Chapter 15 Unguarded #2
From where I stood at the edge of the bed, the view was staggering.
Nolan on all fours, his broad back curved, his ass raised, Sean's face buried between his cheeks while Nolan's lips stretched around my cock.
Sean's tongue working with the enthusiastic precision that he brought to everything physical, and Nolan shaking between us, trying to process the dual sensation and failing beautifully.
My hips drove forward. I couldn't help it.
The sight alone was enough to break a man, and I wasn't made of stone.
My hands gripped the back of Nolan's head, holding him steady, and I thrust into his throat with a rhythm that was no longer gentle, no longer measured, the control stripped away by the image of him being worshipped from behind while he worshipped me from the front.
I pulled out. Breathing hard. Close. Too close, too soon.
"Both of you. Hands and knees."
They moved. Nolan and Sean side by side, on all fours, their shoulders touching, their asses raised, and the sight of them together—Sean's pale skin against the white sheets, Nolan's fairer complexion beside him, both of them smooth and pink and spread and waiting—pulled a sound from my chest that I didn't recognize.
I knelt behind them. Spread Sean first. His taste hit me immediately—familiar, sharp, the musk that eight years had made as essential as oxygen.
He groaned into the mattress and pushed back against my mouth.
I took my time. Flat strokes, then pointed, the muscle giving way under my tongue, opening with the practiced ease of a man who loved this.
I shifted to Nolan. Different. Warmer, smoother, the taste subtler, a sweetness that rewarded patience.
He cried out when my tongue pressed in, his whole body jolting, his fists twisting in the sheets.
The sound was higher than Sean's, more surprised, and the contrast between their responses drove me higher with every switch.
I alternated. Sean. Nolan. Sean. Each time earning a different moan, a different frequency, the two of them making out beside each other while I ate them open, their mouths breaking apart to gasp and then finding each other again.
I straightened. My cock was aching, harder than I'd ever felt it, the head flushed dark and slick. I let spit fall from my mouth onto Sean's hole, watched it run down the smooth pink skin, and lined myself up.
"Finally." Sean, his voice wrecked, his face turned on the pillow. "Give it to me, Dec. Fuck me."
I pushed in. Slow at first, then all at once, the heat and pressure of his body swallowing me to the root. Sean shouted into the pillow. His back arched, his hands fisted the sheets, and the way he pushed back against me, taking everything, demanding more, was the most Sean thing in the world.
Beside him, Nolan started to shift position. I reached out. Pressed my hand flat against his lower back.
"Stay."
He froze. Turned his head. His eyes were glazed, his mouth open, his expression a question.
"Stay right there. On all fours." I held his gaze. "Wait for your turn."
"Fuck yeah." Sean's voice muffled in the pillow, a groan laced with savage approval. "Use us both, Dec. Take your time."
Nolan's breath shuddered out. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, untouched, leaking onto the sheets, and the visible effort it took him to obey—to stay still while the man beside him was getting fucked—made the muscles in my stomach clench.
I started to move. Deep, steady strokes that built in force, my hips slapping against Sean's ass, the sound filling the room in a rhythm that was primal and deliberate.
Sean was vocal. Always was. Groans and curses and my name repeated like a chant, each thrust punching a sound from his lungs that he made no effort to contain.
"Harder. Fuck, Dec, harder."
I gave him harder. My hand came down on his ass, the crack sharp and loud, and Sean yelped and pushed back and said "Again" and I hit him again, watching the print bloom pink on the pale skin.
With my other hand, I reached for Nolan.
Found his hole with my fingers, still slick from my mouth, and pressed one inside.
He gasped. Tight. Tighter than Sean. The muscle clenching around my finger with the reflexive resistance of a body that hadn't done this recently.
I worked him slowly, one finger becoming two, crooking them gently, stretching him while I fucked Sean beside him.
Nolan dropped to his elbows, his forehead pressed to the mattress, his breathing ragged.
"You okay?" Low. Checking.
"Don't stop." Barely audible. "Please don't stop."
I added a third finger. Felt him open. Felt the resistance give way to trust, the muscle relaxing around my knuckles, learning to trust what I was giving it.
I pulled out of Sean. Sean groaned at the loss, his hole clenching around nothing, his hips rocking backward.
Nolan.
