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Danny’s eyes narrow at me, the ghost of a smirk playing upon his lips.
“Are you getting flashbacks?” he asks quietly, too quiet for the others to hear. I nod. Rory ordering everyone around again — heat begins to thrum through the air, with the promise of a scene like we’d enjoyed together during summer. Rory’s bored emperor act is a prelude to the best kind of night. “I’m already hard,” Danny adds, quieter still, “He keeps growling at us like that, there’s no telling how long I’ll last.”
“Maybe we should entertain him,” I suggest, also aware of Luke no doubt internally freaking out and craving a much-needed distraction. “Keep him on the back-foot but let him know we take our rolesdeeply seriously.” When Danny shoots me a questioning gaze, I hold his hands and guide them to my exposed breasts. He swallows loudly, his lips parting into a small O of pleasure. His thumb gently brushes my peaked nipples while his other fingers softly massage my mounds and squeeze.
“Did I tell you to do that?” Rory says in a silken, warning whisper, and I can’t contain the shiver dripping down my spine. When Rory rises from the tree stump, Danny swallows again, his eyes darting toward me in anow you’ve done itway. Nevertheless, his hands don’t leave my breasts and I don’t hide my pleased smirk.
Rory draws up to us, his skin shining like marble in the lantern light. He says nothing at all and yet his piercing gaze is inflamed with meaning. Without looking, he bats away Danny’s caressing hands before looping an arm around my bare neck and crushing his mouth to mine. I make a muffled noise of surprise, my resolve slowly depleting as Rory’s kiss deepens, his tongue slanting slowly around mine. As his hand thrusts deeply into my hair, I find my leg curling around his calf and grabbing his body closer to mine. He’s a delicious bastion of heat and energy, standing naked like a god, panels of smooth skin waiting for my fingers to dig into, still lightly damp from the water that slides from his glittering hair. He’s achingly hard, and the position of his cock against my cunt relieves the sweetest ache.
“Behave,” Rory chides, a coy hair’s breadth from my lips, and with this one instruction, all of me puddles between his fingers. He steers me back around to face Danny. I’m bereft, no longer able to grind into that perfect length, no longer able to release a modicum of tension. Forced to return to being a creature fizzing with stars and waiting to explode.
I sense the burn of Rory’s eyes as Danny unzips my Lochkelvin plaid skirt. It flutters, banner-like, to the ground, where I step over it on my way to undo Danny’s pants. He sucks in a short, panicked breath, and I glance up to realize he’s watching Rory watching him, me crouched in the middle between them. Danny’s massive cock bulges and strains within the placket of his pants like a sturdy tentpole. I release the button of his waistband and quickly pull down the zipper, watching as Danny’s cock grows and grows within the confines of his briefs.
I purse my lips in amusement. His underwear is lime-green and decorated with another superhero logo, this time neon pink lightning bolts. I find myself privately pleased that Danny hasn’t allowed himself to be chastened by Rory’s blunt critique of his fashion sense, that he’s remained adamantly himself wherever possible.
“Say nothing,” Danny mutters, his words solely for Rory.
“You don’t issue the orders around here, D-boy,” Rory reminds him coolly. “Though I’m not sure you’re wearing the correct underwear size.”
Danny tilts his head to the side, watching Rory closely. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, sounding a touch paranoid. “Are you saying I’m too small?”
I choke back my laugh. Only someone who’d taken leave of their senses could possibly believe Danny was small.
“I’msaying,” Rory drawls, “if you get off on giving yourself wedgies, I’d have done them more often.”
Danny seems to flash with heat right in front of me, his pale skin turning tomato-red. But not once does his erection wane within his tight briefs — in fact, his cock seems an unstoppable, limitless force, unfurling to reveal its impressive scale as my fingers slide beneath the elastic waistband of his lime-green briefs, growing with every cutting remark Rory levels at him.
“So you’re saying you want to get me off?” Danny asks, his voice deeper and somehow vaguely sultry as I lower his briefs. The full extent of his power emerges. His cock expands in front of me, a virile riot of reds and pinks and purples, thick-set and girthy and already coated with precum. My face is inches from it and my mouth groans with saliva. I feel my body sliding open, growing wetter, as I fall under its spell. All I want to do is draw it into me, enchanted.
Rory doesn’t answer for a while, and I’d give anything to look back to see if he’s also checking out Danny. But I’m mesmerized, under the hypnotic spell of Danny’s gently bobbing beast of a cock.
