Not in one person.
“When’s the last time you gave a damn what anyone thought?” Nelson asked, looking from Javier to Tim and back again. “Either of you?”
Tim broke his cautious stillness with an uneasy shrug.
“Then, if everyone’s cool with it, why choose…” Nelson’s hand slid up Tim’s thigh… “when you don’t have to?”
He climbed onto them, both of them—all knees, laughing when Javier sniffed in annoyance. He draped an arm around each of their shoulders, caught Javier’s gaze and ensured he was being watched—and then turned his head and pressed his mouth to Tim’s.
Tim’s ex would kiss him hello and goodbye—and, in a rote sort of way, when they had sex. Always the same. He’d fasten onto Tim’s upper lip and suck it, all the while flicking his tongue back and forth, back and forth, like a metronome ticking down the moments until they could finish up, flush the condom down the toilet, and rinse off in the shower. But there was nothing regular about kissing Nelson.
Tim gasped, startled, and Nelson skimmed the tip of his tongue across the bottoms of Tim’s incisors. He kissed loosely, like he had all the time in the word to feel his way around, and every intention of doing so. Tim tasted whiskey on his tongue, but only faintly. Sweet. With a bit of bite.
It wasn’t just a kiss, either. Nelson slid his fingertips down the side of Tim’s neck while they tasted each other. His fingers traced Tim’s jaw, and toyed with his collar, as if every last bit of him might potentially be interesting. Even the boring parts.
Although it had been the longest kiss Tim had been treated to in ages, it was still a pity for it to end.
When Tim raised his eyelids, Nelson’s eyes were on him. They were blue. And his irises were very regular. He smiled, then turned to Javier and laid a big, wet, carefree kiss on him, too.
Tim had never realized how loud kisses sounded.
Nelson gave a murmur of encouragement. The leather couch squeaked. But mostly it was the sound of wetness that captivated Tim. Tongues and lips. While he listened, Nelson’s hand brushed across his chest. His fingers flicked over Tim’s nipple as if he’d found it by accident, and even through the fabric of his shirt, the touch felt less like a touch, and more like electricity.
Nelson broke his kiss with Javier and looked at Tim again. His lips were wet with Javier’s saliva. “Wow. You’re totally keyed up.”
Tim would have liked to deny it, but was worried he might explode if he tried.
“That’s good,” Nelson went on. “I like being appreciated.” Nelson caught Tim’s shirt, a faded Izod knockoff, at the hem. He shoved it up around Tim’s neck then leaned in and covered Tim’s nipple with his wet mouth.
Tim clenched his teeth together and told himself to just breathe normally and not make any embarrassing squeaks or moans—even though it seemed damn near impossible. He let his breath out carefully. It shook.
Nelson sucked—a sharp jolt traveled straight to Tim’s groin—then he flicked the nipple with his tongue a few times, and said into the wetness, “So this is what it’s like to fool around sober. I wish someone would’ve told me about it sooner—’cos it sounds like you’re probably already…” he dropped his hand into Tim’s lap. “Hard.”
Tim gasped.
“Fuck. And hung, too. It’s my lucky day.” As if that wasn’t mind-blowing enough, Nelson grabbed Javier by the wrist and put his hand on it, too.
“I love dick,” Nelson said, as casually as he would have mentioned loving Saturday morning cartoons, or chocolate manna. “C’mon, then, big boy. Show us whatcha got.”
Tim almost gave himself over to the moment. Almost saw himself as the type of person who would not only be lucky enough to get naked with one hot guy, but two. But even as his hands closed over his belt buckle, he realized how ridiculous, the thought of him, with them. And he moved to pull away.
Javier caught him by the sleeve, and met his eye. No eye patch. If Javier could do that, then Tim could do…what Nelson had asked of him. Javier nodded slightly, and Tim managed to find the faith that maybe he wasn’t being made fun of. Maybe this really was happening.
The way Nelson knocked his hand aside and whipped his dick through his fly once the belt buckle was undone seemed to confirm it.
“Oh my God,” Tim blurted out—and he was too shocked to feel ridiculous for saying it. Nelson’s mouth was on him—all that wetness—and his fingers were pumping the base of Tim’s cock hard and fast already. It all seemed too sudden, but his body was happy enough to spring into action whether or not his mind was prepared.
