“He was such a prude,” Franco crowed. “Never even kissed a guy before me. I used to come home pretending I was drunk and crawl into his bed like it was my own, just so I could feel him up.”
“And you let him?” Arden asked me. He was massaging my chest with soap and water. I’d swear I could feel every hair follicle shift underneath his gentle caress. His fingertips caught the tip of my nipple, and I shuddered.
“He was persistent,” I said as Arden did it again. I was pretty sexually repressed before Franco came along. It took months of us flirting and fooling around before I could even acknowledge that I was attracted to him.
“Took me forever to get my hand down his pants. Had to give him a few drinks before he’d let me. He has a nice cock, don’t you think?”
“The nicest,” Arden purred. He made his way down to said cock and grasped it in his lathered fist. My skin was so sensitive—every nerve throbbing—and my dick was blisteringly hard.
“Be gentle. It’s tender.”
“I promise I will.” Arden rinsed me off, then slid to his knees in front of me. The water was at my back, shielding him from the spray. Franco’s soliloquy continued, but my attention was riveted on the things Arden was doing with his lips and tongue. Like honey being suckled from the comb, I dripped and oozed into Arden’s mouth as he nursed me with just the right amount of pressure. Not enough to climax, but enough to turn my thoughts into a melee of shape and color. And then, somehow, Arden was behind me again, with the removable showerhead positioned at my entrance.
“Is someone using the backdoor?” I asked.
“I promised Franco,” Arden said. When those details had been settled, I couldn’t seem to recall.
“He was so quick the first time I blew him,” Franco was saying. “Hardly had it in my mouth before he squirted.”
“Fuck, Franco,” I howled. “Aren’t some things sacred?”
Franco laughed while Arden readied me. Both my hands were planted against the wall for balance. It had been so long since I’d been given such treatment, and it dulled my normally sharp edges even more. There was something so intimate about Arden preparing me for penetration by another man.
“You were so sweet our first time,” Franco said as we climbed out of the shower. Instead of handing me the towel, he started drying me off himself. He kissed the top of my wet head and tucked a loose bit of hair behind my ear. That had always been his thing—our thing.
“I was nervous,” I said. Franco had let me top him first, then later, took his turn. He’d always been a generous lover, and he was probably part of the reason I enjoyed both roles. I used to be so bitter that he’d taken my virginity and made me beholden to him, throughout his dishonesty and immaturity. But over the years, those wounds had mostly healed, and I could appreciate the care he’d shown me when we were intimate.
“You know, I always loved you best,” he said.
I shook my head at him. My emotions, like my nerves, were already raw and exposed. Arden pulled me out to the living room and lay himself down on the sheepskin like an offering. I descended dizzily, kissing his lips, his neck, his pretty pink nipples, stiffening like rosebuds. I traced my tongue along the grooves of his chest, and lower. My cock was painfully hard, and I rubbed it against the fur to seek some relief. Distantly, I heard Arden and Franco conversing about my sexual preferences—what I liked and what I didn’t. I never knew they’d paid such close attention or that I was so transparent.
“Enough of that.” Franco pulled me off Arden by my hair. I’d managed to trap him beneath me, which was generally my goal. “You’re smothering him. Come wrap those juicy lips around this.”
Franco directed me to his cock—just as long and proud as I remembered—and I took him in my mouth while he leaned back with one leg bent and watched me.His majesty, I used to call him. There was some royal blood in Franco’s family line, which could account for only some of his arrogance. Franco’s cock was familiar to me, and I knew already how he liked to be pleasured. He was the one who’d taught me, after all.
“He sucks cock so well,” Arden said. He was straddling my backside and scoring my laterals with his fingernails. Shivers of arousal arced through me, raising the fine hair at the back of my neck. My dick was on pins and needles where I humped the rug.
“I think it’s kicking in now,” Arden said dreamily as he leaned forward to lick my earlobe. He latched onto my neck, and even his teeth felt good—sharp spikes of pain soothed by gentle pressure. And then he was guiding me to my knees, and someone—Arden—was rimming my ass.
I abandoned the task of fellating Franco to bury my face in the rug and moan.
“He likes that.” Franco pet my head. “Gets him nice and relaxed. He’s probably tight as fuck. When’s the last time you took a cock, Mikey?”
I shook my head, too embarrassed to show my face. Arden’s tongue was stroking my most private of places, licking my rim, then curling in deeper. My hole flared and throbbed as I gripped the fur with both hands and pushed my ass higher, greedy for it.
“I like him slutty like this,” Franco said. “Bestselling author Michael D’Agostino getting tongue-fucked on his hands and knees. Begging for it like a needy whore. What do you think, Mikey? Should we take a picture and put it on your next book cover?”
“I’m not…” I began to argue but why bother?
Arden was using his fingers now to coax me open. The squish of lube grew louder in my mind, as did Franco’s heated murmurs of encouragement. He called me more degrading names and described in detail what Arden was doing to my ass, if only to humiliate me further. He could say anything to me in that moment, and he knew I wouldn’t argue or fight back.
“Say you’re a filthy little whore,” Franco demanded.
“Filthy,” I managed and that was it.
Everything back there was liquid and warm as I melted in a puddle of desire. My noises begged for it as Arden prepped me, raw meat ready for consumption.
“I want to fuck,” I said. It was the most coherent thought I could string together. “Arden.”
