sneakbator

Chapter 26 The drive home from the work site was a blur of asphalt and aching silence. Jordan’s mind, for once, wasn’t on Chad or the lingering echo of their last hotel-room encounter. It was a state away, in his own house, with the two people he’d built a life with. He’d called them last night. No answer. He’d texted this morning. Nothing. A cold, leaden dread had been growing in his gut all day, a stark contrast to the humid summer air flooding through the truck’s open window. Pulling into the driveway, the dread solidified into a hard, icy rock. The driveway was empty. No Jared’s beat-up sedan. No Blake’s sleek motorcycle. No. They’re just out. They’re shopping. They’re getting food. The excuses were weak, pathetic things that dissolved the moment he killed the engine. The silence that greeted him was absolute and profoundly wrong. He pushed open the garage door, the creak of the hinge absurdly loud in the quiet. “Jared? Blake?” His voice bounced off the walls, unanswered. He stepped into the kitchen. Nothing on the counter. No note. The living room was… clean. Too clean. The throw blankets were neatly folded. The video game controllers were lined up with military precision on the media console. Jared never did that. He took the stairs two at a time, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He shoved open the door to their shared bedroom. Empty. The closets were half-empty, hangers dangling askew. The dresser drawers were pulled open, hollowed out. All of Blake’s graphic tees, all of Jared’s flannels and worn jeans—gone. The bathroom was next. His items sat alone on the counter. Their toothbrushes, their products, the special beard oil Chad had given Jared—vanished. They were gone. They had moved out. Together. A wave of vertigo washed over him. He staggered back, leaning against the doorframe for support. Why? What had he done? There were no fights, no jealousy, no slammed doors or bitter words. The last time he’d seen them, they’d been wrapped up in each other on the couch, smiling, telling him about their boring day. It was a lie. It had all been a lie. The panic was a live wire now, sparking under his skin, stealing the air from his lungs. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the hallway floor, knees pulled to his chest. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. His hands were shaking. Who did he call? His parents? They wouldn’t understand. A friend? He didn’t have any others. They had been his whole world. On pure, desperate instinct, his trembling fingers found his phone. He scrolled past Jared’s name, past Blake’s, and landed on the last person he’d been with. He hit call. Chad answered on the second ring. “Hey, man. You make it back okay?” The sound of his voice, so normal, so grounded, was the final crack in Jordan’s composure. A choked sob escaped him. He couldn’t form words. “Jordan?” Chad’s tone shifted instantly, all casualness evaporating. “Jordan, talk to me. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” “They’re… they’re gone,” he finally managed, the words raw and broken. “Everything’s… empty. They left me.” “Sit tight,” Chad’s voice was firm, a command that cut through the static in Jordan’s head. “Don’t move. I’m on my way.” The line went dead. Jordan let the phone clatter to the floor, burying his face in his hands. The silence of the house pressed in on him, a heavy, suffocating weight. Minutes later, the roar of a familiar truck engine cut through the quiet, followed by the slam of a door. Heavy, urgent footsteps pounded up the front porch steps. The front door swung open. “Jordan?” He heard Chad’s voice echo through the empty downstairs before his bootfalls sounded on the stairs. He appeared at the top, his broad frame filling the hallway. His eyes, dark with concern, found Jordan crumpled on the floor. In two long strides, Chad was there. He didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees and gathered Jordan into his arms, pulling him against his chest. Jordan collapsed into him, his body wracked with silent, shuddering sobs he could no longer contain. “Shhh, I’ve got you,” Chad murmured, his voice a low rumble against Jordan’s ear. One large, calloused hand cradled the back of Jordan’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. The other rubbed slow, firm circles on his back. “I’ve got you. Just let it out.” He held Jordan tightly, his embrace an anchor in a suddenly unmoored world. Jordan clung to the rough fabric of Chad’s work shirt, inhaling the familiar scents of diesel, clean sweat, and just Chad. It was the only thing that felt real. Chad held him through the worst of it, until the sobs subsided into shaky, hiccupping breaths. He didn’t say empty platitudes. He didn’t ask stupid questions. He just held him, his own heart hammering a frantic, hopeful rhythm against Jordan’s chest. This is it, Chad thought, his face buried in Jordan’s hair. This is my chance. The thought was immediate, selfish, and utterly overwhelming. For weeks, this man in his arms had been all he could think about. Jordan made him feel safe, seen, and fucking alive in a way he’d never experienced. The sex was earth-shattering, yeah, but it was the quiet moments after, the easy laughter, the shared looks—that’s what had cemented it. He was head over heels, desperately in love, and he’d been trying to find the nerve, the perfect moment to say it. But this… seeing Jordan so completely shattered, so vulnerable… this wasn’t the right time. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t confess his feelings now. It would be taking advantage. So he just held on tighter, pouring every ounce of the love he couldn’t say into that simple, solid embrace. “I don’t understand,” Jordan whispered against his neck, his voice hoarse. “Why would they just go? Without a word?” “I don’t know, man,” Chad said softly, his lips brushing against Jordan’s temple. “But you’re not alone. You hear me? You’re not alone in this.” He leaned back just enough to look at Jordan’s face, his thumb gently wiping a stray tear from his cheek. The proximity was electric. Jordan’s eyes, red-rimmed and lost, searched his. Chad’s gaze dropped to Jordan’s lips for a heartbeat too long, the air between them thickening with something far more complex than comfort. “I’m right here,” Chad breathed, his voice barely a whisper, a pr omise and a question all at once. Chapter 27 The warm, damp spot on Chad’s shirt grew larger as Jordan’s sobs finally began to subside, the raw, wrenching sounds softening into shaky, hitching breaths. He felt hollowed out, scraped clean by the shock and the crying. Chad’s arms never loosened their hold, his hand a steady, comforting pressure on the back of Jordan’s head. Jordan tilted his face up, his vision blurred by remaining tears. Chad’s concerned face was inches from his, his brow furrowed, his own eyes shining with an emotion Jordan was too overwhelmed to name. Without a single conscious thought, driven by a need for comfort that was more primal than any logic, Jordan closed the small distance between them and pressed his lips to Chad’s. It was a messy, salty kiss, wet with tears and the faint, embarrassing smear of snot from Jordan’s nose. He didn’t care. He poured every bit of his confusion, his loss, and his desperate need for connection into it, clinging to Chad like he was the only solid thing in a world that had just collapsed. He kissed him for what felt like an eternity, a silent plea for the ground to stop shifting beneath his feet. When he finally pulled back, gasping for air, his cheeks flushed with a heat that was entirely new, regret instantly flooded him. “Chad, I’m… I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have… that was…” Chad’s hand, which had stilled on his back, began to move again in slow, calming circles. His voice was low, a soft rumble that vibrated through Jordan’s entire body. “No. Don’t apologize. It’s okay.” He brushed a stray tear from Jordan’s cheek with his thumb, his calloused skin rough yet incredibly gentle. “I was wanting to kiss you, too.” They stayed like that for a long moment, foreheads resting together, their breath mingling. Jordan’s heart was no longer hammering from panic, but from something else entirely, something terrifying and exhilarating. Chad’s eyes, dark and intense, searched his, and Jordan saw the internal battle raging within them. “Jordan…” Chad began, his voice husky. He took a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. “I know… I know this is the worst possible time. The absolute worst. And I’ve been trying to find a better moment for weeks, but… I can’t wait another minute. Seeing you like this… I can’t hold it in.” He leaned back just enough to look Jordan directly in the eye, his gaze unwavering, raw with a vulnerability Jordan had never seen in the rugged man before. “I have been racking my brain every single day since that first time in the hotel,” Chad confessed, the words pouring out in a rushed, earnest torrent. “Thinking about you. About us. About how you make me feel. I was so unsure, man. So fucking confused. I’ve never… felt this for anyone. Not like this.