Chapter 3
Iwake with a dry mouth and a cock that’s already hard. I’m in my bunk, flat on my back, staring at the ceiling as my brain catches up slowly.
The AC is working. That’s the first thing that registers.
Thank fuck, because I can’t stand another minute of being sticky and sweaty.
Being dumb and free had involved a lot of beer for the guys and seventeen rounds of mini golf on the cruise ship’s course.
It turned out that putting on a rocking boat was more of a challenge than it was on dry land, but Jai just turned the whole thing into an adventure sport.
He had a knack for making things more fun, it turned out.
Maintenance must have fixed it at the source, because they certainly didn’t come into the room. Or maybe one of the guys let them in when I was too busy with my hand on my cock and my face in the pillow, trying not to make noise as I got myself off.
One day since the big breakup and the guys have already adopted me, dragging me along on all of their wild hijinks, mostly very bad ideas that somehow end up being fun.
The more I get to know both of them, the more I understand why my sisters broke up with them.
Not because they’re bad guys, but because they’re way too cool to be dating a couple of uptight workaholic med students.
I roll onto my side and look down.
The king bed is a buffet of delicious male bodies.
Wyatt is on his back, one arm thrown above his head, the other resting on his stomach.
His black boxer briefs are riding low, and his morning wood is a thick ridge pushing against the fabric, the head straining at the seam.
The outline is obscene, fat and heavy, the veins prominent even through the cotton, and his balls full beneath it.
Jai is on his side, face turned toward the wall, one leg bent.
His boxers are loose around his hips, and his cock is so hard that the head has pushed past the waistband, the foreskin pulled back enough to show the smooth, fat crown of it, pink and slick with pre-cum.
It’s resting against the mattress, long and thick, every inch of it on display from my perch.
My cock throbs. I’m already at full mast, have been since I woke up, but now it’s aching, pressing against the fabric of my boxers, the head wet and sensitive. My heartbeat pounds in it. My mouth is actually watering. I swallow, and my throat clicks.
I close my eyes. I turn onto my back. I stare at the white panel.
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.
I look.
Wyatt’s chest is rising and falling in slow sleep-breaths.
His cock twitches in his boxers, the head nudging the fabric, a dark spot of pre-cum spreading across it.
Jai shifts in his sleep, mumbles something, and his cock slides a little against the sheet, leaving a wet trail.
The head is shiny. My tongue presses against the back of my teeth.
I close my eyes again, harder this time, like I’m trying to weld them shut.
The image doesn’t go away: Wyatt’s thick cock, Jai’s long one, the head sticking out, glistening.
My hand moves to my own cock without permission, wrapping around it through my boxers, and I squeeze.
The pressure sends a jolt up my spine. I’m so hard it hurts, the fabric rough against the sensitive head, and I know if I pull my boxers down I’ll cum in three strokes, just from looking at them.
I don’t pull my boxers down. I keep my hand where it is, squeezing rhythmically through the fabric, my hips shifting minutely against the mattress, and I tell myself this is fine, this is normal, everyone gets morning wood, it doesn’t mean anything.
Bullshit. It means everything.
I open my eyes one more time.
Wyatt is looking at me.
His blue eyes are clear and awake and fixed on my face with an intensity that stops my heart. He’s been watching. I don’t know how long. His hand moves to his cock, fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers, and he pulls himself out.
It’s bigger hard than I thought, thick and veined and pink, the head fat and flushed, pre-cum beading at the slit. His hand wraps around the shaft, and he gives himself one long, slow pull from base to tip, his thumb smearing the wetness across the head, and he doesn’t break eye contact, not once.
“You like what you see?” he asks. His voice is rough with sleep.
I can’t answer. My mouth is open. My hand is still on my cock.
Jai is still on his side, facing the wall, apparently asleep. His cock is still out, still wet, still right there.
“So, I’ve been thinking. Maybe I can help you figure out if you’re gay. What do you think about that, Cade?” Wyatt asks. His hand is moving on his cock, slow strokes, his thumb circling the head. He’s fully hard now, his balls tightening, and the sight of it wipes every thought out of my head.
“I’m a virgin.”
Wyatt’s eyebrow lifts. His hand pauses on his cock. “So?”
“You know what that means. I wouldn’t know what to do.”
He considers this. His hand starts moving again, a little faster. “So? We can help you rid yourself of that status.”
“I don’t—I’m not—” I fumble, my face burning, the flush spreading from my ears down my neck. My cock is so hard it’s aching, and I’m trying to angle my hips away, to hide the obvious tent in my boxers, but there’s nowhere to go in this fucking bunk. “I’ve never thought about it. Until now.”
