“I’m close,” Bishop said, low and rough and somehow slipping past James’s chatter.
Kit could only moan in answer.
Moments later, Bishop shuddered to a halt inside Kit. A growl ripped from his throat, echoing in Kit’s lungs. Heat painted Kit’s guts, his own arousal surging with Bishop’s finish.
“Fuck,” James gasped, which was Kit’s only warning before another load of cum poured down his throat.
Spluttering, Kit tried to swallow it all. He could have, totally, if he wasn’t so overwhelmed. Nobody was even touching his cock, and he was trembling out of his skin.
As Kit suckled messily, Bishop withdrew. Kit clenched down on the absence, his greedy hole desperate for more. But he could barely breathe, much less beg. James ground against his lips, smearing cum and spit all over.
“My turn,” Darius said from behind. “James, are you done suffocating him?”
“Five more seconds,” James said, sounding breathless himself. “Fuck, I could live in your mouth.”
True to word, he lingered. He wasn’t cutting off Kit’s air, but excitement was a vise around Kit’s lungs. He had to remember to take each shallow breath through his nose. When James finally yanked out, Kit gasped, the rush of air exhilarating.
A heavy hand grasped his shoulder. The world flipped, and Kit landed back on the tangled bedding. An awkward fold of duvet pressed beneath his hip. Darius loomed over him, rapt and ravenous.
“Hello there, pretty boy,” Darius said, his grin a blinding flash.
Kit stretched beneath him, each inch of bare skin tingling beneath all four men’s gazes. “Don’t make me wait today. I want it. Now.”
“What do you want?” Darius asked, sliding a hand under Kit’s ass. A trail burned behind Kit’s thigh, up to the crook of his knee. “Ask nicely.”
Kit hooked his legs over Darius’s hips, exposing himself and pulling Darius closer. “I want your goddamn cock. Pretty fucking please.”
Hitching Kit’s ass higher, Darius notched his cockhead against Kit’s hole. He paused, just a second but it felt like an eternity of Kit’s tender muscle flexing against him. Then he shoved in through the mess of lube and Bishop’s cum.
Kit threw his head back, vision blurring. He’d begged for this, and it was so much, and it was so fucking good. Incredible how four different men could fit so perfectly inside him. Like he was made for all of them. Like they were made for him.
“God, his face,” someone said.
“Always so fucking tight,” Darius growled, and started to move. He fucked slower than Bishop, but just as overwhelming. Kit was already so wound up that each steady thrust felt like a jackhammer. The slow pace only gave him more time to feel everything.
Including Holden, stretching out at Kit’s right side. He’d lost his shirt, but his unzipped jeans still hung around his hips. His words kissed Kit’s flushed face. “How are you feeling, darling?”
His palm pressed Kit’s lower belly. Kit squirmed on Darius’s cock, wondering if Holden could feel the thick length carving him out. By the flash of possessiveness in Holden’s eyes, probably.
Bruises mottled Holden’s torso, where he’d hit the steering wheel. Because he drove a car through a fucking wall for Kit. And now that Kit was sure Holden and James were okay… that was kinda hot.
“Ninety percent fine,” Kit managed.
As designed, Holden took that as a challenge. Metal clinked, and a handcuff closed around Kit’s right wrist.
Excitement sank cold teeth into Kit’s bones. Holden pulled Kit’s wrist up by his head, next to the pillow. Probably to cuff him to the headboard, which had plenty of solid metal bars for just this purpose.
Instead, Holden locked the other cuff around his own left wrist.
“What are you doing?” Bishop asked from nearby.
“You went first,” Holden said, smug. “I had time to plan.”
He pinned Kit’s hand, fingers intertwined, and dove into Kit’s mouth. Kit kissed back, high on layers of stimulation. Hot hands and cold metal and a crescendo of heartbeats. Darius fucked Bishop’s cum deeper into Kit’s ass, and Holden kissed the taste of James’s cock from Kit’s mouth. Kit felt sloppy, adored, used, powerful.
Bare knuckles brushed Kit’s hip in a rough rhythm. Holden broke the kiss, panting against Kit’s throat as he jerked himself off. Darius rolled his hips just right. Kit whimpered, seeing stars.
To his left, wood squeaked. James leaned back in the armchair, which should have been in the corner, and Kit didn’t remember James dragging it over. Now, James lounged as if on a throne, stroking his cock as he watched the bed.
