by Pearl Love
“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he fell upon his friend, knocking him down onto the mattress. He was vaguely aware of the two boys moving out of their way, but he had eyes for no one but the man now lying beneath him.
“Dear Lord, you are a heavy brute, aren’t you?” Church chuckled before digging his fingers into the bunched muscles of Wilcox’s back, the throaty nature of his voice belying the complaint.
“I’m so sorry,” Wilcox repeated. He bestowed an endless array of fervent kisses, whispering a meaningless litany of heartfelt apologies as his hips rocked helpless against Church’s in a pantomime of his deepest longings. “Forgive me,” he murmured again before ravaging his friend’s mouth with a probing tongue.
“Oh, do shut up, you bloody idiot,” Church said long minutes later once Wilcox had released him sufficiently to allow for speech. The only expression on his face when Wilcox drew back in shock at the terse remark was an indulgent smile that stole away any sting from the rebuke. Strong hands placed gently on either side of his face pulled Wilcox back down, and all meaningful conversation was instantly forgotten.
Church’s lips were a revelation. Incredulity at what he had somehow managed to accomplish warred in Wilcox’s breast with an overwhelming sense of homecoming. Ever since they had met over the cricket pitch their first year at university, Wilcox had wanted the irreverent rake with a fierceness that had pursued him doggedly ever since. But now, it was as though he’d always known the particular softness with which Church’s lips yielded to his. The unique taste of him was utterly familiar—an intoxicating blend of brandy, tobacco, and tea—and yet profoundly new. His fingers might have spent countless hours mapping the contours of Church’s body, so confidently did they trace over the delicious planes and hollows that defined his friend’s figure. Wilcox reached beneath the bottom hem of the loosened shirt hanging carelessly past Church’s hips and delved into the beckoning space below the hem of his trousers. He sketched a teasing caress over a jutting hipbone, the uneven breath that skittered over his ear proof that his search for one of his friend’s weaknesses had proved most successful.
“You’re overdressed,” Church growled as he tore his own shirt away, revealing the coveted expanse of his lightly furred chest.
“I think you’re confused.” Wilcox teased, raking his gaze over Church’s mostly clothed form. “Allow me to help you.” Distracting Church as he attacked the fastenings at his waist, Wilcox pressed an openmouthed kiss to the newly exposed skin, relishing the effort of blindly divesting Church of his trousers. Their undergarments and socks followed in rapid succession after some indecorous wiggling that left Wilcox groaning with a renewed ache. Church tossed the cotton leggings aimlessly toward the sideboard. Wilcox knew not where they landed, nor did he care as they lay together for the first time, pressed full length with not a stitch between them to detract from the connection. “Oh God!” Wilcox shouted, the heat from Church’s body pouring into him and stoking those embers that had already been raging toward giddy heights.
“Why, thank you,” Church replied with his distinctive cheeky humor.
For some perverse reason known only to it, Wilcox’s cock twitched at the small witticism. Apparently conscious of the betraying movement, Church glanced at him with a raised brow, but the bead of sweat that slid down his face gave away his own mounting ardor. Wilcox forestalled whatever quip Church had been planning by ensuring that the only sounds his friend could utter were kiss-smothered moans.
Wilcox would have been content to spend the remainder of the night thusly with Church lying in his arms, his body covered by a lovely expanse of warm, pampered muscle. But their nearly forgotten hosts had other ideas. Church was the one to break their latest kiss when a pair of slender hands suddenly alighted upon their sides. Following suit, Wilcox likewise looked toward the two boys, who were regarding them with varying degrees of playful bashfulness.
“Oh, don’t mind us,” Gardenia chirped while arranging himself on his stomach so he lay at their side. “We’re happy to languish in the corner being ignored by you strapping dandies.”
“Gardenia, don’t be rude.” Aster softened his admonishment with a gentle smile. “But we would feel amiss if we weren’t able to provide you with at least some tiny bit of service. Mr. Leslie always exhorts us to do our best to please our guests.”