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “But I can’t deny it anymore. I’m not confused. I’m in love with you, Jordan.” The declaration hung in the silent hallway, so immense it seemed to absorb all the sound in the world. Jordan could only stare, his mind struggling to process the words. Chad continued, his voice gaining strength, filled with a wondrous awe as he cataloged his feelings. “I’m in love with your stupid, perfect smile that makes your eyes crinkle. I’m in love with your laugh, the way you throw your head back and just let go. I’m in love with this body,” he said, his hand slipping from Jordan’s back to splay across his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart. “The way you move, the strength in you. I’m even in love with your smell—like clean sweat and that cheap shampoo you use and just… you.Everything. I’m just… completely in love with you.” Jordan was speechless. The emptiness left by Jared and Blake’s abandonment was suddenly filled with a roaring, incandescent light. All the clandestine glances at the shipyard, the possessive grabs in the hotel, the tender way Chad had cared for him during sex—it all snapped into a perfect, stunning picture. “But…” Jordan finally managed, his voice a disbelieving whisper. “I thought you were straight?” A slow, genuine smile spread across Chad’s face, softening his sharp features. “Labels are just words, man. They don’t mean a damn thing. I love Jordan. I wouldn’t care if you were a guy, a girl, or a fucking brilliant alien from another planet. I just love you. For you.” It was the sweetest, most overwhelmingly honest thing anyone had ever said to him. The last of the ice around Jordan’s heart shattered. A choked, half-sob, half-laugh escaped him as fresh tears, these born of pure, unadulterated joy, welled in his eyes. “I love you too, Chad,” he breathed, the words feeling more right and true than anything he’d ever uttered. “God, I love you so much.” The relief that washed over Chad’s face was profound. He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for weeks and pulled Jordan into a fierce, crushing hug, burying his face in his neck. They held each other in the quiet hallway, surrounded by the ghosts of a past life, but firmly anchored in the stunning reality of their new beginning. After a long while, Chad shifted. The look in his eyes changed from one of comfort to one of smoldering intent. The hand on Jordan’s chest slid lower, over the tight muscles of his stomach, coming to rest at the waistband of his work pants. The touch was no longer just comforting; it was a question. “They don’t get to take this from us,” Chad murmured, his lips grazing Jordan’s earlobe. “This is ours.” Jordan answered him by capturing his mouth in another kiss, this one deep, hungry, and full of promise. It was a claiming. A consummation of words with action. Chad met his hunger with his own, his tongue sliding against Jordan’s as his fingers worked open the button of his jeans, then the zipper. The rasp of the denim was deafening in the silence. Chad broke the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down between them. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Jordan’s pants and underwear and pushed them down in one smooth, determined motion. Jordan kicked them off, his hard cock springing free, already leaking. Chad’s gaze was rapt, worshipful. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his own hands going to his belt buckle. The clink of the metal, the rough sound of his own zipper coming down, sent shivers of anticipation through Jordan. Chad shoved his heavy work pants and boxer briefs down his muscular thighs, his thick, uncut cock standing proud and full. They stood there for a heartbeat, naked in the hallway, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows around them. The air crackled with a new, profound intimacy. This wasn’t a frantic hookup in a cheap hotel room. This was different. This was theirs. Chad reached out, his hand not going for Jordan’s cock, but instead cupping his jaw, his thumb stroking his cheek. “I want to make love to you,” he said, the words a soft, reverent vow. “Will you let me do that?” Jordan’s answer was to take his hand and lead him, not to the empty bedroom that echoed with loss, but toward his own room down the hall. As they passed the threshold, Chad pulled him close again, his strong arms wrapping around him, their bodies aligning from chest to thigh. The feeling of their cocks pressed together, hard and hot between them, was an electric shock. Chad’s mouth found his again, slower this time, deeper. It was a kiss that spoke of belonging, of a future he’d been too afraid to imagine. His hands roamed Jordan’s back, down to the swell of his ass, pulling their hips even tighter together in a slow, grinding rhythm that made Jordan’s head spin. “My turn to take care of you,” Chad whispered against his lips, his voice thick with emotion and desire. THE END THANKS EVERYONE I HOPE YOU ENJOYED

Chapter 24 The silence in the house was wrong. It wasn’t the comfortable quiet of shared space; it was an empty, echoing void. Jordan dropped his duffel bag by the door, the thud unnaturally loud. “Guys? Jared? Blake?” No answer. A note on the kitchen counter, written in Jared’s sloppy scrawl, explained it: Went to the outlet mall for the weekend. Back Sunday night. Leftovers in the fridge. A weekend. They’d known he was coming home. They’d left anyway. A cold knot tightened in his stomach, something that felt a lot like suspicion. He tried to shake it off. They’re just shopping. It’s fine. He needed a distraction. He booted up his desktop, the familiar hum a small comfort. He’d check his messages, maybe watch some porn, take the edge off the long drive home. As the monitor flickered to life, a single folder sat open on the screen, its contents displayed in a grid of thumbnails. It wasn’t his. The folder was simply labeled “US.” Curiosity, that hungry little beast, nibbled at him. He clicked on the first video. It was Blake’s bedroom. The camera was propped up on a dresser. Jared and Blake were on the bed, not fucking, but… wrestling. It was playful, all laughing protests and tangled limbs. Jared pinned Blake, his body covering the smaller man’s. They were both shirtless, breathing heavily. The laughter died down. Jared’s gaze dropped to Blake’s lips. The air in the room on the screen seemed to change, to thicken. Jared leaned down, so slowly, and pressed his mouth to Blake’s. It wasn't a hookup kiss. It was deep, searching, tender. Jordan’s breath hitched. He clicked another. This one was in their living room, on the couch Jordan usually claimed. Jared was sitting, and Blake was straddling his lap, but they were fully clothed, just holding each other. Blake’s head was tucked under Jared’s chin, his eyes closed. Jared was whispering something, his lips moving against Blake’s hair, his large hand stroking slow, soothing circles on Blake’s back. The look on Jared’s face—it was a look of such profound, peaceful possession that it made Jordan’s chest ache. It was a look Jordan had never seen him give anyone, not even during their most intense threesomes. He opened video after video. They weren’t just sex tapes. They were love letters. There were slow, passionate fuckings where they stared into each other’s eyes the entire time, whispering things the microphone couldn’t pick up. There were moments of pure domestic intimacy—cooking together in just their boxers, sharing a joint on the back patio, Blake tracing the lines of Jared’s tattoos while they watched a movie. The travelling for work… leaving them together so much… It hadn’t brought them all closer. It had split them. It had created a dyad, a unit of two that deliberately excluded the third. And they were hiding it. They hadn’t said a word. A hot, acidic jealousy boiled up in his throat, followed immediately by a cold, numbing sense of loss. He closed the folder. He wouldn’t confront them. Not yet. He just sat there in the darkening room, the ghost of their stolen moments playing on a loop behind his eyes. * The next six weeks on the road were a blur of diesel fumes, hotel rooms, and Chad. The discovery at home became a secret fuel, a dark energy Jordan poured into his… whatever this was with his coworker. The mutual jerk-off sessions in the truck became a daily ritual, a necessary release. Then the kissing started—clumsy at first, then hungry, desperate, all teeth and tongue against the door of another anonymous hotel room. Then came the night Chad, his breath hot against Jordan’s neck, his thick cock pressed insistently against Jordan’s thigh, growled the words. “I wanna fuck you, Jordan. For real. I need to feel what it’s like to be inside you.” The proposition should have been terrifying. But all Jordan felt was a thrilling, dizzying surge of power. Yes. This was what he needed. To be claimed. To be filled. To forget everything else. “Okay,” Jordan breathed, his voice barely a whisper. “Okay. Do it.” They stumbled toward Chad’s bed, a tangle of frantic hands and searching mouths. Clothes were torn away, landing in heap on the cheap carpet. Chad’s hands were everywhere—gripping his ass, palming his chest, cupping his jaw as he plundered his mouth. Jordan let himself be manhandled, his own arousal spiking with every rough, possessive touch. Chad broke the kiss, his dark eyes blazing with a intensity that made Jordan’s knees weak. “Turn over. On your knees.” The command sent a shiver of pure submission through him. He obeyed, scrambling onto the mattress, presenting himself. He heard the rip of a foil packet, the slick sound of lube. His heart hammered against his ribs. This is happening. He’s really going to do it. He felt the blunt, wet head of Chad’s cock press against him. It was so much bigger than a finger, an impossible pressure. He tensed, a involuntary gasp caught in his throat. “Relax for me, man,” Chad murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle despite its rough texture. One of his big, calloused hands stroked down Jordan’s spine, a calming gesture that was at odds with the situation. