Freddie #3
“It’s all about fucking, then?”
“No,” Ryker says sternly. “It’s about so much more than that. We want you to be ours, in and outside the bedroom.”
“You can’t know that’s what you want . . .”
“We do know,” Ryker smirks. “We want you.”
“What if you hate it?” I ask. “What if it’s different with me? What if I don’t like it, or I can’t do what you want me to, and it’s awkward?”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Ryker says. “You don’t like something, we don’t do it, it’s as simple as that—”
“But—”
“As simple as that,” Liam says firmly. “You enjoyed Ryker’s hand and my mouth?”
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
I think of both as I stroke my fingers over my erection, tentatively, as if I’m not stimulating my already sensitive cock. It’s lazy, and casual, and I think I might be trying to trick myself into thinking its involuntary, like pulling on a thread or picking at a hole.
“If that’s as far as any of this goes, we’re happy.”
“You can’t possibly mean—”
“We’re happy,” Liam growls.
“You sound ecstatic.”
Ryker laughs. “He’s worried you’re going to run.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I tell them. “You’d come after me.”
“Damn right we would.”
I shiver at Liam’s tone. He means it. If I bolt, he’ll hunt me. He’ll chase me to the end of the earth, pin me down, and put his mouth on me again. Oh god, his mouth. That wasn’t just a blow job, it was a life-changing experience from start to finish.
“You want to fuck me?” I say, more to myself than to them.
Right now, they’re words, but as I lie here, I let reality settle over me.
My heart picks up, skipping and tripping in my chest. It’s not their desire for me that has me verging on another panic attack, it’s the physical act of these men pinning me down and pressing inside me.
“Eventually,” Ryker says. “And if you hate the idea, then we’ll forget it. The next time we see you we’re not going to drag you into the bedroom to penetrate you, so get that thought out of your head.”
I shiver. That’s what they want to do. Push inside me, make my body accommodate them, rock back and forth to stimulate themselves until they come inside me.
Will they hold me down by the wrists? Will they roll me onto my front and press me into the mattress?
Or will the mattress be one of them, with me sandwiched between them like I had been in the alley.
“At the same time?”
“Errr, no,” Ryker sounds off, like maybe he’s lying, or unsure about his answer.
“One of you would do it while the other watched?”
“Yes,” Liam says. “We’ll make it feel good for you. We’ll get you ready, comfortable, relaxed. There’ll be lube—”
“Lots of it,” Ryker interrupts.
“And we’ll take our time stretching your hole. We’ll be gentle, talk you through it.”
Ryker takes over. “At first it might burn, you might tense up, but I promise you we’ll make it feel amazing. You’ve just got to bear down, go with it instead of fight, and give in to the sensation. But we’ll tackle that when the time comes, if it does.”
I snort. “You’re speaking like I’ve never had anything inside me before.”
Ryker goes quiet. Seconds stretch and I curl my fingers towards my palm, no longer touching my cock through the fabric but hovering my fist above my jeans. I’ve said something wrong, I can feel it, and I’m tempted to bite my fist.
“What the hell does that mean?” Liam asks, and his anger makes me jump then glance around the canteen as if he might leap out from somewhere. “Has someone fucked you before?”
Liam’s seeing red, so densely apparently that he’s forgotten everything I’ve said, how nervous I am at the prospect of anal sex.
“Calm down,” Ryker says, and I’m pretty sure he’s speaking to Liam, not me.
“Freddie . . .” Liam says. “Where are you?”
He’s not calm; he sounds the opposite of calm. He’s like a raging beast, and part of me wants to take flight, but he’ll catch me, I know he will.
“Why do you want to know?” I ask.
“So I can come get you and bring you back to ours.”
“Then what will you do? Strip me naked and examine me for signs that someone’s been there first?” I hear Ryker laugh, but there’s a strain to it. “I’ve not been with anyone like that,” I tell them. “But I have . . .”
“Have what?” Liam asks.
It feels like the ceiling panels are judging me. It feels like the cushions on the seats are listening in, like whatever I say in this room right now will be obvious to everyone at work tomorrow when they come in. I don’t trust these walls to keep my secrets.
“Freddie . . .” Ryker’s coaxing voice gets me to confess.
“I’ve experimented,” I say. “With . . . toys.”
Well, one toy in particular.
“Oh,” Liam says. “Fine.”
Fine . . . in that bored tone? What the hell does that mean?
Ryker laughs. “I’m intrigued . . .”
“It’s stupid—”
“It’s not.” Ryker’s sigh is blissful. “Alone or with company?”
