by E M Lindsey
As Max nodded yes, as the word fell from his lips, the room lit up with a flash of lightning, the thunder quick to follow. Collin took that moment to press their lips together, swallowing Max’s groan, his hands reaching for his hips to pull him even closer. Beyond the door, Spencer whimpered, and Collin forced himself not to move, to keep Max pinned there as their lips danced, his tongue teasing Max’s until the younger man was gasping into his mouth.
“Shit, fuck,” Max breathed out when Collin relinquished his grasp. “That was…”
Another crack of thunder rattled the windows and, for as brave as Max was, he winced and buried his face in the front of Collin’s shirt. “It’s all right. I have a lightning rod and plenty of protection for us.” It was mostly a truth. There was no way to guarantee safety for any of them, but nature was who she was and Collin had learned that lesson quite young.
“Should we,” Max said, his eyes darting down toward the door handle. “I mean, he’s freaking out by himself.”
Collin sighed, reaching up to cup the side of Max’s face, letting his calloused thumb catch on his five o’clock shadow. “He’ll be all right. He’s stronger than you give him credit for.”
When Max scoffed, Collin pressed in tighter, letting his throbbing erection brush up against Max’s. He felt a stirring of gratification at the way Max quickly shut up, the way his cheeks pinked, and his hands grasped the front of Collin’s shirt like he needed something to ground him. It was heady, this kind of power, and Collin knew he could quickly get addicted if he wasn’t careful.
But these men were not his, and he would do well to remember it. One night was nothing—meaningless. It was scratching an itch, it was taking comfort where it was given. Spencer and Max—together, they could make something good. Together, they could fill empty spaces, and they didn’t need Collin for that. He was old, lonely, washed up, and had no idea what he wanted for his future.
He knew, at some point, Spencer would join them. Spencer would walk in, gorgeous and terrified, but braver than he really wanted to believe about himself. And Max would see it. Max would see it, and it would soothe the ache the fool who spurned him had left behind. And they would create something Collin would always be grateful to have seen, even if it gutted him to walk away from it.
For now, though, he could have this. For now, Max wanted him, and he knew Spencer did too.
A parting gift, he thought. And maybe it was a Trojan Horse, but perhaps he deserved being burnt to ash and forgotten. God only knew he hadn’t done right by anyone in his life before this.
“Let’s take this to the bed,” he murmured before he could talk himself out of it.
Max’s eyes were trained on him, dark and heavy, and he nodded before reaching down to take Collin’s hand in a surprisingly sweet gesture. Their fingers tangled, and Collin ignored how right it felt in favor of dragging Max over the hard floors and gripping him by his hips to ease him down onto the duvet.
The bed was cold, and Max hissed as the comforter pressed into his overheated skin. Collin quickly hovered over him, letting their cocks brush together again, turning the hiss into a groan. “Max,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Max blinked up at him, looking a little punch-drunk and overwhelmed. “I like the way you say my name. Like…there’s not really an accent, but it’s still different.”
Collin laughed. “Is that so?”
Max shrugged. “British accents are sexy.”
Collin snorted, burying his face in Max’s neck, and he bit him lightly under the ear, making him buck his hips up, seeking more friction. Collin didn’t give in just yet, using his right hand to still the movement, pressing him into the mattress. “You should hear my cousin from Manchester. You might change your mind.”
Max gave him a long look, then reached up and thumbed his lower lip. “Well, I like yours.”
Collin cocked his head to the side, then gave in to the urge to kiss him again. It was slower this time, less desperate. The thunder was softer, the wind calming, but Collin knew it was far from the end. The calm before the storm wasn’t just a saying—he’d been in the worst of nature and he knew the destruction it could bring.
Max was groaning under him, getting harder, more frantic, and Collin decided to give him a little relief. His hand trailed down the center of Max’s chest, dragging through the short hair over his belly, then over the front of his pants where he strained against the thin seam. He kneaded him gently with the heel of his palm, using his tongue to swallow Max’s soft noises.
“Please,” Max begged, pushing himself against Collin’s hand. “Collin…please.”