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.” Jordan forced air into his lungs, willing his body to soften, to accept. He focused on the feeling of Chad’s hand on his back, the solid warmth of his body looming over him. Then Chad pushed. It was a slow, inexorable invasion, a stretch that bordered on pain before it melted into a feeling of being utterly, completely full. A broken moan was torn from Jordan’s throat. “Fuck… Chad…” “Jesus, Jordan,” Chad groaned above him, his voice strained. His hips stilled, buried to the hilt. “You’re so fucking tight. So hot inside.” He leaned over, blanketing Jordan’s body with his own, his chest pressed against Jordan’s back. His beard scraped against Jordan’s shoulder as he spoke. “You like that? I'm so deep in you?” Jordan could only nod, his face pressed into the scratchy hotel pillow. He was overwhelmed by the sensation, by the sheer physicality of it. Every slight shift of Chad’s hips sent sparks shooting through his nerves. Chad began to move, a slow, shallow rocking that gradually built into deeper, more confident thrusts. The initial burn was gone, replaced by a building, coiling pleasure that started deep in his core. Each thrust rubbed his prostate, a direct, electric shock that made his own dick, hard and leaking against his stomach, jump and twitch. Chad’s rhythm was punishing, powerful, each drive of his hips slamming Jordan forward with a grunt. “Yeah, take this dick,” Chad grunted, his hands gripping Jordan’s hips hard, surely leaving bruises. “Take it all. You love this, don’t you? Love getting fucked like this.” “Yes,” Jordan moaned, the word mangled. “Fuuuck, yes…” He was losing himself, his mind going blank white with pleasure. This was nothing like being with Jared and Blake. This was raw, primal, singular. There was no audience, no performance. It was just this: the smell of their sweat, the sound of skin slapping against skin, the brutal, perfect friction of Chad’s thick cock stretching him open. Chad’s pace became frantic, his breathing ragged in Jordan’s ear. “You're gonna make me cum, man. I'm gonna fill you up.” The promise, so filthy and direct, was what sent Jordan spiraling over the edge. His orgasm ripped through him with a silent, violent intensity, his cum striping the bedspread beneath him in hot, pulsing jets. His body clenched tightly around Chad, milking him. With a guttural roar, Chad buried himself as deep as he could go. Jordan felt the hot, throbbing pulse of his release through the latex, a final, claiming heat flooding inside him. Chad collapsed on top of him, his full weight pressing Jordan into the mattress, both of them spent and gasping for air. After a long moment, Chad softened and slipped out. He rolled off, disposing of the condom before lying back down, an arm thrown over his eyes. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. Finally, Chad spoke, his voice rough and low. “That was…” Jordan held his breath. “…fuckin’ insane.” Chad turned his head on the pillow, looking at Jordan with a dazed, sated expression that was entirely new. “We are definitely doing that again.” Jordan looks at Chad with smiling eyes. "You're turn!" Chapter 25 The humid, grimy air of the shipyard clung to them like a second skin. Every clang of metal, every shouted command, was just background noise to the secret dance unfolding between them. Jordan would be tightening a bolt, and he’d glance over to see Chad bent over a crate, his loose work pants offering a deliberate, fleeting glimpse of his heavy balls and soft, thick dick. The sight sent a jolt straight to Jordan’s core, his own cock swelling instantly against the rough denim of his jeans. Chad would catch his look and straighten up, a slow, knowing smirk playing on his lips beneath the shadow of his hard hat. He’d adjust himself with a casual, almost arrogant grab, making the substantial weight of his package unmistakable. No words were needed. The entire day was a silent, sweaty preamble, a steady crescendo of shared, illicit heat that left them both aching and distracted. Back at the hotel, the shower was a necessary purging of the day’s grit, but also an extension of the tease. The water sluiced over Chad’s tattooed shoulders, and Jordan’s eyes traced the paths it took, his soapy hands moving over his own body with a possessiveness he knew Chad was watching. They toweled off in the steamy bathroom, the thick terrycloth doing little to hide their renewed, half-hard interest. Dinner was a blur of shared plates and easy laughter. Chad was in peak form, his jokes coming quick and his smiles directed solely at Jordan. His touches became more frequent—a clap on the shoulder that lingered, a nudge of his knee under the table, a hand on Jordan’s forearm to emphasize a point. Each point of contact was a brand. Jordan sipped his beer, watching Chad’s animated face. This guy says he’s straight, he thought, the familiar internal refrain taking on a new, hopeful edge. But the way he’s looking at me… the way he can’t keep his hands to himself… it feels like more. It feels like he has feelings for me. The idea was terrifying and electrifying. The walk back to their room was charged with a silent, humming anticipation. The second the hotel door clicked shut behind them, the careful pretense of the evening shattered. Chad didn’t say a word. He simply turned, his eyes dark and intense, and pushed Jordan back against the door. His mouth found Jordan’s in a deep, claiming kiss that tasted of beer and want. It wasn't tentative or questioning; it was desperate and sure. Their hands were everywhere, pulling at clothes, fumbling with buttons and zippers. A shirt was ripped over a head. A belt buckle clattered to the floor. “You said,” Chad breathed against his lips, his voice a rough, husky thing that vibrated through Jordan’s entire body. “You said it was my turn.” Jordan could only nod, his breath catching as Chad’s hands shoved his jeans and boxers down his thighs in one urgent motion. “I’m ready, Jordan,” Chad whispered, his forehead pressed to Jordan’s, his eyes squeezed shut as if gathering courage. “Fuck me. I want you inside me.” His hands gripped Jordan’s hips, his fingers pressing into the flesh. “But go slow. I’m tight. I’ve… I’ve never done this before.” The confession, so vulnerable and raw, snapped Jordan into a different headspace. The frantic energy morphed into something focused, tender. He cupped Chad’s face, forcing him to open his eyes. “Look at me. We’ll go as slow as you need. I’ve got you.” He led Chad to the bed, laying him back gently against the pillows. He took his time, worshiping the landscape of Chad’s body with his hands and mouth—the hard planes of his chest, the trail of hair leading down from his navel, the intricate ink on his powerful arms. He wanted Chad boneless and pliant, wanted every ounce of nervous tension replaced with pure, aching need. When he finally reached Chad’s cock, it was a testament to the man’s control. It stood thick and full against his stomach, the head dark and flushed, already glistening. Jordan leaned down, taking him into his mouth, using his tongue to lavish attention on the sensitive slit, savoring the sharp, salty taste of his pre-cum. Chad’s back arched off the bed, a broken groan tearing from his throat. “Fuck… Jordan… yes…” Jordan prepared him with a reverence he usually reserved for his own most private fantasies. He used his fingers, slick with lube from the nightstand, working him open with infinite patience, watching the play of agony and ecstasy on Chad’s face. He scissored him slowly, crooking his fingers, seeking out that bundle of nerves that made Chad’s entire body jolt and his eyes roll back in his head. “Please,” Chad begged, his voice ragged. “Now. I need you now. I’m ready.” Jordan positioned himself, kneeling between Chad’s spread legs. He guided the head of his own hard, leaking cock to Chad’s entrance. The pressure was immense, a tight, hot ring of muscle resisting him. He pushed, just an inch, and watched Chad’s face contort. “Breathe, baby,” Jordan murmured, stroking his thigh. “Just breathe through it.” Chad nodded, his jaw clenched, his eyes locked on Jordan’s. He let out a long, shaky exhale, and his body seemed to open, to yield. Jordan sank deeper, the sensation of being enveloped in such incredible, clenching heat stealing the air from his lungs. He pushed until he was fully sheathed, buried to the hilt, their bodies joined completely. For a moment, neither of them moved. They just stayed there, connected, breathing each other’s air. The only sound was their ragged panting. Chad’s eyes were wide, awestruck. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “You’re… you’re all the way in.” “Yeah,” Jordan breathed, the word a prayer. He leaned down, capturing Chad’s mouth in a slow, deep kiss as he began to move. It was a slow, rolling rhythm, a gentle fucking that was more about connection than conquest. Each withdrawal was a sweet agony, each thrust back in a homecoming. Jordan could feel every shudder, every clench of Chad’s body around him. He watched the emotions flicker across Chad’s face—the initial shock melting into dazed pleasure, then into something deeper, something awed and vulnerable. Chad’s hands came up, tangling in Jordan’s hair, pulling him down for another searing kiss. His legs wrapped around Jordan’s waist, locking him in place, pulling him even deeper. The pace gradually increased, the gentle rolls becoming more urgent, their hips meeting in a slick, rhythmic slap. “Harder,” Chad moaned into his mouth, his voice raw with need. “Please, Jordan… fuck me harder.” Jordan obeyed, driving into him with more force, each thrust punching a gasped “uhn” from Chad’s lips. The bed began to creak in protest. Jordan could feel his own climax coiling, a tight, hot spring in his belly. He reached between them, wrapping his hand around Chad’s leaking cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Chad cried out, a strangled, helpless sound. His body seized, clamping down on Jordan’s cock like a vise as his own release shot over Jordan’s fist and his stomach in hot, pulsing streaks. The intense, rhythmic squeezing was Jordan’s undoing. With a guttural groan, he buried himself as deep as he could go, his own orgasm erupting, flooding the condom with wave after wave of intense, shuddering release. He collapsed on top of Chad, spent, his face buried in the sweaty crook of his neck. They lay there for a long time, still joined, their hearts hammering against each other’s ribs, their breath slowly returning to normal. The air was thick with the musky, sweet scent of sex. Jordan finally shifted, softening and slipping out. He disposed of the condom and fell back onto the bed beside Chad. Without a word, Chad turned onto his side and curled into Jordan, throwing a heavy arm across his chest, his head pillowed on Jordan’s shoulder. Their skin was slick with sweat, cooling in the hotel’s AC. No one spoke. There were no jokes, no declarations, no analysis. There was just the sound of their synchronized breathing and the profound, speechless understanding vibrating in the space between them. They fell asleep like that, tangled together, covered in the evidence of what they’d shared. The world outside their door ceased to exist. There was only this.

