by Kari Gregg
Mitch's bones melted at just the idea of bending him over, pounding his cock deep inside him.
Instead, he waited.
Waited for Sam to take the first important step.
"I don't want you to fuck me, okay?" he muttered under his breath, his gaze dancing away. "I just want to see if I'm comfortable with . . . with . . . ." Mitch smothered a laugh. "Come here." When Sam shifted on his feet, Mitch dragged him against his body, folded his arms around him. Sam stiffened, but Mitch was a lot stronger. The younger man could have broken free if he'd genuinely wanted to, but Sam didn't want to break away any more than Mitch wanted him to leave. So he held him, enjoyed his panicky shiver, and instead grabbed his hand, spreading his fingers against his chest. They curled into talons, but only for a moment. He stretched them wide when Mitch guided his hand over his skin. Sam's fingers burrowed into his chest hair.
Pleasure rumbled in Mitch's throat.
Sam jerked, but with Mitch's arms around him, he had nowhere to go.
"I like that," Mitch said, releasing Sam's hand. "Keep doing it." Sam's eyes narrowed on Mitch's then focused on his chest. Studied it. Like Mitch's body was a complex formula he needed to solve. Sam slid his palm over the hard muscle, his brow furrowing as he tested his own body's response to the sensation, then repeated it. He squeezed his fingers together, plucked at the thick mat of short, springy curls.
Need streaked to Mitch's balls.
"You have more chest hair than I do," Sam said, concentrating to the point of enraptured fascination on Mitch's chest. "A lot more."
"I'm a hairy bastard," Mitch agreed, humming in low pleasure when Sam's caress widened, following the curve of his pecs. "Your dick is longer than mine." Sam choked out a laugh. " Mine isn't out of bounds. Feel free to touch it whenever you like."
Sam was joking, but Mitch took him at his word. He slipped his hand between their bodies and rubbed at the ridge of Sam's s stiff cock through his jeans. Sam moaned, his fingers digging into Mitch's chest. "That's for Liv." Mitch shook his head. "That's for whoever I say it's for." He stroked the hard length of him, learned Sam's shape with his fingers. Sam shifted closer, his hot breath fanning Mitch's throat as he panted.
"If you won't kiss my mouth, kiss my neck," Mitch told him, rubbing his dick up and down.
Sam angled his head in. "You haven't shaved. Your stubble—" Mitch squeezed his dick through the denim, squeezed hard enough to wring a whimper from Sam's throat. "Suck on my neck. Now."
Sam obediently opened his mouth over Mitch's neck and licked at him so Mitch released his cock. Sam shuddered in relief, relief coupled with fierce excitement unless Mitch's guess was wrong.
Sam, Mitch had begun to surmise, instinctively fought to assert his control when it came to sex. Being in charge was as natural to him as breathing or taking a piss. Mitch had watched him dominate Liv, beautifully, and he'd tried to exert that same control over Mitch just a few minutes ago.
Mitch didn't mind. He preferred to top, but he enjoyed bottoming for his lovers, too.
But deep down, this morning, Sam wanted and needed someone strong enough to control and dominate him.
Mitch was that man.
He reached for Sam's zipper.
Sam went wild. He sucked Mitch's stubbled skin into his mouth, laved it with his tongue, skimmed his mouth up the column of Mitch's throat to nibble at his earlobe. The younger man panted so hard, the hot wash of his breath dizzied Mitch. It resounded like thunder.
Mitch wrapped his hand around Sam's cock and tugged him out of his jeans. Sam groaned, his hand descending until his palm brushed Mitch's nipple. He paused, rubbed, then pinched it.
Mitch pumped his cock. Once. "You don't want me to fuck you, Sammy?" Sam shuddered, nipped at the tender patch of skin below Mitch's ear. "Oh God," Sam said.
"Because I think you do." Mitch stroked Sam's dick. "I think you want me to fuck your ass. Almost as badly as you want to hammer your dick into mine."
"Sweet Jesus. Oh dear God." Sam's body shook. His mouth traced the line of Mitch's unshaven jaw. "Please."
Mitch ignored the plea.
Just as he paid no mind to the begging that followed. He single-mindedly pumped Sam's cock, over and over and over again. "Does it feel good, Sammy?" he crooned, picking up the pace. "Tighter? Do you want it tighter—?" The feral moan that ground past Sam's lips when Mitch fisted his hand over the man's rigid cock set fires to light in Mitch's body. "Look at me, Sam. Look at me," he repeated when Sam's chin lifted, but his blue eyes struggled to focus. "Open your mouth for me."