Nelson sucked him like a starving man, all lavish tongue and hungry smacking sounds. Tim stared down at the top of Nelson’s head, his sandy-streaked hair, not quite blond, and way longer than the hair of anyone else who’d ever done that for him.
So exuberant in his cocksucking, the others who’d come before might as well have never existed.
And so skilled, Tim had forgotten all about Javier—even though Javier was squeezing his arm.
Tim looked up. Javier was watching Nelson suck him off with an odd expression, part puzzlement, part admiration. At least, that’s what it looked like to Tim, though it was difficult to tell with those mismatched eyes. Maybe, with the clouds, it looked to Javier like Tim was getting his cock sucked somewhere in heaven. Or maybe Javier hadn’t expected their encounter to progress as rapidly as it had, either. When he realized Tim was watching him watching them, he placed his free hand on Nelson’s head, wound Nelson’s longish hair through his fingers, made a fist, and forced him to go deeper.
“Mm, yeah,” Nelson said (kind of) around the head of Tim’s dick, on the upstroke.
Tim was so hard he could feel his own pulse in his shaft.
Javier surprised Tim by reaching up to touch his face while Nelson sucked him, and somehow the feel of those fingertips on his cheek were nearly as intimate as what Nelson was doing.
Three was a much more complicated combination than Tim would have imagined. It wasn’t a hundred and fifty percent of two. It was more like magic. Times three.
It seemed like Nelson would go on until Tim came—and at the rate he was going, it wouldn’t take long at all—but then Javier dragged his face off Tim’s throbbing dick, turned Nelson’s head so the two of them were facing each other, and said, “How’s that cock?”
“Big n’ meaty, just like I like it.”
They fell into another kiss so eager, and so wet, it made their first kiss seem practically demure. Hands were at Javier’s belt, now. Even Tim’s hands, though they seemed too numb to effectively do more than fumble. Javier’s slacks fell open, and he was hard too, stiff and dusky and uncut.
“Aw, sweet,” Nelson said, and he tipped forward and practically impaled his face on Javier’s cock.
Javier still had him by the hair, though. “Wait,” he said. “Kneel down,” and Tim suddenly realized what it felt like to have his mind blown. Because when he’d read the chat transcript to himself, it was in a booming voice, all those commands. Do this, touch that, don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. But this voice, gently accented, and velvet-soft—this was the voice of the real Javier, and it was so far beyond what Tim could have ever dreamt up himself that it was hard to imagine both things could even be called voices.
Javier said only one word to Tim. “Stand.” Even that single word sent an illicit thrill all the way through him. He stood. Javier stood beside him. “Spread your feet apart.” Tim did, and it brought their bobbing erections to roughly the same height—if Tim stood with his feet as far apart as his jeans would allow. Which suddenly seemed like an incredibly vulnerable position.
Javier ran a hand through Nelson’s hair, gently now. “Think you can get us off at the same time?”
“I know I can.”
“And touch yourself while you do.”
Nelson looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow, as if he hadn’t received the memo that Javier was in charge—and Javier dropped his voice even lower, even mo
re deceptively gentle, and said, “But don’t come. Not until I say.”
Nelson’s eyes glittered as if now that he knew what the game was, he approved of it. Heartily.
He started on Javier, since Tim was practically teetering on the verge from their making out on the couch. Javier’s cock wasn’t quite so ungainly, and Nelson deep-throated it, all the way down to the root. The squelching sounds of it were loud and squishy, and he made no effort to try to minimize them. Tim stared at Nelson on his knees, eyes closed, and sucking away as if there was nothing he’d rather do. Nelson’s hand drifted up Tim’s inner thigh while he deep-throated Javier. He cradled Tim’s balls and stroked his taint, and Tim’s cock jutted there above his hand, aching to be touched again.
Javier cupped Tim’s jaw and guided their faces together, slid his tongue into Tim’s mouth…and maybe Tim didn’t care if he got off or not. Maybe all he wanted was this kiss from Javier.
Where Nelson’s kissing had been spirited, Javier’s was deliberate. He took his time, searching with his tongue for the spots that made Tim shiver, and stroking them again and again. Tim ran out of air and his knees began to tremble, and when he broke the kiss to drink a breath of air, he heard Nelson slurp his way off Javier’s hard-on.
