Nightshift

by Kate Douglas

  And, to be perfectly honest, his own need. Standing slowly, Mac held out his hand. Eyes wide with both hope and surprise, Dink slowly wrapped his fingers around Mac’s.

  Without a word, Mac led Nils Dinkemann into the bedroom.

  6

  Mac didn’t know what to expect. He certainly hadn’t imagined how easy it would be to cross a line he’d never crossed before, to allow himself to fall into Dink’s fantasy of the two of them as lovers.

  Tonight. This was only for tonight, and maybe that unspoken boundary was the reason it was so simple to slip out of his clothing and stand there, studying Dink with the knowledge the two of them could take this as far as they wanted this one time, without any regrets.

  It was almost as if they’d given themselves permission to let arousal and desire rule. Dink was more uncomfortable looking than Mac. Maybe because he’d dreamed of this for so long without ever expecting it to actually happen; now that Mac was standing here naked and aroused, Dink seemed unable to proceed.

  So Mac took the lead, and the moment he reached for his friend, the moment he pulled him into his arms and held him close, everything felt the way it should. It felt perfect.

  They were both heavily aroused, two young men of equal height and breadth. Dink’s bruises had almost faded, which raised a question for another time. No one healed that quickly, not from the kind of injuries he’d had when he arrived.

  Now his bruises were forgotten. When their chests came together, when the line of contact spread from chest to belly to thighs and the solid length of two hard cocks rode high against one another, Mac wondered why he’d waited so long to share this act, this amazing connection with his oldest, closest friend.

  Dink groaned and thrust his hips close. He grabbed Mac’s face in his hands and kissed him on the mouth, forcing entry with his tongue. At first Mac was uncertain—this was a guy he was kissing. Another man with callused hands, beard-roughened jaw and stubble across his upper lip, but his breath was warm and tasted of yeast and hops, and the press of his tongue tangling with Mac’s had him panting and wanting more.

  Dink’s kisses trailed across his chest and down his belly until he fell to his knees in front of Mac. He turned his face and nuzzled the thatch of dark hair on Mac’s groin and his fingers dug into the thick muscles of his butt.

  Just last night, Zianne had knelt in front of Mac. She’d taken him in her mouth, but it had been nothing like this. Her touch had been gentle, feminine, and sweet. Dink swallowed him down, sucking Mac’s cock, tugging at his balls with one hand, stroking the sweaty crease between his buttocks with the other.

  There was no subtle, teasing foreplay with Dink. Mac felt the firm pressure of one thick finger against his ass. It was an entirely new sensation, and Dink’s intent was both direct and obvious. Mac clenched tight and fought it at first, but the suction on his dick wasn’t going away and he widened his stance, opening himself to Dink’s exploration.

  Mac tangled his fingers in Dink’s thick blond hair and held him close against his groin. He struggled to master his needs, to fight the unforeseen lust shredding the last remnants of control. He’d not expected this much sensation.

  Dink pushed hard and forced a finger through Mac’s tight anus. Cursing, Mac clenched against the fiery burn of entry, the unexpected pain. Then Dink swallowed Mac’s cock.

  Too much! The wet slide down his friend’s throat, that long finger probing deep and rolling across his prostate, Dink’s free hand tugging and squeezing Mac’s balls, his mouth and throat sucking Mac’s cock like a damned Hoover. Too much, too fast.

  Mac didn’t even have time to savor the moment. His climax exploded hard and fast and he clutched his fingers in Dink’s hair and thrust forward. Dink took him all the way, swallowing the thick rush of seed, probing deep inside Mac’s dark channel and putting even more pressure on that sensitive gland.

  “Shit. Holy shit, Dink ... don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop.” Mac’s legs gave out and he collapsed backward onto the bed, but Dink went with him, still sucking and licking his slowly shrinking cock, then licking his sac and the sensitive skin behind his balls.

  It took forever to come down, and when he did, Mac caught the look of triumph in Dink’s eyes and laughed. “Shit, man. That was ... I had no idea. None. Did you plan that?”

  Dink wiped his lips and stretched out on the bed beside him. “Not exactly.” He laughed. “I knew if I ever got you to agree, this was what I wanted to do.”