Chapter 22 The silence was a living thing, thick and heavy with the scent of clean sweat and whiskey. Their eyes were locked, hands moving in a synchronized rhythm over their own cocks, the only sound their ragged breathing and the soft, wet friction of skin on skin. Chad’s gaze was dark, intense, a startling contrast to his earlier flustered embarrassment. He wasn't just watching; he was studying Jordan, his eyes tracing the path of Jordan’s fist, the way his thumb pressed against the swollen head on every upstroke. Jordan broke the stare first, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across his face. He was in his element here, in the razor's edge between command and invitation. He knew what he wanted to see. He pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed until his feet were planted firmly on the cheap hotel carpet. He faced Chad directly, their knees now just inches apart. He was giving Chad a show. He let his head fall back slightly, a quiet, breathy moan escaping his lips as he increased his pace. He focused on the sensation, on making it look as good as it felt. He watched himself through Chad’s eyes—the way his abs tightened with each stroke, the way his heavy balls drew up tight beneath his shaft. He was already leaking, a steady stream of clear precum beading at his slit and dripping down his length. He milked it, slowing his hand to let a fat, glistening pearl form at the tip. He held it there, letting Chad watch it swell, a tiny, trembling universe of his arousal. Then he let it fall, a single, hot drop tracing a path down his veined shaft until it landed on his balls with a soft, almost silent plop. He didn't wipe it away. He left it there, a wet, gleaming testament to how turned on he was. A low, guttural sound came from Chad’s bed. A moan of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Jordan’s eyes snapped up to meet his. Chad’s own hand had stilled, his fingers wrapped loosely around the base of his own impressive, thick cock. He was mesmerized. Then, as if pulled by an invisible string, Chad mirrored him. He sat up on the edge of his own bed, the movement bringing them even closer. Now their knees were touching, a point of electric contact in the dim room. The space between them vanished, their legs a bridge connecting their two worlds. They were two feet apart, maybe less, sitting across from each other, stroking for an audience of one. “Fuck,” Jordan whispered, his voice husky. “Feels so good. I love jerking my dick. Love how my hand fits around it.” Chad’s breath hitched. He gave a slow, jerky nod, his eyes glued to Jordan’s moving hand. “Yeah,” he breathed, the word barely audible. Emboldened, Jordan kept going, the dirty talk flowing easily. “Sometimes… fuck… sometimes I’ll pull it out somewhere I shouldn’t. In my truck in a parking lot. Behind the job site. Just to stroke it a few times. The risk… it makes me so fuckin’ hard.” Chad’s eyes widened, a spark of recognition and shared deviance flashing in them. “Holy shit,” he groaned, his hips giving a slight, involuntary thrust into his own fist. “Me too. Did it just last week behind a Home Depot. Thought for sure someone would see.” Their confessions hung in the air, thickening the tension. Their knees pressed tighter together. Then, almost imperceptibly, they both inched forward on their beds. The space between their cocks narrowed from a foot, to six inches, to nothing. Their thighs were touching now, hot skin against hot skin. Their erections, both slick with precum, were so close Jordan could feel the heat radiating from Chad’s. They both looked up at the exact same time. Their eyes met. The hunger in Chad’s gaze was a physical force. Jordan’s heart was hammering against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of anticipation. The question was a whisper, torn from somewhere deep inside him. “Can I…?” He let his eyes flick down to Chad’s dick, then back up to hold his gaze. “Can I touch it?” Chad’s response was immediate. A sharp, almost pained inhale, then a quick, desperate nod. His hand fell away from his cock, letting it spring free. It stood at full, aching attention, thick and veined and beautifully hairy, the head flushed a light, pretty pink. Jordan didn’t hesitate. He reached out, his fingers closing around the shaft. Oh, fuck. It was so different from his own. Thicker, a solid, heavy weight in his palm. A prominent vein ran from root to tip, pulsing with Chad’s heartbeat. The skin was like hot velvet over steel. Jordan gave an experimental stroke, a slow, firm glide from base to tip, his thumb brushing over the slick, swollen head. Chad’s reaction was utterly intoxicating. His eyes rolled back slightly, a ragged, broken groan tearing from his throat. His hips bucked up into Jordan’s touch, his whole body tensing. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated bliss. It was the hottest thing Jordan had ever seen. The power of it, the raw honesty of Chad’s pleasure, nearly made him come right then. Chad’s hand, seemingly moving on its own volition, reached out. His calloused, work-rough fingers wrapped around Jordan’s cock. Jordan gasped as Chad’s hand squeezed, his grip firm and confident. Chad’s eyes went wide with awe. “Jesus, man,” Chad breathed, giving him a slow, deliberate stroke. “It’s fuckin’ perfect.” “Feels so good,” Jordan moaned, his own hand continuing its rhythm on Chad. “You feel so good. Stroking another guy’s cock… fuck…” “I know,” Chad groaned, his hips moving in time with Jordan’s hand. “Never… never thought… oh, god…” His words dissolved into a series of helpless sounds. His breathing became shallow, frantic. “Jordan… fuck, dude, if you keep doing that… I’m gonna… I’m so close…” Jordan could feel it, the tension coiling impossibly tight in Chad’s body, the way his cock jumped and thickened in his hand. He slowed his strokes, letting the pressure subside for a tantalizing moment, drawing it out. He saw the frustration and desperate need flash in Chad’s eyes. Then he took him right back to the edge, his hand moving faster, tighter, his thumb swirling over the leaking slit. Chad’s control shattered. “I’m gonna cum, man! Oh, fuck, my cock feels so good, I’m so close, I’m cum—!” His whole body went rigid. A deep, primal groan erupted from his chest as his hips slammed up off the bed. The first shot hit Jordan’s stomach, a hot, startling splash. The second, third, fourth followed in rapid, powerful spurts, painting Jordan’s abs, his cock, his balls with thick, white stripes. Chad’s body shuddered violently through the release, his moans raw and unfiltered. The sight, the feeling of Chad’s hot cum on his skin, the sound of his complete surrender—it tipped Jordan over the edge he’d been teetering on. His own orgasm ripped through him with a force that made his vision blur. He cried out, his release jetting out in long, aching pulses, mingling with Chad’s on his stomach, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. For a long moment, there was only the sound of their heavy, gasping breaths. Jordan’s hand was still wrapped around Chad’s softening cock, coated in both their release. Chad’s hand had stilled on him. Chad blinked, looking dazed, spent, a little shocked. “That was…” he started, his voice rough. “Incredibly hot,” Jordan finished for him, a lazy, sated smile spreading across his face. Chad nodded slowly, a matching grin breaking through his stunned expression. “Yeah. It really was.” They sat there for another moment in the messy, perfect silence before Chad finally moved, grabbing the towel from the foot of his bed. “Here,” he said, his voice softer now. “We should probably…” Jordan took the towel, their fingers brushing. He started to clean himself up, the warm, sticky evidence of their shared pleasure a brand on his skin. The two agreed and call it a night. Chapter23 The morning light was a harsh, unforgiving bleach on the cheap hotel room carpet. Jordan woke to the sound of the shower running, the events of the night before hitting him with the force of a physical blow. Chad. His hand. His cum. He braced himself for the awkwardness, the regret, the inevitable cold shoulder he was certain would define their entire workday. The bathroom door clicked open. Steam billowed out, and Chad emerged, a towel slung low on his hips, his tattooed chest and shoulders glistening. He ran a hand through his wet, dark hair and nodded toward Jordan’s bed. “Mornin’. You shower. I’ll grab us some shitty hotel coffee.” No hesitation. No weird vibe. Just… normal. Relief, cool and sweet, washed through Jordan. “Yeah. Sounds good.” They moved through their morning routines with a practiced, silent efficiency, two guys who knew how to get ready for a hard day’s work. They dressed in their company-issued dark t-shirts and heavy work pants, laced up their boots, and headed out to the truck. The silence in the cab was comfortable, filled only with the rumble of the engine and the classic rock playing low on the radio. Jordan dared to hope they could just… move on. Then Chad cleared his throat, his large hands tightening on the steering wheel. “Listen, man. About last night.” Here it comes, Jordan thought, his stomach clenching. “I just… I want you to know I’m not gay,” Chad said, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. His voice was firm, a declaration meant for himself as much as for Jordan. “No interest in guys. No feelings for men. At all.” Jordan just nodded, keeping his expression neutral. Sure, dude. Whatever you need to tell yourself. But Chad continued, and his tone shifted from defensive to something far more compelling. “It’s just… I’ve never been in the room with another guy doing that. Never had someone watch me. And fuck, Jordan… it was one of the hottest, most erotic things I’ve ever done.” He finally risked a glance over, his brown eyes intense. “I was so turned on by it. By how in tune you were with your own dick. How much you clearly love to pleasure yourself. Just like I do. It was… fucking hot, man.” A jolt of pure, electric heat shot straight to Jordan’s groin. His cock, always responsive, began to thicken and swell against the rough fabric of his work pants. He adjusted himself subtly, the movement catching Chad’s eye. “I get it,” Jordan said, his voice a little thicker than he intended. “I love my cock. Love the weight of it in my hand. The way the skin slides. The deviousness of it. “Yeah?” Chad’s gaze dropped to Jordan’s lap, then quickly back to the road. A faint blush colored his neck above