“You’re such a fancy talker, Aster.” Gardenia sulked with a huff. “Surely you can think of a better use for your mouth than spouting off all those frilly words like you was a prince or somewot.”
For the first time, the uncultured edge that bespoke the boy’s rough birth snuck through into his speech. It was highly likely that Gardenia had been born in the Dials, mere blocks from where he now peddled his body. Yet, despite the disclosure of his low circumstances, Wilcox found himself charmed by the lad’s lively, unapologetic coarseness. A quick glance revealed that his friend was similarly enchanted.
“And what would you do for us, if we gave you permission?” Church inquired.
Gardenia responded with a broad, lascivious grin that should have looked ridiculous on his cherubic features but was instead delightfully charming. The boy pushed insistently at Wilcox’s hip until he took the hint and rolled away from Church, exposing their matching erections. Gardenia regarded both of their engorged members thoughtfully, gave a small nod, and proceeded to dive headfirst until Wilcox’s aching cock was buried deep in his throat. Wilcox had just enough time to see one of the vials that had formerly been resting on the ledge above the bed drop from Gardenia’s fingers and fall to the covers before his eyes crossed and he could see only stars.
“Oh, you are a tr-treasure!” Church exclaimed with a throaty hitch in his voice. Cracking open an eye, Wilcox saw that Aster had followed his colleague’s lead, his brown head bobbing studiously over Church’s engorged shaft. Transfixed at the sight of Church parting his lips in an enticing pink O as he gasped for breath, Wilcox buried his fingers in his friend’s hair and pulled him in for kiss.
Their tongues sparred in an erotic game of one-upmanship, each trying to make the other submit. Wilcox would thrust and Church would parry, neither giving an inch in their struggle for dominance. But there was no anger in their play. Every moan bespoke their shared passion, every countermove calculated to ensure the maximum amount of pleasure for the other. Wilcox ran his tongue along the sensitive ridges defining the roof of his friend’s mouth, making Church groan at the startling caress. His brief triumph was short lived as Church suddenly changed the rules by reaching over and pinching one of Wilcox’s nipples between his fingers. Wilcox whimpered helplessly, his hips jerking in mindless reaction to the exquisite torment as Church took advantage of his distraction to suck insistently on his tongue.
And all the while, their hired paramours earned their keep. Wilcox tunneled deeper into the soft golden waves beneath his fingers, striving mightily to maintain his composure as Gardenia cleverly bent his own tongue to the task of driving him insane. Never once losing an inch, Gardenia swallowed Wilcox’s until his lips surrounded the base of his cock, the fluttering muscles in his throat milking the sensitive tip. Despite the difficult angle, the boy somehow managed to massage the pulsing length with his tongue, probing at the cleft below the helmet before easing down until it teased at the place where his lips formed a ring around the rigid shaft. A soft hum from his tormentor made Wilcox gasp, and soon his fingers were making a ruin of Gardenia’s formerly neat hairstyle.
Church panted into Wilcox’s mouth as he was thoroughly attended to in similarly eager manner. Something Aster did made him jerk and shout with surprise, his shock transferred to Wilcox by the sudden tightening of the fingers clamped around his nipples. Wilcox reared his head back to catch his breath at the devastating attack.
“Nnngg! Church, please!”
Wilcox would have felt ashamed at begging so piteously, except that he was pleading for more, not for mercy. Not one of the clandestine lovers he’d taken in his long career had ever paid any
heed to those seemingly useless appendages on his chest. He would have cursed their inattention had he the mental wherewithal to do so, but he was undone. Every sensation from Church’s fingers shot directly to where Gardenia was presently paying homage. Wilcox reveled in every swell of heat from the abused nubs, finally understanding Aster’s appreciation of the small torment. He wanted more but refused to betray himself by asking for it. If Church wanted to know that particular secret, he would have to learn it for himself. They would both appreciate that journey, he had no doubt.
