by Sandy Smith
From this position, watching Nicholas increase his pace with his grip on Sean’s hips was so fucking erotic, his eyes never leaving mine. Sean wasn’t able to keep up enough of a rhythm on my dick to get me close to the edge, but fuck if I wanted it to end anyway. Nicholas was so spectacular, flushed with a sheen of sweat and a look of concentration as he continued to pound into Sean. Sean’s mouth popped off me again as he reached back for Nicholas.
“Wait,” he breathed out. “I want to ride Ky.”
Nicholas stopped, still on his knees. Crawling forward, Sean groaned loudly as Nicholas pulled out of him. I finally lost sight of Nicholas’s eyes when Sean tossed me a condom that I put on easily. Well, with less fumbling than Nicholas anyway. Sean leaned over me, his breathing heavy and sweat glistening on his face. Arching his back, he lined my cock up and lowered himself onto it. I grabbed Sean’s arse and held on as he began rising so only my tip was in his hot tight hole and then lowered himself. Slowly at first, pausing each time to tease me before lowering himself again.
I closed my eyes, tightening my grip on Sean’s arse and moaning out Nicholas’s name involuntarily. Sean’s rhythm faltered, and I realised I probably made a mistake saying Nicholas’s name while buried inside Sean, but then Sean turned his head to Nicholas.
“More. I want more. I want both of you.”
Fuck, was he serious? Both of us at the same time? Was that even possible? Of course it was possible—I had seen it in porn, and it was hot as fuck, but in real life?
Nicholas’s voice came out rougher than normal, directing me to move down so my arse was on the edge of the bed, with my legs bent and feet on the floor. After Sean adjusted his position a little, he leaned forward on top of my chest. Nicholas stood behind him, between my spread legs. The heat in that room, in that bed, with the three of us, flushed, sweaty, and panting was almost too much. Until I could see Nicholas’s eyes. Those cool pools of blue wouldn’t let me escape as Nicholas’s dick nudged at the base of mine where I entered Sean.
He hesitated. “Sean, are you sure? We don’t want to hurt you.” His warm honey voice, oddly caring, was in stark contrast to Sean’s grunted reply.
“If you don’t stick your fat dick in me in the next five seconds, I will be the one hurting you.”
Nicholas and I both chuckled, and the sound made my dick throb even as it was buried in Sean. With another brief look of concentration, Nicholas lined himself up again with Sean and pushed gently. Too gently at first, but then... Holy fuck! The pressure and the heat as his dick slid along mine. Slowly. So fucking slowly, I thought it was going to kill me.
Sean gripped my shoulders and made a noise, nuzzling into my neck. Sean had always been very vocal and playful, the master of dirty talk. It might not have been my forte, but I thought it might help distract him from the pain until he adjusted. “You are doing so good for us, Sean, so fucking good. That tight little hole of yours stretching to take Nicholas’s big thick cock. You feel so fucking good. Just relax for us, let Nicholas in for me. That’s it.”
Once he was seated as far as he could go, Nicholas went still to allow Sean to adjust. His gaze locked onto mine again.
“Jesus, Sean, that is so fucking good, babe. You have both our cocks buried so fucking deep in you.”
Nicholas grunted out, “Are you okay if I start moving, Sean? Because if Ky doesn’t shut the fuck up, this is going to be over way too fucking quick.”
A couple more deep breaths and Sean nodded. I gripped Sean’s arse, spreading his cheeks as Nicholas began thrusting. Slowly at first, only rocking his hips, and then he pulled out a little before pushing back in. I rocked my hips a bit in time with his, and Nicholas’s head dropped back with a look of pure bliss. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. His glistening chest, the five o’clock shadow across his slack jaw—I just had to reach up and touch.
“Fuck,” Sean panted, and I stilled, unsure if he was in pain. “I’m not going to last. Too good, too fucking good. My dick, Ky… Too good… fuck… I can’t… I… fuck, Nicky…”
My breathing came out in short pants. I knew I wasn’t going to last either, but I prayed I could hold on so Sean could come first. My dick ached with the pain, and the pleasure, and the pressure all pushing me off the cliff—but I stayed, trapped by Nicholas’s eyes.
