Chapter 8 Grams #3
Hessou keeps kissing Jean, biting softly now and then, marking him with small red blooms. One of his hands slides down Jean’s belly, then between his legs, and Jean answers with a sound that’s half-lost around my cock.
He bucks slightly into Hessou’s hand, which only makes his mouth tighten around me.
It’s obscene.
Jean glances up, eyes dark and blown. He holds my gaze while he sucks harder, needier, sliding his hands beneath my hips to lift me even closer to his mouth like he never intends to let go. He grunts, and I nearly split apart.
“Hessou,” I pant, clawing at the sheets. “Touch me. Kiss me. I need—”
“I’m here,” he says, and then he claims my mouth again
Jean finally lets me slip from his mouth, chest heaving, face flushed and wet. Hessou turns slightly, leaning down, and kisses him.
Their mouths crash together, Hessou’s hand sliding from my face to cradle Jean’s jaw, pulling him deeper.
Their tongues meet just above my cock, their breath mixing.
Jean groans and chases Hessou’s mouth like he can’t stand the loss of it when they part.
I watch from below, still spread open, my chest rising too fast, my cock wet and aching against my belly.
When they finally break apart, Hessou’s mouth trails downward—sucking a bruise over my ribs, nipping at the jutting bone of my hip—before settling beside Jean. For one dizzying second, I don’t know what they’re planning until I feel the hot wetness of two mouths.
Jean suckles the head of my cock while Hessou licks a stripe along the underside of the shaft, his tongue sinfully confident. They work in tandem, passing me between them like I’m a candy they’re sharing.
“Fuck, please—I can’t—”
“You can,” Hessou says, looking up at me, his lips wet. “You’re doing so well.”
Jean hums his agreement, the vibration shooting straight through me. He pulls back, and then leans lower to mouth at my balls, while Hessou takes over the shaft, sliding his mouth down with ease.
I twist in the sheets, back arching.
“Please,” I choke out. “Don’t stop… don’t—oh fuck—”
My whole body tenses, the pleasure cresting fast. I try to warn them, but Hessou growls low and pushes down farther, and Jean sucks hard and cradles me in his big, calloused hands, and it’s too late.
I come with a sob, full-body, violent, hips bucking, throat raw.
They don’t pull away.
They share what I gave them.
Jean swallows with a happy hum, while Hessou tends to me, kissing my belly, my thighs, my spent cock. His mouth moves, tasting, nosing through the sticky mess they’ve made of me. My skin is buzzing. My bones have turned to honey.
I collapse against the sheets, not sure if I’m breathing properly.
“You’re glowing,” Hessou whispers into my skin.
Jean’s weight drapes across my right side, face buried in my neck, arms curled tight around my ribs. On my left side, Hessou lies just as close, trailing his fingers lightly across my stomach, drawing aimless shapes that disappear just as quickly as they come.
He shifts up onto one elbow after a while of quiet.
I hear the drawer pull open, then the soft clink of glass.
When he turns back, he’s holding the dark little bottle we always keep close.
The one that smells like clove soaked in orange zest—his attempt to catch my scent in a bottle.
He pushes the stopper free with his thumb, and the familiar scent rolls out immediately.
Jean lifts his head, his eyes following the bottle like a moth to flame. His mouth is still kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed and shiny.
Hessou shifts onto his knees beside me, tips the oil into his palm, and rubs his hands together. He slides one over my lower belly, spreading a warm slickness, and I draw a slow breath in through my nose.
Jean watches, and without needing a word, he slides down on the bed.
He plants one knee on the mattress and curls an arm beneath my thighs.
With the ease only someone his size has, he lifts my hips and pulls me toward him just enough to fold me a little, in a way that leaves me completely vulnerable.
“Relax for us,” Hessou says, trailing his hand lower behind my balls. “Let us take care of you.”
The first touch is featherlight.
One finger tracing the curve of my hole, circling. I breathe in, then out, hips twitching, and Hessou hums.
“Beautiful.”
Jean presses a kiss to one of my knees while Hessou’s fingertip circles inside with care, patient only in the way someone can be when they know exactly what they’re doing. The oil makes it smooth, his knuckle gliding in easily.
Then the second finger slides in beside the first with ease. More heat, and more stretch. I groan, hips tilting instinctively.
Jean leans closer, his breath brushing my knee as he watches. “Still so tight,” he murmurs, almost like he’s complimenting me.
“He clenches when we don’t touch him for a few hours,” Hessou says with a chuckle. His fingers scissor slowly, gently, the slick sound of it barely louder than his breath. “His body forgets how easily it opens.”