“You want this? You want me to touch you?” Collin asked.
Max’s head pressed back into the duvet, his mouth curving over the word fuck, his eyes a little wild. “Don’t make me beg. I can’t right now. I need…”
Collin understood—more than anything he understood what it took to cross that line after the one thing he thought was sure was over. He knew the heartache, even if they weren’t in love anymore, because being shown that you weren’t enough was some of the worst pain a man could live through.
His fingers were a little stiff from the cold, from age, but he still managed to work his way beneath the waistband. Max’s dick was gorgeous—and Collin didn’t use that term to describe cock much, but there wasn’t another word for it. Thick, not long, but beautifully cut and throbbing. The pink head dribbled precum in a sticky stream, and Collin couldn’t stop himself from leaning down to lap at the slit.
“Yes?” he asked again before making contact with his mouth. “Max, please, tell me if I can…”
“You can, fuck, you can,” Max gasped. His hand flew up, wrapping around the back of Collin’s head, and he tugged. “I need it. God please just…I need it.”
Collin wasted no more time, opening his mouth, letting Max’s weeping dick slide over his tongue and toward the back of his throat. It had been too long since he’d done this, too long since he’d tasted the heavy musk of a person he truly wanted, and he lost himself in the rhythm of sinking down, pulling back, of drawing out those near-hysterical, punched out little noises of begging and pleading. Max’s hand spasmed against the back of his head, fingernails digging into his skin—leaving marks and, God, Collin wanted those marks.
He shifted his position so he could work Max’s dick, freeing his hand to draw his balls out and let them rest on his palm. He toyed with them gently, feeling the heavy weight, feeling them tighten, ready to shoot their load into his mouth. Or, hell, maybe he’d take it on his face. Maybe he’d pull back at the last second, stroking Max to completion and let him paint Collin’s lips and cheeks with his cum.
Collin groaned as his hand moved lower, past Max’s balls, using his thumb to put the smallest pressure on his taint. He wanted more than that—he wanted to go deeper, to slick his fingers and sink them inside of Max’s hole, but there would be time for that later. Right now, Max needed this. He needed to surrender, to let go, to allow himself to believe once again that he was worthy of being wanted.
“Shit. I’m…I’m so close. I’m going to…”
Collin pushed to his knees, using them to wrench Max’s legs apart as he knelt between his thighs, and he sucked harder, took him deeper. His eyes shut, but he could feel Max writhing against the sheets, could feel the stuttered thrusts against his face, could hear the begging whimpers.
“I’m coming, shit, I’m…” Max said.
Thunder crashed.
The lights flickered on for a second, then went out again.
Max howled, shoving his dick down Collin’s throat, choking him with cum as the door flew open, and Spencer stepped in.
Chapter 17
Spencer comes to bed
A crash of lightning lit up the room, even through the storm shutters, just enough that Spencer got an eyeful of what was going on. He’d hoped Max and Collin hadn’t seen him, but lightning struck again, closer this time and Spencer let out an undignified yelp
. If they hadn’t seen him, they’d heard him.
Having walked in on Max getting his dick sucked, there was only one thing Spencer could do. He flailed, grasping the doorknob, and pulled the door shut, hurried back to the living room, and buried himself in his blanket nest.
He hadn’t wanted to be alone and he’d hoped, foolishly, that they would’ve tried to coax him to share the bed, or maybe they might’ve curled up in his blanket nest with him. It proved what Spencer had known. He wasn’t wanted. And why would he be? Honestly. He was a high-strung chickenshit whose privilege afforded him luxuries like surrounding himself with cats. Cats didn’t reject him. Spencer missed his cats.
Something tugged at Spencer’s blanket and then he heard Max’s voice as the blanket was peeled away exposing Spencer’s face.
“Hey. You okay?”
Spencer’s body still shook. Either from terror, humiliation, or… arousal. He hadn’t seen much. But he’d seen enough. Max’s hips arching up, shoving his cock further down Collin’s throat. And the sounds they’d made were seared into his brain. It had almost been enough to distract him from the storm.
