What He Left Behind(54)

Michael’s been resistant to oral since the first night. They’ve tried a few times, but he’s shied away, and Ian never, ever pushes.

And now…

This?

Neither of them responds to my presence. Maybe they don’t hear me. Maybe they’re too caught up in the moment. Knowing how talented Ian’s mouth is, I wouldn’t be surprised if Michael’s forgotten his own name by now. His fingers rake through Ian’s dark hair, and his eyes are closed and his teeth are digging into his lower lip, and my cock is getting hard before I’ve even toed the door shut.

I set my jacket down and loosen my tie. My legs don’t quite remember how to work, but somehow, I convince them to carry me across the foyer and into the living room. And from the doorway, I just stare.

Michael exhales slowly, running his fingers through Ian’s hair. It’s impossible to tell what Ian’s doing—deep-throating, licking his way up and down the shaft, focusing on the sensitive head—only that Michael loves it. If the two of them had to banish any demons before they got this far, it doesn’t show.

“Oh, shit, that’s good.” Michael’s head lolls to the side. His back arches as his fingers twitch in Ian’s hair.

I ease myself onto the couch beside Michael, and his eyes slide open. He reaches for me, draws me in—I swear to God, if I wasn’t hard already, his mouth would have changed that in an instant. His kiss sends shivers all the way through me, curling my toes inside my shoes.

Between kisses, I murmur, “I hope you’re not gonna come quite yet.” I’m surprised I get the words out at all, never mind audibly.

“If he keeps…” Michael looks down and sweeps his tongue across his lips. “If he keeps doing this…”

Ian’s eyes flick up. My body temperature soars.

“Maybe he should.” I hook a finger under Michael’s chin and turn him back toward me. “Then we’ll just have to make you come again later.”

Michael whimpers, and I silence him with a kiss. He wriggles against me and slides his hand over my lap, and now it’s my turn to squirm.

In front of us, Ian moans softly. I look down, and he’s picked up speed, taking Michael deeper in his mouth and adding a little twist with his hand, and Michael’s palm presses harder against my cock.

I nibble Michael’s earlobe. “Don’t hold back. This isn’t going to be the last time you come tonight.”

He presses the heel of his hand against my dick and kneads my balls with his fingers—not enough to hurt but damn sure enough to make my breath catch. His head falls back against the couch, and I kiss his exposed throat, my cock getting even harder beneath his hand as my lips explore that hot, smooth flesh.

“B-both of you. Don’t stop. Please…”

We’re not stopping for anything. Michael’s breathing so fast now, and when I slide my hand over his chest, his heart is pounding. His sharp huffs of breath turn to whispered curses. He squeezes my cock, the touch bordering on painful and turning me on like crazy, and I murmur “f*ck” against his neck.

He inhales. Holds it. His fingers twitch. His heart pounds.

And then he releases a ragged breath and shudders hard, f*cking into Ian’s mouth as much as he can in this position, and if I know Ian, he’s on the verge of coming himself as Michael lets go.

“Jesus Christ.” With one last shudder, Michael sinks back against the couch. He covers his face with a shaking hand, and Ian and I exchange grins as Michael trembles between us.

“We should really go upstairs.” I gently remove Michael’s other hand from my groin so I can think. “Much more room up there.”

“Good idea,” Michael murmurs.

“Agreed.” Ian gingerly stands, cursing under his breath as his knees and ankles pop. As he does, Michael gazes longingly at the thick bulge beneath Ian’s jeans, and I know that look—he wants to blow Ian. He made it past one barrier tonight, and now he can handle Ian going down on him, and I can see in his eyes how badly he wants to return the favor.

But he doesn’t. That’s one line he just hasn’t been able to cross yet. Not even with me.

My stomach tightens. Night after night, the three of us f*ck like rabbits, Michael getting more and more confident with every touch, and still Steve manages to keep a chokehold on him.

We’ll get there. I refuse to believe we won’t.

And for now, there are plenty of other ways to keep Michael’s mouth entertained.

I gently turn his head toward me, grin and pull him into a kiss.

Afterward, the three of us lie beneath the sheets, Michael in the middle again. Ian gets up to let the dogs in—though they stay downstairs—and joins us again, draping an arm over Michael and propping himself up on his elbow, facing us both.

“Are they tired out?” Michael asks.

“Pretty sure they’ll sleep well tonight.” Ian kisses him. “Pretty sure you’ll sleep well tonight.”

“Kind of hard not to after you guys are done with me.”

I chuckle and kiss the top of his shoulder. “I don’t think there’ll be any insomnia in this house any time soon.”

“Definitely not,” Ian says.

I watch them both for a moment. “So, I see you two have gotten comfortable with each other.”