Wyatt smiles. That dimple appears in his cheek, and a slow, dangerous heat unfurls in my stomach. “You’re thinking about it now, though.”
“Yes. What do you get out of it, though?”
“In theory, I get my cock sucked, which is reward enough for me.”
“I thought I was straight,” I whisper.
“Thought wrong, maybe.” Wyatt’s hand moves faster. His cock is slick with pre-cum now, his fingers sliding easily, and the wet, soft sound of skin on skin fills the quiet room. “Or maybe you just like what you like. Doesn’t need a name.”
“Are you bisexual?” I ask.
“I’m bisexual enough to let a gay boy suck my dick. Had a roommate freshman year who helped me out every time I was hard.”
My cock jerks. Pre-cum soaks through my boxers, a warm wet patch spreading across the fabric. I’m leaking, just from him saying it.
Jai shifts on the bed. His shoulder moves, but his face stays turned to the wall. His cock is still out, still glistening. I can’t tell if he’s awake or not.
“I should—” I start, but I don’t finish. I should what? Go back to sleep? Climb down and run to the bathroom?
Wyatt’s hand stops. He holds his cock at the base, the head flushed and wet. He looks at me with those blue eyes, that dimple, that farm-boy smile that could talk anyone into anything, and says, “You want a taste?”
One second I’m in the bunk, frozen, and the next I’m swinging my legs over the edge, grabbing the ladder, and climbing down with my cock so hard it slaps against my stomach on each rung.
My feet hit the carpet and I crawl across the king bed on my hands and knees until I’m between Wyatt’s spread legs, staring at his cock from six inches away.
It’s bigger up close, thicker. The head is fat and pink, glistening with pre-cum, the slit wet, the veins standing out thick along the shaft. His balls hang heavy beneath, dark and full. He smells like warm skin, sleep, something musky and male that goes straight to my cock and makes it pulse.
“I don’t know what to do,” I say. My voice is wrecked.
“But you want to do it,” Wyatt says.
“Yeah.”
Wyatt slides his hand into my hair, fingers threading slow through the short strands, and the touch is so fucking good I almost whimper. “It’s no big deal. Start with kissing it. Just your mouth. Get used to the feel and the taste.”
I lean forward, cheeks warm as I press my lips to the head of his cock. It’s hot, so much hotter than I expected, and wet. The taste of pre-cum is salty and bitter and perfect. I kiss it, just a press of my lips against the smooth crown, and Wyatt’s breath catches.
“Good. Now open your mouth. Just the head first. Swipe your tongue around it.”
I open. His cock slides past my lips onto my tongue. Holy fuck, holy fuck. It’s silk and heat and weight, the taste flooding my mouth, salt, musk, man. My cock jerks so hard I moan around him. The vibration makes his hips shift.
“Fuck, yeah. Your mouth is perfect. Just like that. Use your tongue.”
I slide my tongue under the head, along the ridge, and Wyatt’s hand tightens in my hair.
His cock twitches on my tongue, more pre-cum spilling, and I swallow it without thinking.
My hands find his thighs, big and solid, and I hold on like I’m drowning because I am, I’m drowning in this, in the heat of his cock filling my mouth, in the way his breathing has gone ragged above me.
I take him deeper, not much but enough that the head bumps the back of my throat, and I gag, pull back, spit and pre-cum stringing between my lips and his cock.
“Easy,” Wyatt says. “You don’t have to deep throat it. Just suck, use your tongue, hold your hand around my base, take what feels good.”
I try again, deeper this time, more controlled.
My tongue finds the vein on the underside and follows it, and Wyatt makes a sound, a low, punched-out groan that goes straight to my cock.
I’m grinding against the bed now, my hips moving without permission, the friction of the mattress against my hard cock sending sparks up my spine.
I look up.
Jai has rolled onto his back and is watching. His dark eyes are wide and alert, his mouth slightly open, and his cock is fully hard, the head slick and sticking out of his boxers. How long has he been awake? The fucker.
“Sorry.” I pull off of Wyatt and look down at his cock. “I didn’t—I thought we could finish before you woke up.”
“Don’t apologize,” Jai says. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Wyatt laughs, his chest shaking. “Told you he was into us.”
I’m still between Wyatt’s legs, his cock wet and hard in front of my face, and Jai is right there, his long cock begging for attention, and the want is so overwhelming it short-circuits every caution sign in my brain.