Page 13 of Monstrous Serpent

He’s hard.

Jenkins coughs and gasps, saliva on his chin. His chest heaves as he shoves at my forearm, his abs tight and flexing. “Get off me, you fucking psycho piece of—”

My head tilts. “That what you want?”

His brows furrow, nose scrunching. “Fuck you.”

After shifting my weight, I slowly trace my thumb down his lower abs, off-center so it’s close enough to his cock but not touching. It twitches, and the right corner of my mouth curves up.

Jenkins goes still—completely fucking still—and he shuts the fuck up.

I keep my gaze locked with his. “Looks like that’s exactly what you want.”

His cock twitches again.

A growl grinds out of my throat, my cock thickening. I let go of him, reach down, and stroke once.

His gaze drops to my hand, then snaps up. A second passes before Jenkins loses his shit. He starts slapping my arm and chest. His legs kick out and he thrashes. “Get the fuck off me—don't fucking touch me—I said get off me—”

My eyes travel from his throat to his chest. To his abs. Then, to the outline of his cock straining against his joggers. I graze my thumb over the material near the tip of his cock, lifting my gaze to meet his. “Wet already.”

Jenkins roars, his nails digging into my forearm, then a deep, guttural whine fills the air.

I snap my head up, turning to the left.

Atlas.

He’s three feet away, hand pressed flat to the front of his pants, like he's trying to keep something contained. His gaze is focused on Jenkins’s cock.

My jaw works.

Eight years of knowing him, sharing a room, having threesomes together—I have never once heard that sound leave his body.

Most of the time, he’d rather hang out and play video games than date or fuck. Even during the threesomes, he wasn’t ever fully present. I never asked why, just figured it was because my family had broken him.

Pain detonates between my legs, and I curl forward. “Fuck!”

Jenkins's foot drives into the same place. This time, my vision whites out as everything from my navel to my knees feels like an exposed, raw nerve.

I fall sideways, clutching my cock and balls as Jenkins scoots from under me. But he doesn’t take off. Instead, he charges Atlas.

“You fucking psychotic assholes.” Jenkins throws a right hook.

Atlas slips it, catches his wrist, and yanks him forward so Jenkins stumbles past. “That your best shot? Come on, man. Give me something to work with.”

Jenkins whips around and charges. “Drop dead.”

Atlas sidesteps, hooks his ankle, and sends him face-first into the dirt. “Down you go.”

Jenkins scrambles up, spitting pine needles. “Fuck you.”

“Dude, at least buy me dinner first.”

Jenkins swings wide. Atlas ducks under it, comes up behind him, then wraps an arm around his chest, pinning Jenkins's back to his front.

He holds him there. Doesn't throw him. Doesn't hit him. Just holds him.

Jenkins thrashes, driving his elbow back into Atlas's ribs. “Let go of me, you fucking—”