Xavier #2
God, yes. This is exactly what I need. I yank off his jacket, and he helps by shrugging it down his arms and onto the floor.
Out of the corner of my eye, I register Miles picking it up, draping it over a nearby stool.
My lips meet Hunter’s as we tug and pull at his buttons, only managing to get his shirt halfway undone before our hands are on cheeks, necks, in hair, desperately urging each other on.
We stumble back and away from the bar until my hips hit a nearby round table.
Somehow, despite Hunter’s shirt still hanging on him, we manage to get mine off until I’m in nothing but my pants, my belt hanging loosely.
Flipping us around, I lean back against the table, half sitting on it, and drag him between my legs.
Our lips find each other again, drawn back together, neither of us wanting to be apart for more than a second.
With a hand curled around my hip, he rubs against me, his hard cock meeting my own.
Yes, that’s perfect. I need to be inside him, need to hear more of his sounds as I fuck him.
“Miles. Here, come here.” Hunter bites down on my neck, sucking in a way that’s both exquisite and painful. He’s marking me, owning me, and there’s nothing in the world that makes me feel like he does.
Warmth at my side indicates that Miles is there, and I roughly put my hand into his pocket, knowing what I’ll find there. Hunter isn’t the only clever man in the room, and Miles always knows what I need, long before I realise that I need it.
The lube, just as expected, is resting at the bottom, and I pull it out, dropping it on the table behind me.
We’ll need it soon. Squeezing Hunter’s ass, I slip a knee between his thighs, encouraging him to rock on me.
He kisses me again, and I get lost in it, the taste and feel of him.
He pulls back with a gasp, sucking in air, and I nip at his chin, biting my way down to the hollow of his throat.
“Are you mine, Miles?” I growl out. Hunter jolts in my arms, and I tighten my hold on him, adding pressure against his hard, leaking cock.
“Yes.”
“You know what I want.”
This time Miles hesitates instead of answering.
Enough that I pause and look at him. Hunter growls in annoyance and grasps at my back, nails digging into skin.
He laps at my collarbone and then bites down before soothing with another lick, over and over, trying to drive me insane and make me lose my train of thought.
“I do.”
“Then do it.” I tug at Hunter’s belt until it’s open, and the top button of his slacks is free.
“Get him ready for me.” I want to see Miles’ fingers buried where I’m going to be.
Want to see the two of them against each other.
He’s the only one that truly understands just what Hunter means to me.
The only one who would put Hunter before me because he knows me and what’s important.
The only one I would turn to if everything was lost.
Hunter tenses against me, and I anticipate him before he moves.
Tugging on his earlobe, I whisper in his ear, “Don’t lie and fight it.
I know you feel it too. You crave it, the way I do.
You want to know.” Know what the thread is between the three of us, know what will happen when we continue to pull at it until it unravels.
He whispers, “Fuck,” so beautifully in my ear I could have come just from the single word alone.
He has more than enough training and strength to stop this if he wants to.
In fact, a sincere “stop” is more than enough, and he knows it.
He won’t say it, because he wants it. He needs it.
Just like I do. It was inevitable from the moment that I made him come while Miles watched.
Every minute since has merely been a countdown to now.
“He’s going to prep you for me,” I say huskily, kissing the corner of Hunter’s mouth. “And then I’m going to bend you over this table and remind you just how much you love this, how much you want me.”
“Wanting you has never been the problem,” Hunter replies, ending on a gasp.
Miles’ gloved hands slip between us, and my heart jumps a sharp beat.
Miles has always been right by my side, close to me in all ways except this.
Now he’s sliding Hunter’s pants down his hips, at my orders, and I’m not sure I’ve ever been quite so turned-on in my life.
There’s a thrill to this, sharing Hunter with the only man in my life who has been completely loyal to me in every way.
A smooth hand slides onto Hunter’s shoulder, keeping him in place, and the other moves to pick up the lube.
I get to it first, squeezing it over the black leather for him, leaving it glistening.
Our eyes meet, the heat in the room turning up another hundred degrees.
