Expecting Marcus or Mickey to volunteer, Katt was surprised when Mickey said, “Samson. He’s really good at it. He does both of us at the same time.”
“Good god, baby,” Derek groaned. “You didn’t have to tell us that when we’re all jacked up.”
Mickey snickered with evil glee. “He warms Marcus with his mouth, and me with his—”
“Stop,” Sean pleaded, a low whimper escaping him. “You’re gonna make me mess my shorts.”
The twins giggled. Katt suspected they often tortured the other guys with theirstories.
Garrett addressed the big man. “Samson?”
“It would be my pleasure.” He smiled at Katt. “Besides, I owe you for soiling your shirt.”
Katt shifted anxiously as the giant went to his knees, the floor seeming to tremble slightly under the man’s weight, and gently pushed Katt’s legs apart with hands that could have palmed a basketball. Those hands moved to his thighs, thumbs pressing slow, firm lines along the inseam of his jeans. Katt’s breath came faster, shallower, his spine straightening against the sofa cushion. When Samson cupped him through the denim, the pressure was unhurried, almost casual—like the man had all the time in the world—and Katt’s hips tilted forward of their own accord. He felt himself beginning to swell against the man’s grip and heard himself make a short, clipped sound. Samson’s mouth curved, and he unfastened Katt’s jeans with the same unhurried ease.
The cool air of the room hit him first, and then the warmth of Samson’s grip. Katt’s face burned as he was dimly aware of the other men watching. Samson wasn’t. His dark eyes stayed on Katt’s face as his hand wrapped around him and stroked, slow and sure. Except for that one time in the fort, it had always been a girl’s hand. This was nothing like that—the grip too certain, too strong, the thumb tracing the underside of him in a way that made his thighs tighten. Katt shuddered. It frightened him, genuinely, how little he wanted it to stop.
He had come here believing he was 100%straight. He had come here for the brotherhood. Now, both appeared to be lies, and he didn’t have the strength of will to debate those realities as Samson’s thumb traced that slow line and Katt’s hips moved without his permission—as his eyes dropped, again, to Samson’s mouth, and stayed there.
“Things seem to be progressing nicely,” Daniel said. “He looked a little scared, at first, when Samson knelt before him. But now…” he shrugged. “… I’d say that’s an expression of eagerness and anticipation on his face. What do you think?”
Gideon dragged his hand over his mouth, his pulse still slightly uneven from Daniel’s recent hand job. Watching Samson kneel in front of Katt, about to take the young man’s cock in his mouth, Gideon’s heart rate jumped back up a few notches. The flavor of Daniel’s cum lingered on his tongue, and he considered “warming” Daniel while he watched Samson do the same for Katt.
“Have you ever done it?” Gideon murmured, standing close enough to Daniel to feel the lingering heat wafting from his body.
“What?”
Gideon turned from the monitor to look at Daniel. “Cock warming. Have you ever done it, or had it done to you?”
Swallowing a couple of times, Daniel shook his head. Tiny beads of sweat sprouted across his brow as he stared into Gideon’s eyes, a light tension seeping through his body. “You?” he rasped.
Of course, he knew the answer to that. Gideon had engaged in zero sexual acts withanyone… until Daniel. Gideon smiled. “No.” He cleared his throat. “But I have watched my boys perform the act on each other.” His gaze drifted to the monitor, and his voice dropped to a whisper, “But I always wanted to try it.”
Daniel swallowed audibly. “What’s stopping you?”
Pressing closer, Gideon trailed his fingertips over the slight curve of Daniel’s hips, feeling the warmth of him through the fabric. He touched his lips to the man’s mouth—barely, just enough to feel the exhale against his own—and breathed, “Could you handle it? My mouth on you… without me sucking… or you thrusting?”
Daniel’s eyes dropped to his mouth and came back up, slowly. “Canyouhandle it?” A small smile. “Can you have my dick in your mouth and just—” a beat, deliberate— “do nothing?” His thumb pressed into the jut of Gideon’s hip. “I know how much you like tosuck.”
Gideon chuckled low. “I’m up for the challenge.” He kissed him slowly, drawing his lower lip in and holding it there a moment before releasing it. “Are you?”
“If your mouth is on my cock,” Daniel breathed, his fingers curling into the fabric of Gideon’s shirt, “you won’t hear any complaints from me.” The smile that followed was slow, almost lazy.
Gideon answered it with his mouth, one hand sliding up Daniel’s jaw, tilting it. When he finally pulled back, his thumb traced the man’s lower lip. “Get comfortable.”
Without breaking eye contact, Daniel reached back for the nearby chair, dragging it closer by the arm, and sank into it. Gideon went to his knees—the floor solid under him, the hum of the monitor just audible—and slid his fingers into the waistband of Daniel’s pants, feeling the warmth of his skin just beneath the fabric. “Watch the monitor,” he murmured, working the fly open. “And just… relax.”
Daniel’s breath hitched when Gideon drew him out—already hard, flushed, a faint pulse visible along the underside—and stroked him once, twice, before taking him slowly into his mouth. “Fuck,” Daniel breathed, the word barely formed, barely a sound at all. His shoulders dropped against the chair back, andhis hands found the armrests, knuckles whitening briefly before he loosened his grip and turned his eyes, with visible effort, back to the monitor.
Gideon drew Daniel slowly to the back of his throat, settling him there—the weight and warmth of him resting against his tongue, the roof of his mouth holding him in a kind of stillness. The urge to move, to suck, was a pressure behind his teeth that he held carefully at bay. He breathed through his nose. Something about the sheer passivity of it—the trust it required from both of them—loosened something in his chest and brought a slight sting to his eyes.
Daniel’s fingers found his hair. Not directing. Just resting there, a slow curl at the nape. Gideon closed his eyes, and when he swallowed, his tongue shifted against Daniel with the faintest involuntary pressure. Above him, a soft intake of breath as Daniel’s thighs tensed once, then, slowly, unclenched beneath his hands.
Katt shuddered hard when Samson’s mouth closed around him—warm, wet, unhurried—and took him in slow, until the head of his cock pressed into the tight heat of the man’s throat. The sound that left him was embarrassingly unguarded. He pressed his lips together, jaw tight, but his hips had already betrayed him with a shallow, involuntary roll forward.
Samson settled, letting Katt rest heavy on his tongue, and the stillness of it was almost worse than movement would have been—the slick warmth wrapped around every inch of him, the faint pulse of Samson’s throat against his tip, the wet seal of those lipsat his root. His cock throbbed in long, slow beats he could feel in his stomach. Then Samson’s hands moved, easing his jeans further down his thighs, and his fingers cupped his balls with a gentleness that made Katt’s whole body flinch and then go loose.
He let his head fall back. His fists pressed into the cushions on either side of him, knuckles whitening, like he needed something to hold onto.