Applying his own recent discovery, Wilcox twisted his upper body until he could reach Church’s hip with the hand not presently holding Gardenia in place. The silky strands of Aster’s hair brushed against his fingers as he stroked them deftly over that enticing protrusion of bone that flanked Church’s groin. As he’d hoped, Church reacted immediately, his emerald eyes glazing over at the exploitation of his unforeseen vulnerability. A swell of power filled Wilcox at the expression of utter pleasure that suffused his new lover’s urbane features. With a growl, he applied himself with renewed vigor to his interrupted invasion of Church’s mouth.
Caught up in their own doings, neither man was prepared when their cocks were suddenly abandoned, the slicked flesh left to the cooling effects of the air. Wilcox looked down first, his breath rasping in his throat as he struggled to speak through his confused astonishment.
“You can’t stop now!” Church exclaimed childishly, dismay returning his own faculty for language.
Gardenia looked at the sweat-covered men splayed out before him with a self-satisfied smirk. “Oh, worry not, my lords. We would not dare leave you in such dire straits.”
“Now who’s using ‘frilly words’?” Aster mocked, the smile on his face revealing their bickering to be nothing more than the banter habitual among fast friends. He retrieved the bottle Gardenia had dropped and removed the stopper, releasing an enticing blend of sandalwood and myrrh.
“I’ve learned from the best, my dear Aster.” Gardenia blew the other boy a kiss and took the vial while capturing the hand from which he’d removed it. He poured out a generous measure of the essential oils into Aster’s hand before emptying the rest into his own cupped palm. Noticing that he was being watched, he glanced down at the puzzled men.
“What are you about, then?” Wilcox asked, having finally caught his breath only to lose it again when Gardenia wrapped a freshly oiled hand around his still-glistening cock in lieu of answering. The boy rode him easily as Wilcox bucked helplessly at the greased caress that slid determinedly up and down his flushed length. Church gripped his hand painfully as Aster did the same to him.
“You rascals are aiming to murder us,” Church said in rasping jest. Wilcox glanced over at him just in time to see his friend’s eyes roll up into his head. “Confess it!”
Aster laughed, startling Wilcox, as he’d thought the young man incapable of such a carefree utterance. “I assure you, you will survive.”
“Well, perhaps you might die a little.”
Before Wilcox could remark at Gardenia’s knowledge of the French euphemism, the boy straddled his hips. Holding the slick member in place, Gardenia lowered himself until, moaning with his own pleasure, he was impaled upon the object he had so carefully prepared. Wilcox stared in overwhelmed fascination at the flush that colored Gardenia’s cheeks as he settled himself with his lips drawn between his teeth in concentration. The smooth walls of the boy’s passage rippled against his throbbing erection, ruthlessly urging him to find his pleasure. Wilcox could not deny Gardenia’s talent. He made quite the vision with his head thrown back, his lips, pink from the abuse he’d subjected them to, shining wetly in the candlelight. With each downward stroke, he swallowed every inch of the thick rod inside of him so that the mounds of his arse bounced repeatedly against Wilcox’s thighs. Wilcox grabbed onto Gardenia’s hips to hold him briefly in place as he ruthlessly clamped down on the imminent threat from his balls that were even then contracting in readiness to empty themselves into the boy’s enticing heat.
“That’s it, little one. A little more. Yes, just relax.”
“Ahhh!”
Church’s urging and Aster’s resulting submission reached Wilcox distantly. Shaking his head to regain a sliver of clarity, he dragged his gaze away from Gardenia so he might witness the sight of the man he’d loved for fourteen years buggering someone else. But though the notion should have broken his heart, he felt only excitement as he watched Aster struggle to accept the entirety of Church’s impressive cock. When he at last found success, pleasure visibly suffused Church from the twitching muscle in his clenched jaw to the curled tension in his handsome feet.
“You know, old chap,” Church panted, his tone suspiciously earnest, “I can’t wait for you to give me a good stuffing. You’ll be my first. I’ve never allowed any other man the privilege. Will I take it as well as our lovely flowers, I wonder?”
“Bloody hell!” The curse was all Wilcox was able to utter before his body exploded at the public oration of his most secret fantasy. Blindly, he flung his passion into Gardenia’s welcoming passage.
