it, and I wasn’t sure he’d accept it.
“Touch it, baby,” I urged, my fingers tightening around our cocks as my pace quickened, the possibility sending heat rushing through me in ways I wasn’t ready to confess.
Beckett’s eyes narrowed to slits, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jump beneath his skin. “I’m not touching him!” His face softened as I dug my thumb into his slit, his mouth opening on a moan.
Asher rolled his eyes. “Those baby hands couldn’t get me off.” To anyone else, it would sound like his usual Beckett-bashing. But I caught the slight tilt of his chin, the way his gaze lingered a beat too long. This wasn’t an insult—it was an invitation wrapped in a challenge.
“My hand is perfectly average, just like your mediocre dick,” Beckett quipped.
Then, without warning, Beckett wrapped his free hand around Asher’s cock.
Asher’s low groan filled the room as he repositioned the camera to capture the movement.
I watched Beckett’s face—his wide eyes fixed on his own fingers sliding along Asher’s length, his expression caught between shock at his own boldness and fascination at the power he now held.
Something had snapped in him when Asher mentioned those “baby hands,” and now he seemed determined to prove just how wrong that assessment was.
Beckett’s expression transformed—the wide-eyed surprise vanishing as his jaw set and his fingers tightened around Asher’s shaft. Each deliberate stroke ended with a calculated twist that made Asher’s breath catch. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
Beckett’s lips curled into a victorious smirk as he watched Asher’s eyes flutter closed.
“How’s that for my baby hands?” he murmured, his voice low with newfound confidence.
The power dynamic had shifted—Asher vulnerable beneath his touch, and Beckett savoring every second of it.
There was something intoxicating about watching them both get off on this unexpected reversal.
“Dry,” Asher responded, his eyes snapping open.
I chuckled. “Give me your hand,” I directed. “I’ve got an idea.”
He offered his hand without protest, and Asher let out a frustrated groan at the sudden absence of contact.
I’d been saving something for later, but inspiration struck.
My fingers slipped beneath the pillow just above where Beckett’ s head rested, retrieving the small vibrator I’d hidden there before we started.
“What’s that?” Beckett questioned.
I didn’t answer.
The device hummed to life as I thumbed the dial higher, then pressed its pulsing head against Beckett where he was most sensitive. I kept my other hand wrapped around both of us, deliberately still now. His face told me everything I needed to know—I wouldn’t have to wait long.
His eyes widened, his head falling back, moans and curses echoing through the room. “Holy fuck, oh fuck, Theo! It—it feels too g-good. Oh my God, I can’t take it.”
His hips bucked wildly beneath me, but I pressed my weight down firmly, pinning him in place as the inevitable wave of pleasure crashed through him.
“I’m coming. Holy shit, I’m coming!” he screamed, his eyes screwing shut.
I cupped my palm just above where his cock pulsed and twitched, collecting the warm streams as they erupted toward his stomach in rhythmic bursts.
The vibrator clicked off in my hand as Beckett collapsed beneath me, spent. His chest heaved with each ragged breath, eyelids fluttering open to reveal pupils still blown wide with pleasure.
“A little help,” I said with a playful wink, using my slicked palm to coat Asher’s shaft with Beckett’s release, my fingers working methodically from base to tip. “Now sit up and finish us off.”
Shifting my weight, I made space for Beckett to emerge from beneath me.
He settled onto his heels as I stayed upright on my knees, positioning us so Asher and I were level at the waist. With Beckett’s release providing slickness, his fingers encircled Asher’s shaft and began a steady rhythm that drew immediate, unrestrained sounds of pleasure from Asher’s throat.
Beckett spat into his palm before he took me in hand, his fingers adjusting their grip to accommodate my different shape.
His rhythm found us both immediately—confident strokes that belied his inexperience with anyone else’s anatomy but his own.
The universal language of pleasure needed no translation.
His wrist twisted with each upstroke, thumb circling sensitive spots with deliberate pressure that pulled involuntary sounds from deep in my throat. Beside me, Asher’s breathing grew ragged. The room fell away until there was nothing but the three of us suspended in a moment of shared sensation.
“Come on me,” Beckett said, surprising us both. “I want to drown in your cum. Please.”
“Jesus fuck, Beckett,” Asher said, his rhythm faltering as he surrendered to his release.
Beckett angled us both toward himself, and I watched, transfixed, as Asher’s essence painted ribbons across Beckett’s flushed skin.
The vision of their connection—sworn enemies now marked as one—sent electricity through me.
My own climax tore through my body without warning, adding to the glistening evidence of our shared pleasure on Beckett’s waiting chest.
“Oh God, Beckett, that’s so good,” I praised as my drawn-out orgasm ended. “Holy shit. I’ve never experienced anything like that.”
“I’ll admit…that wasn’t awful,” Asher said.
Beckett shook his head and smacked Asher’s thigh with an open palm—the sharp crack echoing in the room. Asher didn’t flinch; the muscled expanse of his leg absorbed the impact without so much as a wince. “Your cum on my chest tells me it was good. Don’t lie.”
“I can’t wait to do that again one day,” I said, breaking up their teasing tension. “For now, let’s get a bath going. Asher will start the laundry. Then we’ll watch a movie,” I suggested.
Asher’s gaze snapped to mine, his eyes narrowing with that familiar warning glare.
The same look he gave when I suggested he try sushi or let me organize his closet—resistance to something that would ultimately benefit him.
He might count the seconds until he could escape Beckett’s presence, but I was playing the long game here.
The seeds I was planting wouldn’t bloom overnight, but eventually, they’d thank me for forcing this moment.
“You…want us all to watch a movie together?” Beckett questioned, unbelieving.
“Of course. I’ll even let Asher pick it.” Asher’s face softened.
Beckett rolled his eyes. “I’m sure we’re in for a cinematic masterpiece.”
Asher’s jaw tightened, a comeback visibly forming on his lips before my warning glance silenced him. Little did either of them know they’d soon discover their identical passion for terribly boring movies.