his shirt collar. Jordan followed his line of sight and saw the undeniable proof of his own words: a distinct, growing bulge was tenting his pants, the dark grey fabric already darkening with a small, wet patch of precum. Fuck, I’m leaking already. His eyes flicked to Chad’s lap. The same thing was happening there. A prominent ridge was straining against the zipper of his jeans, a matching damp spot forming. The sight made Jordan’s mouth water. “Looks like you do, too,” Jordan murmured, nodding toward Chad’s crotch. Chad let out a shaky laugh, a mix of embarrassment and raw arousal. “Chronic, bro. I’m a chronic bator. Can’t help it.” “Join the club,” Jordan grinned, the tension in the cab shifting from awkward to unbearably charged. The air was thick with the scent of their soap, their sweat, and the potent, musky scent of their mutual arousal. An idea, reckless and perfect, bloomed in Jordan’s mind. “Shop yard’s still twenty minutes out. We’re already hard, already wet… Wanna rub one out on the way? See if anyone sees us?” Chad’s head snapped toward him, his eyes wide. For a heart-stopping second, Jordan thought he’d gone too far. Then a slow, wicked grin spread across Chad’s face. “Fuck yeah. I dare you.” It was all the permission they needed. In a synchronized, frantic motion, they fumbled with their belts and zippers. The sounds of denim and metal were loud in the confines of the truck. Jordan pushed his pants and boxer briefs down just past his hips, his six-inch cock springing free, already fully hard and glistening at the tip. A breath later, Chad’s thicker, veiny eight inches was freed, standing proud and heavy against his stomach. “Holy shit,” Jordan breathed, his eyes drinking in the sight of Chad’s impressive length, the way his hand hugged the flared head. “I'm definitely not small,” Chad said, his voice rough with pride as he wrapped his work-roughened hand around his own shaft. He gave a slow, possessive stroke, his eyes locked on Jordan’s equally hard dick. Jordan mirrored him, his own hand a familiar, welcome pressure on his aching flesh. He moaned, low and soft, as his thumb smeared the bead of precum over his sensitive head. They fell into a rhythm, their breathing becoming ragged, their hands working their own cocks in a lewd, public display. A semi-truck roared past them on the left. Jordan looked up, meeting the eyes of the driver high in his cab. The man’s eyes widened, then dropped, his expression shifting from confusion to stunned arousal. He didn’t look away. He just watched, mesmerized, as Jordan and Chad stroked themselves on the highway. “He’s watching,” Jordan gasped, increasing his pace. His balls were drawing up tight, a familiar pressure building at his base. “I know,” Chad groaned, his hips thrusting slightly into his fist. “Fuck, it makes it so much better.” They drove like that for miles, two grown men with their cocks out, jacking off in broad daylight. The world outside the windshield became a blur; the only thing that mattered was the simmering heat in their groins and the shared, deviant thrill of exposure. “Gonna cum soon, bro. I am super close,” Chad gritted out, his strokes becoming frantic, jerky. “Jordan, fuck, I’m gonna—” “Me too,” Jordan panted, the climax coiling tight and desperate within him. “But where? Nowhere to shoot it, man. It’ll get all over the fucking truck.” Chad’s eyes were wild, desperate. “I don’t care, I can’t stop—” “Here,” Jordan said, the idea arriving in a flash of inspiration. He held out his free hand, palm up, between them. “Do it. Cum in my hand.” Chad didn’t hesitate. With a guttural cry that was pure animal release, his body seized. His cock pulsed violently in his hand, and the first thick, white rope launched across the space between them, landing with a hot, wet splat in Jordan’s palm. A second followed, and a third, each shot a powerful eruption that filled Jordan’s hand with Chad’s warm, musky essence. The sight, the smell, the incredible heat of another man’s release in his hand was the final trigger for Jordan. Using his new bator friend load he gripped his shaft. The wet, sloppy sounds it made was the final tippong point. His own orgasm exploded out of him, his vision whiting out at the edges. He cried out, his release jetting out in aching pulses, mixing with Chad’s in his cupped palm, coating his fingers in their combined spend. For a long moment, they just sat there, breathless, spent, their softening cocks still out, their hands still. Jordan’s palm was full, a warm, sticky pool of their pleasure. Chad looked down at the mess, then at Jordan’s face, a dazed, sated look in his eyes. “What are you gonna…?” Jordan brought his hand to his face. The scent was intensely masculine, primal. Without breaking eye contact with Chad, he leaned forward and slowly, deliberately, ran his tongue through the warm, salty mixture in his palm. Chad’s jaw went slack, a sharp, stunned inhale hissing through his teeth. “Fuck, Jordan…” A devious smile touched Jordan’s lips as he savored the taste. “Waste not, want not.”

Chapter 20 The change was seismic, a quiet earthquake that rearranged the very ground beneath their feet. The rigid scheduling, the carefully negotiated "logistics" of who got which weekend, evaporated within a fortnight. It was replaced by something far more organic, more potent. A rhythm that belonged only to the three of them. It was Jordan’s house most nights, the rooms becoming a museum of their intertwined lives. A leather jacket draped over Jared’s hoodie on the couch. Blake’s favorite cereal in the pantry next to Jordan’s protein powder. It felt different when one of them was missing. The energy in the house would dim, the air going stale and quiet. When Blake had a family dinner he couldn’t skip, Jordan and Jared would sit in a restless silence, the television playing to an uninterested audience. They were a unit. A tribe. Them against the world. Their emotional bandwidth, once strained and narrow, widened into a vast plain. They learned each other’s secret languages—the way Jared would get quiet and withdraw when he was stressed about money, the specific tilt of Blake’s head when he was feeling insecure and needed reassurance. And Jordan, they learned, needed to be in charge, but his dominance was now a mantle of care, a way of keeping their fragile, beautiful world safe. The sexual energy, too, morphed. It was no longer just Jordan’s fantasies or Jared’s possessive hunger or Blake’s worshipful desire. It was a melding. A shared exploration. They discovered kinks they never knew they had, desires that only made sense within the context of their three-body equation. The trust was absolute, a sacred space where no fantasy was too strange, no request too humiliating. They were having fun, a pure, unadulterated joy in the discovery of each other. Then came Jordan’s welding certificate. The opportunity was too good to pass, a traveling job that would take him to construction sites hours away for days at a time. The first time his truck pulled out of the driveway, the silence he left behind was a physical presence. A week later, Jared let himself into Jordan’s quiet, empty house. It felt wrong. He tossed his keys on the counter, the sound echoing too loudly. “He’s not due back until Friday,” Jared said, his voice flat. “I know,” Blake’s voice came from the hallway. He emerged from Jordan’s bedroom, wearing a pair of Jordan’s sweatpants that hung low on his hips. “It’s too quiet.” “Yeah.” Jared’s gaze traveled over Blake, over the familiar lines of the floral tattoos peeking above the waistband. The sight was a comfort. A piece of Jordan’s world, still here. “Feels off.” Blake nodded, leaning against the doorframe. “We could… I don’t know. Watch a movie?” But the suggestion felt hollow. The absence was a fourth person in the room, demanding attention. Jared’s eyes stayed on Blake, on the way the soft grey fabric clung to his lean thighs. The thought came to him unbidden, a spark in the silence. We don’t have to just wait for him. “Come here,” Jared said, his voice dropping, echoing a command he’d so often received. Blake’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise, then understanding. He pushed off the doorframe and walked over, stopping just inches from Jared. The air between them shifted, charged not with the electricity of Jordan’s direct command, but with something new. Something exploratory. Jared reached out, his calloused fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweatpants. He didn’t pull them down, just held on, his knuckles brushing against the warm skin of Blake’s hip, right over the ink. This is still his. We’re still his. But the permission felt implicit, a part of the unspoken rules of their tribe. “Miss him?” Jared murmured, his thumb stroking the soft skin. Blake’s breath hitched. “Yeah. You?” “Like a limb.” Their eyes locked. The loneliness of the past week, the quiet ache of Jordan’s absence, coalesced into a sudden, sharp need for connection. For a taste of what was missing. It was Blake who moved first, closing the final distance between them. His kiss wasn’t like it was with Jordan—less worshipful, less submissive. It was searching. Curious. A slow, deep exploration that made Jared’s head spin. He kissed back, his hands moving from the waistband to cup Blake’s face, his thumbs stroking the sharp line of his jaw. They broke apart, breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together. “He’d want us to,” Blake whispered, his voice hoarse. “Wouldn’t he? To… take care of each other.” “Yeah,” Jared breathed, the word a vow. “He would.” They didn’t go to the bedroom. They ended up on the couch, a tangled mess of limbs and shared breath. Jared’s hoodie ended up on the floor. Blake wriggled out of the sweatpants, leaving them in just their underwear. The intimacy was dizzying, a side door into their relationship they’d never thought to open. Jared’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, lighting up with Jordan’s name. A video call. They froze, a guilty, thrilling pause hanging in the air. Blake’s eyes were wide, his lips still swollen from their kisses. Jared looked from the phone to Blake, a slow, possessive grin spreading across his face. The idea was reckless. Perfect. He answered the call, angling the phone so Jordan could see them. Jordan’s face filled the screen, looking tired but smiling from a generic hotel room. “Hey, just wanted to see your faces. This place is a fucking dump—“ He stopped. His eyes scanned the screen, taking