“Ah yes!” the boy cried as he was flooded with heat, his eager, young body finding its own relief. Spurts of viscous white spouted forth from his modest cock and covered Wilcox’s chest in artistic lines and speckles before he collapsed in a heap, ruining the decoration.
Wilcox resisted the pull of sleep, which crashed down upon him with the relentlessness of a steam engine, unwilling to miss Church subjecting Aster to like treatment. All reticence lost to the throes of ecstasy, Aster keenly rode the cock buried inside of him with all the finesse of one new to the saddle. Yet, he was all the more charming for his obvious lack of experience. Church was all encouragement, whispering reassurances as the lad’s movement grew more frantic. Wilcox found his friend’s compassion for the nervous initiate touching, but it didn’t stop his spent member from twitching with interest when the wrecked flower sobbed in relief as his body spilled its pent up excitement. Church was only moments behind, the animalistic growl that rumbled in his chest making something desperate flutter in Wilcox’s belly even as his cock protested weakly at his reinvigorated lust.
Long minutes passed during which the only sound that could be heard was the sound of hitched breaths and spent gasps. Wilcox’s eyes were shut, physical and emotional fatigue pulling him ever further toward slumber, but he opened them when a large hand clasped his, entwining their fingers in an unbreakable hold. He smiled and turned to gaze contentedly at Church, tracing the beloved features he knew so well. His lover appeared also to be on the verge of sleep, with his eyes shuttered and his breathing even. But when Aster stirred from where he’d slumped against Church’s chest and slid over to the bed, Church wrapped his arm around the boy’s trim waist, arresting his progress.
“And where do you think you’re going?” he asked in a voice slurred with contentment.
“I was leaving you to sleep, my lord.” Aster glanced uncertainly at Gardenia, who was almost completely lost to slumber and had not moved from his perch atop Wilcox’s chest. His hand cupped around the gentle swell of Gardenia’s pert buttock, Wilcox was quite content to keep the boy right where he was.
Church pulled Aster back toward him until the slender figure was nestled at his side. “After having your way with me, you would leave me to sleep alone?” He sighed dramatically. “In truth, you are a heartless beauty, love.”
“Forgive me, my lord.”
Wilcox could hear the smile in Aster’s voice, and he allowed his heavy lids to shut as he relaxed into a satiated rest.
“Perhaps Wilcox and I will name our first and second born after you two,” Church mumbled, ridiculous even on the cusp of oblivion. “You lads are our guardian angels, after all.”
“Guardian Cupids…,” Gardenia mumbled. The trailing correction was immediately followed by a soft snore.
Church chucked. “Indeed you are right, of course. My mistake.”
B
LUE-TINTED light filtered weakly through the heavy curtains. Wilcox blinked as it fell gently across his face, waking him from the deepest slumber he’d experienced in more years than he could reliably count. Stretching, he felt a popping in each of his joints. His muscles ached and his bones felt like liquid, but it wasn’t until his movements disturbed the slight weight resting half on top of him and half on the bed next to him that he remembered why he had every right to feel so tired. Smiling at the blond head nestled against his shoulder, Wilcox pressed his lips to the soft rat’s nest before giving his burden a nudge.
“…’ve more min….”
“I think we wore him out,” Church said quietly, his tone full of amusement at Gardenia’s incoherent request. He was gently petting Aster, who was regarding both men with sleepy hazel eyes.
That first encounter had not been their last, and all four of them had ended up in various combinations during the previous night of unrestrained passion. Only Church had escaped the demands of Wilcox’s eager prick as he preferred there be no audience when he finally expressed his desire for his new lover in full. Still, Wilcox couldn’t resist the urge to touch Church as often as he could, and he caressed the side of his friend’s cheek with gentle fingers. It was a gesture Wilcox happily saw himself bestowing for many long decades to come. “We should go,” he said after taking a few moments to bask in his lover’s smile.
“Do you have to?” Finally awake, Gardenia pushed himself up on his arms and braced them against Wilcox. He glanced out the window. “It’s early yet.”