“Alone.”
Ryker groans. “That’s even hotter. You enjoyed yourself?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “The first time, I only used the tip. It hurt like you described, like burning.”
“First time?” Ryker asks. “This is a regular thing? You’ve been holding out on us, keeping secrets.”
“It’s not something that comes up in everyday conversation. ‘Oh, by the way, I got curious and pushed the tip of my girlfriend’s sex toy inside myself, and I wasn’t sure, but I persisted with it until it felt good, now let’s discuss . . .’”
A groan comes through the phone.
“You’re such a pervert.”
“Erm, for your information, that wasn’t me,” Ryker says. “That was Liam.”
“Oh . . . he didn’t sound very happy when I mentioned toys.”
“He,” Liam says. “Didn’t want to hear details of your girlfriends pleasuring you that way, but I’m more than happy to hear about you fucking yourself with objects while they were out of the room.”
I unfurl my hand and let it drift down to my jeans. I’m still rock hard, still straining against the denim, and the rub of my fingers brings instant relief.
“I didn’t fuck myself with it,” I say. “I pushed it in, and left it there while I . . .”
“Stroked your beautiful cock?” Ryker suggests.
I roll my eyes. “Got myself off. You’re making it sound much more . . . sexual than it was.”
“It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard,” Liam says. “What were you thinking about when it was inside you?”
I know what he wants me to say, that I was thinking about them, or a faceless man, but he’s going to be disappointed.
“I wasn’t thinking of anything,” I tell him. “It was a tool, something extra to bring myself to orgasm. I wasn’t imagining be fucked by a guy. I know subjectively the toy was modelled on a cock, but that’s not what I was thinking about when I used it.”
“Did you clench down on it when you came?” Ryker asks.
The specific question takes me by surprise. “Yes,” I say. “Is that . . . when you’re inside a guy and he climaxes, can you feel it? Do you feel the clench?”
“Yes,” they say together.
“And fuck do we want to feel yours,” Liam groans.
They’re both breathing harder, and there’s another noise, something wet. My sluggish brain catches up, and I speak before I can stop myself. “Are you touching yourselves?”
Ryker chuckles. “You caught us red-handed, or more accurately, dick-handed.”
“You’re an idiot,” Liam says, but he’s breathless.
“Do you want to see?” Ryker asks.
My eyebrows shoot up my forehead. Do I want to see my best friends aroused? Touching themselves?
“It’s okay if you don’t. We won’t be offended,” Ryker hurries to add. “Well, maybe a little. Our cocks are fucking hot.”
“Ryker,” Liam warns.
“Yes,” I whisper, surprising myself. “I want to see but . . .”
“But what?” Ryker asks.
“I’m not going on camera.”
“That’s okay,” Ryker replies. “I’m going to hang up and call you back, okay? And if you change your mind during the half a second we’re disconnected, message me and we’ll go back to talking, agreed?”
“Agreed.”
The call ends, and before I can formulate a coherent thought, it rings again.
I answer instinctively, then freeze wide-eyed at what greets me.
This is dropping me in at the deep end. I thought Ryker might ease me into things, start with their faces or chests or the bloody ceiling, but no, the screen focusses on their hard cocks.
“You there?” Ryker asks.
I hum. It’s all I’m capable of doing right now.
Ryker and Liam are standing up facing each other, with their trousers around their ankles.
I focus my attention down at their feet as I try to gather myself.
Ryker’s trousers are burgundy and Liam’s are black.
Their cocks demand my attention. They’re both big, uncut, and straining in their hands.
Ryker’s aiming the camera at them from midway down their chests, giving me a glimpse of their abs and their dark pubes.
Ryker keeps his shorter than Liam’s, and there’s a pale scar by Ryker’s belly button.
Smears of precum catch the light on their skin, not their own, but each other’s, where the heads of their cocks accidentally bump and kiss with each stroke.
“And?” Ryker asks.
I pop open the catch on my jeans, no longer caring for the listening walls or the nosy chairs. My paranoia has vanished, and all I can think about is getting myself off.
“You’re big,” I say. “You’re both really big.”
And they want to put them inside me. My hole flutters.
“Bigger than that sex toy you had fun with?”
“Definitely,” I reply, and my eyelids drop to half open when I take hold of myself and start to stroke. I keep it slow, matching them, but it’s frustratingly casual. I’m past that, and my wrist aches with the need to go faster.
“You haven’t hung up, which is a good sign.” I pick out the smile in Ryker’s voice. “You like what you see?”
“You’re not shy . . .”