Chapter 27 Will #5
Trouble struggles and bucks, making sounds that are unlike anything I’ve ever heard.
They’re so raw and base it’s hard to believe they come from something that’s human.
Mat’s forearm tenses, and so does the fist he has in Trouble’s hair.
He looks almost shaken as he unloads in Trouble’s mouth.
For his part, Trouble looks pleased with himself.
He looks back at me, smiling coquettishly.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” I sneer. “The words ‘refractory period’ don’t apply to my guy.”
I pull Trouble back toward me so he’s kneeling upright, fully impaled, and his body is exposed to Mat.
“Um, h-holy shit,” splutters Mat, looking down. “Are you for real?”
“Are you scared, Straight Boy?” asks Trouble.
“I, uh, I mean, yeah, a little.” Mat’s cheeks flush bright pink.
A deep, musical sound bubbles out of Trouble. “You’re lucky you caught me in a benevolent mood. Usually, I have a little rule that applies to guys who top me. A little rule called payback’s a bitch.”
Mat’s face is a picture of shock, disbelief, and something that makes his lips pinch together. I pull Trouble closer to me and peek down over his shoulder.
Jesus!
Seriously?
I’m momentarily speechless. Unable to think of a single, sensible thing to say.
I’ve seen big dicks before. I’ve seen plenty of porn, and my own dick is far from shabby, but this thing?
It’s something quite different. It’s long and thick.
Hard and red from the heft it’s struggling to contain, arching toward his navel like it has a mind of its own.
My hands wind around Trouble’s waist as if they’re moving of their own volition.
As they snake around his belly and down to his groin, Mat runs his hands up Trouble’s thighs.
We both move together, slowly, as if this is something we’ve done before, as if it’s something we’ve practiced.
I circle the base, feeling the heat and solidness under his velvety skin.
Mat wraps his hand around the head and moves his hand down to meet mine.
His mouth is still open. He looks drunk.
Out of his mind drunk, even though he definitely isn’t.
Or, at least, whatever he’s drunk on, it’s sure as shit not the three drinks he had tonight.
By the time I look down, Mat’s dick is rock hard again.
I feel a weird sense of pride when I see it.
It’s the same way I feel when we’re out and he tells a joke everyone laughs at.
The same way I feel when he sees me in a crowd, raises his eyebrows, and waves me over to join him.
It’s a strange feeling I’ve never given a second thought to until this very moment.
It’s a sweet feeling of pride mixed with an unlikely side of he’s mine.
I struggle to place it, understand it, make sense of it.
To distract myself, I start fucking Trouble in earnest. Long unapologetic strokes that make us both moan.
Mat gets to his feet, widening his stance and offering Trouble his dick again.
My head is close to Trouble’s, so close, I could rest my chin on his shoulder if I didn’t need a full range of motion for what I’m unleashing on his ass.
I see Mat’s cock thrusting into his beautiful mouth.
Soft, full lips suckle and tease, slowly sinking onto Mat’s glistening dick.
It’s veiny, streaked with saliva, and looks almost angry.
It looks frantic, like it can’t get enough.
I can’t get enough either. I drop my face onto the smooth skin of Trouble’s neck.
I lick up and down, long, hard strokes, salivating as my friends’ shaft dips in and out of an open mouth mere inches from mine.
“You gonna share, or what?” Mat asks eventually. His voice comes at me slowly. It takes me a second to decipher the words.
I grunt and pull out of Trouble. Mat does the same. Trouble collapses face first into the mattress, legs spread, ass still in the air. I move to the side, and Mat rolls on a condom and lubes himself up.
“Oh, fuuuuck, that’s a tight ass,” he gasps as he shoves his dick into Trouble with a single hard thrust. He holds on hard, digging his fingers into Trouble’s hips to keep him steady as he starts drilling. Trouble thrashes and wails into the mattress.
As I watch Mat fucking Trouble, I get that feeling again, a warm expanse in my chest.
