Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cillian
We use our clothes to dry ourselves. Teeth chattering, Mathieu dives under the sheet with an exaggerated whimper and “Cold,” complaint. I almost echo the complaint and the whimper. It’s the coldest night we’ve had on the island.
Jules follows, urging Mathieu into the middle of the bed.
I take the last available space. Mathieu grabs my leg, pulling me over him.
I huff. A few words float to the top of my mind, supplying endings to Jules’s cut-off sentence earlier about Mathieu.
He’s so, so… Bold. Bratty. Cheeky. Cute—in the sly sense.
Perhaps in the other sense too. Sweet as sin. Sunshine in a bottle.
I hook my arm around his waist and tuck him flush against my body. “Better?”
He burrows his feet between my calves, and I flinch at the shock of cold.
“You’re lovely and warm,” Mathieu confirms.
Jules plasters himself against Mathieu, hugging him from the front. His hands end up on my side.
“When we’re rescued, let’s take a hot shower together,” Mathieu suggests, teeth chattering. “And everyone gets an hour-long massage.”
“Agreed,” Jules says.
I’ll talk to Seán’s mom and brush up on my techniques.
Jules’s hands on my back were unexpected. It’s been a while since I’ve had a partner touch me so tenderly. Usually, after things move to the bedroom, soft, intimate touches are no longer forthcoming. I don’t think I’ve ever even kissed someone gently before. I’m not sure where that came from.
“Sounds nice,” I agree. My semi is pressing against the back of Mathieu’s thighs. He shifts, and it slips between his legs. He goes still.
“Sorry.” I move away, but he grabs my side.
“It’s good, it’s good. You can warm up between my legs.” Mathieu tightens his thighs, trapping me. “You’re big.”
“Proportional,” Jules says.
They’re curled up face to face. Jules’s fingers skim down my sides, over the notch of my hip. His hand flattens over the swell of my ass.
“He’s curved. To the left.”
“Oh?” Mathieu sounds delighted, as if the conversation couldn’t have gone in a better direction.
A squirmy feeling spreads throughout my body.
I’ve seen girls glimpse me in the bar and bend their heads together, obviously talking about me.
In that setting, they would have been talking about looks in some capacity.
How I am in bed has likely been discussed by ex-girlfriends. Or ranted about.
But I haven’t ever had two guys—one I jerked off, one I jerked off on—discuss my cock right in front of me. I doubt many people have.
“Is that why you took so long? You were mapping out the thing between my thighs?” Mathieu asks. “Which is getting bigger as we speak.”
I clear my throat. “You’re squirming.”
“No, but I can.”
Mathieu does exactly that. I grip his sides, fingers curling into his skin. The pressure is criminally good. His balls cushion the top of my shaft, and Mathieu reaches down, cupping my head in his palm, fingertips teasing the underside. Heat spreads in my lower abdomen.
Jules rolls off the bed. Mathieu stops rubbing me, going tense. Jules is only a shadow. Over the pounding rain, I hear him digging through the bags.
“Jules?” Mathieu asks with a note of caution.
“Just a moment.”
He doesn’t sound upset. But is he? I’m sure that Jules is accustomed to masking his feelings, and I don’t want to fuck things up. Especially since we’re just after making up… I relax my grip on Mathieu, and he lifts his leg so I can slide out.
“Here it is!” Jules says. A bottle cap snicks open, and the blanket rustles as Jules rejoins us. I hear the wet sound of slick skin on slick skin. “Shoot,” Jules curses. “I poured out too much. Here.”
Mathieu flinches.
“I’m sorry. Ah, wait, I shouldn’t—”
“You should.” Mathieu recovers. “It’s just that your hands are cold.”
All I see is a lump in the blanket where Mathieu’s knee is lifted. I can hear something going on. My cock is straining forward to find out what.
Mathieu’s head shifts back, a strangled groan falling from his lips. A moment later, I hear a mouth on skin. I can make out Jules at Mathieu’s neck, trailing kisses.
“Rub some on my balls too,” Mathieu groans. “And my cock. Ah, parfait.”
