Page 108 of Puck You Both

"This is unreasonable," Patrick rasps.

Theo lifts his mouth just enough to talk. "File a complaint tomorrow."

I drag my tongue over the head. "He can’t. Office is closed."

The laugh Patrick lets out lasts one second before I take him back into my mouth and it collapses into a moan.

I push for more depth. Too much of it. His hips lift at the wrong moment, and my throat slams shut, and I come off him coughing, eyes watering, lips wet and cold in the open air. His hand leaves my hair instantly. When I look up, his brows are drawn, thumb already moving toward my jaw, checking, and the care in it does something to me that the cough can't cover.

So I go back down and set the depth myself, shallow at first, then further, when my throat agrees to it. His hand returns to my hair and holds without steering, and when I suck on the way up, his fingers lock. "Good boy."

The words hit me like a shot I never saw coming, and my rhythm doesn't even falter, it straight up dies. I hold still with my mouth full and my eyes closed while two words rearrange my entire nervous system, and there is no way I can hide now from the man whose cock is in my mouth, or the man two inches to my left.

"Oh," Theo says. "That's useful."

I lift my head just enough to breathe and aim a warning at him. "Don't."

His smile turns vicious. "Good boy, Wall."

I huff once, take Patrick too deep and prove Theo's point for him, and it’s pathetic. Patrick's chuckle gets exactly half a second of life before I retaliate with everything I've learned in the last ten minutes, and it breaks into a groan, and that’s pathetic too.

There. We’re even.

Then Patrick looks down at me, gaze so intense it’s impossible to hold, and delivers the final blow, quieter, aimed at the very core of my being. "Good boy, Wallace."

I stop thinking about technique.

After that there's just heat and salt and the sounds he's done hiding, and his hips in slow revolt against his own restraint, and the pre-cum leaking steadily on my tongue, and Theo's fist working below my mouth, and the awareness. The constant, persistent awareness of being watched by them both.

Somewhere in it, Theo pulls back and wipes his mouth with his thumb. "You can take it from here."

I lift my head and miss the weight immediately. "Take what?"

"Him."

He peels his shirt off while I'm still processing, shoves his shorts down, and his cock springs free, dark and wet at the head, and then his fingers are at my jeans and the zipper is going down and cool air is hitting damp cotton and I am suddenly very fucking interested in where this is going.

He drags my jeans and my boxers down my thighs together, and struggles to rearrange my legs without tipping me over. One foot comes free. The other pant leg surrenders halfway and stays, shackled around my ankle, and nobody in this room cares.

Theo stretches out on his side across the rug, his head arriving just below my hips, and the layout finally settles: Patrick reclined above me, me kneeling between Patrick's thighs, Theo squeezed in between Patrick’s calves with his mouth exactly where my cock is.

I lean down again, taking Patrick into my mouth again.

And Theo takes me into his.

Every muscle in my body flexes at once. Heat, wetness, pressure, and stubble, dragging where no stubble has ever been, and the shock of it nearly lifts me clean off Patrick. Nothing about this feels familiar, not in the slightest. The jaw is stronger. The intent is ruthless. My hips try to retreat on pure instinct and Theo just follows, sealing tighter, and the moan that tears out of me lands around Patrick's cock and makes his thighs clamp against my shoulders.

I stay. One hand braced on the couch beside Patrick's hip, the other holding him at the base, Theo working me from below like he's after a confession.

And right now, I’d confess to a crime I didn’t commit.

Patrick's fingers slide into my hair. His thumb finds the skin behind my ear and rests there, steady, grounding, while his other hand grips the cushion, and I hang between the two of them, in a position so awkward and so epic at the same time my mind goes blank.

Each time I rebuild a rhythm on Patrick, Theo changes his pressure and demolishes it. My mouth stalls, full of cock, while my hips fight not to say fuck it and just shove deep into Theo’s throat. Patrick feels the stall and looks down at me with the last of his composure hanging off one corner of his mouth. "Distracted?"

I answer by taking him deeper than I have all night.

Theo comes off me long enough to gulp air and say, "That means yes." Then his mouth closes over me again and demolishes me anew.