in the scene: Jared shirtless, Blake nearly naked beside him, the intimate proximity, the flushed skin. His smile faded, replaced by a look of intense, hungry focus. “What’s going on there?” “Just missing you,” Jared said, his voice a low rumble. He shifted, pulling Blake closer against his side. Blake rested his head on Jared’s shoulder, looking up at the phone with a shy, sated smile. Jordan was silent for a long moment, his gaze darkening. Jared watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Yeah?” he finally said, his voice tight. “Show me how much.” The command was there, even from miles away. It snapped into place, the familiar dynamic reasserting itself through the screen. Jared looked down at Blake, whose eyes were now heavy-lidded with arousal. He bent his head, capturing Blake’s mouth in another deep, lingering kiss, this one for an audience of one. When they pulled apart, they both looked at the screen. Jordan’s expression was ravenous. “Think you can do more than that?” Jordan asked, his voice a husky challenge through the speaker. Blake and Jared were no strangers to the camera’s focus. They’d made a handful of videos together, selling them online to anonymous viewers who couldn’t get enough of their chemistry. But this was different. This was for Jordan. Their hands moved where he told them, their bodies bending to his will even from miles away. “Fuck, yeah,” Jordan growled through the screen, his voice thick with arousal. “Jared, get your mouth on Blake. Blake, spread for him. Let me see.” They obeyed without hesitation, their movements fluid, practiced. Jared leaned down, his tongue tracing the delicate lines of Blake’s hip before moving lower. Blake’s breath hitched, his head falling back as Jared’s mouth worked him open. Jordan adjusted the camera closer, his own crotch now in view as he undid his pants, his hand wrapping around his cock. The sound of his heavy breathing filled the room. “Switch,” Jordan commanded, his voice sharp. “Blake, ride him. I want to see you take every inch.” Blake shifted, straddling Jared, sinking down onto him with a low moan. Their eyes locked on the screen, watching Jordan stroke himself in time with their rhythm. The dirty talk came easy now, a skill they’d honed under Jordan’s careful guidance. Jared’s voice was rough with need. “You like that? Watching us fuck for you?” Jordan’s response was a growl. “Fuck yes. You’re mine. Both of you. Cum for me.” The command sent a shiver through them. Blake tightened around Jared, his body trembling as he came, the ecstasy written across his face. Jared followed, his release spilling into Blake’s mouth as Jordan had instructed. They didn’t stop there, swapping it back and forth, their lips meeting in a messy, shared kiss that Jordan watched with ravenous eyes. On the screen, Jordan’s hand moved faster, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. He didn’t last long, his orgasm hitting him hard, his voice breaking as he came for them, for this moment, for the two boys who belonged to him completely. The room grew quiet, save for their ragged breathing. Jordan’s face softened, a possessive pride glowing in his eyes. “Good boys,” he murmured, the praise washing over them like a warm embrace. “Now clean up and get some rest. I’ll be home soon.” Chapter 21 The screen went black, plunging the hotel room into a heavy, post-climax silence. Jordan’s breath came in ragged pulls, his heart still thumping a wild rhythm against his ribs. He looked down. His belly was a glistening, sticky canvas of his own release, pearly ropes stark against his skin, a few drops already cooling as they traced a path through the light dusting of hair leading to his still-thickening cock. A fucking mess, he thought, a lazy, sated smile touching his lips. I love it. He loved the visual proof of his own pent-up need, the animalistic evidence of what watching his boys could do to him. The practical part of his brain, the part that shared this generic hotel room with a near-stranger, nudged him. Chad will be back any minute. Get cleaned up. You can’t be caught like this. But a newer, hungrier part, a part that had been awakened and fed by Jared and Blake, whispered a different, far more enticing idea. Or… can I? The thought was a jolt of electricity straight to his groin. His semi-hard cock twitched against his thigh, beginning to fill out again with a sudden, urgent blood flow. Chad. His coworker. The guy was… fuck. He was everything Jordan had never let himself openly appreciate before. A few years older, maybe twenty-three. Broad-shouldered and solidly built, with a thick, dark beard and arms covered in a sleeves of intricate tattoos. He was all rugged, masculine energy, the kind of guy who looked like he could fix an engine with his bare hands and then bench-press it. What would he do if he walked in right now? If he saw Jordan, pants around his ankles, dick out, painted with his own cum? Would he be shocked? Disgusted? Or would his eyes darken with that same hidden curiosity Jordan was now so familiar with? The not-knowing was a potent, terrifying thrill. Fueled by this new, reckless energy, Jordan stood, his semi-erection bouncing heavily between his legs. He left his clothes in a heap on the floor and walked, dripping, into the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door. The shower was a quick, utilitarian affair, the hot water sluicing away the physical evidence of his orgasm but doing nothing to calm the one brewing in his mind. He soaped his hair, his face, his body, his hand sliding without thought down the thick, weighty shaft of his cock, the suds making the glide effortless. A quiet, involuntary groan escaped him as his fingers brushed over the sensitive head. No, he told himself, forcing his hand away. Not yet. Save it. The anticipation was part of the game now. A game with rules only he knew. He turned off the water and stepped out onto the cool tile, dripping wet and completely naked. He reached for the towel bar. It was empty. Shit. Of course. Chad had used the last one that morning. “Chad?” he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the tiled room. No answer. The main room beyond the open bathroom door was silent, still. Maybe he wasn’t back yet. This was his chance to dart across and grab a towel from his bag. Or… it was his chance to do something else entirely. The decision was made in a heartbeat, a surge of boldness overriding all caution. Heart hammering, he walked out of the bathroom and into the main room. The carpet was rough under his bare feet. The hotel room door clicked open. Jordan froze, standing in the middle of the room, completely exposed. Water droplets traced paths down his chest, over his abs, beading on the thatch of dark hair at his groin. His cock, thick and flushed, hung heavily between his legs, not fully hard but far from soft, swaying slightly with his quickened pulse. Chad stepped inside, dropping his key card on the small table by the door. He was wearing a tight-fitting grey t-shirt that stretched across his chest and a pair of work jeans, a smudge of grease on his forearm. His eyes, a deep brown, scanned the room and landed on Jordan. There was a full, breathtaking second of stunned silence. Chad’s gaze locked onto Jordan’s face, then dropped—deliberately, unmistakably—down his body. Jordan saw his eyes widen a fraction, saw his focus zero in on his dick, hanging there, on display. Chad’s throat moved as he swallowed. His eyes flicked back up to Jordan’s, a flash of something unreadable in their depths before he quickly looked away, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Whoa, dude. Jesus. Omg, Jordan, wtf bro?!” Chad’s voice was a mix of shock and a forced casualness that didn’t quite land. “No towels?” The reaction wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t anger. It was flustered. Interesting. Jordan felt a jolt of pure, undiluted power. He saw it. He’d seen the way Chad’s eyes had lingered, the quick, almost instinctual sweep of his gaze. He looked. He fucking looked. “What you want me to do?” Jordan said, spreading his hands slightly, a gesture of false exasperation that put his nakedness even more on display. He let his voice drop, lacing it with a challenge he’d learned from being in charge. “Air dry?” Chad finally risked another glance, his eyes doing that rapid dance again—face, chest, cock, away. He ran a hand through his dark hair, a nervous gesture. “I, uh… I got an extra towel in my bag.” He made no move to get it. He just stood there, his own body tense, his attention hyper-focused on the space Jordan occupied. The air grew thick, charged with a tension Jordan knew intimately. It was the same tension that had filled his living room when Jared and Blake had knelt for him. It was the silent, screaming question of what happens next? He saw Chad’s eyes dart down one more time, and this time, they didn’t immediately flick away. They stayed. They focused on the length of him, on the way his cock was beginning to swell in earnest now, responding to the intense, unspoken attention. Jordan knew, with a certainty that burned in his gut, that he was going to get into Chad’s pants. One way or another. The game was on. He took a single, slow step forward, the carpet muffling the sound. He watched Chad’s breath hitch, saw the way his shoulders tightened. He’s not running. “You just gonna stare,” Jordan murmured, his voice a low, husky thing that seemed to vibrate in the small space between them, “or are you gonna hand me that towel?” Chad hesitated, then fumbled with his bag, pulling out a folded towel. He tossed it to Jordan, his face a mix of embarrassment and something else—something that made Jordan’s pulse quicken. “Here,” Chad muttered, eyes darting away again. Jordan caught the towel, draping it around his waist as he walked to his suitcase. He could feel Chad’s eyes on him, the weight of his stare lingering even as he pretended to look elsewhere. After dressing in a loose t-shirt and jeans, Jordan turned to Chad with a casual grin. “You hungry? Hotel bar’s got decent food.” “Uh, yeah,” Chad said, still slightly off-balance. “Could eat.” The bar was dimly lit, the hum of conversation filling the air. They settled into a booth, whiskey and Cokes in hand. The alcohol loosened them up, the awkwardness fading with every laugh and story. Chad confessed he’d been single for over a year, shrugging off Jordan’s teasing about it. “Doubt you’ve got trouble getting laid,” Jordan said, leaning