Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jules
“Jules.” Cillian’s voice wakes me.
My limbs aren’t ready for it. Neither is my brain. I push through a fog of exhaustion, but I’m not sure I achieve full consciousness.
“What is it?” I murmur. I roll towards his voice and stop to groan. Soreness radiates through my ass. With it comes a slideshow of memories. Of Cillian’s steady weight at my back, his large cock filling me to the brim. His hand cradling the back of my neck.
“Can you pass me the lube?”
“The…lube?” I blink, squinting through my sleep-weary gaze to distinguish what I’m looking at.
One naked body on top of another. Cillian is lying on top of Mathieu, who is huffing and puffing, trying to get out from under him.
From how exhausted he looks, either he’s not fully revived after last night, or this grapple has been going on for a while.
I check Mathieu’s expression. He’s fiery and determined, not a hint of anything upset or apprehensive.
Cillian looks more tired than the man underneath him.
His eyes are just as determined, but there’s something almost…
amused in him. Like dominating Mathieu is a fun diversion first thing in the morning.
I roll the other way, groaning again at the radiating ache, and bat my hand blindly and ineffectually over the bed.
Behind me, I hear kissing. I pause my search.
Cillian is gripping Mathieu by the jaw, kissing him senseless.
My focus lingers on his hand. The grip. It’s the way he’s doing it, I realise.
He’s cupping Mathieu’s jaw in his palm, fingers flat to his skin.
The pressure is coming from his entire hand, not individual fingers digging in.
Mathieu’s fighting eases.
Cillian’s grey eyes are all black when he turns them to me. He misses the way Mathieu chases after his mouth.
“By your foot,” Cillian says.
I retrieve the bottle and offer it to Cillian. He squirts out a handful and preps Mathieu’s ass.
I lie on my side, adjusting my pillow so that I can watch comfortably. Cillian, as he coats his cock, glances at me.
“You want to join?”
“Watch,” I mumble.
Cillian nods. His attention returns to Mathieu, whose back is arching, thighs drawing up to give Cillian the perfect angle.
Cock sinks gradually into ass. I watch, somewhat horrified, because how did something that huge fit inside of me?
And he’d put all of himself in, too. No holding back.
I’d felt his balls right against my ass.
Mathieu clutches his pillow, hands scrabbling for purchase on something. He bucks against Cillian, groaning. He’s reacting to his size. How could he not?
Cillian buries himself all the way in, with Mathieu completely pinned beneath him.
He pauses there. Cillian studies Mathieu’s face, taking note of the way he’s gripping the pillow.
“Jules, can you pass me that one?” He gestures to our last pillow not in use.
I offer it, and Cillian lifts Mathieu up enough to slide the pillow beneath his hips.
“Better?” Cillian checks.
Mathieu nods, his fisted grip relaxing.
“Don’t let go too soon,” Cillian warns. And then he fucks him. I don’t have the energy to touch myself. It’s quick and dirty, and Cillian comes inside. Mathieu is a trembling, moaning mess when Cillian rolls off, panting. A web of semen stretches from Mathieu’s ass to the tip of Cillian’s cock.
Mathieu, grumbling, crawls over to me. He climbs on top and strokes my ass, gently pulling my cheeks apart.
“Wait,” Cillian cautions as Mathieu slips a finger inside me. I groan. Mathieu goes still and peers at my face, studying. “He’s too sore right now. Come here.”
Mathieu looks warily at Cillian.
“I’ll be nice. Promise.”
“You can put it in,” I offer.
“Cillian fucked you?”
“I can use my mouth.”
“Come here,” Cillian insists. “Let him rest.”
Mathieu looks even more suspicious.
Cillian grins. “Look. You can use my mouth. How about that? I’ll leave my arms up here.” Cillian sets them down above his head.
Mathieu crawls over to Cillian, cautiously seating himself onto his chest, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his head. He grips Cillian’s wrists—who flinches when Mathieu grabs his left arm.
“Snakebite,” I warn, reaching out and shifting Mathieu’s grip away from the snakebite. Mathieu accepts the correction.
After that, Cillian doesn’t object. His offer was apparently genuine too, as he doesn’t lift his arms once, letting Mathieu sit on his chest and fuck his mouth.
