Liam #3
I love the soft gasps and hisses Freddie lets out. They’re so loud in the quiet room, cutting through the stillness, and Ryker’s there, occasionally pressing a loud kiss to Freddie cheek.
Freddie scrunches his face, his eyes squeeze shut, and his chest heaves. Sweat shines on his top lip and wets his hair. I can smell it on his body, the heady scent of Freddie, restless and frustrated.
“It’s too much,” Freddie whimpers.
“Then you know what you’ve got to do,” Ryker answers. “Take it. Take Liam’s mouth.”
Freddie shakes his head, adamant now our battlelines are drawn that he won’t surrender.
I keep going, every ache and pain from sitting in one position vanishes, until I can only think about Freddie’s cock swelling in my mouth, his taste, his smell, his fingers starting to tighten then relax in my hair.
I pull off to tell him, “I could suck you forever.” And I mean it.
“Push him down on you,” Ryker says. “Explode in his mouth. Feed my brother your cum. Fuck it into him.”
Freddie’s thighs begin to quake.
“Fuck . . . I . . .” Freddie’s voice cuts out. The fingers in my hair don’t grab, they spread, then he’s cupping the back of my head.
“I can’t help it,” he says. “I need it. I need it so fucking bad.”
He pushes me down onto him while lifting his hips, pumping them to meet me. It’s heaven, being face-fucked by him, and Ryker cheers him on with a stream of words. “That’s it, have it, have him, give it to him. Fuck his face, Fred, get what you need.”
Freddie curses and moans, then lets out a shaky breath. My nose presses into Freddie’s pubic hair as I greedily breath him in while his cum fills my mouth. I suck as I swallow, pulling the streams through him until he goes from trembling to limp on top of Ryker.
I pull back, lick any leftovers off my lips, then smile at a job well done. Freddie’s pressed his face into Ryker’s neck and breathes evenly as Ryker strokes his damp hair. Ryker’s looking just as sweaty, but he’s pleased, laughing breathlessly as I get to my feet.
“How’s he taste?” Ryker asks.
“Incredible.”
Ryker bites his lip while looking at my mouth, and I think what the hell. “Do you want to try him . . .”
I’d been expecting Ryker to widen his eyes, say no, but his enthusiastic nodding makes me smirk.
I grab the back of the sofa, hand either side of his head and lean down to press my mouth to his.
It's not a kiss. I push the leftovers of Freddie's release onto Ryker's waiting tongue, delivering the load.
Ryker leans back facing the ceiling and groans.
His throat bobs in a slow swallow. Freddie is watching him, open-mouthed the whole time.
Ryker notices our best friend is mesmerised by his reaction to the taste.
“Did you like that?” Ryker asks him, and I don’t know if he means the drawn-out blow job or me sharing his cum with my brother, but Freddie’s fingers tighten on the sofa.
Ryker takes hold of Freddie’s hips and rocks him against his hard cock.
I wait for a protest, a look of alarm, but Freddie circles his hips, grinding down, rubbing against my brother like a bitch in heat.
“Fuck, babe,” Ryker exhales. “That’s good. You’re being so good for us.”
I help Freddie rut, rocking him harder, and faster.
“Good?” I ask.
They both answer yes.
It doesn’t take much longer for Ryker to come, dirtying the inside of his trousers with a gasp.
“Done?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m done. Thank you,” he flicks his gaze from me to Freddie then back again.
His his cheeks bulge, I know he’s spreading the leftovers of Freddie around his teeth and gums with his tongue.
I say nothing as I stand up and rub my cock through my work trousers.
Freddie watches with pupil-blown eyes, and his cock is hard again, and dripping.
Ryker takes him in hand and jerks him off in time with my slow strokes, taking the time to swipe his thumb over Freddie’s head and kiss his neck.
Freddie doesn’t look away from me, but his lids come down until he’s squinting, heavy with arousal.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Ryker tells him. “We’ve wanted our hands on you for what feels like forever.”
Freddie shivers and his eyes slide all the way closed.
“That’s why we couldn’t do it, why we couldn’t be your best men or go to your wedding. We want you, Freddie Lester . . . like this . . .”
Ryker speeds up his hand. “We want you turned on and aching.”
Freddie grunts and tucks his nose into Ryker’s neck.
“And we want to be the ones who make it better, make you soar.”
I focus my attention on the crown of my cock trapped by my leg, using two fingers to rub over it, faster and faster, needing to be in time with Freddie.
“Make you explode, make you come all over yourself, and all over us.”
Freddie does. With a twist of Ryker’s wrist, he moans louder than we’ve heard before, louder than Freddie has ever been, and I step into the firing line to receive his cum on my trousers and shirt while finishing myself down the side of my leg.
Freddie slumps, boneless and breathing evenly.
We may not have talked, but I think we’ve worked the fight out of Freddie so we can.