Chapter Twelve #3
“Switch to video,” I tell him. “Put the phone on the floor beneath you. Angle it up.”
The call drops for a split second before the video feed connects.
The screen stutters and then resolves into a clear view of an ugly tile floor and the white walls of a public bathroom stall.
Jax’s hands come into frame as he props his phone against the base of the toilet.
Then he steps over the lens. His jeans and boxers are shoved down around his ankles.
He squats over the camera, his bare thighs spreading wide for me so I have a clear view of his cleft between his pert ass cheeks.
“Pull it out, baby,” I command, my own breath coming fast as I watch him.
Jax reaches down. His fingers wrap around the flared base of the black silicone toy stretching his pink opening. He bites his lip, his eyes fluttering shut on the screen as he gives it a slow tug. It pops out with a wet squelching sound that the phone microphone picks up perfectly.
My cock springs up, hard as a rock against my zipper. I don’t even hesitate. I undo my shorts and pull my dick out in the office, wrapping my hand around my shaft.
“Good boy,” I grunt, squeezing myself. “Now show me you’ve been good. Show me how you kept all my cum inside you all morning.”
Jax whimpers, an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck, but he doesn’t argue.
He reaches down and hooks his index fingers onto either side of his hole.
He pulls outward, stretching his ass open for the camera so I can see straight into him.
A milky, sloppy string of my cum drips out from his slick rim, trailing down toward the floor.
It’s the dirtiest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Fuck,” I groan, stroking my cock in a fast, tight rhythm. “You look so pretty like that. Look at all that cum leaking out of your slutty little hole.”
“Aiden,” he gasps, his hips bucking slightly as he holds himself open.
“Play with it,” I tell him, my grip tightening on my dick. “Use your fingers. Fuck my cum back into yourself.”
He moans, pushing two fingers into his messy opening.
He uses my leftover load as lube, sliding his fingers deep inside his ass.
The sound of him fingering himself echoes through the phone speaker, wet and sloppy and obscene.
He pumps his fingers in and out, curling them up to hit his prostate, his head tossing back as pleasure twists his expression.
I pump my fist, my thumb dragging over my leaking slit. I watch his face on the screen, watch the way his mouth falls open as he digs deeper into his own guts. He’s so eager, so desperate for the friction.
“That’s it, babe,” I praise, my voice rough. “Keep fucking that sweet ass. I want you to make yourself come on only your fingers. Don’t touch your cock. Just use that slut hole.”
“I can’t,” he cries out, his pace picking up. His knuckles bump against his taint with every thrust. “It feels too good, I’m gonna—”
“Do it,” I demand, jerking myself faster, my hips lifting off my office chair. “Come for me right now.”
He finds the spot he needs and digs in hard. His eyes snap wide open, his back arching as the orgasm hits him.
“Aiden!” he screams, a breathless, desperate sound that tears right through me.
He shudders on the screen, his thighs trembling as thick pumps of his cum shoot out of his untouched dick, splattering against the tile floor of the bathroom stall.
Seeing him ruin himself like that pushes me over the edge.
I grunt his name, my abdominal muscles locking up as I shoot my load into a handful of tissues on my desk.
I slump back in my chair, chest heaving, my heart hammering against my ribs.
On the screen, Jax collapses onto his knees, pulling his fingers free. He picks up the phone, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his lips pink and swollen from biting them.
He stares at me through the camera, a cheeky little smirk curving the corners of his mouth.
“Did you cum to the sight of my hole?” he asks softly.
I laugh, breathy and exhausted as I toss the tissues into my trash can. “I did, baby. You’re such a fucking tease.”
He beams, looking pleased with himself.
“Alright, playtime’s over,” I tell him, zipping my shorts back up. “Put the plug back in, clean up your mess, and get back out to the sales floor. I’ll come get you as soon as I’m done here.”
Jax pouts, clearly disappointed that he has to go back to being plugged, but he nods anyway. “Okay. See you later, Aiden.”
“See you soon, boy toy,” I say, and hang up.
The phone lands on my desk with a hollow clatter, the screen going dark and cutting off my last glimpse of the tile in that store bathroom.
I blow out a long breath, letting my head drop back against the leather headrest of my chair.
All I can see’s Jax’s flushed face and those hungry hazel eyes staring up at the camera.
I’m so fucked.
I’m so gone for this boy it’s not funny anymore.
This started out as a standard arrangement, a mutually beneficial deal cooked up by Ryker’s twisted brain and Ash’s bleeding heart, but it evolved into something else.
We’ve done things like this before, but usually our shared partner eventually grows tired of it or decides it’s too much for them to handle, so I try not to get my hopes up.
Not this time though. I’m hooked. All I can think about is how much I want to drag him home and keep him there forever.
Ryker gave him a one-month trial. A thirty-day grace period to figure out if being a shared plaything was something he really wants or if it’s just a desperate bid for survival.
That deadline’s creeping up fast. Sometimes a spike of panic kicks me in the ribs when I wonder what happens if he looks at us at the end of the month and decides he wants out.
What if he saves up a few paychecks from his job, packs his bags, and bails?
What if he decides the three of us are just a weird detour on his way to a normal life?
The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I can’t imagine the penthouse without him dragging his feet into the kitchen every morning, grumbling about how sore his ass is while he steals bites of my cereal.
I remember the day when I first saw him after Ash brought him home.
He looked like a stray dog expecting to be kicked.
He couldn’t make eye contact, jumping at shadows and acting so polite it drove me crazy.
Now he bosses me around when I steal his fries off his plate.
He yells at the TV when we watch hockey.
He leans into my touch instead of flinching away from it.
Watching that transformation unfold feels like a privilege.
I get to be part of the reason he smiles.
We all do. Ryker loves acting tough, acting as though this is just a bit of fun, but I see the way he makes sure the fridge has a fresh box of those stupid fruit snacks Jax likes.
Ash glows whenever Jax walks into the room.
And me? I’m useless against him. He just has to bat those pretty multi-colored eyes or give me that cheeky little smirk, and I’ll buy him whatever he wants.
If he leaves, it’s going to tear a hole in all of us.
But I won’t let myself spiral into that kind of negativity.
He’s staying. I have a gut feeling he wants to stay just as much as we want to keep him.
With every passing day, he sheds another layer of that repressed, sheltered upbringing.
He’s coming into his own, figuring out his identity and what he likes.
And what he likes is us. He’s getting more embedded in our lives, claiming his space on our couch, in our beds, under our hands.
The hesitation’s gone, replaced by his beautiful, eager submission that makes my heart pound.
He thrives under Ash’s soft care, he eats up Ryker’s dark demands, and he matches my playful energy stride for stride.
We balance him out, and in return, he gives us everything.
I push myself up, rolling my shoulders. A stupid grin spreads across my face. Honestly, I’ve never been happier. My life before Jax was good. I love my job, my friends, and my freedom. But having him waiting for me changes the whole game. It gives the day a purpose.
I grab my phone, slipping it into my pocket as I stand up from the desk. I’ve got a couple hours of work left to kill out in the cages. Then I get to jump in my car, pick up our boy, and ruin him all over again.