“Easy,” Liam says, and he takes hold of my hip to pin me to the mattress. "Don't hurt yourself."
He knows I want to fuck upwards, take Freddie’s mouth, get his face wet with my precum, but I’ve got to control myself. Freddie is shy, and self-conscious, I can tell by the small kitten licks he’s giving me, barely touching, just about tasting, and my precum is tacky, sticking to his tongue.
It's new and I want him to like it.
“Please, babe,” I breathe. “More.”
“More?” Freddie asks, unsure, a little worried maybe.
“Firmer, longer, more. I need more of your mouth.”
I’m aware I’m incoherent now, blubbering nonsensical orders.
Liam chuckles. “Can you take him in your mouth, Freddie? Just the tip of his cock. It doesn’t need to be more, not with you jerking him like that.”
I don’t hear Freddie’s answer, I feel it. His lips slide over my crown. Keeping tight to my skin, they trap me inside him, and I wait for the touch of his tongue.
“Go crazy,” Liam says. “Lick and flick, and twirl and flutter, and maybe give him a little suck. He’s coming, no doubt about it. Whatever you do to him with his cock in your mouth, he’ll come, and he’ll comehard.”
Freddie does it all to me, following Liam’s direction, and when he sucks me, I explode, throwing myself back into the headboard. Freddie pulls off me, licking his lips as my cock shoots my load. I don’t try to fight against the feeling to elongate the pleasure. It washes over me, and I slump, sighing into post-orgasmic bliss.
Liam glares at me.
“What?” I say.
“I wish you’d stay still. Your back isn’t going to get any better if you keep doing that.”
“I guess Freddie’s got to stop making me come, then.” My words catch up to me fast. “I take it back!”
Liam raises an eyebrow.
“Was that . . . was that okay?” Freddie asks.
“Incredible,” I say, as I stroke his hair. “How was it for you?”
Freddie licks his lips like he can still taste me. “Different.”
“Good different?”
He frowns then hits us with a coy smile. “The kind of different where I want to do it again and again to both of you . . .”
I glance at Liam, who pushes his chest out proudly, and I lean forward with my hand poised for a high five, only for a sharp jolt of pain to hit my spine.
“Freddie and I will clean up, then we’ll make the pancakes and find you some more painkillers,” Liam says. “You stay here and rest your back. Sound good?”
“That depends . . .” I say.
Liam’s shoulders slump. “On what?”
“Will you arrange the blueberries into a smiling face?”
Liam glares at me like he’s considering clocking me in the jaw.
“I will,” Freddie beams. “The syrup can be the hair.”
“And the moustache,” I add. “I like my pancake people with moustaches.”
Liam shakes his head. “You two are so fucking weird.”
