Gawain looked more relieved than otherwise. Still, he didn’t speak up until he received another encouraging glance from Butcher, at which point he turned again to Jack.
“May I fuck you?” Gawain blurted.
Not something Jack had expected to hear from one of Gawain’s small frame and timid temperament, but surprises kept things interesting. He smiled. “If I can taste you first.”
Gawain’s dark eyes went quite wide. He glanced to Butcher—who smiled—then returned to Jack with a nod.
Jack sank to his knees before him. While he might in a moment require aid in puzzling out how to relieve Butcher of his woollen hose, he knew how to get around a gentleman’s pair of trousers well enough. Buttons and ties fell away beneath his fingertips. By the time he delved inside to draw Gawain out, he found him already hard as iron in his hand.
“You’re well ready, aren’t you?” Jack said, glancing up with a grin.
A handsome blush arose beneath Gawain’s freckles.
Jack gave him a few quick strokes in his fist—the hitch in Gawain’s breath going straight to his own cock yet trapped in his trousers—then brought his lips to the head and let it slip into his mouth.
A bitten-off moan escaped Gawain. Jack glanced up to see his head turned aside and his freckled lower lip caught between his teeth.
Just the taste of him would’ve satisfied Jack. To find him so sensitive, so responsive, so alive to every flick of Jack’s tongue or bob of his head—well, that was assuredly a delight. Experimentally, he slid his tongue beneath the foreskin to encircle the ridge of the head. A shudder ran over Gawain’s whole frame.
Then, swift and silent as a shadow, Butcher slipped behind Gawain. His strong arms wrapped around the slender torso—as much to hold him up as to caress him, it seemed. His mouth fell to Gawain’s collar, torn open by his own hand. Another shiver passed through Gawain. He might have collapsed altogether, Jack thought, if it weren’t for Butcher’s embrace.
Gawain’s hands, meanwhile, fell upon Jack’s shoulders. As Jack redoubled his efforts to wring another quiver from him, his grip tightened—but released with haste. This occurred again when Jack’s own hand fell to his trouser ties to unfetter and stroke his prick, now fully hard from the sight, sound, and taste of Gawain writhing in the throes of newfound pleasures. This was what Jack loved about sucking cock. To hold another man inside him, to draw him out until he could bear it no further and all pretence of self-command fell away, to watch him come undone at the mercy of his mouth. And Gawain, the sweet lad, fulfilled every part of this fantasy. The sight of Butcher behind him—holding Gawain captive in his mighty arms whilst biting bruising kisses onto his throat—wasn’t half-bad, either.
But the third time Gawain caught and released him, Jack let his cock slip out of his mouth altogether.
“You can be a bit rougher,” Jack pointed out. “If you’d like.”
Gawain’s eyes flew wide. He swallowed hard. “How d’you mean?”
Jack gave a half-shrug. “Pull my hair?”
Gawain took a sharp breath as his fingers clenched hard around Jack’s shoulders.
Jack grinned. “Or that.”
Before Gawain could say anything more, Jack descended. Any words Gawain might have spoken were lost in the choked-off gasp that escaped him as Jack took him into his mouth again.
Jack’s renewed efforts were rewarded as Gawain, at last, seized him ‘round the back of the head and tangled his knuckles in his hair. The sharp burn and lingering ache enhanced every sensation Jack felt. A wonderful contrast that made the familiar grip of his own fist on his cock and the taste of Gawain on his tongue all the sweeter.
And better still as Gawain surrendered his restraint and began thrusting into Jack’s mouth in earnest. Jack opened his throat and swallowed him down, hollowing his cheeks. Murmured reassurances in a low burr resounded above him and intermingled with wanton moans. Then they cut off with a gasp as Gawain’s hips stuttered.
“Forgive me, I—”
Jack appreciated the warning. Still, he didn’t leave off, and instead redoubled his efforts, until at last the cock pulsed against his tongue and Gawain rewarded him with wave after wave of salty tide. Jack swallowed all but a few drops which slipped out between his lips as he let Gawain fall from his mouth.
Gawain himself collapsed in Butcher’s arms. Yet Butcher held him upright. Jack sat back on his heels with more than a little satisfaction as he admired the result of his hard work, his fist still idly stroking his own prick.
A kiss from Butcher revived Gawain, who, with his aid, staggered to the nest. Butcher laid him down with a glance equal parts sly and, to Jack’s surprise, fond. Then those dark eyes shotup to meet Jack’s gaze, and the brows raised in unmistakable invitation.
Jack joined them.
No sooner had his knee graced the withy frame of the bed than Butcher’s hand shot up and seized Jack by the collar to drag him down for a kiss. Jack appreciated his boldness and showed him so by returning his embrace with enthusiasm. Presumably Butcher wished to taste his lover on Jack’s tongue. Jack felt more than willing to oblige him. His hands wandered in the meanwhile, descending to Butcher’s waist and further down to feel the supple thighs beneath the woollen hose. There likewise he felt a hard staff equal to his own.
“You as well?” Jack enquired as they broke away for breath.
Butcher’s gaze swept him up and down in a long look of evident appreciation. With a handsome half-smile, he replied, “Not just yet.”
Which was disappointing, but as he followed it up with another kiss, Jack didn’t entirely mind.
