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Joq had never thought of George as a particularly dominating lover. He’d always been good in bed, solid, but this was another side of him. He watched as George paused, held Finn still, held eye contact, and Finn watched him back, suspended, like they were exchanging something.
“Look at yourself while I fuck you,” George said.
Joq gasped at that. So did Finn. And Joq thought, case in point—who was this man?
Finn’s eyes focused on himself in the mirror. The position made it seem like he was looking right at Joq. He was blushing, shy. George drew back and then pushed in, rocking Finn forward. Finn’s eyes slipped closed as if he couldn’t watch.
George stopped and plastered himself over Finn’s back. He wrapped his arm around his chest and hoisted him up.
And wow. Now Joq was getting an absolute eyeful. Finn’s abs were taut as George pulled him back against his chest, his dick hard and straining up, George’s cock lodged deep in his ass. Finn’s chest heaved as he tried to breathe. George had a tight hold on him, powerful thighs bracketing him as his arm held him upright.
George gently brushed Finn’s hair aside with his nose, kissed the skin below his ear and whispered, “You look so good like this, so good,” he pressed another kiss to his cheek, “Look.”
Finn whimpered, an incongruous sound from that powerful body, but did as he was told. He glanced up and his lips parted as he took in the scene.
George ran a hand up Finn’s chest, rested it over his heart. Finn made a little broken sound. George kissed his ear and whispered something Joq couldn’t hear.
Then he started to fuck him again. He kissed his throat, his shoulder, didn’t pull his dick out too far, fucked him deep and close. His eyes flicked up to meet Finn’s in the mirror. He slid a hand to Finn’s dick and started to jerk him off.
Joq could see the orgasm before it happened in the way Finn went tense in George’s arms, in the widening of his eyes, in the way George sped up like he knew it too. Watching him come from this position was better than any pornography Joq had ever seen. Finn let it crash into him, like he was sure George would hold him together when he did. And George did, fucking him through it, kissing his neck, eyes still on him, voice muffled in Finn’s skin as he told him how good he looked, how perfect he was, how lucky George was to be with him like this.
Finn slumped in George’s arms.
Joq was close to the edge himself when George went to pull out.
Finn brought his hand back to hold him in.
George groaned, buried his face in the crook of Finn’s shoulder and neck.
Finn brought his other hand up and held George’s head, kissed his hair, whispered something Joq couldn’t make out.
It was a reversal: Finn looked strong as George fucked into him erratically. Finn took it and held him close, his own body shaking minutely at the pounding, but solid too, there for it.
George came with a groan and a series of deep thrusts like he was trying to bury himself inside Finn. Finn held him, took all of it.
“Fuck,” Joq said as he came to the sight.
He rolled onto his back and left his hand where it was, covered in his second lot of come. He needed to get up and change his boxers. He could hear George and Finn kissing. He made out the sound of sheets rustling, a tap running in the distance, the shift of a body getting into bed, more kissing.
Between one breath and the next, Joq drifted off.
When he woke, it was just getting light. He couldn’t work out why he’d woken up. He could hear something, like a movie. He rolled his head to the side and the night before crashed over him as he looked at the dim hotel room. It was still too dark there to make out much, but he could hear it well enough—the sound of skin slapping on skin, panting breaths, a guttural moan, kisses that sounded desperate and wet.
Joq groaned, rolled over, and slammed his laptop shut.
23
Later that afternoon, Joq got a text from George saying he was going back to the club with the team, no need for an airport pick-up.
Joq didn’t reply.
He felt shaky. He felt like he’d seen a lot he shouldn’t have. He felt bad about that. But he also had a sick kind of curiosity brewing in him, a self-righteous anger. He wanted to confront George about it. He wanted to wait and see if George would tell him first.
If it was just a hook-up, then he should tell Joq about it. That was the rule.
George still wasn’t home by midnight. Joq went to bed. He heard George come in shortly after.
As George slipped in beside him, Joq rolled over.