The rain and the blanket aren’t enough to dampen the sound of the hand job taking place. I reach for myself, running a loose fist over my length. Shivers break out across my skin.
“I lubed up his thighs for you,” Jules murmurs between kisses. I catch the shine of blue eyes flashing in my direction.
I reach down. Mathieu’s skin is slippery and warm. Lube is spread generously across his taint and crack, covers his balls, and a generous few inches of thigh. I slide my cock between his thighs, pushing my erection up so I press against his balls.
Mathieu jerks. “I’m going to come.”
“No.” I find Jules’s hand, stopping him from jerking off Mathieu. “Not yet.”
“Keep going, keep going,” Mathieu complains.
Jules goes still under my grip. I sense him trying to find my eyes in the dark, so I go to him, leaning over Mathieu to kiss Jules’s mouth. In the dark, what I find is his jaw. “I’ll show you what I want,” I murmur against his skin. He nods.
I guide Jules’s hand down. My fingers close around Mathieu’s cock over Jules’s. Warm, hard skin fills my palm. The unfamiliarity catches me for half a beat, then I tighten our hold.
Mathieu lets out a choked sound.
“That pressure is good. If he gets too worked up, tighten your grip. Okay?”
“Not okay!”
Jules nods.
I need to get him on his stomach and get inside him. He’s too good. After, I promise. Mathieu first.
“I object! I object!” Mathieu cries, followed by a lengthy giving-out in French. I wait until he’s done talking.
“Noted,” I say. I let go of Jules, confident he’ll do his utmost to follow what I asked, and manoeuvre Mathieu’s thighs back together.
I tip my hips forward, gauging the slick tunnel prepared for me.
A tremor shakes through my thighs, and I tighten my grip on Mathieu to hide it.
It’s warm and wet, and when I push down on his thigh, blissfully tight.
“I feel like I’m in your hole,” I say.
Mathieu growls. He bucks against me, but when he reaches for his own cock, I capture his wrist. “Be patient.”
“I have none!”
I chuckle, and Mathieu changes tack.
Between moans, he tells Jules how he should get him off. I fuck between his thighs at leisure; having come an hour ago, I’m reasonably able to hold myself back.
Mathieu, failing to convince Jules, kisses him instead.
I nip the back of Mathieu’s neck. “I’ll let go of your hand, but only if you use it to touch Jules.”
Jules, under the assault of Mathieu’s hungry kisses, is letting out sweet little gasps.
“Agreed.”
I monitor him, laying my hand loosely over his wrist. He sticks his hand between his own thighs, gathering excess lube on his fingers and then reaches immediately for Jules. Not his cock.
His hole.
Mathieu spreads the lube and circles Jules’s entrance. Massaging, slickening, then delving.
Jules moans into Mathieu’s mouth.
Mathieu’s answering groan is painful. He breaks the kiss and turns towards me. “Let’s fuck him,” he pants. “Please, God, my balls are going to burst. I need to come. Please.” I hear tears in his voice.
I cover his mouth with mine and taste the salt of them. Mathieu doesn’t try to fight for dominance. He yields. Instantly. He parts his lips, lets me dominate his mouth with my tongue. I’m so close to coming I have to stop thrusting. My breaths come hard, as if I’ve been sprinting.
“Jules,” I say, as I break the kiss. “Show Mathieu what you told me you’re good at.”
“Okay,” Jules murmurs.
I peel back the blanket as he goes down. I wish we had a light. I hear Jules press kisses to Mathieu’s cock. Every inch of Mathieu trembles. Next, I hear the sound of a cock being swallowed. Jules chokes but keeps going.
Mathieu is crying. His babbling is incoherent. I kiss him again, relishing how overwhelmed he is. I guide Mathieu’s hand to Jules’s head. Together, we feel the rhythm of his movements.
I break the kiss. “This will feel unreal,” I promise. I leave Mathieu’s hand where it is in Jules’s hair and find Jules’s hand, where he has the base of Mathieu’s cock tightly circled. I tug it away.