Mathieu spills into his mouth too, and I can barely breathe when Cillian swallows.
His lips are slick when Mathieu slides his cock out, panting.
“How was it?” Mathieu asks.
Cillian wipes his mouth. “Not bad, but I prefer being on the other end.”
“It is equal for me.” With a deep sigh, Mathieu flops back onto the bed.
We all just breathe. Then, with another deep sigh, Mathieu rolls over to me. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in. I groan at the ache of moving but am comfortable once he settles himself, wrapped around me. He pecks my neck, then twists towards Cillian. I hear a soft thud.
“Do you really want to start something again?” Cillian asks.
There’s another thud.
“One more kick, Mathieu,” Cillian promises.
The kick doesn’t come.
“Come here,” Mathieu invites.
Cillian shuffles next to us.
“How many of your firsts did we take?” Mathieu asks him. “First blow job?”
Cillian makes a tired grunting sound in reply.
“First hand job,” Mathieu lists.
“I did the hand job,” I say. “But he did touch your cock.”
“To stop me from coming,” Mathieu gripes.
I appreciate that Cillian is getting the blame, even though I was the one who’d been holding the base of him.
“You have a nice cock,” I murmur. “Your head fits perfectly into the back of my mouth. When you came, your semen shot straight down my throat.” I got credit for swallowing, but Mathieu made it really easy.
I’m not sure his semen even hit my tongue, just painted the back of my throat.
There’s a long silence filled only by the sound of rain pattering on the roof of our hut.
“Jules?” Mathieu says.
“Hm?”
“You’re lovely.”
“Er.”
“But, if you talk like that, I’m going to get hard again, and I don’t have the energy.”
“Oh.” I wake up a little more. Mathieu’s cock is resting against my thigh. It’s plumped up a little. “Okay.”
“First time between the thighs?” I ask, changing the subject.
“First time between the thighs with a guy’s balls resting on my cock.”
Mathieu chuckles.
I stop myself from commenting that Mathieu has nice balls too. I got to feel for myself when lubing them up.
The conversation peters out. In the quiet, I run over every aspect I can concretely recall of last night. Start to finish, it had all just…worked.
“My first relationship was with a guy called Leo,” I say, not even sure Mathieu and Cillian are still awake.
“We were classmates in secondary school. I think I was sixteen? Seventeen, maybe? We were friends first, spent a billion hours together, so we were close before we started going out. He’s the nicest guy I’ve ever met.
Really kind.” I reach down to Mathieu’s arm around my waist. I idly trace his thumb.
“But when things were physical, we didn’t click.
At all. He was so nice, so, so nice, even in bed, and I just couldn’t get into it.
He’d constantly check, Was that okay? Is this okay?
You first. It would jerk me out of it every time. ”
I remember vividly the moment I realised I had to end it. Failed attempt number whatever, and Leo was genuinely upset.
“We stayed friends. Leo’s actually engaged now, and his boyfriend’s as nice as he is.”
Mathieu’s thumb moves under my grip, rubbing my stomach. He’s listening.
“You guys just… It works. I feel de-stressed.” Even now, exposing my guts, I’m not afraid.
“We work for you in bed and out of it?” Mathieu asks.
I nod.
“So…boyfriend material.”
“Mathieu,” Cillian warns.
“It’s okay, Cillian,” I say. “That’s actually what I’m trying to get at.”
“Oui, yes, boyfriends,” Mathieu replies instantly. The enthusiasm in his voice is flattering, as are the kisses that pepper my cheeks. Mathieu lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a giggle. I smile.
“You must learn French,” he says. “My parents don’t have any English.”
“I’ll learn.”
Mathieu settles back down, humming to himself. As if we coordinated it, we look at Cillian at the same time. His expression is level, bar a slight bit of tension in his mouth. When our eyes meet, there’s a flare of something I can’t read.
“I don’t know how it would work exactly, but what about you?” I ask.
Cillian looks between the two of us. “Neither of you are pissed off at me?”
I vaguely remember him saying something similar last night, though I’m not sure if I imagined it or not. “I’m not,” I say.
Mathieu takes a little longer. Cillian’s eyes slide to him.
