Epilogue Part One #2
“Lie back.” I pull him off my cock, encouraging him to lie flat once more.
I crawl over him, line myself up, and sink right back between his lips.
I balance my weight on my palms above his head and watch, lust-filled and indecently aroused, as I slide in and out of his mouth.
Jules keeps his lips parted, hands resting lightly on my thighs, though his eyes flutter open and shut erratically.
He’s divine. Completely. As I get more worked up, my movements get rougher.
There’s a wet sound behind me, and Jules lets out a muted cry.
I tip my head back, groaning. “That feels wonderful. Do it again.”
Jules doesn’t, but I don’t think it’s on purpose. He squirms and moans, and the hands on my thighs tighten. I peer behind me for the source of the wet sound, and find Cillian preparing Jules for his giant cock. His trousers are pushed down, and it’s hanging in mid-air, tip glistening.
“Mathieu,” he says. “Wait for me.”
Usually, I make a point of making Cillian work for every single concession. But seeing his cock primed to go, and listening to Jules moaning around my own, I decide there’s some sense in the request.
“Okay.” It takes immense control to stop my hips from moving. I have only the tip of my cock in Jules’s mouth, and once the thrusts stop, his tongue gets to work on the sensitive underside of my head. “Do you taste precum?” I ask him.
He mumbles back something incoherent.
I’m tense all over, but the edge I’d been rapidly approaching recedes to a safe distance.
I have enough control now to play a little.
I sink my cock in a little further, stretching out Jules’s lips.
I stroke his hair, then his throat. A shiver passes through his body, and his hands clench tight on my thighs.
“Don’t make him come yet,” Cillian warns.
“Put one of those bands you chase me around with on his cock, then. Or better yet, put it on yours.”
“Keep talking,” Cillian invites. “See where it leads.”
That is an explicit invitation to run my mouth if I ever heard one, but the unfolding scenario is too appealing.
“Can you give him his mouth for a second? I’m putting it in.”
I pull out of Jules, and while I’m waiting for Cillian to put his cock in, I balance mine on Jules’s chin. I tilt my hips just enough to kiss his lower lip with my tip. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.
“You are the literal definition of a menace.”
I glance over my shoulder. “All in?”
Jules’s legs are hooked over Cillian’s sides, and he’s got a firm grip on Jules’s waist. He hasn’t bent over Jules so much as pulled Jules’s ass off the bed to meet him instead.
He holds him in that suspended position with ease.
Cillian’s buried to the hilt. For all his fussing and worrying, once we get down to it, Cillian always wants all in.
I turn back to Jules. He’s breathing heavily, body covered in a layer of sweat. Cillian is going to nail his prostate to death, and he’s going to come all over himself. I’ll come on his face. Cillian will come inside.
“I like this very much. You are well, Jules? I can put my cock back in?”
Jules begins to rock between my thighs. The power of Cillian’s thrusts moves Jules’s entire body. He’s distracted, and it takes a few tries to get his eyes open. His pupils are dilated. “Mathieu?” he pants. “Yes? What?”
“I’m going to put my cock back in, open up.”
Jules nods, parting his lips, and I slide my cock down his tongue, into the heat of his mouth. The slight thud of Cillian’s thrusts travels from Jules’s body into my cock. The vibration of Jules’s capped moans is better than any blow job I’ve ever had.
The sheets bunch in my fists as I fight to hold back.
But there’s no stopping it. A wave of heat rises in my body, lifting my balls with it.
When it reaches my lungs, my breath catches and molten heat spreads through my lower abdomen, my thighs, through my shaft, and out through my tip.
With breathless, manic thrusts, I spill into my boyfriend’s mouth. He swallows.
As I collapse into a shivering mess of aftershock-pleasure, Cillian grunts and roughly fucks Jules as he empties himself inside him.
I have enough presence of mind to get my cock out and let Jules breathe as he comes.
For once, it isn’t me in tears through an overwhelming climax.
Cillian’s hand flies over Jules’s cock, pumping him through his orgasm.
I roll sideways, dragging a pillow over to collapse against. I wasn’t even edged, and I’m wrung out! By a blow job!
Cillian catches his breath, still buried in Jules. Jules pants, his orgasm petering out. He’s painted with cum across his mouth, abdomen and chest. When Cillian pulls out, cock dripping, it’s obvious that Jules has received a thorough dousing inside too.
