by Jo Raven
And… it’s not. If anything, his dick looks harder now than it had a moment ago. Hard and trembling, flushed and wet, curving against his taut stomach.
I swallow and force myself to look up, at his face.
He’s observing me but isn’t making any move to get closer. He hasn’t commented on what Candy said, either.
“If you guys don’t feel like it…” Candy shifts nervously, crosses her arms over her tits, her brown eyes tinged gold in the yellow light from the bedside lamp. “It’s fine.”
I love that about her, that she won’t insist, won’t make us feel bad. That she’s concerned about how we feel, how this could affect us.
But dammit, I want it so damn bad, and J is so hard his dick could drill through steel.
“Hey, man.” I gesture vaguely at him. “Wanna give it a try?”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he lifts a hand to the back of his neck. “Whatever. I’m secure in my sexuality.”
Yeah, sure. “Come here.”
“No, you come here.”
Like a pair of two-year-olds. But J is back in charge and a stupid grin splits my face, because this is familiar territory. Also, J hasn’t stormed off yet, so I consider this a win.
He glances down at my aching hard-on, and damn if his neck isn’t flushing, the red seeping into his face. It’s charming, and I’d be all over him already if I didn’t think he might still bolt.
Candy uncrosses her arms and puts a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Don’t you care for Jet?” And her other hand curls behind my neck. “Isn’t he a handsome boy?”
Time stops as we wait for his reaction. Joel isn’t meeting my gaze, his eyes half-closed, thick lashes casting dark crescent shadows on his cheekbones.
Then he draws a ragged breath and grabs my arm, yanking me to him. I’m too shocked to do anything but go along as our sides collide. I wince and turn away reflexively, but his arm locks around my neck, leaving me no room for escape.
I like that. I like that he’s manhandling me just enough to make me feel trapped. In a good way. Like a statement, a declaration of his need for me.
Joel would never do anything against my will, never force me into anything. I meant it when I said I trusted him. I only hope he can trust me, too.
Candy’s winding her arms around us now, and her bare tits are right there, so I can’t help but steal a glance. I snort when I notice Joel doing the same.
“You boys are so sexy,” she whispers, and it’s like a lock coming open with a loud click. I feel it in my chest, a warmth seeping everywhere, traveling down to my cock and I lean into him. He’s still holding me in place with his arm around me.
She wants us. She wants us with her. With each other. She’s okay with this—no, more than okay: she needs it.
And I need it, too. Fuck waiting, fuck hoping. We only live once, right? I’m about to grab his face and kiss his mouth, and to hell with it.
Then he glances up, hauls me forward until our chests bump together and crushes his lips to mine.
His mouth is hard, demanding, his tongue slipping between my teeth at the first gasp I give. He tastes of dark sugar, lust and desperation.
I wonder if I taste that way, too.
Holy shit, I’m kissing Joel. Or rather, he’s kissing me. I’m too stunned to do much else than pant and shove my hand in his hair, gripping tight as he sucks on my lips, on my tongue, licking my teeth, the roof of my mouth until I’m groaning and pressing my body to his.
I jolt when our hard, bare dicks brush together. The pleasure stabs me deep, and I finally start kissing him back, the realization of what’s happening seeping into my brain, into my body, shooting to my cock.
Not close enough. Not nearly close enough. Have to feel more of his bare skin brushing mine, to touch him all over, to put my mouth on his muscular chest, his dick, his balls.
He growls deep in his throat, and another urge grips me—to submit. To bend over, bare my neck for him to bite.
The world has narrowed down to the two of us, the feel of his chest, his cock, his mouth, this never-ending kiss that’s turning me inside out and lighting up all my nerve endings.
Rough. His steel arm digging in my back, his hand splayed against my ribs, his stubble burning my lips as we kiss, open-mouthed and panting and struggling.
“I like this,” Candy’s soft voice says, her small hand stroking my neck. “How hungry you are for each other.”
