“Yes, baby. If you don't mind something a little gentler tonight.”
I let out a happy sigh.This man.
“Yes. Definitelyyes.”
I move my head to the foot of the bed, and we flip mostly on our sides. Joaquin's powerful mouth-and-fist combo on my cock has an immediate otherworldly quality, and it’s exactly what I need.
Sucking on his cock and rolling his sac in my hand feels like a meditation, and more stress leaves my shoulders. Meanwhile, Joaquin thumbs my taint, my body his instrument. Within minutes, my orgasm overwhelms me.
I thrust strongly into his mouth, and he deepens the suction and the intoxicating swirl of his tongue. I let out a mumbled string of curses against his cock and come hard. Suddenly, he's thrusting just as hard, coming just as strong, and I chase every drop of him.
We enjoy our jelly limbs for a few minutes before rearranging ourselves, settling against the pillows. After dragging the duvet over us, Joaquin rolls toward me, pulling me to him, sharing our tastes with each other. We entwine perfectly, and I rest my head on his shoulder as we fall asleep.
God, I hope Wick can see his way to us.
* * *
A loud thumpwakes me in the middle of the night. There’s another loud thump and the distinctive sound of Warwick muttering to himself, knocking into things. Did he come home drunk?
I get up and peek out of Joaquin’s door. The bathroom door is ajar, a slice of pale yellow light spilling onto the landing. I snatch a pair of boxers from the floor, pulling them up as I head toward the bathroom.
Wick sticks his head out and startles, grabbing the doorknob for balance.
“Warwick?” I ask, pulling the boxers over my junk.
He steps away from the door, wobbly until he leans heavily on the counter. After a few drunk breaths, he looks up and startles again when he sees me in the mirror.
“Shit,”he mumbles, casting me a sideways glance. Unable to look at me directly, he addresses my reflection in the mirror. “Sorry for waking you up.”
“What's going on, Wick?” I ask, rubbing my eyes against the brightness of the light.
His eyes trace my hands, and after a moment, he shakes himself. “Sorry, Colt.”
“You don’t hafta apologize to me. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”
He deflects, asking, “Why don’t you have any clothes on?”
“Because I was naked when you woke me up.”
He takes a long look up and down my body, rubbing the back of his head before letting out a long, frustrated sigh.
“You were coming from Joaquin’s room,” he accuses, the set of his mouth unhappy.
Running a hand through my hair, I nod. “Yeah.”
“So you two are…what?”
I can smell the whiskey all over him, and the drinking doesn’t seem like it was a happy affair. Scratching my chest over my heart, I answer, “I don't know. We just like being with each other. We’re not really putting a label on it.”
Boyfriends.
Co-conspirators.
You should join us.
“When did this start?”
“With our threesome. Why do you ask?” I say with a yawn, stifling my grin at the jealousy in his tone.
