Chapter 7 Garden Pact #4
He nodded, voice gone, body shivering as Akintola pinched a nipple, twisting, making him gasp. My tongue slid down, teeth scraping his stomach, pausing at the waistband. Akintola’s hands pinned the king’s hips, grinding against his ass, his own cock already hard behind dark trousers.
“We could keep you like this all night,” Akintola whispered, low and dangerous. “Tied up, worshipped, begging for release. You’d take it, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” Alexandre sobbed, writhing in the cuffs, cock leaking through silk, thighs shaking with the effort to stay upright.
I bit the curve of his hip, tongue tracing the waistband, soaking the thin fabric. My hands squeezed his ass, spreading him for Akintola’s roaming touch. Akintola leaned in, mouth at the king’s ear. “Beg for it.”
Alexandre whimpered, voice hoarse, “Please. Touch me. Please, God, I need it—”
“Good,” I growled. “You’ll get what you deserve.”
Akintola’s hand slid beside mine, both of us working the king.
My lips feasted at his stomach, tasting the salt of his sweat, Akintola’s mouth painting bruises along the king’s shoulder, marking him for days.
Alexandre shuddered between us, legs trembling, body wracked, nothing left but need and surrender.
I glanced at Akintola, hunger mirrored in his eyes.
Wordless agreement sparked between us. My hand dropped away, his lips left the king’s skin, and together we stepped back, letting the king hang from the chains, wrecked, desperate, desperate to be touched but denied.
His cock stood hard and wet, twitching, begging for more.
I turned to Akintola. He faced me square, chest rising and falling with the same brutal hunger that thundered in my veins.
Our eyes locked. No words. I grabbed the back of his neck, slammed our mouths together.
His lips were hot, mouth all tongue and threat and power.
He tasted of leather, sweat, and the forbidden promise of something wild.
His hands found my jaw, gripping hard enough to bruise, pulling me deeper, closer, until I could taste the ragged edge of his control.
Our teeth clashed, tongues tangling, spit running down my chin.
I broke away, gasping, and spat into his mouth.
He swallowed it, eyes gone black, then spat back, thick and slick, coating my tongue.
His hands clawed at my jacket, shoving it off my shoulders, buttons flying.
I ripped at his shirt, tearing fabric, fingers desperate to get at his skin.
We staggered back, stripping each other in violent, hungry motions, belts dropping, shirts ripped open, skin revealed in flashes—muscle, heat, scars.
The king groaned behind us, chains rattling, cock jerking at the show. “Fuck. God, yes. Don’t stop. Let me see you.”
I shoved Akintola’s shirt off, dragging my mouth down his throat, biting the salt from his skin. My hands traced his chest, thick muscle under smooth skin, tight hair curling against my palms. I pinched a nipple, rolling it until he gasped, biting my shoulder in retaliation.
His hands went to my trousers, yanking the fly open, shoving the fabric down to my thighs, leaving me in black briefs stretched tight over my cock.
My own hands stripped his pants down, revealing pale briefs beneath—thick cock already swelling, straining at the cotton, a dark, obscene outline that made my mouth water.
We pressed together, cock to cock, fabric damp with precome, heat radiating where our thighs tangled.
Akintola gripped my ass, pulling me closer, grinding against me until my knees almost buckled.
His teeth scraped my jaw, tongue licking into my mouth, spit and hunger and something darker passed between us.
“You want to show him how it’s done?” I whispered, low and dangerous. “Let him see what real need looks like?”
Akintola grinned, dark and filthy, hands running down my chest, fingers digging into my hips, pulling me flush. “Let’s make him beg for it. Let’s make him wish he was here, on his knees between us.”
Our mouths crashed together again, frantic and unrestrained.
He grabbed my throat, thumb pressing into the pulse at my neck, holding me in place as he licked into my mouth, tongue sliding over mine, thick spit dripping down our chins.
I bit his lip, tasted blood and groaned, hips grinding against his, the friction just shy of enough.
He shoved his hand between us, grabbed my cock through the briefs, squeezing hard enough to make me see stars.
I moaned into his mouth, reaching down to return the favor, palming his length, marveling at the sheer size of him—thick and heavy, head leaking through damp cotton.