  Mac rolled his head to one side and looked into Dink’s eyes. “What about you?” He waved his fingers loosely in the direction of Dink’s cock standing tall and proud. “What’re you gonna do with that thing?”

  Dink raised one eyebrow. Mac knew exactly what Dink wanted, and while he wasn’t entirely sure it was what he wanted, fair was fair. “Lube, man. You’d better use a lot of fucking lube.”

  “Roll over.” Dink stood up, and he was somehow larger now, taller and broader, and his cock was definitely more than Mac wanted. He didn’t say a word—merely rolled over so his belly was on the edge of the mattress, his ass pointing in the air.

  Mac had never felt more vulnerable in his life, yet he trusted Dink. And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? He still didn’t trust Zianne. They’d had amazing sex, but how could he have felt so connected without trust? And he had felt it—a powerful connection to a woman he hardly knew.

  But thoughts of Zianne faded—his cock was rising against the rumpled blankets, but not for her. This was for Dink. Mac hadn’t expected to feel so aroused, not by the thought of his buddy plowing his ass, but already he was aching and ready.

  Dink disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a tube of hand lotion. “This the best you got?”

  Mac gazed over his shoulder. “It’s not like I make a regular habit of this.”

  “I know.” Dink smiled, and it was so tender, the look so sweet that Mac sucked in a surprised gasp. It was easy to forget just how beautiful his friend was. “Hold still.”

  Mac looked forward and rested his chin on his folded arms. Dink was behind him, close enough that Mac felt the warmth from his body and the brush of wiry hair where his thighs rubbed against Mac’s butt. Then Dink’s hands lifted his hips, pulling him up on his knees.

  The sense of vulnerability increased with his butt in the air, but he waited for Dink’s intimate touch with a growing sense of anticipation, yet no solid idea what to expect.

  When it came, even though he was ready, Mac’s body still jerked. “It’s okay,” Dink said. “This stuff is cold. I’m trying to warm it in my hands.” He ran his fingers along Mac’s tailbone, raising shivers across his spine. Then he used one hand to separate his butt cheeks. Mac felt the blush rising over his face and chest. It was as embarrassing as it was arousing to know Dink was looking at him so closely. Even more embarrassing to know that taut little muscle back there was flexing in unexpected anticipation as Dink got him ready.

  Warm fingers slowly traced the line from Mac’s perineum to his tailbone. The pressure against his sphincter was a surprise, the way he reacted, the number of nerves clamoring for more. He’d never realized how sensitive he was back there, but then he’d never had anyone pay this much attention to his ass.

  He closed his eyes. It was easier this way when he couldn’t see the rumpled sheets where he and Zianne had been lying just a short time ago. He didn’t want to think of Zianne. It somehow seemed unfair to Dink, and that was the last thing Mac wanted. If he was going to do this, he wanted it to be all about Dink.

  So why did it feel as if it were all about Mac?

  Dink’s fingers gently rubbed a surprisingly soothing pattern back and forth over that amazingly sensitive bundle of nerves guarding his ass. Mac’s balls ached, his cock felt like a steel rod slapping against his belly, and he fought his body’s need to press against Dink’s teasing touch and force him through that sensitive ring.

  Obviously, Dink didn’t need his help. Mac grunted. He hadn’t planned to, b
ut the thick finger pressed close and passed through so fast it caught him by surprise. Dink paused. “Push out,” he said. “Don’t fight me. I don’t want this to hurt you, bud.” He added another finger, and then a third, but he did it so slowly and carefully, Mac’s body adjusted just fine. There was no real pain, not even the sharp burn he’d felt earlier from just one finger.

  This time there were three. Crap. Dink’s cock was still bigger than three fingers, but he slipped his fingers out of Mac so fast, replaced them with the head of his cock so smoothly, that he’d pressed forward and was through before Mac had time to panic, or worse, tighten up.

  This time Mac didn’t just groan. He moaned, a long, deep moan of absolute pleasure. There was pain, but it felt right, and he spread his knees and tilted his hips to give Dink a straighter shot. Damn, but he’d never felt stuffed so full of anything in his life, and still Dink pressed forward.

