Ethan had seen plenty of cocks—locker rooms, porn—but he’d never seen one like Riley’s. It was almost… adorable? But also incredibly inviting. He found himself grinning, delighted by the way Riley’s tiny cock pulsed in the cool air. That was a good word for it: cute. Cute and utterly suckable.
Riley caught the look and immediately blushed, the pink deepening at his cheeks and down his neck. "Don’t laugh at it.” Riley said, voice husky with excitement, but there was real vulnerability in his eyes.
Ethan shook his head, then looked up with a wicked smile. "Not laughing," he said. "Just admiring."
Before Riley could retort, Ethan leaned in to lick the drop of pre-cum at the tip. Riley shuddered, breath whistling out in a sharp exhale. He then took the head of Riley’s cock into his mouth and licked all around the head, savoring the ridge and the way Riley’s whole body tensed up at even the slightest contact. Riley let out a high, airy moan, a sound so honest and pure that Ethan couldn’t help but moan back, the vibration making Riley gasp and shudder.
Riley’s hand fell to Ethan’s hair, but unlike Jack’s rough dominance, the grip was gentle, more a request than an order. Ethan liked that. He licked up and down the shaft, then took the whole thing in, burying his nose in Riley’s mound and letting his tongue flick out to tease the tight, hairless balls. Riley’s cock fit perfectly in his mouth, and Ethan realized, to his surprise, how much he loved the sensation.
He bobbed up and down, sucking with slow, deliberate pulls, occasionally popping off to lick Riley’s balls or drag his tongue along the underside of the shaft. Riley’s hips started to move, not aggressively, just a gentle thrust, an invitation to go deeper. Ethan obliged, and Riley’s moans grew louder, more desperate.
Jack, who had been lazily stroking himself while watching, laughed. "Jesus, Riley, you’re about to bust already? You’re so easy," he said, but his tone was affectionate.
Riley ignored him, eyes screwed shut, lost in the moment. "That’s so fucking good," Riley whispered. He started pacing his breathing, panting in little gasps, his body tensing up all over.
Ethan pulled back and swirled his tongue over the head, milking more pre-cum, then plunged down again, letting Riley’s cock nudge the back of his throat. He relaxed, breathing through his nose, and tried to remember every tip Riley and Jack had given him.
Riley started to lose control, hips trembling, abs fluttering, hands clenching at Ethan’s scalp. "Oh—oh, god," Riley stammered. "You’re—fuck, you’re so good at this, Ethan—I’m gonna—"
Ethan looked up, and Riley’s eyes met his, wild with need. "Please give me your cum," Ethan mumbled around the cock, the words barely intelligible but the intent clear.
The effect was immediate. Riley whimpered, tried to pull back, then changed his mind and thrust deeper, face contorting with pleasure. "Oh… fuck, here it is, Ethan, here it is—"
Riley spasmed, thrusting deep, and unleashed a volley of cum into Ethan’s mouth. It was less than Jack’s, and didn’t go down the throat due to Riley’s size, but Ethan savored it—it tasted surprisingly good and left Ethan wishing for more. He swallowed every drop, loving the hot slide down his throat. The balls pulsed against his chin, the cock twitched in his mouth, slowly going soft, and Riley’s hands cradled his head as if he were something precious, something to be held and cherished.
When Riley was done, he shivered, then pulled Ethan up into a clumsy, joyful hug, pressing his forehead to Ethan’s and laughing breathlessly. “You’re one of us now,” he whispered, and the words felt like a benediction, a secret handshake, a welcome home.
Jack lay back, propped on his elbows, still catching his breath, his cock spent but not yet soft, streaks of slickness cooling on his thighs. He watched Ethan and Riley with a look of complicated pride—a coach who’d trained a rookie, an instigator relishing the aftermath of chaos, a man who had just been serviced harder than in any wet dream. “Damn,” Jack said, dragging the word out with reverence, “that was one for the record books.”
Ethan felt the words strike him as if they’d been carved into his chest. For all his nervous energy, for all the years he’d spent regretting and second-guessing every decision, he suddenly felt this tidal wave of joy crash over him—pure, undiluted, unfiltered. He’d always imagined that if he ever gave in, ever let himself cross the line, he’d be left with nothing but regret. But there was none of that. Only a warmth so intense it threatened to burn him alive. The air was cool but Ethan felt as if he was radiating heat—cheeks flushed, skin tingling, body humming with a sense of completion he’d never known. He’d never felt so seen, so accepted—not just for the act, but for the wanting behind it. For the first time in years, maybe ever, he felt at home in his own body.
The three of them sprawled in the cool grass, catching their breath. Their bodies cooling and their minds slowly returning to earth. There was no awkwardness, no rush to get dressed and pretend it hadn’t happened. Just a lazy sense of completion, of belonging, that Ethan had never felt before.
Riley rolled onto his back on the soft grass and let out a long, happy sigh. He grinned at the stars, then glanced at Ethan, eyes dancing with affection and mischief. “You good?”
“I’m fucking amazing,” Ethan said, and meant it. He wanted to laugh, to run, to drag Riley and Jack into a river and splash around like idiots. For the first time in many years, maybe even his entire life, he felt truly happy.
Jack scooted over, propped himself up next to Ethan, and nudged his shoulder with a heavy, friendly thump. “You did great, rookie. You got a future in this,” he said, but there was a genuine warmth beneath the bravado.
Jack stood up, dusted himself off, and started to get dressed by pulling on his underwear.
Riley rolled to his feet with a gymnast’s grace, grabbed his little mesh thong, and shimmied it back on.
Ethan stood, feeling soft grass under his bare feet, and dusted himself off. Ethan pulled his shirt over his head, the familiar cotton suddenly felt different—softer, lighter. He reached for his jeans, still tingling from the encounter, when a twig snapped somewhere in the darkness. He froze.
"What was that?" Riley whispered, boxers only halfway up his thighs.
Jack, who had been halfway through pulling up his jeans, cursed under his breath. “Shit, someone’s coming.”
Leaves rustled, footsteps crunching closer through the underbrush. Ethan's heart hammered against his ribs as he scrambled for his pants, fingers clumsy with panic. The threemen exchanged wide-eyed glances, their earlier confidence evaporating into the night air.
"Hurry," Jack hissed, but it was too late. The footsteps were almost upon them now, deliberate and unmistakable. A flashlight beam cut through the trees ahead, and Ethan knew—even before he saw the familiar silhouette—exactly who had found them.
Chapter 14 - Cole
Cole couldn’t make peace with his own bed, not tonight. He’d lain awake for hours, the nylon of his sleeping bag slick with sweat, the ghost of Ethan’s hands and mouth replaying in vicious, endless loops. The tent was suffocating. Every time Cole closed his eyes, he saw Ethan’s lips parting, felt his own body coming undone. He couldn’t sleep with the memory of that night—the want and shame soldered together, burning through every muscle.
With sleep eluding him, Cole decided to seek refuge along the creek, hoping the gentle trickle of water would quiet the storm raging in his mind. He jammed his boots on, shrugged into a thermal, and slipped out into the pines.