The younger man gasped, his fingers digging into Mitch's chest. On the brink of orgasm.
Sam would come.
He'd come hard.
But not yet.
He hadn't learned yet.
Mitch slowed, toyed with him.
Sam thrust frantically into Mitch's palm, desperate to come, but Mitch wouldn't let him. "Give me what I want, Sammy," he murmured, bending his mouth to his, "and I'll give you what you want. Open your mouth for me."
"Oh my—"
Mitch slanted his mouth over Sam's.
Slid his tongue inside.
Tore his lips away so Sam only had a flirting taste of him.
Mitch's hand halted.
He squeezed.
Released.
Squeezed again.
"Jesus! Please," Sam whimpered against his mouth. "I'll do whatever you want, give you anything you want. Please."
"Kiss me, Sammy." He brushed his lips back and forth. "If you want to come, all you have to do is kiss me."
Sam's hands tore into Mitch's hair on either side of his head. His mouth fastened to Mitch's. His tongue speared inside.
And his hips bucked wildly into Mitch's palm.
Holy shit, the boy was as hot as a fucking volcano. Mitch twined his tongue with Sam's. His mated and danced, explored Mitch's mouth with wicked, feral abandon. Mitch's body shook.
But he was a man of his word.
He finished Sam off with three rapid strokes.
Sam shuddered violently, his body curling into Mitch's at the force of his orgasm. He groaned into Mitch's mouth. Sam spurted hot and wet over Mitch's thighs. Mitch ate at Sam's gasping, groaning mouth, and held onto him when the younger man staggered, then moaned himself when Sam helplessly thrust his cock into Mitch's pelvis, grinding into Mitch's already hard and throbbing dick. Mitch tore his mouth free to suck in air, chest heaving, fighting the urge to come along with Sam. Not yet.
Sam still had more to learn.
So Mitch held him, petted him, soothed him. Eased Sam back from the shattering release.
By the time Sam realized it was another guy whose mouth played over his, licked and sucked at his lips, Sam no longer cared. He angled his jaw, his mouth widening to take Mitch's darting tongue deeper. When Mitch only teased him with it, Sam stared up at him with eyes that glittered. "Kiss me?" Mitch smiled. "You only had to ask."
He settled his mouth over Sam's. Mitch felt the hard thump of Sam's heart against the wall of his chest, beating in chaotic time with his. He loved the tentative slide of Sam's fingers in his hair, the softening yield of the man's body molding to him. Sam's shivery sigh when Mitch cupped and stroked his ass through his sturdy blue jeans.
Sam's mouth slipped away. "I guess the question about whether or not I can respond to a man is settled."
Mitch shook his head. "The experiment isn't over yet." He brushed a lock of honeyed hair from Sam's temple. "You need to clean me up." Sam glanced down their intimately intertwined bodies. Hot embarrassment colored his cheeks.
His cum had smeared low on Mitch's belly, into his groin. His pubic hair. Across the length of his rock-hard dick.
Sam darted a glance to Mitch. "Can I . . . ?" He swallowed. "Can I touch you now?"
Mitch grinned.
Sammy learned fast.
"With your mouth," he said, then pushed Sam to his knees. "You can touch me with your mouth."
Chapter Fourteen
>
Mitch widened his legs to give Sam room to kneel between them and sucked in a sharp breath when Sam's blond head lowered. His tongue flitted out to taste Mitch's stomach first. He licked at the gluey semen that had smeared into the hair arrowing down to his dick. Mitch threw his head back and let the awesome sensations take him. Sammy.
Between his legs.
His mouth skimming Mitch's belly, skating along his hip to lick the sticky cum free.
The only thing that would've been better than Sam's tentative, exploring mouth was Sam on all fours on the kitchen floor, shaking in giddy, terrified anticipation of his first fucking.
But Sam wasn't ready for that and Mitch's control was a tenuous thing. In fact, if Sam didn't stop playing and start sucking, pronto, Mitch would squirt and spurt in his face, to hell with Sam's virginal sensibilities. So he threaded his fingers into Sam's hair and urged his head to Mitch's cock. Sam's hot breath fanning the head of his dick made Mitch's belly quiver. "Lick me," he said.
Sam bent his head and licked.
