It was different than the first time, deeper and more deliberate. I felt Dmitri groan into my mouth when Troy did something specific with his tongue and I swallowed the sound and kept moving and the three of us found a rhythm together that was feral and fluid and nothing I'd ever anticipated in my life.
Troy pulled off Dmitri long enough to say, “Fuck, are you two actually?—”
“Quiet,” I said against Dmitri's mouth.
Troy made a sound that was entirely approval and went back down.
Dmitri broke the kiss, breathing hard, with his forehead dropping briefly against mine. His hand moved from my shoulder down my back, tracing muscle there, and the touch was easy and exploratory and entirely without agenda.
I reached around Troy and grabbed Dmitri's hip, pulling him forward and deeper into Troy's mouth, and Dmitri made a sound in Russian that needed no translation. His hips rolled forward with his hand tightening in Troy's hair, and Troy took it and made a continuous muffled sound that vibrated straight through to where I was buried inside him.
“He has magnificent mouth,” Dmitri said, strained.
“I know.” I drove in harder and felt Troy clench.
“And you are brutal with him,” Dmitri said, watching my hips. “He likes this.”
“He loves it,” I said.
Troy pulled off again just long enough to speak. “I can hear you.”
“We know,” Dmitri said pleasantly, and pushed him back down.
My free hand wrapped around Troy's cock and stroked in time with each thrust, felt the slick heat of him and felt the tremble building in his thighs, and then Dmitri's hand closed around my wrist and stopped me.
I looked up.
Dmitri's eyes were dark and specific. He pulled back from Troy's mouth slowly, dragging himself free with a wet sound that filled the kitchen, and Troy made a noise of protest that turned into something else when Dmitri looked at me with an expression that had a very clear proposal in it.
I pulled out of Troy.
Troy's whole body dropped forward onto the table with a shaking exhale, his arms giving out and his cheek pressed to the wood. “What are you—why did you?—”
“Come down,” Dmitri said to me with his voice low and direct.
I understood him immediately.
I moved around the table and got down onto my knees on the kitchen floor, and the position registered in every remaining dignified part of my brain as entirely new and entirely beyond arguing with. Dmitri came off the table. Troy followed, dropping to stand beside him, and they were both there in front of me, both hard and both close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off them.
Troy looked down at me with an expression I'd never seen on his face before, with awareness lit underneath the want, with the knowledge of exactly how significant this was.
“Look at you,” he said softly.
Dmitri ran the head of his cock along my jaw slow and unhurried, dragging the wet tip from my jaw to my cheekboneand back, leaving heat and slick in its wake while he watched my face with focused attention.
I turned toward it.
He pulled back just enough.
Troy did the same on the other side, pressing his cock to my cheek and rolling his hips gently so it dragged across my skin, and the sound that came out of me was nothing I'd planned to make.
“Open,” Troy said.
I opened my mouth.
Dmitri pressed the head to my lips without pushing in and let me feel the weight of him there, the heat, the salt taste of pre-come against my tongue when I pressed forward slightly. Then he pulled back and Troy took his place, pushing inside just far enough for me to close my lips around the head and feel his sharp inhale from above.
Then he pulled out.