“She’s still wearing tights,” Rory eventually states, clipped and cold and covering up a dangerous moment of fallibility. A small triumphant smile beats at the corner of Danny’s mouth. “Remove them.”
“Yes, sir,” Danny responds, deeply sarcastic, his half-smile practically a boast. For the first time in his life, he’s managed to get one over Rory and he’s not going to take it without pleasure.
I stand, brushing away the debris of leaves and twigs from my knees. Danny approaches me slowly, as though I were the sun, something too fiery and precious to reach directly. His fingertips trace the elastic seam of my tights, slipping beneath their silken smoothness, before peeling them down my legs, his doe-brown eyes smiling up at me from my thighs. I step out of my tights until I’m blessedly free and barefoot in the tall grass.
Feeling bold, Danny leans forward and presses a scorching kiss to the black cotton left on me, his lips shaping secret messages above my needy clit.
“Don’t think I was supposed to do that,” Danny whispers, his eyes dancing, and the amount of self-confidence he carries after one half-compliment from Rory is incredible. For someone who once decried the fact that I’d do literally anything for Rory’s validation, he’s really testing the limits of his hypocrisy. Even so, my love for him squeezes at my chest, as his kind brown eyes shine up at me in adoration.
“You weren’t,” Rory confirms sharply, but from his tone I can tell he’s fighting back a grin. Trying to act even more like an asshole to hide the fact that, at some point, Danny got under his skin. That it’s not as easy now for him to be mean on purpose because at some point in time, Rory softened. “Take off the rest.”
“Why don’t you both?” I ask, feeling exposed, and all too aware of Finlay and Luke watching me avidly from across the clearing. I believe it’s high time for Rory to do something other than bark orders at us, and I know it’s me who’s the only one he’ll listen to.
Danny twists his head around my waist, searching for Rory’s response. It comes in the form of warm fingers trailing down my back, circling the indents at the base of my spine. Two palms delve between the soft cotton and my skin, squeezing my cheeks soundly between each palm. I groan at the sensation, my head tipping back onto Rory’s shoulder as his skilled hands shape and mold my hips and buttocks like art.
Danny’s thumb traces a bead of moisture across the front of the cotton. “You’re wet,” he murmurs, holding his thumb against the spot and gently probing it.
I’m dizzy with lust, flayed open for the world to see. Rory presses soft kisses to the back of my neck, his arms encircling my waist. Danny glides my underwear to my ankles, where it pools like spilled ink. Rory’s hand slides beneath my cheeks, toying with my hot slick folds, his other hand trapping me into place by nursing my right breast. Danny slowly rises to his feet, his fingers going straight for my curls. He cards his fingers through them lovingly, and I’m all too aware of how close the three of us are, Danny and Rory with me caught in the middle like a necessary barricade, because without me, this wouldn’t be happening. This would never even dare to be adreamin either of their minds.
As Danny spreads his fingers under me, I’m split open and sopping wet for him, my cunt a collision of heat and yearning. The two of them pleasuring me like this is almost too much, Rory’s digits slanting into my wet hole and pleasure cutting deeply at my core. More than once, their hands meet in fucking me, a tentative brush of fingers that zaps electric heat toward the other, making them freeze. But the dreamy moan I give out is enough for both Danny and Rory to put their angst aside and continue onward, until pleasure soars through my cunt and I’m unable to tell who created it. My cunt becomes a collaborative work of art, curved palms used as palettes, cum pooling like paint, fingers brushing sparks across my slit as pleasure erupts across an untouched canvas.
I shudder between them both, thrusting myself forward into Danny and back into Rory. Grasping, clutching hands are under the control of greedy, feasting fingers. The world descends into a blur, my thighs quiver with cravings. Even as Rory holds me upright, I feel as if I’m in freefall. My mind empties into blissful catharsis and I see the rain, the rain that never once penetrates the treetops of the island. I stare up at it in slack fascination, wondering if this is a mirage, the faint shimmer across the sky, the finely stitched silver threads against a uniform of deep navy blue.
A storm rages inside me. As Rory and Danny tease me toward the edge, all it takes is one more stroke, one more greedy squeeze of my breasts before I’m convulsing inside Rory’s arms, my cunt clenching around two altogether different sets of fingers, raining cum across thirsty, insistent digits that crook into me like hooks. I shatter against them both, slumping between two sets of chests, my hands flying to Danny’s shoulders to grab hold of something, anything, to keep me upright. My legs don’t stop shaking. My body is a riot as orgasm rushes through it, with all the speed and release of a screaming, flyaway roller-coaster.