I shuffle closer, resting my cock on Jules’s stomach. I rub Jules’s release into his skin, paying particular attention to getting it really into his nipples, making them hard. I get my mouth involved for the right one, leaving teeth marks behind.
“We should see how much cum we can get on Jules,” I suggest.
Cillian runs a hand through his hair, peeling back strands that cling to his sweaty temples. I rise to my knees, shuffling over to him. My trousers, pushed down to mid-thigh, hamper my movement. I wrap myself around Cillian from the front, gazing up at him. “I’ll be good. Please.”
A brow lifts. “Will you?”
“I will. Really, really good. Genuinely good.” I reach for his cock, giving him the beginnings of a really, genuinely good hand job.
Cillian studies my face as I stroke him, getting his monster cock perked up, interested in round two.
I’ll paint Jules myself if I need to, but it’ll be much quicker work if Cillian joins in.
Jules waits patiently. I’ve already got him hard again by playing with his nipples, and Cillian only has to glance at Jules’s still, waiting body to know that he’s on board too.
Two hours later, we’re all laid out together, the bed thoroughly consecrated, Jules even more so.
We have him sandwiched, and Cillian has given his elbow a thorough check.
The last position had Jules on his hands and knees, me slotted behind him, Cillian slotted behind me, and the poor little Irish boy had to shoulder all of our weight for a few seconds when we came together.
“Why do we have separate rooms?” I ask.
“For our things,” Jules says. His voice is husky. “And if we fight, there’s a way to have some personal space.”
“Fight?” I ask. There haven’t been any fights.
Grapples between Cillian and me in bed, but outside of it has been as wonderful as I knew dating them would be.
I recall watching Jules in action throughout the school year, and how envious I’d felt of Darren…
I dig my nose into Jules’s neck, breathing sweat and sex from his skin.
“Dating you is exactly as I imagined…” I can be charming, or I can be bold, I can be shy, I can be quiet.
They both roll with my mood, and they are never annoyed about it either.
Cillian is dominant in bed but easy-going out of it.
Once he gets to do proper aftercare, his post-sex jitters don’t tend to rear their head, and he’s so much more relaxed now that we’re not on the island.
Even when I go out of my way to annoy him, he never gets properly irritated.
Mostly, I only succeed in turning him on. “Cillian is alright, I guess.”
Cillian heaves a sigh, leans over Jules, and taps my ass.
I chuckle, catch his hand, and guide it up to my mouth to peck and nip. “I joke, I joke. You are also a good boyfriend.”
“You’re an alright one,” Cillian replies, earning a swat from Jules. Jules may as well have dropped a feather on the ground and expected the earth to yield.
Cillian huffs, clearly amused. “Fine, he’s…” He heaves another sigh. “I can’t say ‘good’. He’s never that, even when he promises.”
I may have misbehaved a tad… I grin at Cillian. He looks back with unmistakable fondness in those grey eyes. He’s easy to read. His emotions are more obvious than Jules’s. Jules can hide what he’s feeling, bringing his emotions to heel with practised control.
The only parts of myself I have ever tried to hide are my shyness, the jitter of nerves that rises at the prospect of talking to new people.
I’ve always found it embarrassing to be twenty-one with social anxiety, like it’s something reserved for teenagers and I should have outgrown it by now.
It isn’t embarrassing in front of these two men.
Even in front of my parents, I cringe whenever I shy away from what should be an easy encounter, but with Jules and Cillian… No, there’s nothing like that.
I nestle in again, hugging Jules, reaching for Cillian’s leg. Both make objecting noises, but Cillian yields—as he always does over small things—and rests his leg over the two of us.
“Nap, then food,” I suggest. “I’ll cook.”
“Nap, then shower, then food,” Jules counters.
“Nap, then shower sex, then food. Final offer,” I counter-counter.
Jules hums. Then he says, “There’s a really big shower in the main bathroom. Three will fit.”
Cillian makes a sound. It’s a huff, which from him means he’s delighted.
“Deal?” I check.
“One of you owes me something. Put that on the table, and I’ll consider joining you.”
Owes him something? I twist toward him, but before I catch his eye, I feel the tremor that goes through Jules. “Oh?” I say, intrigued. “What are you owed?”
Cillian is too slow to answer.
I turn back to Jules. “What do you owe?”
Jules has gone still and attentive again. He tells me about a certain activity that Cillian and Jules had promised but never got around to on the island.
“Oh. Oh.” I grin. “Let me help you to the shower.”