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And I am lost. I can manage only two words of instruction to my altar boy: “Fuck me.”
Scrap obeys. He begins gently, as he always does, easing in and out in a hypnotizing rhythm as old as time. He knows the angle that makes me see stars, and he plays my secret spot as if it’s an instrument and he’s a gifted prodigy. Meanwhile, Brawn uses his Gift to do this crazy thing to me that feels like a blend between jerking and sucking.
Bliss rocks me to my core. My legs shake. My face flushes with heat.
Behind me, Scrap moans with his thrusts. His hands clench at my hips as he drives home again and again. He picks up his tempo, and it’s utterly and perfectly out of time with Brawn’s. The asynchrony short-circuits my brain.
I’m making noises that barely sound human. I’m tearing fistfuls of hay out of the bale. I’m no one’s father. I’m no one’s reverend. I’m nothing but a vessel for pleasure, and I’m about to break open.
Scrap drives home one final time, and he shivers inside me. He’s spilling his seed into my depths, becoming one with me. Then I’m coming in a flash of heat and wonder. I’m coming into Brawn’s imaginary mouth. Or I’m coming onto the Navajo blanket. I’m not sure which, and I don’t care. I just revel in the sensations gripping my bowels, rubbing my prostate, singing through my cock.
When my vision clears and I can think again, I realize Scrap’s spooned along my back, holding me and kissing my fevered skin. I rock my forehead on the blanket and peer at Brawn. Agony is etched on his face. A small wet spot at the front of his jeans tells me he’s leaking salty fluid from a cock that must be angry as hell.
I reach back to pat Scrap’s hip. “You did well, my son. The Working is pleased with your offering. But there’s one more task left before the sacrament is complete. Can I count on you to get it done?”
His happy sigh ghosts over my back. “Yes, Reverend. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Good boy. Go put that sweet mouth of yours on your brother’s cock. The sacrament will be complete when he floods your throat with his come.”
Brawn
My arms shakewith the effort not to snap the leather ties holding me to this damn pillar. My legs cramp from thrusting my hips at nothing. My dick practically explodes out of my jeans at Rev’s filthy words, and it takes everything in me not to use my Gift to take matters into my own hands.
I can control it. I can control it. Imustcontrol it. For Rev, Scrap, and Jud. For Cora.
Never in my life have I ever worked so hard to do absolutely nothing. Never in my life have I been so turned on and so helpless to ease the ache.
When Rev tells Scrap to give me head, my knees just about give out. I’m beyond relieved. It’s all I can do not to use my Gift to drag Scrap to me, but I manage to hold back. What I can’t hold back is my Gift shredding my jeans open. Without me or Scrap or anyone else touching them, the front frays into a dozen strands of denim and zipper pieces, and my dick punches free.
Scrap stops dead in his tracks, eyes like saucers. “The fuck? Did that really just happen? You all right, dude?”
Rev is climbing back into his jeans. He chuckles. “I don’t think he’ll be all right until you put that mouth on him.”
“Right.” Scrap meets my eyes and licks his lips. Then he kneels in front of me. It’s a tall, upright kneel because of the difference in our heights. My cock bobs in front of his face, and the feeling of his breath makes me go cross-eyed.
Rev snaps out the blanket and spreads it over the pile of lose hay. He reclines back in nothing but his jeans. Hands behind his head, he crosses his bare ankles and watches from beneath lowered eyelids.
And that’s the last time I think about Rev, because Scrap blows a cool jet of air over my aching dick, and I cry out with how good it feels.
He chuckles, and I don’t know if I want to drag him up to me for a thorough, rough kiss or curse him for torturing me. “Fucking do it,” I say. “Suck it.”
“Such language from an altar boy,” Rev scolds. “Maybe you need a punishment so you remember who’s in charge.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, Reverend. I’m sorry.” The apology pours out of me. I’m desperate for Scrap’s mouth. “Please don’t punish me. Please.”
Rev chuckles. “Something tells me we’re pushing things as it is. All right. Scrappy boy, go ahead and end your brother’s torment. Let’s finish the sacrament.”
With a final glance at me through those thick lashes, Scrap grabs hold of my dick and lowers it like he’s in a rock band, and he’s the lead singer positioning a microphone. His tongue comes out to wet his lips, and I groan. Then he opens up and begins taking me.
The heat of his mouth closes over my head first. Hot pleasure rips through me. It’s almost too much.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I bang my head back on the pillar and will myself not to come. Not yet. I have to at least find out if he can take me all the way.
Slowly, torturously, his face slides closer and closer to my pubes. Heat and wetness spread along my shaft as it disappears between his stretched lips.
Jesus. Working. Shit.
My hips jerk as pleasure kicks me in the gut. Scrap has to hold on to my hips so I don’t dislodge him.