My thumb pressed over the wet spot, dragging slick down the shaft, rolling my wrist to tease him mercilessly.
“Strip for me,” I commanded, voice guttural. “Let him see what you are. What you could do to him.”
Akintola stepped back, eyes never leaving mine, never leaving the king’s.
He peeled his briefs down just far enough to let his cock bounce free, fat and flushed, veins bulging, obscene and perfect.
I dragged my own briefs down, baring myself, cock hard and dripping, balls tight against my body.
For a long moment, we just stared, drinking each other in, letting the king watch, letting him ache for what he couldn’t have.
I grabbed Akintola by the hips, pulled him close, our cocks sliding against each other, slick and hot, precum mixing between us. He spat into his palm, grabbed both our shafts, stroking them together, slow and deliberate, grinding his forehead into mine, eyes locked.
The king moaned, chains creaking as he strained to get closer. “You’re killing me. Don’t stop. Please, God, don’t stop.”
I looked over my shoulder, caught the king’s gaze, watched the desperate hunger flicker and burn in his eyes. Akintola spat again, thick and wet, coating his fist, stroking us harder, faster, until I was shaking, my hips jerking into his grip.
Akintola’s fist worked both our cocks, slow at first, then ruthless, his spit slicking the length of us, hips rocking in time with every pull.
My body shook, nerves sparking under his touch.
The chain creaked, the king’s moans filling the dungeon, desperate, hungry, lost in the sight of two men stripping each other bare for him.
I broke away, tearing myself from Akintola’s grip, breath tearing out of me in ragged bursts.
My hand wrapped around my own cock, the head purple and shining, veins standing in relief.
Akintola followed my lead, fist tightening at the base of his own, his eyes locked on mine, challenge burning between us.
We stood side by side, a few feet from the king, bare but for sweat, muscles tensed and flexing under the candlelight.
The king’s chest heaved, cheeks flushed, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watched us, wild and undone.
My hand moved with slow precision, twisting at the head, thumb pressing hard just under the ridge.
I made a show of it, pumping long and slow, rolling my hips for the king’s benefit.
Muscles flexed along my arms, abs tightening, sweat breaking over my chest. Every movement was for him, every sound pulled from his mouth like a tribute.
Akintola stood close enough for his heat to radiate against my skin, his own fist working his cock in steady, hungry pulls.
The size of him was obscene, thick and heavy, shaft curving up toward his navel, each stroke making his hips twitch.
He dragged his free hand over his chest, pinching a nipple, the muscle beneath his skin jumping at the touch.
His jaw clenched, eyes slitted, every breath a low, dangerous growl.
The king strained against the cuffs, chains groaning overhead. “Please. Please, I can’t take it—need to see you come for me. Want you to lose control. Want to drown in it.”
Akintola met my gaze, that wolf’s grin curling at his lips. “He’s begging. I say we give him a show he’ll never forget.” His voice rumbled, vibrating through me, feeding the ache that had been burning between my legs since the moment his hands touched me.
I spat into my palm, slicking my cock, working myself harder, my other hand dragging down my body, over the arch of my hip, up my chest. I twisted a nipple, squeezed, made myself shudder, wanting him to see just how badly I needed it.
Akintola mirrored me, pinching his own nipple, groaning, then running his palm up the length of his cock, squeezing at the tip, letting a bead of slick drip onto the floor.
We circled each other, orbiting, always just a breath away from touching again.
I flexed my abs, rolling my shoulders, showing the king every inch of strength, every ripple of muscle working under my skin.
Akintola did the same, arms raised behind his head for a moment, chest thrust out, every line on display, cock bobbing heavy between his legs.
The king whimpered, eyes glazed, hips rolling helplessly, the soaked silk of his pyjamas gluing itself to his skin. His cock jutted through the open fly, flushed and leaking, thighs shaking as he tried to fuck the air, desperate for friction.
Akintola circled around the king’s side, meeting my gaze with a glint of mischief.
I prowled in close from the other, knees sinking into the velvet rug, the two of us like wolves closing in on the prize.
The king’s thighs trembled above us, feet braced, toes curling against the cold stone floor, chains overhead groaning as his weight shifted, skin shining with sweat, silk twisted around those strong legs.