Page 77 of Puck You Both

The first thing I register is the stubble, something I was not prepared for, scraping against my chin, and I can’t even begin to name the feelings warring within me. Nor do I have time to name them, Patrick’s mouth already brushing mine, feather-light, before he fully commits. His lips move against mine, soft but certain, and he drags his thumb along my jaw.

Delight. That’s the feeling that wins the war. And it feels like something I've been waiting for my whole life without knowing it.

He tilts his head and takes the kiss deeper. His tongue touches mine, light and patient. My hand finds his waist, fabric bunching in my fist, and a low sound rolls out of him and into my mouth. Heat shoots straight down through me, and my cock swells up against his hip.

My immediate instinct is to back away, but it only lasts a fraction of a second, until I remember that this is supposed to happen. This is not an accidental, embarrassing boner. This one is worked for.

And what a fucking wild concept.

There's a version of me that would be mortified right now.

He stayed home tonight.

Patrick must notice right away, and, instead of giving me room, he takes the last inch away, one slow press of his body, his weight landing right against my aching cock. I make a pathetic sound against his mouth right when my hips buck up involuntarily, seeking friction.

When he finally eases back, breaking the kiss, my hand is still fisted in his shirt. I look at it, and leave it where it is.

"Okay, my turn!"

A naked weight hits me from the side.

Theo climbs me, there’s no other way to put it. He hooks one arm around my neck, a thigh over my hip and cups my cheek with the oven mitt, urging me to face him. He doesn’t need to—it goes willingly and his mouth already crashes into mine. There are teeth in it. There's laughter in it, spilling straight into my mouth like he couldn't hold it one more second. And there's skin. So much bare skin, everywhere my hands land. And they land everywhere, because I'm suddenly holding a naked man who's trying to occupy the exact space I'm standing in.

He grinds against me, zero shame, finds exactly how hard Patrick left me, and pulls back an inch.

"Patrick,” he quips against my lips, sounding pleased. “He's so hard already—"

"Focus," I say, and kiss him again before he can answer. It's the right call. His whole body goes loud against mine, hips rolling, fingers threading in my hair, mitt against my face. Filthy and delighted at the same time.

Patrick’s voice reaches me from a distance. "Bedroom."

Theo drops off me, grabs my wrist with the mitt, and pulls. I go. I’d follow him to hell right now.

The first and only thing I notice when I cross the threshold is the bed, massive, and solid, and neatly made. I get exactly one look at it before Theo plants both mitts on my chest and walks me backward to the foot of it, repositioning me like furniture.

Then he takes the mitts off, slowly, eyes on me the whole way.

This is the striptease, I guess. The mitts are the striptease.

I successfully suppress a laugh, but can’t hold the words in. "Finally," I say. "The man is nude."

He doesn’t miss a beat as he drops them on the floor. "You watched the whole thing."

I did.

My shirt goes first. Theo starts on the buttons and declares war on the third one, cursing under his breath. While that battle rages on, Patrick comes around behind me. I feel him before he touches me, heat down my back, and when the last button finally gives, it's Patrick’s hands that slide the shirt off my shoulders. His knuckles trail down my arms with the fabric. His mouth is close to my ear that I can feel every hot breath, and goosebumps chase his touch all the way to my wrists.

And then, there are four hands on me, as Theo's palms slide up my stomach, mapping everything on the way, while Patrick's fingertips come down my spine slowly enough to feel every bump, while I just stand between the two of them and barely remember how to breathe.

Someone's hands find my belt, and I can’t tell whose, fighting to keep my eyes open. The buckle sounds obscene in the quiet. Leather hisses through the loops. The button gives. The zipper comes down tooth by tooth, right over how hard I am.

A single moan escapes me just as I force my eyes to focus on Theo, as he drops into a crouch and takes my jeans and briefs down in one motion. Then he looks up at me from the floor, and I moan again.

That look. I'm going to be seeing that look for the rest of my life.

My cock stands up against my stomach, flushed dark, pre-cum pooling at the tip. And they both look. Openly, taking their time about it. I can feel the looking like hands on me, heat crawling up my chest and into my ears.

"I knew it," Theo says from the floor. "I've been saying—"