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Everything was different now.
He bent to bite the back of Drake’s neck, offering that sting of pain they both craved while he inserted another finger and pleasured him harder, faster. The slick slide of skin against skin was maddening. They were both sweating, both flushed and full to bursting. His cock trailed wetness over his buddy’s back, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Even being on top of Drake like this was enough to make him blow.
His fingers flexed, pressing against that spot that he knew would come damn close to setting him off. Drake groaned and clutched the sheets, his knuckles going white as he strained beneath Colt and tried to bear his onslaught without losing it.
Not going to happen.
Colt drew his hand away and gripped his cock, positioning it just outside the snug ring of muscle. He didn’t close his eyes. Drake’s back undulated, the muscles bunching and shifting while he waited for him to move.
He inched forward, cursed and dropped back his head as sweat trickled into his eyes. His skin burned from the inferno inside him. Drake’s tight passage beckoned, drawing him deeper, forcing him to shove past the initial resistance. He shouted at the first clamp around him, and slammed a hand into Drake’s back to hold him down.
All it would take was a twitch and he’d be coming like a damn geyser.
He drew back and thrust in again with growing steadiness, finding his rhythm at the same time as he forced Drake to accept exactly what he gave him. Slow strokes at first, speeding up, becoming faster and deeper.
So goddamn deep.
The leash inside him snapped. His control gone, Colt grabbed his best friend’s hips and pounded into him, bruising his skin. Digging welts. His fingers burrowed into flesh just like his cock tunneled into his ass, invading him as he’d been invaded. There could be no escape. Not for either of them.
Drake’s muffled moan drew his gaze back to his friend’s arm and the now blood-tinged cuts there. He’d bitten himself hard enough to bleed. He quaked beneath Colt, his skin a deep red beneath his tan. Somehow Colt reached around Drake to grab his cock where it was pressed into the mattress. He jerked it in rough pulls as he kept up the tempo in his ass, slamming into him again and again until he couldn’t keep from twisting his hand brutally hard around Drake’s cock. He came at once, roaring out his release, the hot, sticky splash against his palm triggering his own climax.
“Fuck.” He buried his shout in Drake’s shoulder and squeezed his buddy’s dick, pumping out every last drop while his hips hammered his hole and he emptied himself into the condom.
His orgasm didn’t stop. Pulse after pulse, he just kept coming. Filling up the damn condom until he had to let go of Drake’s spent cock and grab the latex tight around the base of his shaft or they’d have had a hell of a mess on their hands.
He pulled out and took off the condom with his slick fingers. More of a mess than he already had.
Grabbing a tissue, he cleaned up as best as he could and sprawled on the bed beside Drake. He couldn’t have walked out of that room yet if he wanted to. His legs were shaking too badly to hold him up.
Everything was still shaking.
Eyes closed, he didn’t move as Drake rolled closer. He tensed, unable to talk. There weren’t any words in him to describe this.
Soft lips skated over his shoulder and along his collarbone and he nearly sighed before he caught himself. Comfort came in all kinds of forms. He didn’t know how to take this, or where it slotted into all the safe boxes he’d created in his mind to explain away what he didn’t understand.
Sex with Paige was okay, more than. Sex between all three of them, perfect. Beyond compare. Sex with him and Paige and Paige and Drake, just dandy.
But this…this didn’t have a category. The box labeled Drake had blown wide open and he didn’t know how to close it again.
He sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. Jesus, he smelled like Drake. His spicy cologne, his sweat, his release. He’d wanted to imprint himself on him? Fuck that. Drake had soaked into his freaking pores.
Behind him, still sprawled on the bed, Drake blew out a breath. “I knew you would do this.”
Colt gritted his teeth. “Do what?”
“You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re walling off. Again. Just like you do every time something is too much for you. You ignore it and you run.”
He was on his feet and searching for his clothes before the impulse even registered. “You think you know me so well.”
“Don’t I?” Drake didn’t sound angry. Just tired.
As if he’d expected exactly this, as he’d said.
Colt couldn’t get his boxers and jeans back on fast enough. He needed a shower but there wasn’t time. He’d left a student in the midst of a lesson, for God’s sake. As usual his sexual needs rose above everything else. Just like people always said about him.
Changed? Yeah, right.
He tugged on his boots and his shirt, pulling it down before heading for the door.
