Chapter 13 #2
Gideon drew Daniel slowly to the back of his throat, settling him there—the weight and warmth of him resting against his tongue, the roof of his mouth holding him in a kind of stillness.
The urge to move, to suck, was a pressure behind his teeth that he held carefully at bay.
He breathed through his nose. Something about the sheer passivity of it—the trust it required from both of them—loosened something in his chest and brought a slight sting to his eyes.
Daniel’s fingers found his hair. Not directing.
Just resting there, a slow curl at the nape.
Gideon closed his eyes, and when he swallowed, his tongue shifted against Daniel with the faintest involuntary pressure.
Above him, a soft intake of breath as Daniel’s thighs tensed once, then, slowly, unclenched beneath his hands.
Katt shuddered hard when Samson’s mouth closed around him—warm, wet, unhurried—and took him in slow, until the head of his cock pressed into the tight heat of the man’s throat.
The sound that left him was embarrassingly unguarded.
He pressed his lips together, jaw tight, but his hips had already betrayed him with a shallow, involuntary roll forward.
Samson settled, letting Katt rest heavy on his tongue, and the stillness of it was almost worse than movement would have been—the slick warmth wrapped around every inch of him, the faint pulse of Samson’s throat against his tip, the wet seal of those lips at his root.
His cock throbbed in long, slow beats he could feel in his stomach.
Then Samson’s hands moved, easing his jeans further down his thighs, and his fingers cupped his balls with a gentleness that made Katt’s whole body flinch and then go loose.
He let his head fall back. His fists pressed into the cushions on either side of him, knuckles whitening, like he needed something to hold onto.
“Relax,” Marcus murmured close to his ear. His palm pressed lightly on Katt’s chest. “Don’t think about it. Talk to us, tell us about you.”
Swallowing hard, Katt opened his eyes. He forced himself not to look at the large man who had his head buried between his thighs, his mouth engulfing Katt’s dick. “What…” he rasped. “What do you… want to know?”
“You told Gideon you were an art major,” Marcus spoke softly as his palm rubbed circles on Katt’s chest. “When did you become interested in art?”
Katt drew a slow breath and held it—then Samson swallowed, and the movement rolled through him like a wave: the flat of the man’s tongue dragging firm and slick along the underside of his cock, the throat tightening briefly around his tip.
Katt’s hips jerked forward before he could stop them, a short, helpless roll, and he had to press his fists harder into the cushions to keep from doing it again.
“I, uh…” He cleared his throat as his body broke out in sweat. How was this supposed to relax him? “I’ve always liked art…” His voice hitched as Samson gave his balls another gentle squeeze and tug. “Even… Even back in elementary school.”
“That’s cool,” Marcus murmured.
“When you graduate from college,” Garrett asked, “do you want to work for an advertising firm? Or go freelance?”
It felt surreal to carry on a casual conversation with these guys while his dick was buried balls-deep in a man’s throat.
“Uh…” Katt swallowed again. “Probably… work for an agency. At first, anyway.” Good god.
The heat of Samson’s mouth was extraordinary—a wet, encompassing stillness that held him completely, the soft pressure of the man’s tongue resting beneath him, the faint rhythmic pull each time Samson swallowed.
Katt’s fingers curled into the cushion. It was erotic in a way that was almost beside the point, like being submerged in warm water: his body simply didn’t know what to do with that much sensation at once except, slowly, surrender to it.
Mickey casually stroked his fingers through Samson’s hair as he gazed at Katt. “Are you feeling better?”
Katt trembled and smiled. “I am.” His pulse remained slightly elevated, but his heart was no longer racing wildly, and the tension was slowly leaving his body.
“It relaxes me a lot,” Mickey said softly as he combed Samson’s short strands. “When I’m in his mouth, sometimes I take a nap.”
Some of the guys chuckled.
“Me, too,” Marcus said. “It’s so relaxing.”
Shockingly, Katt could see how that might happen.
“Then he sucks us awake and fucks us really hard.” Mickey squinted impishly.
Samson chuckled—a low, private rumble that moved through his chest and throat and translated into a hum that traveled the full length of Katt’s cock, vibrating up through his stomach.
Katt’s breath snagged. His hips twitched forward, and his cock gave a slow, spontaneous throb against the man’s tongue, and he felt that, too—felt Samson feel it—and had to look away at the ceiling as he pressed his knuckles harder into the cushion to keep still.
“You two are…” Garrett laughed and shook his head.
Sean asked Katt another question unrelated to sexual matters.
Katt opened his mouth to answer, and Samson chose that moment to swallow again—a slow, calculated contraction of his throat around Katt’s tip—and instead what came out was a sharp exhale through the nose, barely controlled.
His cock pulsed, a bead of precum welling against Samson’s tongue.
He felt the man swallow again, softer this time, tasting him.
Katt trembled, forgetting Sean’s question altogether.