Joel moans in my mouth as she strokes his pec and smooths her fingers down his six-pack. “Fuck.”
“So,” she leans in to whisper in his ear, “what will you do about it? You know…” She licks the spot under his ear, and he shudders. “About wanting him. I’ve fantasized about the two of you together…”
Joel pulls back, his breathing harsh. I see the war taking place behind his eyes, the want, the need, the conflict.
He thinks too much. I need to get him so worked up that busy brain of his will wind down.
So I reach down and wrap my hand around my cock. “You can just watch if you want,” I tell him and manage to swallow a gasp when I start jacking off.
The idea was to give him a show, but fuck, I’m about to come, my balls drawn tight, my dick twitching and weeping. The heat is coiling low in my belly. Won’t be long now. I let my chin dip to my chest, tugging faster, chasing after my release—
“I’ll do it,” Joel says gruffly and before I know what’s going on, he takes both our cocks in his hand and starts jerking us off together. “Mine,” he growls, and I’d wonder what he’s talking about if I had any brainpower left, because Christ, his hand is strong, his grip tight as he strokes our slick cocks. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
Mind-boggling. He’s drawing the pleasure out of me, drawing out my orgasm with his grip and twisting it into something huge, something that will leave me in a shuddering mess when it hits.
And it does, suddenly and with a force of a gale, wrenching a cry from my throat. I clutch the back of Joel’s head, sinking or flying, I can’t tell, my dick jerking, spraying my jizz all over him, and through the haze, I feel it.
I feel his cock jerk against mine, the deep moan rumbling through his chest. His hot load hits my chest and arms, and then his mouth is on mine again, his tongue thrusting against mine as we come together.
Whoa. I’ll never forget the look on Joel’s face, the shock of pleasure twisting his features, the brightening wave of relief washing over them a second later.
“Holy shit, guys,” Candy whispers and I blink at her, dizzy. “Can we do this again next time?”
And that’s when Joel starts to pull away and slam his walls back in place, and I think—Fuck. This isn’t looking good at all.
Chapter Twenty Five
CANDY
Title: Not Your Typical Drug
From Candy Boys (Blog serial)
“Are you awake, pet?” he asks me, and I shift in the cradle of their arms.
“Depends. What do you have in mind?”
“Sex. Then breakfast. Then more sex.”
“Sounds good to me,” I mumble, stretching.
I could get used to this, I really could. Waking up to two sex gods every morning. It’s frigging scary how much I want it.
Question is, will this last, and will my heart take it if it doesn’t?
And hey, isn’t this—sleeping with two men—exactly what the doctor prescribed?
We sleep together on Jet’s bed, one pile of naked limbs and warm breath, until at some point at night Jet is gone, and then Joel, too, leaving me to hog the whole width of the mattress and the covers.
Bliss.
After a while, though, I start searching for them, in my sleep, on the bed, until I’m wide awake and slipping from under the covers. Wrapping a sheet around me, I go hunting for my boys.
I find only Jet. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. His dark hair is tousled, his spectacular chest bare, his tattoos shifting every time he lifts his cup. He’s dressed on
ly in a pair of black boxer briefs, and he’s barefoot. That’s so sexy. I love men’s feet.
Okay, I’m totally lying out of my ass here. I couldn’t care less about men’s feet. I bet they’re mostly like Hobbit feet, hairy and huge.
But I love Jet’s feet. They’re strong and slim with high arches and long toes.
First time in my life I’m obsessing over a guy’s feet, I swear to God. I need to check out Joel’s feet, too. With all that has been going on whenever we get naked together, I never got the chance to take notice.
It’d be nice, I guess, to lounge around the kitchen together in the morning, having coffee and cereal.
It would have been nice. If Joel was here.
“Where is he?” I ask, and snicker when Jet jumps a foot off his chair with a gasp. “Morning.”
“Holy shit, girl, you scared the crap out of me.” He falls back, a hand pressed to his chest, and I start to feel bad when I see how pale his face has gone. “Jesus.”
