Page 81 of Shipwrecked

“Keep going, keep going,” Mathieu complains.

Jules goes still under my grip. I sense him trying to find my eyes in the dark, so I go to him, leaning over Mathieu to kiss Jules’s mouth. In the dark, what I find is his jaw. “I’ll show you what I want,” I murmur against his skin. He nods.

I guide Jules’s hand down. My fingers close around Mathieu’s cock over Jules’s. Warm, hard skin fills my palm. The unfamiliarity catches me for half a beat, then I tighten our hold.

Mathieu lets out a choked sound.

“That pressure is good. If he gets too worked up, tighten your grip. Okay?”

“Not okay!”

Jules nods.

I need to get him on his stomach and get inside him. He’s too good. After, I promise. Mathieu first.

“I object! I object!” Mathieu cries, followed by a lengthy giving-out in French. I wait until he’s done talking.

“Noted,” I say. I let go of Jules, confident he’ll do his utmost to follow what I asked, and manoeuvre Mathieu’s thighs back together. I tip my hips forward, gauging the slick tunnel prepared for me. A tremor shakes through my thighs, and I tighten my grip on Mathieu to hide it. It’s warm and wet, and when I push down on his thigh, blissfully tight.

“I feel like I’m in your hole,” I say.

Mathieu growls. He bucks against me, but when he reaches for his own cock, I capture his wrist. “Be patient.”

“I have none!”

I chuckle, and Mathieu changes tack.

Between moans, he tells Jules how he should get him off. I fuck between his thighs at leisure; having come an hour ago, I’m reasonably able to hold myself back.

Mathieu, failing to convince Jules, kisses him instead.

I nip the back of Mathieu’s neck. “I’ll let go of your hand, but only if you use it to touch Jules.”

Jules, under the assault of Mathieu’s hungry kisses, is letting out sweet little gasps.

“Agreed.”

I monitor him, laying my hand loosely over his wrist. He sticks his hand between his own thighs, gathering excess lube on his fingers and then reaches immediately for Jules. Not his cock.

His hole.

Mathieu spreads the lube and circles Jules’s entrance. Massaging, slickening, then delving.

Jules moans into Mathieu’s mouth.

Mathieu’s answering groan is painful. He breaks the kiss and turns towards me. “Let’s fuck him,” he pants. “Please, God, my balls are going to burst. I need to come. Please.” I hear tears in his voice.

I cover his mouth with mine and taste the salt of them. Mathieu doesn’t try to fight for dominance. He yields. Instantly. He parts his lips, lets me dominate his mouth with my tongue. I’m so close to coming I have to stop thrusting. My breaths come hard, as if I’ve been sprinting.

“Jules,” I say, as I break the kiss. “Show Mathieu what you told me you’re good at.”

“Okay,” Jules murmurs.

I peel back the blanket as he goes down. I wish we had a light. I hear Jules press kisses to Mathieu’s cock. Every inch of Mathieu trembles. Next, I hear the sound of a cock being swallowed. Jules chokes but keeps going.

Mathieu is crying. His babbling is incoherent. I kiss him again, relishing how overwhelmed he is. I guide Mathieu’s hand to Jules’s head. Together, we feel the rhythm of his movements.

I break the kiss. “This will feel unreal,” I promise. I leave Mathieu’s hand where it is in Jules’s hair and find Jules’s hand, where he has the base of Mathieu’s cock tightly circled. I tug it away.