With relief, I felt the warmth of Sean’s release on my stomach. I simply couldn’t stop myself, the heat and lightning racing up my spine. I groaned loudly right when Nicholas’s face clenched, and my vision blacked out. My whole body clenched with waves of pleasure and relief as we released at the same time. We stilled inside Sean: my whole body limp and sated, Nicholas’s breaths in time with mine.
Through the fog of bliss clouding my brain, I searched for Nicholas’s eyes. He slumped forward, catching most of his weight on his arms so I could still breathe. Sort of. A little. His eyes slowly came back into focus, and he glanced up until his gaze met mine again. Despite the haze, I felt a rush of warmth. I had no idea if this feeling was endorphins from the mind-blowing orgasm or something more, but I knew I had never felt it before.
Nicholas slid out of Sean’s body and fell down on the bed next to us. Slowly, I moved Sean so I slipped free with a grimace and gently rolled him between Nicholas and I. Sean stretched and then rested with his head against my chest and his legs tangled with Nicholas’s.
As we rested there, our breaths slowing and our skin cooling, Nicholas and I continued to gaze at each other above Sean’s head. His eyes were hypnotic. Like the colour of the water I’d seen in photos of the Greek islands. And then I remembered what colour Mum called it. Cerulean.
No one spoke for a second. Or a minute. Or maybe an hour. Finally, Sean broke the post-sex haze the way only Sean can.
“I’m not going to be able to sit for a week. On the upside, my boss will probably think I am being very respectful. God, I wish I could tell him it was because I was pounded into next year by two giant dicks.”
Chapter Four
After Alex had a look at the suspicious emails for Ant, I was hoping we could head out for the night. I had been feeling restless and unsteady, kind of like emotional vertigo, since the night last week with Sean and Nicholas. I wasn’t used to it, and it was unsettling. I couldn’t articulate what felt different, even to myself, but something had changed. Everything in the world still looked the same, but it had all shifted a couple of degrees.
I led Alex through The Subway Station towards the offices at the back. He nodded in acknowledgement to a group of men but barely glanced at anyone else. Alex was an enigma, one of the smartest people I had ever met. I had known him since Mum and I moved in with Tim, who lived next door to Alex’s family. Even as a child, Alex was amazing, exceptionally bright. I feel incredibly grateful to be one of very few people to see some of the real Alex, one of the few he allowed to get close. I didn’t mean physically. Physically, he was very affectionate, but emotionally, he rarely let anyone in.
After showing him to Ant’s office and making small talk for a couple of minutes, I wandered the club while Alex worked. Ant was helping out behind the bar tonight with a young-looking bartender named Sam. I leaned against the end of the bar holding my empty glass, sweeping my gaze across the swarms of men and women on the dance floor, moving and writhing to the music. Then I noticed Giles, one of the owners, over by the hallway to the office. I had only met Giles and his partner Owen once before at a Halloween party several years ago, when Ant first got back to Sydney. Given they were both in their early fifties, they were still incredibly attractive and certainly garnered plenty of attention, even from people who didn’t know who they were.
Giles was talking animatedly with a man who had his back to me, blocked from view by two of the security guards. Smiling warmly, Giles leaned towards the man, who reached his hand out to shake and pulled Giles up short. Giles shook hands with the man, grabbed Owen’s hand, and headed up the stairs to Platform. As I turned to look away, the man he had been talking to turned my direct
ion, stepped out of the shadows of the security guards, and locked eyes with me.
Nicholas took a few steps towards me and held up two fingers to the older man working my end of the bar, who nodded. Two glasses appeared in front of us, filled with the smoothest scotch I had ever had in my life. I moaned loudly after the first sip, and Nicholas shifted slightly, looking me straight in the eye. “If you are going to moan like that when you are still upright, I can’t wait to hear the sounds you can make when you’re bent over for me.”
A voice from beside me chuckled, and Sean said, “You’re all out of luck, Nicky. Two tops do not a bottom make. Shame, really. I already have my entertainment for the night planned, but even just watching you two would be hot as fuck.”