  Mac’s breath was stuttering in and out of his chest and Dink was groaning and cursing, a soft litany of sound that turned Mac on even more. After what felt like forever, Dink clasped Mac’s hips in both hands and leaned close, so close that his breath tickled the back of Mac’s neck.

  “You okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

  Mac didn’t trust himself to speak. He shook his head.

  “You’re sure? Because I can’t hold on, Mac. I need to move. This is killing me, going so slow.”

  Mac chuckled. Took a deep, controlling breath. “Well,” he gasped, “don’t let me be the one to stop you.”

  “Fuck you, Dugan.” Laughing, Dink pulled back, and the sensation of that long, thick cock drawing almost entirely out of his ass had Mac clutching the blankets in front of him and holding on for dear life.

  Then Dink slammed back in, sliding smoothly deep inside Mac. Slipping even farther than he’d gone before, pressing harder. Mac grunted and locked his knees to hold his position on the bed. Dink picked up the pace, driving deep, pulling out, going deep again with a pounding, driving rhythm that had Mac cursing in time with each thrust.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck ...” Gritting his teeth, waiting for pain and experiencing nothing but pleasure, Mac took everything Dink had to give. Took it and reveled in the sense of connection, the purely sexual experience of getting fucked by a guy he knew almost as well as he knew himself.

  Almost. Until now, Mac had never allowed himself to know this side of Dink’s life. Now, with Dink taking control, with Dink fucking him to within an inch of his life, Mac saw a new, more powerful side to his friend. Felt a new sense of connection with someone he would never again see in the same way.

  It was amazing, surprising, unbelievably satisfying.

  “I can’t hold on, Mac. I can’t ...” Dink cried out. At the same time, he shoved Mac down on the mattress, pumping his hips forward in short, sharp jerks and then thrusting hard and deep.

  Mac pressed back against Dink’s rigid body and tightened his muscles around the thick, pulsing length filling him. He’d never felt so full, so connected to another man. Hadn’t imagined what it would feel like as the recipient of another man’s seed.

  This was Dink—his oldest, closest friend, sharing something Mac had denied both of them for whatever reason. He couldn’t remember now why he’d always told Dink no. Sex with Dink was unlike anything he could have dreamed. Better, stronger, more powerful—an orgasm that seemed to last forever.

  And ended all too quickly. Long moments later, Mac became aware of the stickiness beneath his belly. He’d come at the same time as Dink. Shit. He hadn’t expected he’d come, not taking the bottom like this, but the friction of his erect cock rubbing back and forth across the bedding, the amazing sensation of Dink plowing into his ass like they’d done this for years ...

  He let out a huge gust of air. Dink had collapsed across his back, and his chest heaved with each breath. Mac lay there, cocooned in Dink’s warmth, sticky with his own release and knowing there’d be more when Dink finally pulled free, but he’d never experienced feelings like this after sex with a woman.

  Was this how Zianne felt when he came inside her?

  Like a vessel. He felt as if he held something precious that belonged to his friend. Mac almost laughed. Who’d have thought he’d be lying here after sex with Dink, analyzing it?

  Didn’t women do that? Mac rarely thought about sex. No, he usually just enjoyed it, but what he’d shared with Dink had been special. Unbelievably so. Suddenly it didn’t seem important that this be a one-shot deal.

  No, they’d definitely do this again.

  He had no doubt Dink would want to, but he’d probably be afraid to ask. Typical of his buddy. Not so typical were the tears Mac felt against his shoulder. Dink’s tears. Mac hoped they were from happiness. From the same sense of satisfaction Mac was feeling.

  He reached over his shoulder, grabbed Dink’s shoulder, and gave him a squeeze. “Bud? You okay?”

  Dink sniffed. “Yeah. That was amazing, but what about you? I’m sorry, Mac, if I hurt you. I ...”

  Hurt me? Who’s he kidding? Mac lost it. Laughter bubbled up and out of him, laughter neither he nor Dink expected. He laughed even more when he realized Dink was hard again.

  Then neither one of them was laughing at all. No, they were back into that amazing rhythm, that unexpected sharing, fucking like they’d done this forever.

  7

  Mac rolled over, startled the moment he realized Dink was the one snuggled up against his back. Then the last few hours came surging back into his mind, and he relaxed.

