“Thank you,” Asher gasped.
I nodded as I slid his shirt off his shoulders. “You always get in a little trouble,” I growled into his ear. “Don’t you?”
Asher nodded quickly, and Frankie unbuttoned his denim, then tugged the zipper down. “Asher.” Frankie whispered his name. “I want to show you how good you’ve been, Asher.”
Asher’s pants fell to the ground, and I pulled his T-shirt over his head. He stood there in a pair of tight white boxer briefs, the outline of his cock stretching the pouch in front. I drew my fingers across his hardening nipples, down his flat abs, and around to the bubble of his butt.
I took a handful and squeezed.
Frankie took Asher’s face in his hands and tilted his vision up. “To show you how good boys get treated…”
Asher nodded. “Yes!”
God, it was hot watching him step into a more dominant personality. He was still sweet as pie, of course, but there was a sharper edge to everything he said. His soft, toying questions had the heat of suggestion behind them, and his hands groped at Asher’s body like it was his to explore and to use.
A new toy for him to fondle, to learn about slowly.
I hooked Asher’s elbows in my hands and pulled his arms behind his back lightly, holding him in place. “Does this feel good, Asher?” I said into his ear, wanting to hear one more verbal confirmation before we went forward.
“Yes,” he gasped quickly. “Fuck yes.”
I grinned to myself. “Good,” I growled and held his arms a little tighter.
Asher leaned back against my chest and reared himself against me, grinding down with his hips. The pillows of his cheeks hugged my stiff dick, and I held him tighter in return, pulling his arms to my side.
It felt so good to grind against him, and to feel his quivers. But straightaway, my eyes went back to the main attraction.
Frankie drew his hands along Asher’s sides as the kid’s chest rose and fell with uneven breath. Asher was looking at him with pure desire, and Frankie was drinking it in, exploring his body with just as much intensity.
A charge surged through the air. Frankie grabbed the back of my head, planting a deep and greedy kiss, Asher held between our bodies. When he pulled his lips away with a smack, I caught my breath.
It couldn’t have been more obvious if there had been a crack of thunder.
Something new had just begun.
FRANKLIN
With his arms pinned back by Rory and his cock pulsing in his boxer briefs, Asher somehow looked even hotter than usual.
It was dizzying, actually. I was so used to Rory being my one and only and his growly voice and steely glare being my favorite turn-ons. But all of a sudden, here I was, getting off on the fact that Asher looked so vulnerable and needy.
The urge to take care of him rushed through me like a load of endorphins. I traced my hand down his abs, feeling the faint, curly hairs of his happy trail. I drew my other hand up between his thighs, then pushed my fingers behind his balls.
Asher whimpered, and my heart pounded.
“There, there,” I whispered in his ear. “We’ll go nice and slow.”
He whimpered again, and his face turned down in a desperate frown. I got another jolt of pleasure from how bad he was craving me. My own cock was already stiff in my pants, but all I could think about doing was drawing the play out.
I ran my fingers as gently as possible up his shaft, then trailed them in a soft circle along his tip, dampening his underwear.
Asher gasped. “Give it to me,” he whined.
“Tsk, tsk,” Rory whispered in his ear, his beard tickling Asher’s neck and making him squirm. “Franklin said nice and slow.”
I traced my fingers along his cock as gently as I could, like a whisper in the wind. Asher’s dick started twitching, and he stomped his foot against the ground as he whimpered.
I tugged down his underwear, and his cock landed against his stomach with a slap. His tip was flared and pink, with a drop of translucent precum oozing out the slit. He was long and slim, with a slight curve up, and his sack was covered in downy fuzz.