“Line ’em up,” he said. “I wanna suck ’em both.”
And of course he couldn’t do it with any amount of precision…but how did that even matter? Tim stooped alongside Javier while Nelson crammed both cocks in his mouth at once—and he seemed pretty damn pleased with himself for doing it.
“I want to see his tattoos,” Tim said, flinching as he realized he hadn’t been granted permission to speak—but maybe he wasn’t at the bottom of the ladder today, since Nelson was—and so it was okay.
Javier pulled his cock out of Nelson’s mouth, stroking it lightly. “So do I. Strip.”
Nelson peeled his T-shirt, thermal long-sleeved top and flannel shirt off all as one garment…and there they were. The tattoos. As if an alien had written a story on his skin. And something else that Tim hadn’t seen before. A bruise had risen on his collarbone from the riot, like a tattoo by a less skilled artisan, green and blue and ill-defined. Javier brushed his fingers over it, and then cupped Nelson’s cheek.
The command for Nelson to play with himself was abandoned as he worked those two stiff cocks together, jacking and sucking, one, both. Rubbing them on his face. Rubbing them together. If it had been anyone else, Tim might have closed his eyes, and leaned in for more kisses from Javier. But all he could do was watch as Nelson handled both cocks like he was savoring every moment.
And when Tim’s breath started coming in deeper gasps, and he found that he couldn’t resist touching the other side of Nelson’s face too, Nelson sat back on his heels, sucked his own finger into his mouth, pulled it out wet, then said, “I’ll bet you’d dig a little ass-play.”
Tim moaned.
It was only a finger. But it was a stranger’s finger—no, it was Nelson’s finger. He pushed it in, bare, unprotected—and Tim had the stray thought, “What do I feel like inside?” Was it possible to feel, somehow, lacking? But Nelson seemed as content as ever to be kneeling at his feet. And even without instruction from Javier, he turned the full force of his attention to Tim’s cock—and no, Tim hadn’t been given permission, but he couldn’t help it. That bare finger was deep in his ass, rooting around, and his dick was squelching into the back of Nelson’s throat, over, and over, and over. And he couldn’t hold out any—
Javier took Tim’s hand and guided it to his cock, which was wet with Nelson’s spit. “Finish me,” Javier whispered. He pressed his mouth to Tim’s—and as Tim’s climax shuddered through him, drank the very air that Tim exhaled. Tim felt the warm spatter over his hand, his wrist, and he let go of Nelson’s face to run his fingers through Javier’s hair instead, to hold on to their kiss for as long as he could.
Nelson pulled off and tipped back onto the floor, splayed, all hair and tattoos. Javier and Tim looked down at him. “Drop your pants,” Javier said.
Nelson smiled with only a trace of sarcasm. His lips looked juicy from sucking cock. He undid his jeans and worked them, and his underwear, down to his knees. Tim stared. Nelson’s pubic hair had been shaved once, but now it was about a quarter of an inch long. Tim had never seen anything like it in real life. Groomed pubic hair was a thing of online porn, not actual people. And there, beneath the hair, the tattoos continued.
It was Javier who finally asked. He ran his fingers down Nelson’s taut stomach, which flicked in response, along the curve of his pelvis, and then over the path of tattoos. “What’s this?”
“That?” Nelson craned his neck for a moment, then lay his head back on the carpet. “That’s boron.”
“The…chemical?”
“The crystal structure. With a few magnesium atoms in the honeycomb planes.”
Tim cocked his head. Were all the tattoos some sort of molecule? Maybe—a molecule rendered by a tattoo artist who’d been told it was the latest tribal design.
“I always thought it looked like a fancy piece of jewelry.” Nelson peered down at his own body, then pointed at the gracefully latticed structure that draped over his hipbone like a cobweb. “This carbon allotrope’s feeling lonely. Someone needs to lick it.”
“You think so?” Javier said. There was a playful tenderness lurking under the surface—at least, that was how Tim read his tone.
“Uh huh.”
