I shifted to Nolan. Different. Warmer, smoother, the taste subtler, a sweetness that rewarded patience. He cried out when my tongue pressed in, his whole body jolting, his fists twisting in the sheets. The sound was higher than Sean's, more surprised, and the contrast between their responses drove me higher with every switch.
I alternated. Sean. Nolan. Sean. Each time earning a different moan, a different frequency, the two of them making out beside each other while I ate them open, their mouths breaking apart to gasp and then finding each other again.
I straightened. My cock was aching, harder than I'd ever felt it, the head flushed dark and slick. I let spit fall from my mouth onto Sean's hole, watched it run down the smooth pink skin, and lined myself up.
"Finally." Sean, his voice wrecked, his face turned on the pillow. "Give it to me, Dec. Fuck me."
I pushed in. Slow at first, then all at once, the heat and pressure of his body swallowing me to the root. Sean shouted into the pillow. His back arched, his hands fisted the sheets, and the way he pushed back against me, taking everything, demanding more, was the most Sean thing in the world.
Beside him, Nolan started to shift position. I reached out. Pressed my hand flat against his lower back.
"Stay."
He froze. Turned his head. His eyes were glazed, his mouth open, his expression a question.
"Stay right there. On all fours." I held his gaze. "Wait for your turn."
"Fuck yeah." Sean's voice muffled in the pillow, a groan laced with savage approval. "Use us both, Dec. Take your time."
Nolan's breath shuddered out. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, untouched, leaking onto the sheets, and the visible effort it took him to obey—to stay still while the man beside him was getting fucked—made the muscles in my stomach clench.
I started to move. Deep, steady strokes that built in force, my hips slapping against Sean's ass, the sound filling the room in a rhythm that was primal and deliberate. Sean was vocal. Always was. Groans and curses and my name repeated like a chant, each thrust punching a sound from his lungs that he made no effort to contain.
"Harder. Fuck, Dec, harder."
I gave him harder. My hand came down on his ass, the crack sharp and loud, and Sean yelped and pushed back and said"Again" and I hit him again, watching the print bloom pink on the pale skin.
With my other hand, I reached for Nolan. Found his hole with my fingers, still slick from my mouth, and pressed one inside. He gasped. Tight. Tighter than Sean. The muscle clenching around my finger with the reflexive resistance of a body that hadn't done this recently. I worked him slowly, one finger becoming two, crooking them gently, stretching him while I fucked Sean beside him. Nolan dropped to his elbows, his forehead pressed to the mattress, his breathing ragged.
"You okay?" Low. Checking.
"Don't stop." Barely audible. "Please don't stop."
I added a third finger. Felt him open. Felt the resistance give way to trust, the muscle relaxing around my knuckles, learning to trust what I was giving it.
I pulled out of Sean. Sean groaned at the loss, his hole clenching around nothing, his hips rocking backward.
Nolan.
I lined up. Let spit trail from my mouth onto my cock, slicked the length with my hand, and pressed the head against his entrance. The heat was immediate. The tightness exquisite.
Slow. Inch by inch. Stretching around me in increments that I measured by the sounds he made—a sharp inhale at the first inch, a low moan at the second, a stuttered exhale as I sank deeper. I held his hip with one hand, steadying him, my other hand flat on his lower back.
"How does that feel?" My voice didn't sound like mine. Rough. Exposed.
"Full." Nolan. Broken. "You feel. So full."
I buried myself completely. Held there. Let him feel all of me. Then I pulled out. All the way. The head catching on his rim before slipping free. Then back in. One long, slow stroke to the base.
Nolan cried out. The sound was loud enough to echo off the walls.
"That's it." Sean, watching from beside him, his hand on himself, his eyes wild. "Give him more, Dec. He can take it."
I gave him more. The pace building. Deeper. Firmer. Reading his body with every stroke, the way his back arched when I hit the right angle, the way his fingers clutched the sheets when I went deep, the way his moans shifted from strained to ecstatic as he opened fully and began to take me with the same hunger Sean's did.
I shifted my grip. Held both their hips. Pulled out of Nolan. Into Sean. Three hard thrusts that punched shouts from his lungs. Out. Into Nolan. Slow, deep, the controlled pace that made him tremble. Back to Sean. Harder.
The switching was devastating. Two different bodies, two different rhythms, two different temperatures of heat and pressure that kept my orgasm building without cresting. Sean loud and demanding, his vocabulary deteriorating with every stroke: "Right there, Dec, fuck, right there, don't stop, harder, God, you feel so fucking good inside me." Nolan quieter, deeper, his sounds pulled from a place that had nothing to do with performance and everything to do with surrender.
