Page 109 of Puck You Both

We find it eventually, the three of us, a rhythm that belongs to no one in particular and needs all of us to exist. Patrick moving carefully into my mouth, me moving, less carefully, into Theo's, Theo's hand working himself somewhere below, sounds quick and wet.

The couch creaks, and Patrick watches, both of us, the man at his cock, and the man under him, and I feel the moment the watching finishes him off more than a touch ever could, as his thighs fall all the way open and the hand in my hair stops holding on to anything but me.

"Wallace." His voice has gravel in it now. "I'm close."

I don't lift my head. He gave up the wheel tonight. He doesn't get it back for this.

His hand comes down to my shoulder, pressing, still trying to spare me the experience I have zero interest in being spared. "You can move."

I lock my arm around his thigh and stay where I am.

Theo releases me for one breath. "He heard you." And then his mouth is back and it's ruthless, and whatever Patrick was going to argue dissolves into Polish, low and rough and coming apart at the ends.

The first pulse of cum hits my tongue thick and warm.

I swallow around his cock, and he makes a sound I will be hearing in quiet moments for the rest of my life, his hips pushing up, and I take every pulse with my lips sealed because leaving was never an option. I get two seconds of marveling on that realization before Theo’s mouth ends me.

The orgasm takes my stomach, my thighs, my voice, my entire fucking self, tearing a sound out of me I've never made in my life, muffled around Patrick’s cock while I spill into Theo, who takes it, all of it, swallowing, fingers dug into my thigh, humming like he's won something.

For a while there is nothing but pulse and aftershock and three men breathing unevenly.

I stay until Patrick softens against my tongue, then lift my head. Air hits my wet face. My jaw aches, my knees have opinions, and his taste is still at the back of my throat. Above me, the man who controls every space he's ever entered is staring down like he’s seeing me for the first time.

He grabs my face with both hands, pulls me up, and kisses me slowly, taking his own taste out of my mouth without a flicker. For once there's no score being kept anywhere in it.

Then forehead comes to rest against mine. "You learned fast."

I'm too spent for false modesty. "I usually do."

From the floor, Theo’s voice comes out wrecked. "I helped."

"You did," Patrick says against my mouth.

Theo.

I turn, ready to relocate, because nobody put a mouth or a hand on him yet, and I’ll be damned if I let Patrick get to him before I have the chance.

The second I lay my eyes on him, my brain that’s barely functioning right now goes into overdrive, computing the image he makes. He's sprawled on his back, curls flattened on his forehead, grinning at the ceiling, and his cock is already softening against his stomach, which is shining, and so is the hand he now raises for my inspection.

"You— How?"

He lets his eye fall closed and lets out a content exhale. "I can take care of myself just fine."

A part of me feels like I’ve been robbed. "But I was going to—"

"I know. Very chivalrous. Ten points."

Patrick lets his head drop against the couch. "You graded him?"

"Oh, I have detailed notes."

An involuntary laugh erupts out of me. Another follows it, then a landslide, and I fold down onto the rug next to Theo with one pant leg still shackling my ankle, my mouth tasting like my nemesis, laughing harder than I have in years while two naked Vipers watch me do it. Nothing about me is dignified right now. I keep waiting for that to matter. It doesn't. Nothing heavy shows up at all. Instead, I feel loose inside my own body, maybe for the first time ever, and it cost me exactly nothing to give in to the feeling.

Eventually Patrick leans down and reaches for his pants, already trying to tidy up, because he's Patrick.

I catch his hand with tips of my fingers. "Leave it."

He surveys the wreckage—the stranded table, the cushions, three men's worth of clothing scattered across his rug. "In my living room?"