“Sweetheart, come on, I need you to look at me, okay?” Max kept his voice quiet and soothing. Maybe if Spencer listened to him, Max would go away and he could be humiliated in peace.
He turned his head, and even in the dim light, he could see Max’s smile. Max reached for him. He cupped Spencer’s cheek and brushed a tear away. “Hey. You should’ve stayed.”
Spencer scoffed. “Thank you, no. Can you just… go?” He tried to pull away, but Max leaned in closer. His fingers slid around the back of Spencer’s head keeping him from moving away.
“Spencer, you should come to bed.”
“Why?” He was almost afraid to ask, but he couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. Maybe it had been a pity kiss. A distraction. Something to get him to snap out of his manic hysteria, but it had turned into something out of this world amazing. But what if it hadn’t been just a distraction? Had Max wanted to kiss him? He couldn’t imagine that Max was attracted to him. He was nothing like Collin.
“Calm down, sweetheart.” Max leaned in, he brushed his lips against Spencer’s.
The storm outside was suddenly nothing compared to the tumult going on inside of Spencer. “Isn’t there an etiquette rule about kissing someone, and then getting your dick sucked by someone else, and then kissing the first guy again?” Spencer felt himself start to babble, which he hated. He wanted Max to kiss him again, just to shut him up, but Max looked at him with a mixture of shock and amusement.
“Have you convinced him to come to bed?” A deep voice rang out from the doorway and Spencer’s gaze shot over to Collin. He couldn’t see much but the outline of his broad body, but that was enough to have Spencer’s blood thrumming in his ears.
“I’m not sure we should move him. He seems spooked. Plus, it’s warmer in here.” Max wound an arm around Spencer and yanked him into his lap. Then Collin was there, carefully removing the blanket Spencer had wound around himself.
“What’s going on?” Spencer asked as Collin settled in next to him and Max.
Collin leaned close. He smelled like rain and fresh air, and something warm and spicy.
“I honestly don’t know myself,” Collin answered. His fingers tickled up the side of Spencer’s neck, then he turned Spencer’s face toward him. “But it’s my turn.”
Collin kissed him then, soft, but insistent. Spencer didn’t have the first clue what was going on, but there were suddenly hands everywhere. Max’s slid under Spencer’s shirt. No one had touched Spencer with affection before, not like this. His past hookups had been awkward and stilted. Some had barely been kind. Max and Collin more than made up for any past disappointments.
Spencer pulled back, feeling a little dazed. He took a breath and tried to think through the haze of lust. Max’s hands roamed up Spencer’s back, then down and they dipped into the top of the loose sweats he wore. “Am I dreaming?” Spencer asked.
The question hung in the air and the silence was broken by the distinct sound of a goat.
Spencer turned and there was Robert, standing on the coffee table, his one eye turned toward the trio. His little tail twitched and Collin laughed.
“Looks like someone’s jealous.”
“Can we ignore the goat?” Max pleaded. To sway Spencer, Max ground their cocks together. Despite Max having just come down Collin’s throat, he was hard again. Spencer leaned forward, resting his forehead on Max’s shoulder.
He didn’t think he was wanted. Collin and Max looked good together, and in bed they looked even better. So, what were they doing out here with him? Collin moved closer and kissed the back of Spencer’s neck. He was solid and warm against Spencer’s back.
“Come to bed with us, darling.” Collin’s lips traced the shell of Spencer’s ear and he shivered. “I told you, the bed is big enough for everyone.”
Spencer nodded. God help him, he fucking agreed to whatever batshit crazy thing Collin and Max had decided he should be a part of. He’d have to be crazy to say no to either of them separately. Collin with his bushman vibes and his English accent, and Max with his jagged edges and his sad eyes. Spencer didn’t stand a chance.
Collin tugged Spencer off Max’s lap and the three of them made their way down the narrow hallway together. Collin kept his hold on Spencer’s hand and Max had decided to take up the rear. Max shut the bedroom door, much to the dismay of Robert, who let out a sad bleat.
“He’s fine. A bit dramatic is all.” Collin assured him, much to Max’s amusement.
