“Yes!” both the guitarist and James cried.
Chris was practically melting, mind fogged up with crippling desire. Fucking the man in front of him while being fucked by the most incredible creature alive was nothing like he’d ever experienced before. Not in the past. Not with women. Not in other threesomes. The only moments that resembled the depravity and emotional earthquake shaking his world now were the days he had spent with the bassist alone.
Marc bit Chris’s shoulder, bringing him back to reality. The guitarist was horny like never before, but also numb. Trapped in an ambivalent dimension between exhaustion and hyperactivity. His cock. His ass. Everything in him was so sensitive.
“Look at him… said he couldn’t come again,” Marc taunted.
“He’s all done already,” Chris quipped.
“Fuck you two,” James groaned, frantically jerking himself, expression twisted in blissful agony.
“Nah, you’re the one being turned inside out.” Marc continued driving into Chris’s ass. Not too soft, yet not too rough, massaging his prostate and teasing each one of his nerves.
“That I am… fuck, your cock, mate…”
“Been told that before, yeah,” Chris bragged.
“Tell me you’re almost there, baby…” Marc rasped in the guitarist’s ear. “I need to fill you up.”
“Yes,” he breathed out. “Just keep fucking me the way you are.”
Reaching behind him again, Chris grabbed Marc’s nape and kissed him as his friend snaked an arm around his waist and held him tight, back to chest. Their sweaty bodies were so close they could have fused and morphed into one.
Moan after moan. Thrust after thrust, the three men reached the peak, rolling down with their orgasm as they toppled like dominos. James groaned, writing beneath the guitarist when he pinned both his wrists above his head to keep himself anchored. But apparently, he was too spent for his cock to delight them with another splash of cum.
Chris released in his condom, almost dying of pleasure when Marc’s warm sperm flooded him. The way he shoved everything inside of him, like he didn’t want a drop to go to waste, was all-consuming.
“Fuck this sight…” Marc panted after pulling out of Chris. “Will never get tired of it.” He rimmed his ass with two fingers, smearing the cum dribbling out of him. Then pushed them into the guitarist’s mouth.
“That was hot as fuck,” James said, putting his hands under his head as Chris moved away and lay on his back, mirroring his position.
“You good?” Marc asked in a husky whisper as he sat on the edge of the mattress beside him.
“Mm-hmm…”
“Good.” He pecked his lips, looking at him lovingly before he walked into the bathroom.
Chris sighed, his entire body clenching. How had he survived all this fucking time without someone watching after him like Marc did? Again, he didn’t need this, but it felt so nice to let go of the self-preservation checks, knowing he would always catch him.
As the bassist returned, showered and all, Chris and James took turns to refresh themselves, too. Funny how none of this or the trivial conversation the three of them had while lying on the bed later, over some cleaned sheets, was awkward in the slightest. Yet when the tech finally left, the pressure that had been growing in Chris’s chest the entire night blew up.
“Oh, yesss, this is the fucking life.” Marc stretched out, wearing only his boxers. “Though I’d kill for a cig right now.”
“Not like it’d be your first time breaking the rules. Just open the window.”
“Unless I can’t control it, I try to behave most of the time, you know?”
“Sure.”
Marc rolled onto his side and propped his cheek on his palm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Chris said as he scrolled through his Instagram without really looking at it. He was restless.
“Why are you sulking?”
“I’m not sulking.”
“Is it the bed thing?”
