21. Permission #6
Rowan’s hands weren’t idle—one gripped David’s thigh, kneading muscle, the other wrapped around Tom’s cock, stroking him slow and filthy, not wanting to neglect anyone.
I watched, awestruck by the mess of it—Rowan’s mouth stuffed full, spit running down his chin, both men lost to the heat and worship of his mouth. The room was alive with noise—Tom’s curses, David’s grunts, Rowan’s desperate slurping, wet and obscene.
Tom leaned forward, cupping Rowan’s face in both hands, thumbs stroking along the hinge of his jaw. “That’s it. Look at me. Want to see those pretty eyes while you suck me.”
Rowan did—hollowed his cheeks, kept his gaze locked with Tom’s, taking everything they gave him, shameless in his need.
David pulled out, letting Rowan gasp for breath, then shoved his cock back between Rowan’s lips, gentler this time, letting him set the pace. Tom fisted Rowan’s hair, guiding his mouth over both cocks in turn, sharing him, letting him taste and worship them side by side.
Every touch, every filthy word, every moan went straight to my core. My own cock was aching, nearly painful, my hand already stroking through my briefs as I watched the show.
“God, you’re fucking perfect,” I whispered, not sure if I was speaking to Rowan or the room or just to myself. “Never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”
Rowan’s hands shook as he pleasured them, lost in sensation, every nerve ending on fire. He looked at me, tears and spit shining, a silent plea in his eyes—wanting praise, wanting more.
I met his gaze, and the world fell away, just the two of us in the eye of a hurricane. I held out a hand.
“Come here,” I said, voice rough with everything I felt. “Strip me. I want you to.”
Rowan moved toward me on unsteady hands and knees, trembling with exhaustion and anticipation, face slick and flushed.
He knelt between my knees, eyes shining with awe and hunger.
His fingers found the waistband of my briefs and paused, as if savoring the moment.
Then, slowly, with hands that shook only a little, he peeled them down, exposing me fully at last.
My cock sprang free, thick and hard, flushed almost purple at the head, veins standing out along the shaft. He stared, pupils blown wide, tongue darting out to wet his lips, and I saw the way his own cock kicked in the open air, hungry just for the sight.
Tom let out a low, incredulous whistle. “Jesus, Elias.”
David chuckled, still a little dazed. “No wonder he’s obsessed with you.”
But all I could see was Rowan—his gaze glued to my cock, face alight with worship.
He leaned in, nose brushing along the length of me, breathing me in, nuzzling at the root before working his way up, lips trailing along the sensitive skin.
The first flick of his tongue at my slit made me groan, hips bucking up into his mouth.
“Easy,” I managed, threading my fingers through his sweat-damp hair, guiding him. “Take your time. Want to see you savor it.”
Rowan obeyed, licking long stripes up and down, swirling the head, letting spit drip down the shaft. He kissed the thick ridge, dragged his tongue around the crown, then finally opened his mouth wide and took me in.
The first inch stretched his lips, the corners of his mouth wet and slick.
But he didn’t stop—he pressed down, cheeks hollowing, inch after inch, letting me feel the tight heat of his throat as he swallowed me deep.
Tom and David watched, awestruck, as Rowan took more than either of them had managed.
His throat bulged around me, eyes streaming with tears, but he didn’t gag, didn’t flinch—he moaned, desperate, hungry, like he was made for this.
“Fuck, Rowan—look at you,” David breathed, voice full of awe. “He’s taking all of it.”
Tom’s hand strayed to Rowan’s back, palm splayed, tracing the line of his spine. “You really are a greedy little slut,” he said, not unkindly. “You love that, don’t you? Love choking on Elias’s cock.”
Rowan nodded as best he could, mouth stuffed full, spit running down his chin and over my thighs. He worked me deep, using both hands to grip the base, tongue lapping at every inch, humming around me until my vision sparked at the edges.
I let him set the pace for a moment, just watching, lost in the sight—his lips stretched wide, jaw aching, cheeks hollow, eyes wide and glassy with worship and pride. He looked up at me, a question in his gaze, and I answered with a groan, thrusting just a little deeper.
“You’re perfect,” I told him, meaning every word. “No one’s ever taken me like this. No one’s ever looked so fucking pretty doing it.”
He moaned, the vibration sending lightning up my spine. I reached down, thumb stroking the corner of his wet, swollen mouth, smearing spit and precome across his cheek.
“That’s it, baby. You’re my good boy. All of ours, but mostly mine. ”
He shuddered, pushing down until his nose pressed into the curls at my base, swallowing around me, letting me feel the tight clutch of his throat.