Sean’s personality was way bigger than his slim frame. Well, slim compared to me anyway. Even when he first walked in the door, he always looked recently fucked, with his messed-up hair, easy, relaxed smile, and eyes that drew you in thanks to his subtle eyeliner. He had that rich boy with a trust fund demeanour, but I had always suspected there was far more to him. His quick wit and snark hinted at an intellect he kept hidden beneath his ditzy behaviour.
He walked off with his drink towards a couple of bears. When I saw what he was wearing, I snorted attractively and nearly died as scotch burned my nose. Nicholas raised an eyebrow, and I nodded towards Sean and his tight black pants with bear trap written across his round arse in sequins. Nick chuckled and turned back towards me.
I slowly swallowed the sip of scotch in my mouth, my self-confidence evaporating even further with the interruption. With guys like Sean, and, well, most of the guys I hooked up with, I came across as confident. Many people mistook my silence for arrogance. I also gave the impression of being dominant, especially with my size. Nobody, other than Antony, had ever thought to ask. Everyone just assumed who or what I was. In their defence, I had never contradicted them.
To break eye contact, I glanced around the club, pretending to be fascinated with the Daddy and two boys dancing on the small podium. Nicholas turned, and his arm brushed against mine as he also watched for a while. Dancing wasn’t my thing, but there was a beauty in the rhythm of the movement as the Daddy ran his hands around his boys. They seemed to move at his command without him making a sound. It was almost hypnotizing and hot as hell, and the heat from Nicholas’s arm was making these jeans a hell of a lot tighter than when I got dressed. How the hell was my body responding from just having his arm near mine?
I put my empty glass down with the intention of escaping to grab Alex and head home when he grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the bathrooms. After allowing myself to be manhandled into one of the small but clean individual stalls, I lost my patience and pulled my arm away. I whipped around to give him a piece of my mind, but nothing came out. He put one hand on my chest and ran it down over my pecs and stomach, causing the muscles to twitch.
Leaning forward, he tilted his head up until his mouth hovered an inch from my ear and murmured, “So maybe, if you don’t bottom, fucking is off the table, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find something to put in your mouth to make you moan.”
What the hell?
I was not the sort of guy ordered to give a blow job in a club bathroom. So why the hell had I already sunk to my knees, fumbling with the button on his pants? I paused only briefly before I pushed them down as far as I needed, while Nicholas grabbed himself and gave himself a few slow strokes. Jesus, even his dick was perfection. Thick but not scary huge, uncut, and currently pointing straight at me.
I glanced up at him. The second I made contact with those eyes, I was lost again. Replacing his hand with mine, I slowly gave one lick from his base to his tip, pausing at his slit for a little extra attention. The quick intake of breath gave me the confidence to continue, and I opened my mouth and took him in as deeply as I could. I still didn’t have much of a gag reflex, but I was out of practice. I gradually sucked back to the tip, running my tongue around the head before lowering my mouth again.
“Jesus,” he breathed. I swallowed him a little further and grabbed his hips, increasing my pace. I was able to take him a little further each time. When I felt him slide down the back of my throat, I reminded myself to relax. He was hot and hard and kneeling in front of a stranger in a club bathroom should have felt seedy, but there was something about this man. I would kneel for him anywhere.
The smooth, soft skin covering his hard cock glided across my tongue. I wanted more. More of his heat. More of his cock. More of him. His hands grabbed my hair, not too roughly but obviously trying to stop me.
“Close,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. I grabbed his hips to stop him pulling away and increased my efforts until I felt his whole body stiffen, and the grip on my hair tightened. With his dick all the way at the back of my throat, I barely had the chance to taste him while he came. I swallowed as quickly as I could so I didn’t risk losing a drop. I slowly pulled away and sat back on my heels, licking my lips slowly and looking up at him. His head hung back for a minute before he cleared his throat and tucked himself back, then reached for my hand to help me stand.
“My turn,” he said with a lazy smile, before a hard knock on the door interrupted us.
“Ky, get your arse back out here. Alex needs to speak to you about these bloody emails,” Antony yelled.