“You are very chill most of the time,” Mathieu says, “but intense in bed. The contrast is good.”
“I don’t have an off-switch. That part of me always comes out. ‘Intense’ can be okay now and then, but every time is tiring.” The tightness in Cillian’s mouth harshens its handsome shape. “I’m big and intimidating, and intense…and disrespectful.”
“Disrespectful?” I repeat, stunned.
Mathieu’s eyebrows shoot up. “If I found you disrespectful, I wouldn’t sleep with you.” Mathieu leans closer. “Cillian.”
Cillian’s brow creases. “Yes?” He sounds on guard.
“I do not want you to get upset with me, but I am going to say something.”
Cillian waits.
“You drop after sex, don’t you?”
I look at Mathieu with the same befuddled expression as Cillian.
“What?” Cillian asks, mystified, as if Mathieu asked the question in French.
“After sex, you get very anxious. You’re always worried that we’re mad or upset with you. During sex, you’re able to tell that we’re not.”
I’m thinking back on all the times we’ve been intimate. Has he been upset afterwards? And I didn’t notice? Don’t be pissed off at me. That’s what he said last night.
“I lose the run of myself in bed. I’ve always been like that,” Cillian mutters. “I always get dumped the morning after. Kara said I was disrespectful.”
“You don’t, actually,” Mathieu says. “You’re dominant and intense, but I never feel as though you’ve stopped paying attention to me and how I’m responding. You, Jules?”
“No.”
“Right. You wouldn’t feel comfortable letting him take the lead if he was off his head, would you?” Mathieu reaches up, rubbing my hair. “Do you usually use safe words with your partners, Cillian?”
“I’m not into BDSM.”
“Me either. But we’re going to have one.
Jules, show Cillian what you’ll do if we’re in the middle of sex and you need to hit pause.
” Mathieu turns an expectant eye to me, like this is a question I already know the answer to.
I realise I do. I reach across the bed to Cillian and tap his wrist twice.
“And for me, I can do the same. I’ll also say, ‘yacht’. We’ll practice using them tonight. This way, you can be a little less worried about us being mad at you afterwards, okay?”
Cillian blinks.
I think he’s trying to unpack everything Mathieu just said. I am too.
“I’m going to ask you the relationship question again later,” Mathieu tells him. “Not right after sex while you’re anxious, and I bet you’ll say yes.”
Once upon a time, Mathieu convinced me that he was shy.
Cillian looks stressed. “Let’s shelve this for now,” I suggest. I catch Cillian’s eye and smile. “Don’t overthink it. I like you, and I like…us.”
I sit up and hiss. The ache is satisfyingly intense. “Any chance one of you would tag in for my water run today?”
“I’ll do it,” Cillian says. “You should get more rest,” he adds, as I get up and dig through my bag.
“I want to get cleaned up before I put on clothes, so I’m going to go wash before anyone else is up.”
Early dawn light spills over Mathieu and Cillian as I open our hut door.
Our blanket is kicked down to their knees, so I see an ocean of naked skin.
Cillian is all broad swells of muscle, and I suspect he’s a lot stronger than I’ve had the opportunity to see.
There’s the slightest tremble going through him.
His cock, even while soft, is huge. It’s one of the few exceptions to the tattoos swirling all over his skin. They cover everything bar his genitals.
Mathieu is all lean and neat, the elegant lines of his body leading to his lovely jaw and cherubic curls. They’re wild and rumpled. They contrast with his neat cock. It really is perfect for a mouth. Thickness and length and shape ideal to…
Both of them are looking between my legs.
“You did say they were pretty,” Mathieu says.
“Ah.” I glance down at myself. Thanks to waxing and laser, even a few weeks on the island hasn’t changed the state of things in my nether regions.
“I’m booked in for an appointment soon…” I calculate the days.
“In a week. It would be nice to be rescued by then. Missing the timing throws off the whole schedule…”
“We’re listening.”
They’re staring.
“We had sex last night.”
“In the dark. And you’re so shy whenever we wash that I haven’t seen you naked before,” Mathieu points out.
Cillian rolls out of bed. He shakes out his left hand with an irritated grunt. “I’ll help you wash.”
Mathieu is up like a shot. “Me too.”