“Sorry.” I approach him, and when he doesn’t flinch, I press my hand to his jaw. “You all right?”
“Yeah, yeah. Shit.” He puts his hand on top of mine, and lets out a breath, his eyes wide and dark with shock. “Joel’s gone running.”
“Oh. He does that every morning?”
Jet shakes his head. “Sometimes. He likes moving. We also wrestle a few times a week, though we haven’t done that lately.”
“Why not?”
“Too caught up with you.” He smirks at me, and I’m relieved to see color has returned to his cheeks.
“I’d love to see you two wrestle.”
“Would you, now.” His smirk widens. “More than last night?”
“Much more.” I squeak when he hauls me to his lap and I pull desperately on the sheet covering my boobs. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” He kisses the side of my neck, wrapping possessive arms around my middle. “You smell good.”
“I haven’t showered yet.”
“Precisely.” He licks my neck, making me shiver. “You smell like Candy.”
I laugh. “I smell like sex.”
“Sex and Candy. My favorite combo.”
I turn my head and his mouth drags over my cheek. God, this boy. “I…” I think I love you, Jet. “I should shower and get ready for work.”
And not panic for having such strong feelings for my boys. Nope. No panic allowed.
“You need some coffee in you first.”
He knows me so well already. He offers me his cup, and aw Gawd this is sweet of him. As I sip at the brew, thick with sugar, I study the tattoos on his arm. It’s an intricate meshing of shapes. A bird. A ship? A clock. A skull.
“What do they mean?” I tap on his biceps and swoon a little when he flexes it to show me a circle on the underside. “And that?”
“A snake biting its tail.”
“That’s rebirth.”
“Yeah.” He grunts, shock splashing over his gaze, then he lowers his arm. “Drink your coffee.”
“It’s yours.”
“Drink my coffee, then. We need to get going. You said so.”
I sip at the coffee. “What about the bird?”
“The bird?”
“On your forearm.” I stroke it, and he shivers. He’s also hardening, his cock pressing into the small of my back. “Is it a raven?”
He hums in affirmation. “A raven for the soul.”
Now I’m getting goosebumps. That sounded ominous. “And the ship?”
“A ship for leaving.” He bows his head. “A clock for the time remaining, and a skull for death who never waits.”
Oh my God. “Why? Why so morbid?”
“I’m not morbid.” He shakes his head. “You asked what they mean. I told you.”
“Jet…”
“Finish the coffee. I’ll take the shower first.”
***
I give Jet a ride to the shop, and it’s quiet. Too quiet. Something’s on his mind, and I don’t know if it’s the fact Joel didn’t return before we left the apartment, or if it was the phone call he received as I was getting dressed.
I think again of what he said about his tattoos, and the same shiver runs through me as it did then.
A soul. Time. Leaving. Death.
And underneath, rebirth.
Is that positive, or negative? Does that mean he believes in rebirth, or that rebirth is gone, not to be found?
Or am I making up stories in my mind, and the symbols don’t really mean anything to him? Some people get ink just because it looks good and cool.
Yeah, okay. Jethro doesn’t strike me like that kind of guy, though.
I study his clean profile as I park the car down the street from the bookshop and kill the engine. “Was it your cousin again?”
“Huh?”
“The call. He called you yesterday, too, didn’t he? Donna told me.”
He closes his eyes, rubs them. “Candy…”
“Let me help, Jet.” I pull down his hands, stare into his reddened eyes. “Let us help. With whatever is hurting you.”
He doesn’t move when I unlatch my belt and slip my arms around him. He gathers me close and rubs his face in my hair.
“Your hair smells like my shampoo,” he whispers.
“It is your shampoo.”
“First my coffee and then my shampoo. What next?”
“Your clothes?” I inhale his scent of musky boy and soap, and close my eyes.
“Damn.” He groans. “I can’t go into the shop with a hard-on, Candy pop.”
“You think you’ll like me in your clothes?”