Javier pointed to Nelson’s bare nipple, and Tim fell to his hands and knees and began to tease it, with licks that built up to gentle, rhythmic sucks. Javier ran his tongue over Nelson’s body, flitting between the molecules. Nelson sighed happily and draped an arm over each of their shoulders. “I’m negative—just so you know. For when you blow me. I always use a rubber when I do anal.”
Tim tried to imagine himself ever saying something like that, and came up empty. Then again, he couldn’t even imagine himself declaring, I love dick.
So what had it meant that Nelson hadn’t even bothered to ask him? He’d just gone right down. And then he’d swallowed.
Nelson gave Tim’s head a shove so that it turned, and they could lock eyes. “Oral’s low-risk, according to every bit of research I’ve seen. Unless you’ve got bleeding gums or something. Which none of us do.”
“How do you know?”
Nelson ran the tip of his tongue over the bottoms of his upper teeth. Lasciviously. “I checked.”
How…disturbingly pragmatic. The idea must have telegraphed in Tim’s expression, which his emotions had a tendency to do. Nelson caught his lower lip between his teeth, ruffled Tim’s hair, and said, “It’s hard work being the biggest slut this side of the Hudson, but someone’s gotta do it.”
“Come here,” Javier said to Tim. He’d kissed his way down to Nelson’s mostly-hard cock, and encouraged Tim to do the same. There was novelty, to be sure, in kissing around Nelson’s cock—in tweaking his nipples until they were hard and red, and his back arched up off the floor, and he begged them make him come. But even as Nelson’s semen jetted to coat the back of Tim’s mouth, Tim couldn’t help but ponder Nelson’s attitude, and how his matter-of-factness seemed to take something so profound and to make it common.
They settled in on their couches. Tim shared his with Nelson by placing the cushions on the floor and sleeping on the webbing. Nelson fell asleep first. His breathing went deep, faltered, then settled into a rhythm. Javier’s couch squeaked. Tim opened his eyes and saw Javier in the gloomy, late-afternoon light, watching him through his mismatched eyes.
“He doesn’t really think of himself like that,” Javier said. “It’s just how he copes.”
Surprising, how much Javier could see, through clouds.
Chapter 18
It felt wrong when Tim woke up. Wrong temperature. Wrong smell. Wrong bed. Wrong room. Tim hadn’t fallen asleep anywhere other than his own bed in his own room in years, not since he and his ex were dating, before they’d moved in toget
her. Before they’d broken up, and his ex went…well, wherever he’d gone after he left. The couch and the trailer came back to him first—and then the memory of….
Tim stared at the ceiling, baffled. The texture looked vague in the cool, gray pre-dawn light.
Had he actually done what he thought he’d done?
It seemed as if he had. All the wrong muscles hurt, where he’d braced his thighs in a squat to line his cock up with Javier’s. Where he’d clenched his abdomen in anticipation of shooting—oh man. He’d done it, all right.
He was fairly sure he wouldn’t have even fantasized the dirty things Nelson had encouraged him to try, even in his most decadent daydreams. And he’d definitely done them. Him. Tim Foster.
His ex had always told him he had no imagination. And maybe that was true, given how thoroughly and profoundly his imagination had undershot his most recent experience. One thing Phil could no longer hold over him: Tim couldn’t possibly be classified as “extra vanilla” anymore.
He dropped a hand down to the couch cushions on the floor. Nelson was gone, and though the pillow still bore the impression of his head, the cushions were cool to the touch. Across the room, Javier was curled up on his couch with his back facing the room, so his bad eye was hidden. It was as if he refused to let anyone see his vulnerability without his permission, even in his sleep.
Tim sat up and savored the sensation of muscles he usually ignored having been put to some use. He could hardly consider it soreness—especially when it made him smile, despite himself. He stood and stretched. Yeah, definitely sex. And it had definitely been way too long. And, yeah, he was smiling again. Or maybe he hadn’t actually stopped at any point since he’d opened his eyes.
Once he finished up in the bathroom—smiling the whole time about what a big deal Nelson had made over the size of his dick—he took a discreet look around the conference room, careful not to wake Javier. There was a small snack bar along one wall, with a sink, a refrigerator, and a water cooler. The fridge had been emptied, but the cupboards were awkward to reach over the countertop, so they hadn’t been ransacked. Unfortunately, it looked as if, due to their hard-to-reach position, they weren’t particularly well stocked.
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