“This is humiliating,” Peter complained, blushing and enjoying every second. Tex’s muscular arm was like a band across his chest.
“It’s fun,” Tex corrected, tugging the strap over his chest for emphasis. “Now, do you want coffee or tea, or something else?”
“Coffee,” Peter mumbled.
They ordered coffee, though Peter hardly tasted his. He was too focused on his humiliating position in Tex’s lap and the way the other patrons in the diner kept glancing over at their booth.
He was almost relieved when, after about half an hour, they paid for their coffees and headed back outside.
“You ready?” Carver asked, grabbing the straps attached to the front of Peter’s chest and preparing to lift him up on his back.
Before Peter could answer, Tex objected. “It’s my turn, Carver. Hand him over.”
Carver froze, his brows furrowing in a scowl. “But you’re not even into… fine. Here you go.” Carver lifted Peter off the ground and handed him to Tex like a sack of potatoes.
“Do I get a say in this?” Peter asked, annoyed more than he was turned on.
“No, it’s my turn,” Tex said, holding him under his arms and lifting him up to kiss his nose. “You’re all mine and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
The way Tex was smiling at him, happy and joking but also incredibly sincere in his possessive declaration, made Peter’s belly squirm with pure omega glee.
“Fine,” he said, trying not to smile. “But if you guys get to use me as your bondage backpack, you have to do something for me later.”
“What?” Tex asked, not objecting to Peter describing himself as abondage backpack.
“I don’t know,” Peter said, mind racing with ideas for how he could get his alphas to perform for him. “I’ll decide later.”
“It’s a deal,” Tex said, dropping Peter to his feet and taking his arm, tucking his hand back into the sleeve and zipping it up. He released his hand and grabbed his other arm, repeating the action. “You’ll be our backpack, and in return, you get to enact a yet to be determined sexual fantasy of your choosing.”
He bent down and grabbed Peter’s ankle, grinning up at him as he lifted his foot, brushing the dirt off his sole and tucking it into the suit and zipping it up.
“Right,” Peter agreed, letting out a yelp when Tex turned around and slid both his hands into the looped leather straps coming out of Peter’s chest, pulling them up to his shoulders and making Peter fly off the ground and slam into the broad expanse of Tex’s leather-clad back.
For all that this had been Carver’s idea, he hadn’t been nearly so rough when putting Peter on his back.
“You okay back there?” Tex asked, reaching behind him and grabbing the remaining straps from Peter’s chest, pulling them over his shoulders and under his arms so that he could buckle them all together over his chest.
“I’m fine,” Peter said, cataloging the small differences in how it felt to be on Tex’s back compared to Carver’s. Tex was a little bigger than Carver, and hanging on his back, Peter noticed it more than he ever had before.
“Good,” Tex said, reaching down and back with his hands. “Give me your feet.”
Peter obeyed, lifting his legs and wrapping them around Tex’s waist. Tex caught them, grabbing the straps coming off the ends of his legs and pulling them up, lifting Peter’s feet and locking them into place over his abdomen.
“Hands,” Tex demanded, lifting his arms and patting his sides. Peter wrapped his arms around Tex’s broad chest, and this was where the difference between Tex and Carver was the most pronounced. Tex’s back was impossibly broad and his chest was huge, and Peter had to spread his arms wide to get around it. Even then, his hands only reached the outer edge of Tex’s pectorals.
Tex grabbed the straps connected to Peter’s hands, fastening them to the front of his chest, locking them into place even tighter than Carver had done.
“Too tight,” Peter protested, squished flat like a pancake against Tex’s back. He was fastened so tight that he was having trouble breathing.
“Sorry,” Tex said, undoing the straps and re-buckling them a little looser. It was much better and Peter took a deep breath. “Better?”
“Yes, that’s good,” Peter confirmed.
“Great, Caver, would you put on his helmet?” Tex asked, leaning back and putting on his own helmet.
“Sure,” Carver agreed, coming up behind Peter and unceremoniously shoving the helmet onto his head. He fastened the chin-strap, his gloved fingers brushing against the underside of Peter’s jaw, making him shudder. He then ran his hands up and down Peter’s body, double-checking the straps and shamelessly groping Peter in the process. He patted Peter’s helmet, knocking him into Tex’s back. “All done.”
Carver left, his groping session having assured that Peter was rock hard and frustrated. He tried to grind his hips against Tex’s back, but he was fastened too tightly to get any satisfying movement.
