Oh, I’m going to ruin him.
But first.
Elliot.
I climb onto the bed and straddle his chest.
The moment I do, the air breaks.
Noah moans.
Callum mutters “Fuck.”
Someone passes me the lube.
Elliot lies blindfolded beneath me, arms spread wide across the bed.
Obedient. Waiting.
“Let me see your mouth,” I say.
He parts his lips.
I run a thumb across them, slow.
Filthy thoughts bloom.
I shift my weight forward, letting my thighs cage his head.
“Make me come, Elliot. Use your mouth. Nothing else.”
His breath stutters. Then he lifts his head, tongue dragging against me.
God, he’s good.
Controlled, practiced.
Even blindfolded, he reads me like a story he’s already underlined.
I sink down harder on his face, fingers threading into his hair to anchor myself. “Fuck, yes, like that. Don’t stop.”
Noah’s breath catches. He kneels beside us, his cock in his hand like he can’t decide if he’s patient enough to wait his turn. He leans in, kisses my shoulder, then my throat.
“Let me?” he whispers, lips brushing my ear.
I nod, barely able to breathe. “Let me taste my sweet boy.”
He obeys.
I open for him, lips to lips, and he groans against me.
Behind me, there’s movement.
“Vitaly,” I rasp. “Come here.”
He steps close behind me, one hand tentative on my waist, the other just barely grazing my lower back.
“Help him,” I say, breathless.
