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Finn giggled. “Okay, I’ll stop myself from trying to get in on that then.”
“Damn right you will,” George tickled his side again and Joq felt like he’d had just about enough of watching this. It’d gone from surreal to uncomfortable.
George and Finn settled, watched the game, their hands wandering aimlessly.
Joq was getting sleepy and he didn’t think he was going to learn anything more about where his boyfriend’s head was at than he already had.
He was wrong.
Joq was about to slam the laptop shut when he noticed Finn’s hand inching closer to George’s dick. It was subtle, the way he was drifting his fingers higher, then dragging them down, his eyes still on the TV. George cocked his leg out, an invitation for more, and ran his own hand lower down Finn’s back. Joq couldn’t see from this angle, but he did see the way Finn sat forward, giving George more room to stroke under his pants, tease his ass.
Joq rolled to the side and cradled his head in his hand, suddenly very awake.
Finn’s hand made another few passes, just skimming the fabric at the base of George’s hardening dick. George’s bicep flexed like he was stroking lower, his breathing rough. Finn brought his hand up and rubbed it over George’s dick, eyes forward, but his focus was on that hand as he stroked up, then down, squeezed. George made a low sound and Finn glanced back at him.
Joq couldn’t make out either of their expressions with the back of Finn’s head obscuring his view, but he could hear it when they started to kiss. The slick sound of mouths moving together slowly, increasing in time with the hand he could see working George over, George’s arm moving like he was shifting his hand for better access.
They were going to fuck. Joq knew it then and his conscience gave a valiant whisper to turn it off. Instead, he let his hand drift down so he could grip himself. He was awash with jealousy, yet he was too turned on to care.
It was George who brought both arms up, wrapped them around Finn and tugged him into his lap, their kisses never stopping, not even when George wrestled Finn’s pants off, pulled him snug into his chest with a slap of skin on skin.
He did break away to click the TV off with the remote, then lean down for his bag beside the bed. Finn stroked his chest, kissed up his throat, worshipped George’s body while he ground his hips forward on George’s abs. George came back and wrapped one big arm around Finn’s back, tossed a bottle of lube and a string of condoms at his hip.
So, it was planned. Joq didn’t stop jerking off as that realisation hit him. No, he kept working his cock as he watched George give Finn the condoms, grab the lube and pour some into his hand, then reach around and breach Finn with two fingers at once, cradling Finn as he arched and gasped.
It was an explicit view in a way, Joq thought—Finn’s broad shoulders, tapered waist and firm ass; the back of his head, the mess of his hair; the long planes of his back obscuring all but the view of George’s fingers as they drove into his ass and Finn rocked back to meet them. Joq heard the rip of the foil, and recognised the movement of Finn’s hands as him rolling it down George’s length.
He held his own dick as it throbbed in his palm, held his breath too as he waited for it.
George pulled his fingers out and gripped Finn’s hip with one hand, the other one sliding up to hold his nape. He lifted him and Joq could see Finn holding George’s cock, angling it until he was hovering over the tip before rubbing it gently against his entrance. George pushed him down and thrust up at the same time. Finn’s gasp was lost as George used his other hand to tug him into a kiss.
George held him steady as he fucked into him. He built a steady rhythm with his feet planted on the mattress. Then he relaxed his grip on Finn’s hip, on his head. Finn arched and rode him, met George’s cock with a roll of his hips, rolled his head back and gasped.
“Look at you,” George breathed out. “Fuck, look at you.”
Finn keened.
“Jesus,” Joq said under his breath as he watched.
George looked over his shoulder and Joq froze. For a second he thought George had heard him, seen him; but then he realised he was looking at the mirror, looking at the picture he and Finn made together. The same picture Joq was seeing—Finn impaled on George’s big cock, George thrusting up into him, Finn riding him with his powerful thighs, his head thrown back.
George kissed up his neck, spoke into his ear. “You have to see. Have to see how good you look.”
Finn gasped and slammed himself down on George’s cock. George groaned but tightened his hold, stilled him.
“Turn around,” George said against his ear.
Finn tried to move his hips, but George didn’t let him. Finn turned his head to kiss him desperately. George kissed him back but then pulled away.
“Turn around, baby. Hands and knees,” he said and pulled out.
Finn groaned but moved when George moved him. He was a sight—his hair still drying and now prickling with sweat and sticking up everywhere, his face flushed, his eyes widening as they landed on himself—on where Joq was watching.
George came up on his knees behind him and ran his broad palms over Finn’s back. He left one hand on his shoulder. The other one dragged down to grip his hip to hold him still. He looked up and met Finn’s eyes in the mirror.
Finn’s lips parted.
George pushed in, his eyes never leaving Finn’s as he slid inside. He drove his hips forward until he was flush against Finn’s ass. Then he paused.