We should have done this years ago. I should have let him into the only part of my world where he’s always been a stranger.
He’s so deep in every other aspect, this part belongs to him too.
He’s here now, and there’s no going back.
“Get on with it,” Hunter bites out, frustration and lust thickening his voice.
He rotates his hips, pushing back against Miles before canting into me, begging with his body for one of us to do something.
I love it when he gets like this, mindless need overriding every rational thought.
All he cares about now is the pleasure that I can give him. That we both can.
Miles ignores the order, instead taking his time to peruse Hunter’s frame, from his mussed hair to the perfect roundness of his ass, presented perfectly for him. He looks with the same deliberateness that he does everything else.
Hunter groans, and then we’re kissing again, a messy clash of tongues and desperate needy sounds that go straight to my dick. Watching this strong man be reduced to nothing but the need between us is always intoxicating.
Miles doesn’t caress Hunter’s back or make any unnecessary contact, going straight for that sweet spot between his cheeks.
Hunter’s knees buckle, and he changes his stance to keep himself upright. I wish I were at a different angle so that I could see the gloved finger disappearing into him. Next time.
“Good?” I whisper, brushing hair from his face. Those beautiful green eyes drill into me, with so many emotions that it would take a lifetime to filter through them. “You like it.”
“I—” He groans, eyes fluttering closed when Miles changes his angle. The muscles on his forearm flex, and I know he’s adding a second finger. Hunter sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. Is he trying to stifle the sounds?
Not here. Not with us.
“Let me hear it, love.” I lick the corner of his mouth, tasting the way it trembles.
“I want to know how much you like it. Feels good, doesn’t it?
” He twists his head, searching, and I pull back.
“Tell me, Hunter.” Adding Miles to this isn’t some meaningless gesture, and it isn’t because I’ll share.
It’s because Miles belongs to me as well, and it only feels natural to combine the two and have my fill of both of them.
Hunter likes what Miles is doing to him; I can see it.
But to me, the words are more important.
The real truth is in the tremor every time Hunter admits to wanting something he knows he shouldn’t, every time he gives in after being so vehement that he doesn’t want this.
Hunter clutches at me with a low moan, eyes fluttering closed. “Yes, it feels—so good. He’s—he’s—” He doesn’t finish, breath hitching when Miles thrusts harder, pushing Hunter against me, sandwiched between us.
Miles’ head is ducked, watching what he’s doing, concentrating like he’ll be tested on it later. He licks his lips, and then Hunter’s breath hitches. Curling my hand in Hunter’s hair, I pull his head back and bite under his chin. He rocks against me, an added urgency to it that tells me he’s close.
When Hunter’s mouth looks for mine again, I give it to him, the sounds that Miles is pulling from him filling me from the inside.
It’s so tempting to let it keep going just like this, to have Hunter come all over my pants.
He’d still let me fuck him—at this point, I know that if I wanted it, he would let Miles fuck him.
“Miles. Stop.”
The thrusting immediately stops, the pressure easing.
Hunter moans in protect, nipping at my bottom lip.
With a wicked grin, I do the same back to him, hard enough for a hint of copper to burst on my tongue.
He doesn’t fight me when I switch our positions, bending him over the table with a hand on the top of his back, fisting his shirt and twisting it in my grasp.
With my dick snug against his hips, he’s effectively trapped there, at my mercy.
Hunter hangs his head, shoulders tense, hands splayed over the cloth covering the wood.
Miles has made him nice and slick, and I glide my cock between his cheeks, getting myself wet. It’s not quite enough, though immensely satisfying. I squeeze more of the lube onto my tip and spread it around with a quick twist of my wrist.
“Are you ready for me?” I whisper against the back of his neck.
He shudders beneath me, knuckles going white around the edge of the table.
I don’t need him to answer; I already know.
But hearing the surrender makes everything else so much sweeter.
It calms the beast inside me, to have verbal confirmation that everything I feel, all of the turmoil that racks me whenever he’s near, that I’m not alone in it. That we’re drowning together.