Mathieu’s hips jerk convulsively. He doesn’t yell, the voice gone out of him. Jules makes a gagging sound, and I hear his effort to swallow. Mathieu gasps as though he’s been winded, curving around Jules’s head.
When it passes, he goes slack.
“Mathieu?” I touch his neck, feeling his feathering pulse as it steadies out, alongside his breaths. He’s boneless. “He passed out,” I say. I untangle his hand from Jules’s hair and set the slack limb on the bedding. Jules comes off his cock with a faint pop.
“Did you swallow?”
“Yes.”
I digest that. Very little else gets through.
“I want to fuck you.” I take a deep breath. Calm. Calm. Calm. “Where’s that lube?”
“Here.”
“Get on your stomach.”
Jules obeys, scooting far enough away from Mathieu that I can sink my knees into the bedding on either side of his hips.
He reaches back, pressing the lube bottle against my calf.
I pour it onto my hand and copy what Mathieu did, circling Jules’s hole, massaging in the lube before sinking my fingers inside.
Jules drives me nuts with all his little gasps. I’m certain, after I crook my fingers inside and his entire body trembles, that I could make him come from this alone. Maybe, like me, he’s so turned-on that even a whisper of contact feels divine.
“Is this scary?”
Jules responds with a confused, dazed, “Hm? Scary?”
He’s gone. Brain short-circuiting on heavy arousal.
“Alright. This?” I place my hand cautiously on the back of his neck. I apply no pressure whatsoever, yet a heavy shiver passes through Jules’s body.
I get another, “Hm?”
“I can do whatever I want to you, is that it? Don’t offer me that, Jules, because I’ll take you up on it.
You’ll never so much as roll out of bed without swallowing my cock first.” I rub his neck, watching his reaction.
I can make out his lips parting, feel his pulse hammering against my fingertips.
He stays pliant. A prickle of pain darts up my arm from the snakebite when the muscle flexes, a good reminder to keep my strength in check.
“I’ll pick you up from work so I can shove your trousers down and fuck you before we even leave the building. ”
“I like giving blow jobs,” Jules says against the pillow.
I grin in the dark. “Yeah? Mathieu’s very impressed with what you just did to his cock. You were so good for us it knocked him out.”
Jules makes a satisfied sound. “Blow job?”
“I prefer mouth-fucks, but that’s not what I’m having right now.”
I take my fingers out, coat my cock so it’s slick with lube, and sink into Jules. I’m significantly bigger than my fingers, and it’s a tight squeeze. Jules’s muscles tense against my intrusion as I move into him with steady pressure.
Jules gasps.
My hips meet his ass, and I wait there. Eyes shut, breaths coming uneven and laboured. Gradually, Jules relaxes around my cock.
I start slow. I don’t thrust so much as sink in and out of Jules. I’ve only done it a handful of times when Jules abruptly tenses and convulses. He cries out as he orgasms, and I squeeze his side tight to stop myself from following.
Jules goes slack, gasping.
“Ah, really now,” I say. “You should have told me you were that close. I would have held you properly.”
Jules lets out a sorry, tired grumble.
“Are you falling asleep too?”
Through my hand on the back of his neck, I feel him quickly shaking his head.
“You’re going to stay awake long enough for me to use your hole, aren’t you? Be good.”
Jules nods, gasping. “I’m good,” he babbles. “I’m good.”
His words rip away the last of my restraint. I thrust. The slap of skin on skin as my hips hit his plump ass echoes off the hut walls. It’s a smooth tunnel, and I’m so worked up that finding my release is no effort at all.
I crash over the peak, grunting through my orgasm, spilling out every last drop into Jules with hard, rough slams.
I catch myself on my forearms as I crumple—cursing when I put my weight onto the bite—but I manage to save Jules from being crushed by my body. I’m buried in him and fucking love the feel of his ass against me.
“You’re mine. Don’t be pissed off at me, alright? You and Mathieu are mine.”
Exhausted, I nuzzle my way to Jules’s mouth, exchanging soft kisses until I fall asleep.