back. “Decent-looking guy, good job. No kids.” Chad chuckled, shaking his head. “Not as easy as you’d think, man. Honestly… it’s been over a year since I’ve done anything with anyone.” “Damn,” Jordan said, raising his brows. “You at least jerk off though, right? That’s self-care.” Chad hesitated, then laughed, a little nervously. “Yeah, of course. Probably too much if we’re being honest.” Jordan’s cock twitched at the admission. “How much is too much?” “Two, three times a day,” Chad admitted, his voice dropping lower. “Sometimes more. Rarely less.” Jordan grinned, his mind racing. “Bet you haven’t today. We’ve been welding all day.” “Nope,” Chad said, smirking. “I’m due for a good bust.” The conversation left Jordan achingly hard, but they finished their meals and headed back to the room. An hour later, they were in their beds, the TV murmuring softly. Jordan glanced at Chad, who seemed asleep. He slipped his hand into his boxers, stroking slowly, replaying their conversation in his mind. A few minutes in, he looked over again. This time, Chad’s eyes were open, glued to him. The covers over Chad’s lap shifted, moving rhythmically. Jordan’s breath hitched. Slowly, he pulled back the blanket, exposing himself. Chad froze for a moment, then mirrored him. Their eyes locked as they stroked themselves, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Chapter 18 The weight of the last twenty-four hours pressed down on Jordan the moment he stepped through his front door. It was a physical thing, a leaden exhaustion that seeped into his bones. The emotional whiplash of Blake’s confession, the terrifying honesty with Jared, the fragile, desperate connection they’d reforged on the couch—it had all left him hollowed out. He barely managed to kick off his shoes and shrug out of his jacket before collapsing onto his bed. The world dissolved into a dreamless, merciful void within seconds. Sunlight, sharp and accusing, pulled him back to consciousness. He groaned, rolling over and fumbling for his phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up, and his breath caught. A text from Blake, sent an hour ago. Blake: I didn’t sleep. Thought about it all night. What you said… it’s insane. It’s the craziest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Jordan’s heart plummeted. Here it comes, he thought, the rejection he’d been half-expecting. He started to type a reply, an apology already forming on his fingers, when a second message popped up. Blake: I’ll try it. For you. I’ll give this crazy idea a shot. But we all have to sit down. All three of us. We need to talk about the… the logistics of this thing. Or I’ll lose my mind. A wave of pure, unadulterated relief so powerful it made him dizzy washed over Jordan. He sat bolt upright, a wide, disbelieving grin spreading across his face. He said yes. Well, not yes, but maybe. It was a chance. It was everything. He immediately called Jared, who grunted a sleepy “’Lo?” into the phone. “He’s in,” Jordan said, the words bursting out of him. “Blake. He wants to talk. The three of us. Tonight.” There was a long pause on the other end, filled only with the sound of Jared’s slow, measured breathing. Jordan could picture him, lying in his own bed, processing this new reality. “Okay,” Jared finally said, his voice gruff but clear. “Your place. Seven.” Jordan chose the back patio. It felt neutral, a space that wasn’t exclusively his or tied to any one memory with either of them. The autumn air had a crisp, clean bite to it as the sun dipped below the horizon, and he lit the fire pit in the center of the stone terrace. The flames leapt to life, casting a warm, dancing orange glow over the three patio chairs he’d arranged in a tight circle. A circle, he thought. Appropriate. He felt better knowing Scott was inside, a steady, calm presence just beyond the sliding glass door. A safety net, should he need one. Jared arrived first, as was his way. He looked… apprehensive, his usual confident swagger subdued. He’d changed out of his work clothes into a soft-looking hoodie and dark jeans. He nodded at Jordan, a silent communication passing between them, and took a seat, staring intently into the fire. A few minutes later, the side gate creaked open. Blake stepped through, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. His eyes, looking huge in the flickering light, scanned the scene, lingering on Jared before settling on Jordan. He offered a small, tentative smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey,” Blake said, his voice quiet. “Hey,” Jordan and Jared said, almost in unison. The synchronicity was jarring. An awkward silence descended, thick and heavy, broken only by the crackle of the fire. Jordan took a deep breath. “So. Logistics.” It was like popping a release valve. The conversation started haltingly, a stilted, painfully practical negotiation that felt at odds with the torrent of emotion that had brought them here. “So, like… who gets what time?” Blake asked, his gaze fixed on the flames, unable to look at either of them. “Do we… schedule this?” “Weekends,” Jared stated, his voice firm. He was looking at Jordan, his expression unreadable. “We each get every other weekend. That’s fair. That’s… structured.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “And what happens during the week?” Blake pressed, finally looking at Jared. There was a challenge in his eyes. “Do we just… wait our turn?” “We talk,” Jordan interjected, feeling the tension spike between them. “We agreed on honesty. If one of us needs… time… we say it. No secrets.” Jared’s jaw tightened. “And what happens when one of us gets jealous?” he asked, the word hanging in the air like smoke. “Because it’s gonna happen. Let’s not pretend it won’t.” The question landed in the center of the circle, raw and unavoidable. “We talk about that, too,” Jordan said, his voice softer now. He reached out, placing a hand on Jared’s knee. Jared flinched but didn’t pull away. Jordan then looked at Blake, including him in the gesture. “We say it hurts. We admit it. And we… we work through it. Together. Because the alternative is losing each other completely.” The fire popped, sending a shower of sparks into the darkening sky. Blake leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “A night,” he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. “What about one night, every couple of weeks, where… it’s all three of us?” The air seemed to crackle with a new kind of energy, one far more potent than the fire’s heat. The image bloomed in Jordan’s mind unbidden: the three of them, tangled together in his bed, skin and hands and whispered confessions. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran down his spine. He looked at Jared, whose eyes had widened slightly, his lips parted. He wasn’t saying no. He was just… processing. The idea was clearly affecting him, too. Jordan’s own arousal, which had been a low hum in the background since this surreal meeting began, suddenly flared into a sharp, aching need. The discussion of rules and schedules had been a bizarre, clinical prelude to this—the undeniable, electric charge that now arced between the three of them. He could feel it, a live wire connecting their three chairs. The practicalities evaporated from his mind, burned away by a much more primal urge. His gaze swept from Jared’s conflicted, handsome face to Blake’s vulnerable, hopeful one. The firelight played over the lines of their bodies, hinting at the strength and softness beneath their clothes. All the talking was suddenly, spectacularly unimportant. Without another word, Jordan stood up. The movement was decisive, breaking the tense silence. Both men looked up at him, their expressions a mix of confusion and dawning anticipation. His heart was hammering against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat syncopated with the crackle of the fire. He looked from one to the other, his voice dropping to a low, husky register that was barely recognizable as his own. “Enough talking,” he said, the command clear in his tone. “My room. Now.” Chapter 19 The silence in Jordan's bedroom was profound, thick with the weight of what was about to happen and the faint, distant crackle of the fire pit. Jared and Blake stood just inside the door, their body language a mix of uncertainty and raw, pulsing anticipation. They watched him, waiting. For a command. For a sign. Jordan’s heart was a jackhammer against his ribs, but a strange, powerful calm settled over him. This was his. They were his, these beautiful studs. The thought was a lightning strike of pure, unadulterated dominance that straightened his spine and deepened his voice. “Close the door,” he said, the words not a request but a low, even command. Jared was the one who moved, reaching back without breaking eye contact with Jordan to push the door shut with a soft, final click. Jordan held their gazes, letting the tension build, letting them feel the shift in the air. He walked to the edge of his bed and sat down, planting his feet firmly on the floor. He leaned back on his hands, his posture open, commanding. His package visibly swollen through his shorts but not fully erect. “Come here,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky register that made Blake’s breath catch. “Both of you. On your knees.” For a split second, nobody moved. Jordan saw the flicker in Jared’s eyes—a lifetime of being the one in charge, the dominant force between them, warring with the new, intoxicating thrill of submission. It was Blake who broke first, sinking to his knees on the rug with a fluid grace that made Jordan’s mouth water. There levels of submission obvious. After another second of charged silence, Jared followed, his descent slower, more deliberate, his eyes never leaving Jordan’s. The sight of them, both on their knees before him, was the most potent aphrodisiac he’d ever experienced. The feelings pleasure and desire have never felt as strong. “That’s it, Good Boy!” Jordan murmured, his cock already a hard, aching line against his zipper. “Now. Worship my fat cock.” His words hung in the air. Blake’s hands came up first, trembling slightly as they landed on Jordan’s thighs. He leaned forward, nuzzling the denim covering Jordan’s dick, his warm breath seeping through the fabric. Jared watched for a moment longer, his jaw tight, before his own hands came up to join Blake’s, his touch firmer, more possessive, as he rubbed Jordan’s throb through his shorts. Mine, Jordan thought, the word a primal echo in his