“And even more out of them.”
“You have a one-track mind.”
“Only when you’re around.”
I pull back, laughing. “So you won’t tell me what’s going on with your cousin to get you so stressed? Not even a hint?”
Aw crap. He was smiling when I pulled away and now his smile is fading fast.
I place a hand over his heart, and it’s racing.
“Many years ago,” he says, and just like that his accent changes, thickens, “something bad happened and it’s not over, but nobody believed me then or now, and I… I’m afraid I was right, and that it’s all going to hell.”
“What do you mean?” He’s talking in riddles, and the fear in his eyes matches the fear that’s lancing through me. “Why did you run? From where? What didn’t they believe?”
But he only shakes his head and gets out of the car, heading toward the shop.
***
The day passes in a blur. Customers file in and out. Lots of students, too, preparing for the upcoming semester, which reminds me I should get some reading done myself. With everything going on, I forgot I’m in the middle of my studies.
Hey, it’s not every day your fantasy boyfriends waltz into your life and become reality.
One of them, though, is a no-show today. Joel. He doesn’t call or show up with coffee. When I ask Jet about it in the afternoon, he shrugs.
“Was it the kiss?” I ask him, a cold lump of dread settling in my stomach. “Crap, I shouldn’t have asked that of you, I shouldn’t have—”
“We wanted it, Candy sugar.” He pulls me in for a quick, one-armed hug and I melt against his side. “He wanted it. He’s just resisting.”
“Resistance is futile,” I say automatically.
“Right.”
Yet, despite his reassuring words, he looks stressed out, and I can tell it bothers him, too, that Joel vanished today.
To take his mind off this topic I brought up anyway, I turn the conversation elsewhere.
“Hey, about the GED you’re studying for. I talked to Donna, did I tell you? Convinced her to give you some time to find your diploma.”
He shivers, leans a little against me. “Thanks.”
“Do you know when you’re going to take the test?”
“Not ready yet.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do. I took
the mock test online. Failed it. Spectacularly.” He huffs. “You saw how it is for me. Reading takes forever. Can’t concentrate. And writing is even worse.”
“Okay.” I frown as I try to put together all the pieces. “You’re not as bad as you think, you know. In reading, at least. And you concentrate enough to draw a comic, though, don’t you?”
“That’s different. I do it in pieces, whenever I feel like it. And it’s pictures. Not text.”
“So the problem is the words. And the time needed focusing on them?”
When he nods, another thought strikes me. “Do you have any other symptoms?”
“Symptoms?”
I frown, trying to remember. “Do you sometimes lose track of time? Forget things? Are you often late at appointments?”
“Heh, all the time. Just ask Joel, I drive him crazy.”
Check.
“What about the way you think. Do you think in images? Confuse letters? Get dizzy while trying to read?”
“I… yeah. Sometimes.” He’s staring at me, dark brows knit over his eyes. “What does it mean?”
“That could mean you’re dyslexic,” I say, my mind whirring because that can’t be all.
He gives a slow blink.
“Do you lose your stuff? Get easily distracted? Lose your temper easily? Can’t deal well with stress?”
“You know I can’t.” He makes a wry face.
That’s right. He can’t. And the way he’s tapping his foot, probably not even realizing, the way he’s always putting himself down…
“ADHD.”
“What?”
“Attention deficit and hyperactivity disorder.”
He starts pulling away from me, his frown turning darker. “What are you, a doctor? I’m fine.”
“Were you never diagnosed as a child?”
“Nobody tested me for anything. I’m just stupid, Candy.”
“You’re not stupid.” I grab his arm, not letting him go away thinking that. “Far from it. You’re amazing, Jet, but if you are dyslexic or have ADHD, you could get some help with the GED test. It’d only be fair.”
He stills. “They’d help me with the reading and writing?”
God, my heart shouldn’t ache for him so much. Hasn’t anyone thought to help him with this before? I think I’ll have a word or two with Joel.