I lined up. Let spit trail from my mouth onto my cock, slicked the length with my hand, and pressed the head against his entrance. The heat was immediate. The tightness exquisite.
Slow. Inch by inch. Stretching around me in increments that I measured by the sounds he made—a sharp inhale at the first inch, a low moan at the second, a stuttered exhale as I sank deeper. I held his hip with one hand, steadying him, my other hand flat on his lower back.
"How does that feel?" My voice didn't sound like mine. Rough. Exposed.
"Full." Nolan. Broken. "You feel. So full."
I buried myself completely. Held there. Let him feel all of me. Then I pulled out. All the way. The head catching on his rim before slipping free. Then back in. One long, slow stroke to the base.
Nolan cried out. The sound was loud enough to echo off the walls.
"That's it." Sean, watching from beside him, his hand on himself, his eyes wild. "Give him more, Dec. He can take it."
I gave him more. The pace building. Deeper.
Firmer. Reading his body with every stroke, the way his back arched when I hit the right angle, the way his fingers clutched the sheets when I went deep, the way his moans shifted from strained to ecstatic as he opened fully and began to take me with the same hunger Sean's did.
I shifted my grip. Held both their hips. Pulled out of Nolan. Into Sean. Three hard thrusts that punched shouts from his lungs. Out. Into Nolan. Slow, deep, the controlled pace that made him tremble. Back to Sean. Harder.
The switching was devastating. Two different bodies, two different rhythms, two different temperatures of heat and pressure that kept my orgasm building without cresting.
Sean loud and demanding, his vocabulary deteriorating with every stroke: "Right there, Dec, fuck, right there, don't stop, harder, God, you feel so fucking good inside me.
" Nolan quieter, deeper, his sounds pulled from a place that had nothing to do with performance and everything to do with surrender.
My hand cracked against Sean's ass. Then Nolan's. Both of them groaning. Both of them pushing back. Both of them making out beside each other between my thrusts, their mouths meeting in the spaces between my strokes, breaking apart when I drove in and finding each other again when I pulled out.
I was close. The pressure building at the base of my spine, the muscles in my thighs tightening.
"Nolan." My voice raw. "Stand up on the bed."
He moved. Unsteady, his legs shaking, but he rose to his feet on the mattress, his cock at my eye level—heavy, the downward curve glistening, the head dark and swollen. I looked up at him. He looked down at me.
"Sean." I gripped his hip, pulling him back onto my cock, burying deep. "I'm close."
Sean's hand wrapped around his shaft immediately, stroking fast, matching my rhythm. I drove into him in long, hard strokes while I reached for Nolan's cock, guided the thick length to my lips, and took him in.
The angle was different from Sean. The downward curve fit the back of my throat in a way that opened the channel, let him slide deeper without resistance, the shape of him designed by genetics for exactly this position.
I relaxed my jaw and let him push forward, and Nolan's hands found my head, gripping, and his hips began to rock.
"Oh God." Nolan's voice cracking above me. "Dec, your mouth. Fuck."
I sucked him deeper. My hand found his ass, gripped the muscle, pulled him forward.
A slap against the round curve of his cheek, the crack sharp, and Nolan gasped and thrust harder.
He was fucking my mouth now. His hips rolling with increasing urgency, the downward curve sliding deep into my throat on every stroke while I drove into Sean from behind.
Three bodies. One rhythm. Nolan above me, his cock filling my throat. Sean beneath me, my cock filling him. My hands on both of them, connecting the circuit.
Sean came first. His whole body locking, his fist flying over himself, a shout tearing from his chest as he spilled across the sheets.
The clench of his body around my cock—tight, rhythmic, involuntary—was the trigger.
I drove in one final time, buried to the root, and came with a groan that vibrated around Nolan's cock, the release flooding through me in waves that started at my spine and detonated outward.
Nolan felt the vibration. His rhythm stuttered. His hands tightened in my hair.
"I'm going to come." Strained. Trembling. "Dec, I'm—"
I pulled him deeper. Swallowed around him. Slapped his ass one more time.
He came. The hot salt of him flooding my throat in thick pulses, his body shaking above me, his head thrown back, a sound leaving his mouth that was half my name and half a sob.
I swallowed everything. Every drop. My throat working around him while my own orgasm still pulsed inside Sean, the three of us locked together in a chain of sensation that obliterated everything I'd ever built to keep the world at a distance.