Hessou curls his fingers inward, hits the place he wants, and heat runs through me in one tight line that snaps at the base of my spine.
I gasp, swallowing the noise halfway as my mouth falls open.
“There,” Hessou says, fingers curling again. “You like that?”
“Yes,” I breathe, eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck—yes.”
Jean kisses the inside of my thigh, leans forward and presses a kiss just above the root of my cock, his lips dragging slowly over the skin, and then rests his cheek on my knee, eyes locked on where Hessou works me open.
“He’s so good for us.”
“Like butter melting.”
I moan, thinking for a moment that he’s right, that I’m really melting under their touch.
Jean adjusts beside me, the arm beneath my thighs tightening for a moment as he shifts my weight. He eases my legs onto his forearm long enough to move, rising from my side and kneeling beside Hessou. His hands slide beneath my knees, lifting them high and folding me open.
Hessou glances up at him, then reaches over and takes my left knee from Jean’s hand, guiding it into his own grip without breaking the slow push of his fingers.
Jean keeps the right, steady and firm. The two of them bracket me now—one man holding each leg, shoulders touching—leaving my whole body open for whatever they want.
Jean leans forward, his breath hot against the mess they’ve made of me.
I gasp when his lips press just below where he’s holding my thigh, dragging across the skin. His mouth trails downward, teeth grazing my ass, and then lower still.
“Fuck—Jean—”
He groans in response, lips parting around the stretch of skin, tongue lapping at the oil-slick rim, circling Hessou’s fingers as they slide in and out. I cry out, high and breathless, as he sucks gently, like he’s trying to kiss me from the inside out.
My thighs shake.
“Greedy boy,” Hessou mutters beside him as Jean’s mouth moves against his knuckles. “Couldn’t wait your turn, hm?”
Hessou pulls out slowly, slick dripping down my ass onto the sheets. He strokes the wetness into my skin.
“You’re ready,” he says. “God, you’re so open.”
Jean lifts his head, face shiny with spit and oil, and kisses my thigh again.
“Can I?” he asks, breathless. “Please?”
Hessou lets go of my left leg and reaches for the bottle again, pouring more oil into his palm. He slicks Jean’s cock slowly with it, both of them watching me while he strokes.
And then Jean is pressing forward.
He breathes deeply once and Hessou steadies him from behind, one hand on his lower back, the other curling around the base of Jean’s cock, guiding it.
I feel the head press to me.
Jean groans.
“God, you’re—” he starts, but can’t finish. His voice breaks.
I try to tilt my hips in his grasp, open myself further, my legs loose over his shoulders now. The oil makes everything slick, every movement fluid and gleaming.
“Come on,” I whisper. “Don’t make me wait.”
Hessou chuckles softly behind him.
“He can’t help it, mon amour,” he says, tone warm. “You feel like heaven.”
Jean enters inch by inch, and every part of me tightens to accommodate him, hands clutching the sheets. I cry out, loving the feeling of fullness. Of something massive and hot and alive pressing its way inside me.
“You’re taking him so well,” Hessou murmurs to me. “Look at you, swallowing him whole.”
Jean gasps as his hips crash into mine, buried to the hilt, thick and pulsing inside me. He lets out a broken sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper. And I can understand him well, because I let sounds of my own escape my lips, feeling completely wrecked.
One of his hands clamps tight on my hip, the other beside my ribs, his whole body braced like a man hanging on the edge of a cliff. I clench around him just to feel him twitch—because I need to feel that hot stretch, that helpless jolt—and he drops his head with a broken, “Fuck.”
“You’re squeezing me so tight,” he pants, hips jerking once. “If I move I’m not going to last.”
“Don’t you dare,” I say, feeling him twitch even more inside me. “Don’t hold back. Move. I want it. I want it so bad—please—”
Jean thrusts once and then his entire body locks up, his cock jerks violently inside me before he lets out a cry. I barely have time to protest before I feel the first thick pulse of his release flooding me hot and sudden, far too soon.
“Oh, you—” I start, but he’s dragging himself out, his cock slick and throbbing, dripping cum onto my thighs before he strokes himself roughly over my stomach.
The first thick spurt lands heavy across my navel, thick as cream, and then another follows, splattering against my ribs. He gasps, his hips jerking helplessly as he paints me in pearl-white until my skin is sticky and glistening with it.
Hessou laughs low as he shifts closer, moving from behind Jean to my side. His fingers trail through the mess on my navel before he brings them to my lips.
“Look at him,” he murmurs, pushing his fingers into my mouth. “Couldn’t even last a minute inside you.”