19. Lance #3
George lets out a growl. “This hole is fucking greedy. Sucking my fingers right in like it can’t get enough.”
He curls his fingers in a slow come-hither motion, hitting the exact angle Adrian had shown him during that prepping tutorial at Trevor’s bachelor party months ago. The pad of his finger drags perfectly over my prostate and my whole body jerks hard, a loud series of broken moans tearing out of me.
Adrian keeps my legs pinned back, holding the back of my knees, giving George the perfect angle.
Those thick fingers pump in and out, dragging firmly over my prostate with every stroke.
My cock throbs painfully on my stomach, leaking steadily.
Every precise thrust makes my thighs tremble and more desperate sounds spill from my throat.
I hear movement. Holloway is walking over, pants still on but zipper undone, looking all sexed up but smug. He stops beside George, staring down at the sight of me pinned open.
“He’s loud,” he comments.
“S-shut up, Holloway,” I manage between gasps.
“Meant that as a compliment, Bradford,” he replies, intently watching George’s fingers work inside me. “Whenever Adrian gets that loud, I know I’m doing it right.”
George glances up at him and jerks his chin toward the lube on the other couch.
Holloway grabs it without a word and pours a generous stream directly onto my hole, right where George’s fingers are stretching me.
The cool slickness makes everything wetter and louder.
The sounds turn downright obscene as George keeps pumping.
I lose it. I throw an arm over my eyes, completely overstimulated, my body running too hot to think straight. There’s no room left for embarrassment—just pure, helpless feeling I can’t hold back.
All that comes out of me are rough, broken sounds I don’t even recognize as mine.
“Damn, Lance,” Adrian says against my ear, sounding amused. “You sneaky fuck. You’re a natural bottom.” His grip tightens on my legs as he feels how close I am. The way my muscles are locking up and the louder, more desperate sounds spilling out of me, is giving me away completely.
George doesn’t let up. He reads every reaction, adjusting the angle until I’m shaking apart under his hand. Adrian’s encouragement and praises mix with the wet sound of George’s fingers. The pressure builds unbearably fast.
Adrian shifts to spread my ass cheeks wider for George, exposing me even more. Holloway reaches down and grabs both my ankles, holding them firmly in place, folding me further in half.
“F-fuck,” I moan, voice cracking as it gets louder.
George leans down over me, voice commanding and sure. “Come for me, Lance.”
He claims my mouth in another scorching hot, hungry kiss, then pulls back just enough to rasp against my lips. “You want me to suck your cock?”
“God,” I choke out, voice wrecked. Hearing him offer that is the final push over the edge. “I’m already—fuck, I’m coming—”
I come with a broken shout, my hole pulsing and squeezing tight around George’s fingers as I hold my cock through the orgasm.
Thick pulses shoot across my chest and stomach.
This orgasm is fucking brutal, far harder and deeper than any prostate orgasm I’ve ever pulled out of myself with toys at home.
It tears through me, ripping pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
My vision whites out. My whole body seizes and shakes uncontrollably as wave after brutal wave crashes over me.
When it finally starts to release its grip, I’m completely destroyed.
I’m shaking, gasping, every muscle twitching.
Vince and Adrian slowly lower my ass and legs down, easing me out of that folded position.
Adrian reaches for the wipes nearby and starts gently cleaning the mess off my chest and stomach while I lie there boneless, trying to remember how to exist.
I pull my arm away from my eyes and blink up at the ceiling. George is already right there, leaning over me, watching me.
The usual control isn’t there. George keeps everything tight, always a step back, but right now, he isn’t. There’s nothing held back. Nothing between us.
“Lance.” His voice is gentle. “You good?”
I run through the reflexes out of habit. The jokes, the deflections, the arsenal of ‘fine’ I’ve had ready and loaded for most of my adult life. I run through all of them and then I put them down too.
“Yeah,” I say, and I mean it. This should probably be confusing as hell, but it’s not. It’s more like a sexual epiphany, which sounds like something I’d read on a self-help blog but fuck it, that’s what this is.
He holds my gaze and nods once, moving slowly to also wipe me up.
The lamp throws warm amber light across the room and over our skin. I stay right where I am, still feeling the heat of his mouth and the grip of his hands on me. I’m not trying to figure out what comes next, or what version of myself to show on the other side of it.
I’m just here, with my best friend George, in the calm.
That’s enough. That’s more than enough for me now.