One long, sensuous lick from the base to the rounded tip, his tongue swirling along the head to sample and taste.
The muscle of Mitch's forearms corded.
Sam swallowed Mitch's dick whole.
Mitch threw his head back. He bit out a harsh groan, pleasure crashing through him when Sam's lips engulfed him—so awesome, so crushing, it wiped his mind blank. He thrust into Sam's mouth and forced his head down, trying to fuck his way deeper. Sam coughed around his dick.
Coughed and gagged.
Mitch shook his head, tried to shake some sense into it.
His throat.
Mitch must've worked his cock to the back of his throat.
That was bad.
As one whose throat had been fucked on occasion, Mitch knew exactly how it felt—uncomfortable, disorienting, unpleasant. Yeah, he'd submitted to it. Every once in awhile, Mitch had wanted the feel of a long, hard dick shooting in his gullet, spurting semen that he'd never taste into his belly. But he'd only allowed it under the strictest circumstances, when his partner had the tightest reign on control. Gagging to the point of vomiting wasn't fun.
But God, Sam's mouth felt good.
He closed his eyes and began slowly pumping his dick past Sam's gasping lips.
"Stop, Mitch. Wait."
His eyes snapped open.
Livvy.
Draped in a towel and dripping from the shower he hadn't heard running. Standing in the door of the kitchen.
And frowning at Sam's blond head bobbing between Mitch's legs, sucking him off.
Mitch's eyes narrowed.
Too damn bad.
Sam wanted him, and Mitch sure as shit wanted Sam. Mitch would come in Sam's mouth whether Liv liked it or not.
Sam stiffened at Liv's voice, but Mitch fisted his hands in Sam's honey-blond hair, holding him still for the steady, grinding pump of his cock past his lips.
"I want him," Mitch said.
"Yes, I can see that." Liv stepped into the kitchen, dropping to her knees beside Sammy. She settled a light hand at Sam's biceps, eyebrows arching when he flinched away from her, his lips stretching to slide back and forth over Mitch's dick. "Damn it, Mitch, stop. You'll make him throw up."
Goddamned woman.
Sam grunted around Mitch's invading cock.
Irritated, riding too close to the edge of orgasm, Mitch jerked Sam's head up. The younger man gasped, sucking in air and coughing around the head of his cock. Mitch felt bad about that. Honestly, he did, but the urge to come had coiled tight in his balls.
"Fine. Show him," he said through clenched teeth. "But I want him to finish me off." She glared at him. "Let him go."
As soon as Mitch released him, Sam jerked his head back. "Jesus," he said, his voice low and husky.
A perverse pride tickled Mitch's spine, made his already too-hard cock jerk. He'd fucked him hoarse. Fucked the pretty boy's throat raw.
"Can we have some privacy? Is that too much to ask?" Sam bitched, his cheeks flushed.
Mitch laughed.
Embarrassed.
Sammy was embarrassed that Liv had found him with his face in Mitch's crotch.
"Oh, shut up," Liv said, her eyes shooting daggers at Mitch, but when she looked at Sammy, she smiled, her hand on his shoulder soothing. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Sam. It's a learned skill, not something you automatically know. You just need to wrap your hand around the base so he can't jam it all the way into your mouth. Mitch is a greedy asshole when it comes to blowjobs. He'll fuck your tonsils if you let him." Mitch's amusement vanished. He scowled. "I'm standing right here."
"Like this?"
Mitch's eyes crossed.
Sam's big hand wrapping around his dick was that good.
"Squeeze tighter."
Mitch's breath wheezed from his chest. "Oh, Christ."
Sam narrowed his eyes, gave Mitch's cock a quick, hard stroke.
Need bowed his spine, set Mitch's legs to shaking.
"Reach behind him to play with his balls. He loves that." Oh God.
He'd beg.
In a minute, he—rather than Sammy—would be the one begging. "Shit," he said through clenched teeth. "Hurry this up, babe."
Liv bent over Mitch, her dark hair whispering over Sam's broad shoulders, and the sight of them together, bent over his cock, Liv tutoring Sam on how best to suck him, nearly undid him. "I mean it, Liv. I'm going to come." His toes curled into the linoleum when Sam's hot mouth covered him, drew him in. He bucked his hips, but he couldn't force himself deeper, not anymore, but that was okay because Sam's tongue flicked over him, over and around him, setting him on fire.