“Dramatic.” Max slid in behind Spencer, wrapping his arms around him, his hands roaming under Spencer’s shirt again. “Sounds like someone else we know.”
Usually, Spencer hated being called dramatic, but Max said it with affection, not malice, and it was hard to mind anything when warm, strong hands were touching him. Collin still had a hold of Spencer’s hand and he wished there was power, not only because being trapped in a mountain cabin in the middle of a massive storm had him antsy, but also because he wanted to see more than shadows. He wanted to see Collin’s expression when he did that sexy growl and moved closer to Spencer. He pressed against Spencer’s front and before he could think too much about the thunder that shook the storm shutters or the rain that deafened them on the tin roof, Spencer wrapped his arms around Collin’s neck and kissed him.
Kissing Collin was fucking amazing, Spencer decided. He’d never had a kiss light his whole body up before. Spencer made an undignified whimpering sound as Collin’s arms wrapped around him, yanking their bodies close together.
Not one to be left out, Max kissed Spencer’s neck. His hands moved lower to the top of the sweats, then they slid down Spencer’s legs and Max helped him kick them off his ankles. Collin stopped kissing him long enough to grab the hem of Spencer’s shirt and pull it off him.
Max seized the opening and turned Spencer’s head. Spencer was so fucked. These men were going to ruin him, if they hadn’t already. No one would measure up to this. There wasn’t anyone who could make him feel the way Max and Collin did. He’d never been kissed so much in one night and he found the lack of oxygen dizzying. He swayed in their arms and Collin chuckled.
“It’s warmer in bed, I promise,” Collin urged Spencer to lie in the center of the bed and he watched him and Max share a look. A million different scenarios had played out in his mind when he’d booked this trip, but he had to admit that even his over-active imagination hadn’t thought of having a threesome with his guide and another hiker.
“I think,” Max said, kissing his way down Spencer’s naked torso. He was glad the lights were out, because he wasn’t exactly a gym sort of guy. The only exercise he got was at the shelter. He was so average it bordered on painful, but Max couldn’t tell all that in the dark. In the dark, pressed between these two men, despite the storm raging outside, Spencer felt safe. He never imagined that, either.
Max’s tongue flicked over
Spencer’s nipple. “I think you think too much,” Max chided.
Spencer’s laugh was breathy and light. “Busted.”
Max caressed Spencer’s nipple with his tongue, then moved to the other one. When his lips found the silver barbell, Max flicked it with his tongue, then laughed. “Our sweetheart has a piercing.” Judging by the way Max went back to licking Spencer’s nipple, he obviously approved. “Why just one?” Max went back to the other nipple and grazed it with his teeth. Spencer jolted, just now noticing Collin’s large hand skating up his thigh, achingly close to Spencer’s cock.
“It hurt. Like, a lot.”
Collin’s hand, hot and huge, wrapped around Spencer’s cock and he suddenly didn’t care about the burst of humiliation he felt when he’d admitted to chickening out after getting one nipple pierced.
“It’s sexy.” Collin’s voice was husky. “You’re sexy.”
“Me and my one nipple piercing.”
Collin kissed the edge of Spencer’s mouth. “You’re braver than you give yourself credit for, my darling.”
Max kissed Spencer’s belly button, cutting off any argument he’d been about to have with Collin. He didn’t care about anything anymore that wasn’t Max’s mouth or Collin’s hands. He wanted them to take him into ecstasy and oblivion.
Spencer got his wish, his mind going completely, blissfully blank as Collin slanted their mouths together and a set of warm, wet lips, closed around Spencer’s cock. Collin’s hand moved lower, cupping Spencer’s balls. He shook, already so close to the edge. This was hotter than anything he’d ever experienced and he was glad Collin was still kissing him or he was sure a string of embarrassing things would pour out of his mouth.
Spencer ran his hand down Collin’s body. He followed the light dusting of hair down Collin’s stomach and tentatively he reached for Collin’s cock. Collin urged him on, bucking his hips, thrusting into Spencer’s hand.