Pride and he’s mine.
When Mat gets close, he pulls out, and I take over. We keep at it until Trouble’s thighs shake and the room feels unsteady. We fuck and we fuck and we fuck like our lives depend on it. Like we’ll die if we stop. Like we were built to fuck. Like we were made for a night like tonight.
Time passes in a blur of sweat and panting. A long time. It gets late. The music stops at some point. Now, the soundtrack in the room is harsh breathing, coarse language, and deep, guttural sounds that seep out of the three of us to form a primitive battle cry.
“Check on him,” says Mat eventually. His words are slow and heavily slurred. I move in front of Trouble, lifting him up and pushing him back into Mat’s open arms.
“You okay?” my speech is no better than Mat’s. If anything, it’s worse.
Trouble’s eyes roll back in his head as he nods. His head falls back, so I wrap a hand around the back of his neck and hold him steady. Mat fucks him hard, teeth clenching, eyes screwed shut as if every thrust causes him pain.
Trouble has his dick in his hand, whining as he strokes it.
I pull the condom off myself and start stroking my dick too.
I don’t take my eyes off Trouble except to look at Mat.
He looks like he’s close again. He’s winded, and the sinews in his neck are protruding.
I start stroking hard. Trouble does too.
I feel a flood of warmth, a deep, intense pressure, and a rush of inevitability.
Of unavoidability.
Of inescapable fate.
Certainty that no matter what happens, no matter what else the world has planned for me later, right now, I’m going to come my brains out.
And I do.
My entire body goes numb. Every sensation I’m capable of feeling is concentrated in my dick, building beyond reason…and then it releases. I erupt. Opening my lungs, releasing a primordial song of carnal pleasure, as thick ribbons of semen spray from my cock.
Again
Again
Again
It goes on and on. It strips layers off me. It does it hard. It tears through things that are safe. It scorches things that are known. It leaves me flayed and open.
Through it all, Trouble posts up and down on Mat.
His hips move like they did in the bar, like there’s music in his veins.
Mat’s face contorts, eyes bulging as his neck reddens.
Trouble’s hand moves sluggishly up and down his erection, movements growing unpredictable and jerky as he drags every possible ounce of pleasure out of his dick.
His eyes are dull. His makeup is smudged. His lips are dark pink and bitten. He looks different now. No longer perfect. No longer flawless. His hair is a damp, tangled mess. He’s no longer pretty like he was at the bar. He’s ruined and broken.
And still.
And still.
When he comes, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Truly, deeply, eye-wateringly beautiful.
His mouth drops open and lashings of semen fly through the air, splattering against his belly and chest. His body convulses as pleasure rips through him and then through Mat in turn.
The room echoes over and over with sounds I’ve previously only heard on the discovery channel.
By the time it’s over, all three of us are shaking. Mat’s eyes are wide and vacant, and I feel exactly how he looks. Trouble slinks onto the bed, totally boneless, unable to move but for the aftershocks that roll through him now and again. I feel removed. I feel far away and distant.
I’m confused. Not about how we got here. I know damn well how we got here. We went looking for trouble and Trouble found us.
I’m confused about what we do next.
How do we go back to being human when we let ourselves go wild like that?
Another aftershock hits Trouble. It ripples through him, making my DNA and his catch the light.
I dip a limp finger in it and allow it to run through the pools of our efforts.
Mat does the same. Our hands pass each other, and his skin brushes lightly against mine.
Trouble murmurs happily and takes both our hands in his, lifting them to his lips and licking them sweetly.
Mat drops down beside Trouble, scooting him over onto his side and wrapping his arms and legs around him.
“Uh, what are you doing?” asks Trouble.
“Cuddling you,” says Mat as if it should be obvious.
“Yeah, nah, we don’t have to do that.”
“Sure we do.” I smile, moving close to him, holding him down in case he has any thoughts about bolting. “Cuddling’s Mat’s favorite part.”