"That's it, Sam. Control his thrusts. Give him a little extra on the tip—" Mitch's world splintered.
A raw groan tore from his throat as he stiffened, his dick growing impossibly harder, impossibly thicker. Sam's tongue licked . . . .
Mitch shot into that eager mouth.
He slid down the cabinet, his mind melting, his body boneless under the onslaught of Sammy's voracious mouth. Sam followed him down, ate at him. Sam swallowed his semen in merciless gulps, then nestled between Mitch's jellied legs to suck and kiss his dick some more.
Mitch blew out harsh, labored pants.
He slid his fingers through Sam's hair, petted him as the younger man finally let go of his softening cock to rest his clean-shaven cheek against Mitch's hairy thigh. Liv rubbed Sam's back, easy, comforting strokes. Her towel had fallen at some point—when, Mitch didn't know.
Sam reached to fondle the tit nearest him, pinching the nipple between his shaking fingers.
Liv chuckled, swatted his hand away. "Give yourself a few minutes to recover, hotshot," she said, then her nostrils flared. "Besides, I smell coffee." Sammy flashed an indulgent grin at Mitch. "It's Hazelnut. From Corner Cups on Frasier Avenue. Mitch hates it."
"Of course Mitch hates it. He hates anything that's civilized, but that's why we lo—like him so much." Stepping over them, she stretched for a mug, giving Mitch a mind-bending flash of her neatly trimmed snatch before she slid to the coffee pot to pour. She sniffed appreciatively and moaned at the first sip.
There was something seriously wrong in this kitchen, Mitch decided, if coffee was what made her moan.
There was also something seriously right in his kitchen because he was reasonably sure Liv had almost said she loved him.
Unfortunately, Mitch wasn't ready to shove Sam from the wide V of his legs just yet. His dick was a machine most mornings, yeah, but it'd take him at least ten, twenty minutes to get hard again. No backing her against the counter, ramming himself into her, then making her tell him whether she loved him or not.
Hell with it.
Let her moan over Sam's prissy coffee.
His cock felt too deliciously spent to work up a decent mad over anything as stupid as coffee. Especially since she hadn't screeched when she'd caught him shoving his dick in Sam's mouth and had been gracious enough to give Sammy p
ointers that had lit Mitch on fire.
And she'd almost said she loved him.
Mitch was so grateful that he sipped at the cruddy coffee she passed down to him before he handed the steaming mug to Sam.
"Thanks," the younger man said.
No. Thank you. Mitch grinned.
She joined them on the floor, draping her bare legs over Sam's blue-jeaned ass. She widened her thighs, reflexively, when Mitch groped for her pussy. He ran a finger over her clit.
"It didn't bother you?" he asked, but he was pretty sure it hadn't. She sipped her coffee, tilted her hips into Mitch's touch. "You wanted him and I could see that he made you feel so good . . . ." When she shrugged, her tit jiggled, catching Sam's interest again. He leaned over and sucked her nipple into his mouth.
"How could I object?" she said, threading her hands through Sam's honey-gold hair. Mitch dipped the tip of his finger into her cunt.
She must love him if she was willing to give Sammy to him.
"He's for both of us," Mitch said. "We'll share him." Sam murmured vague assent against her nipple.
Liv sighed. "Agreed."
* * * * *
Sam had to leave at five-thirty, just for a couple hours.
He had a date.
And Boy Scouts like Sammy did not stand up a date, even if he'd spent the past twenty-four hours banging his brains out. Nope. Civilized men like Sam drank specially blended coffee and raced to their apartments to scrub the sex smells off before taking the lady to dinner.
Mitch was willing to bet Sammy felt so guilty about the debauched sex he would spring for the over-priced French restaurant on Wabash. Or a place with an honest-toGod wine list. The poor sap. That made Mitch grin until he remembered that so far, his and Liv's dating experiences had revolved around a hasty lunch at a steakhouse last month, the debacle of a dinner at Artie's, the waffle hut last night, and an occasional delivered pizza. The fact that he and Liv hadn't been on a legitimate date was seriously starting to piss Mitch off.
So he brought up her almost-confessed feelings for him once Sam had shut the door behind him, swearing to be back as soon as he could.
Mitch held her in his arms, against his bare chest, the both of them naked—with Sam around, Mitch voted that they never wore clothes again—and cuddling on his sectional sofa. "So. You love me because I'm uncivilized."