  Who’d have thought?

  The first rays of early morning sunlight cast pale shadows against the walls. His body still thrummed with arousal, but his heart was the organ that appeared to have been affected most deeply. He loved Dink the way he’d always loved him, but it was somehow more. He’d expected to feel guilt, but there was none. No sense of dismay or discomfort over what they’d shared during the long night. It was what it was.

  He loved Nils Dinkemann. Period. Maybe not in the romantic way Dink wanted, but this was still good. Damned good. Sighing, Mac rolled back to his left side. Violet eyes stared into his.

  “Shit! Zianne? How the hell ... ?”

  She smiled innocently and snuggled close against his chest, sandwiching him between Dink’s masculine warmth and her own feminine softness. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Her soft, sexy whisper teased all Mac’s nerve endings, and he was suddenly, inexplicably, aroused. Again. Dink’s body pressed a bit closer behind him, and Zianne’s fingers found his cock. Somewhere, deep in the sane recesses of his mind, Mac wondered if this was just some perverted fantasy, but Zianne was stroking his cock and Dink was coming to life behind him.

  “I’m awake.” He almost choked on his response to Zianne.

  Dink’s lips traced a pattern across his upper spine. “Good,” he said. “Damn, Mac. How can I still be horny?”

  “You’re not. You’re dreaming.” Mac’s brain sort of fizzled and short-circuited as Zianne’s sweet honey and vanilla scent overwhelmed the masculine stink of semen and sweat. Dink’s fingers slipped along the crease in his ass. Without thinking, Mac rolled his hips back to meet his buddy’s touch.

  Then Zianne’s fingers tightened around his cock and he whimpered. Hell, did she even realize Dink was in bed with them? Did Dink know Zianne was here? Had anyone even opened their fucking eyes to figure out what was going on? Mac rolled over on his back with one hand on Zianne, the other on Dink. “Hold it. Both of you. Dink. Are you aware that Zianne is in bed with us? That she’s playing with my cock? Zianne? Do you have any idea what Dink’s planning right now?”

  Zianne popped up on one elbow and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Good morning, Dink. How are you feeling?”

  Dink leaned across Mac’s supine body and planted a big kiss on Zianne’s full lips. “G’morning. Much better, thank you. I have no idea what you did to me last night, but it worked. I feel wonderful.” Then he turned and smiled at Mac. “Good morning to yo
u, too.” He leaned over and planted a kiss full on Mac’s mouth. “I know exactly what you did to me. Wanna do it again?”

  Caught in what had to be the most surrealistic experience of his life, Mac kissed him back. “Shit! What the hell am I doing?” He shoved Dink away and sat up. “Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” He glared at Zianne and then at Dink, but the two of them just looked at Mac as if he were totally insane.

  Maybe he was. How else could he explain the erection that was so far beyond morning wood that his mind found it difficult to contain his need? He wanted Zianne. He wanted Dink just as badly, just as powerfully, but he couldn’t want both. Could he? A guy was either gay or straight—right?

  Try telling that to his cock.

  What the fuck was going on? Dink on one side, Zianne on the other, both of them grinning at him like he was a damned fool when he was obviously the only sane one here.

  Mac consciously struggled to bring his pounding heart under control, slowed his frantic breathing, and sighed. Feeling as if the world as he knew it was crumbling around him, he took Dink’s hand in his right and Zianne’s in his left, anchoring himself between the two people he loved most.

  Except he was furious with Zianne, right? He glanced at her, at those beautiful violet eyes, and crumbled. “What’s happening? You. Both of you. Me. I don’t get it.”

  “What’s there to get, Mac?” Zianne scooted up against the headboard and touched his chin with her fingertips, forcing Mac to look at her. “We both love you. You love both of us.”

  He stared into those violet eyes, and the questions in his mind forced their way to the front. “I don’t know you,” he whispered. “How can I possibly love you?”

  “How can you not?”

  She was so damned sure of herself as she leaned close and kissed him. Her lips were soft and warm, her taste so sweet he groaned against her mouth. How could he not love her? She’d appeared in his life when he needed her most. While Dink had always been there for him, Zianne had come when he called.