Fuck.
Chapter Five
I spent the next few days revisiting Aimee Short’s social media accounts, as well as those of her friends and cousins, scrolling through mentions on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. There still hadn’t been any activity on her bank accounts, which we expected. Early in the week, a few potential sightings had sounded promising, but after more disappointing results, we had gone back to combing through her emails in between the other cases we were working on.
Each phone call or email interrupted my concentration and brought me back to thinking about Nicholas. I was confused and felt unsteady. I hadn’t taken a risk like I did in the bathroom at the club for a very long time. I was usually so careful. I had never felt that out of control before. But I had felt safe, and the contradiction was confusing me. How could I possibly have felt safe when I didn’t feel like I had any control? I hated not having control. I needed it.
On Wednesday of the following week, Ant and I grabbed some dinner and then stopped in at The Subway Station. Ant wanted to show me some ideas for changes he was thinking of suggesting to the owners. I thought Ant was still hoping I would be a more frequent visitor to the club, perhaps even become a member. I could feel the way he was trying to get me invested—I think he wanted us to have something in common again, but it wasn’t going to happen. I adored Ant and I was just as grateful we had been able to rekindle our friendship, but a kink club was definitely his thing, not mine. I was vanilla and boring, but I was okay with that.
Ant talked animatedly about the private rooms, some enclosed, some with glass walls. He dragged me through the hallway to one of the available rooms, describing different set-ups and what the different rooms were used for. Kink and some of the things he discussed wasn’t really me, but the idea of watching was a little intriguing. I wasn't sure I would ever have the guts to actually come and watch, but the idea in the back of my mind certainly wasn’t a turn-off.
We made our way through a larger room used for private parties but currently not in use, and he asked my opinion on a couple of colour choices before leading me back to the main club area. The young-looking bartender—Sam, I think his name was—smiled and asked us if we wanted anything. I declined politely, and Ant talked to him about stuff on the club’s online business. I didn’t really understand, so I scanned the club.
When I glanced around, I wasn’t looking for him. Not at all. Just there to check on the changes Ant was talking about. Yep, no other reason. Simply helping an old friend. I didn’t care if I saw him or not.
And then—there he was, across the room with a man wearing pants so tight he must have lost feeling in his legs p
lastered to his side, whispering in his ear. Nick shook his head and went to step away, but his eyes met mine right as the other man grabbed his arm and pulled him in to whisper again. He held my gaze for just a moment before turning away and leading the man towards the door.
Seriously, how did I get that so wrong?
I was usually good at reading people. I was sure there had been a connection, and it couldn’t have been only the sex. I’ve had sex with heaps of guys. Okay, wow. I mean I’ve had sex with a completely average number of guys and never felt a spark or connection.
I barely heard anything else Ant said to me, just nodded when there was a pause.
I made my excuses and headed home.
The following week I was assigned to training with some of my team, and it was kicking our arses. When Saturday came around and Ant wasn’t even subtle in trying to find an excuse to get me to come to the club, I hesitated but eventually conceded and agreed to meet him, though I made it clear it was only for one or two drinks. Today was our final training day, and I had a couple drinks after work with the guys before heading home to get changed and heading to The Subway Station.
As always, I stayed longer than I intended. When the fatigue from the past week started to catch up with me, I decided it was time to make my excuses. Shifting a little closer to Ant, I waited for him to finish talking to the men he was standing with so I could say goodbye.
It’s like my eyes lifted involuntarily to seek him out. Nicholas was walking to the dance floor, holding the hands of a guy a couple of years older than me and a younger man in black pants and a black sequined top.
I tried to ignore him. Why was I so fixated on someone who didn’t seem to have the same problem? Something was definitely wrong with me. Maybe that third drink had messed with my judgement. I was pretty sure I had had three. Had had three? Have had had? Whatever. You couldn’t count the ones I had with the guys from work because that wasn’t here and that was totally how alcohol worked, and you couldn’t count the tequila shots Ant poured to celebrate someone or other’s birthday because ugh, tequila, so yes, three drinks it was. Maybe four. The generous size of the pours was totally irrelevant.