I let him stay like that, stuffed full, before easing his head back, letting him gasp for air. Spit glistened on his lips, shining on my cock, strings of it connecting us even as he tried to catch his breath.
“More?” he whispered, voice rough and eager.
“More,” I promised.
He dove back down, faster this time, head bobbing, hands bracing on my thighs. I fucked his mouth with slow, deep thrusts, watching his eyes roll back, his body shivering with the effort and the thrill. Tom and David watched, both hard, both stroking themselves as they took in the show.
“Goddamn, Elias,” Tom said, voice low, “he’s fucking insatiable.”
I let my head fall back, every nerve ending on fire, letting Rowan use me, take me, worship me. My cock was thick in his mouth, stretching him wide, and he never flinched—he wanted it, needed it, loved every second.
He barely came up for air, cheeks flushed and lips swollen, spit slicking his chin as he worshipped my cock with desperate, greedy strokes.
My own self-control was fraying, every muscle in my body strung tight as wire.
I threaded my fingers into his hair, letting the silky strands slip between my knuckles, and pulled him up—slow but unyielding, dragging him off my cock with a soft, wet pop.
“Enough,” I breathed, voice half-ruined, my chest heaving. “Get up here. Clothes off, now. Let me see you.”
Rowan’s eyes flashed, half-drunk on praise and lust, but he obeyed instantly.
He climbed into my lap, straddling me, his weight a welcome pressure that grounded me in the chaos.
My hands found his waist, tracing the lines of his body through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, feeling the frantic beat of his heart beneath my palms.
“Lift your arms,” I said, softer now, but no less commanding.
He did as told, baring himself to me. I tugged his shirt over his head, exposing pale, freckled skin flushed with heat, a thin sheen of sweat painting his chest. I took a second to admire the sight—Rowan trembling, already half-undone, desperate to be touched.
My hands slid down, mapping the rise of his ribs, the shallow dip of his belly, the sharp lines of his hips.
“Good boy,” I murmured, kissing the hollow of his throat. “Now the rest. Stand up.”
He climbed out of my lap, shivering as the air hit his bare skin, and I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of his jeans.
I didn’t bother with patience—I yanked them down, letting the heavy denim drop to the floor, baring long, strong legs dusted with hair, muscles flexing as he shifted his weight.
Only his underwear remained, a thin, black pair already soaked at the front, stretched tight over his cock and balls.
Tom whistled, his gaze devouring every inch. “Fuck, look at him,” he muttered, hunger and awe threaded through every word.
“Turn around,” I said, my voice gone low and dangerous.
Rowan hesitated just a beat then spun on his heel, showing off for the room. I caught Tom’s eye and nodded, giving him permission. Tom moved in, hands broad and rough as he gripped Rowan’s hips, steadying him.
“Let’s see what you’re hiding, pretty boy,” Tom teased, voice gone thick.
Tom hooked his thumbs in Rowan’s briefs and tugged them down, baring him inch by inch—ass flushed, cock straining, completely exposed.
“Jesus, you’re fucking perfect,” David echoed, coming up behind, his hands settling on Rowan’s waist. Both men knelt, one on each side, faces close as they admired him, their breath warm against bare skin.
I moved in, not touching—just watching, hungry. “On the bed,” I ordered. “Hands and knees.”
Rowan scrambled onto the bed, hands and knees, ass high, cock dripping. He looked over his shoulder, all need and trust.
Tom and David wasted no time. Tom gripped one cheek, spreading Rowan wide, while David settled behind him, running a soothing hand down his spine.
They took their time, mouths lingering over every inch, kissing, licking, worshipping.
Tom started at the crease of Rowan’s thigh, mouthing at the soft skin, nipping at the sensitive spot just beneath his ass.
David focused higher, licking a long stripe up the center, teasing the tight ring of muscle with the flat of his tongue.
Rowan shivered, hands fisting in the sheets, hips rocking back for more. “Please,” he gasped, voice muffled in the bedding. “Please, Daddy, more—need it, need your mouths, please?—”
They obliged, diving in with filthy enthusiasm.
Tom spread Rowan open, tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles around his hole, pausing to suck and kiss, spit slick and obscene.
David joined him, licking in tandem, the two of them taking turns—sometimes working together, sometimes competing to see who could make Rowan squirm harder.
I watched, transfixed, my own cock aching with every desperate sound Rowan made. But I wasn’t content to just look. I moved to the head of the bed, kneeling in front of Rowan, my cock bobbing just inches from his face.