mind. Both of them. Mine. A low groan rumbled in his chest as their hands worked him, the dual pressure sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core. He could feel the dampness of his own precum beginning to seep through, a dark, tempting spot on the grey fabric. Turning him on even more, if that were even possible. He could never resist touching himself when he felt a wet spot in his underwear “Feel that?” he breathed, looking down at them. “That’s for you. Both of you.” Blake moaned at the words, his eyes fluttering closed as he pressed his face harder against Jordan’s crotch, inhaling deeply. Jared’s eyes darkened, his fingers curling more firmly around Jordan’s shaft. “Fuck, Jordan,” he rasped, his voice rough with want. “Get it out,” Jordan commanded, his own need becoming a sharp, demanding ache. “I want to feel your mouths.” Blake’s hands were a wreck, fumbling with the button and zipper of Jordan’s shorts. He pushed them down just enough, and Jordan’s cock sprang free, thick and flopping, a bead of clear precum already glistening at the tip, ready to drip. The cool air was a shock, but it was nothing compared to the heat of their synchronized, hungry gazes fixed on it. “You're perfect,” Blake whispered, almost reverently, before he leaned in and swiped his tongue across the leaking head. The sensation was electric, a white-hot bolt of pleasure that made Jordan’s hips buck off the bed. “Fuck, Blake…” Jared didn’t wait for another invitation. He moved in, his mouth covering the other side of the shaft, his tongue lapping at the taste of him. Jordan cried out, his head falling back as two hot, wet mouths descended on his cock. They took turns, switching off in a dizzying, devastating rhythm. Blake would suck the head deep, his tongue circling the frenulum, and just as the pleasure began to crest, he’d pull back, letting Jared swallow him down, his technique sloppier, more urgent, deep and gagging. They were sharing up at him. Kissing each other with their movements at the very tip of his dick, their lips and tongues sliding against each other, slick with his precum and their saliva. The visual was almost too much to bear. Swapping his precum between themselves. “Tell me,” Jordan gritted out, his hands tangling in Jared’s hair, then Blake’s, guiding their movements. “Tell me how much you love it.” “I fucking love it, Jordan. I love your thick, leaking cock,” Blake panted against his skin, his breath hitching. “Tastes so good, So fucking good.” “It’s fucking perfect,” Jared growled, taking him deep again, making Jordan choke on a gasp. “Always knew you were packing a fucking weapon.” Their words fueled him, stoking a fire in his belly that threatened to consume him. He was losing himself in the sensation, in the power, but he had a plan. A need. He tightened his grip in their hair, pulling them both back gently but firmly. They looked up at him, lips swollen and wet, eyes glazed with lust and complete submission. “Stand up,” he ordered, his voice thick. “Turn around. Pull your shorts down. And bend over. I want to see your hairy boy holes. I want to see what’s mine.” They scrambled to obey, a frantic, beautiful mess of limbs. Jeans and sweatpants and underwear were shoved down to their knees, and they bent over spreading their cheeks apart, presenting themselves to him. The sight stole the air from his lungs. Jared’s muscular, powerful white ass, and Blake’s smoother, hairy and tighter one, both offered to him, vulnerable and waiting. He stood up, his own shorts falling the rest of the way to the floor. He stepped closer, his gaze raking over them. He spat once, a glob of saliva landing directly on Jared’s tight, clenched hole. Jared jolted at the sensation, a sharp gasp escaping him. “So fucking hot,” Blake whispered, watching from his own bent-over position, his own hole clenching in anticipation. Jordan spat again, this time onto Blake, eliciting a similar, shuddering gasp. He didn’t wait. He pressed his thumb against Jared first, rubbing the spit in, feeling the incredible tightness of him, the frantic pulse of his body. Jared pushed back against the pressure, a low, guttural moan torn from his throat. “You want this big dick?” Jordan asked, working his thumb in just past the first knuckle, the tight ring of muscle straining to accommodate him. “Yes,” Jared hissed, his voice strained. “Fuck, yes, Jordan.” He did the same to Blake, whose reaction was more vocal, a high, desperate whine as Jordan’s finger breached him. “Please….” He fingered them both, one after the other, switching his attention back and forth, stretching them open with first one, then two fingers, watching their bodies yield to him, listening to their broken, pleading moans fill the room. The scent of sex was everywhere, musky and urgent.nl He was rock hard, his own cock leaking a steady stream onto the floorboards. He pulled his fingers free from both of them, and they whimpered at the loss. “Beg for it,” he commanded, stroking his own length, coating it in his precum. “I want to hear you beg for my cock.” “Please, Jordan,” Blake begged immediately, his voice cracking as he pushed his ass back toward him. “I wan it, give it to me! Please fuck my tight hole. ” Jordan’s eyes shifted to Jared, who was breathing heavily, his forehead resting on his arms. “Jared,” Jordan prompted, his tone leaving no room for defiance. Jared lifted his head, his eyes burning with a mix of humiliation and pure, unadulterated need. “Please,” he ground out, the word seeming to cost him everything. “Fuck me. I need you to fuck me, Jordan.” The surrender was absolute. Jordan stepped forward, aligning his slick, aching cock with Jared’s waiting entrance. He placed a hand on the small of Jared’s back, holding him steady. “Mine,” he growled, and with one powerful, relentless thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside his best friend. Jared’s cry was shattered, a raw scream of pleasure-pain that seemed to shake the walls. He was impossibly tight, hot, and perfect. Jordan gave him no time to adjust, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a brutal, pounding rhythm. He fucked into Jared with everything he had, each drive of his hips a claiming, a punishment, a benediction. He leaned over Jared’s back, his eyes locking with Blake’s, who was watching, mesmerized, his own hand frantically stroking his cock. “You see that?” Jordan grunted, pistoning into Jared. “You see how he takes this big cock? How he loves when I fuck his hole?” “Yes,” Blake moaned, his eyes wide. After a few more devastating thrusts, Jordan pulled out of Jared’s shuddering hole, leaving him gasping and empty. He moved the half-step to Blake, not even bothering to spit again, just guiding his wet, sensitive cock to Blake’s entrance. “Your turn,” he breathed, and pushed inside. Blake was tighter, and his cry was higher, more desperate. He clenched around Jordan like a vice, his whole body trembling. Jordan fucked him with the same relentless pace, his hands gripping Blake’s hips, surely leaving bruises. The slide was exquisite, a seamless, wet, hot friction that was rapidly driving him toward the edge. He switched back to Jared, then to Blake, then to Jared again, a delirious, animalistic rhythm of possession. Their moans and pleas were a symphony, each entry met with a grateful, hungry gasp. He could feel his orgasm coiling, a supernova building in the base of his spine. He pulled out of Blake for the last time, his cock throbbing, leaking. “On your knees,” he ordered, his voice ragged and broken. “I’m gonna cum. I want you both to share it.” They scrambled to obey, turning and dropping to their knees before him, their faces upturned, mouths open, eyes desperate. Jared’s was filled with a fierce, possessive pride, Blake’s with worshipful adoration. They were both stroking themselves, their hands a frantic blur on their own cocks, ready to follow him over. Jordan fisted his own dick, his strokes short and brutal. “Open wider,” he panted, and they did, leaning in, their lips inches from his twitching, leaking cockhead. The first spurt hit Jared square on the tongue, a thick, pearly rope that made his eyes roll back in bliss. The second shot landed on Blake’s lower lip, and he instinctively licked it away with a hungry moan. Jordan cried out, his body convulsing, as the third and fourth pulses shot out, painting both their faces, marking them, claiming them. They stayed there, kneeling, their mouths open and waiting for all of it. Every drop. Blake turns to Jared and kisses him. The cum smearing across their lips, passing their reward back and forth staring up at Jordan.

Chapter 16 The sound of Jared’s truck door slamming outside was a gunshot in the quiet night. Jordan’s heart leapt into his throat, pounding a frantic, panicked rhythm. He stood rooted in the center of the living room, the air thick with the scent of Scott’s whiskey and his own dread. This was it. The honesty Scott preached felt like walking onto a battlefield unarmed. The front door swung open without a knock. Jared stood in the frame, his broad shoulders tensed, his handsome face a mask of wary confusion. He’d clearly come straight from work; he still wore his grease-stained jeans and a tight white t-shirt that stretched across his muscular chest. His eyes, dark and intense, scanned the room before locking onto Jordan.. “You okay?” Jared asked, his voice low, the concern cutting through the tension. “Your text sounded… serious.” Jordan’s mouth was sandpaper. He tried to swallow, failed. “Yeah. No. I don’t know.” He gestured weakly toward the couch. “Can you… sit?” Jared’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he moved into the room, the familiar scent of engine oil and his cheap cologne trailing behind him. He didn’t sit. He stood a few feet away, crossing his arms over his chest, a silent, imposing wall of waiting. “I talked to Blake,” Jordan blurted out, the words tumbling into the space between them. Jared’s expression instantly hardened, his jaw tightening. “What about?” The question was a low, dangerous rumble. “About the video. About why he came to you.” Jordan took a shaky breath, forcing himself to hold Jared’s gaze. “And he told me something. He told me he was gonna ask me first. To make the video. With him.” The tension in the room spiked, electric and sharp. Jared’s posture went rigid. “So what? You mad I got to him first? Is that what this is?” “No,” Jordan said, the word firmer than he felt. “That’s not it. I went to him because I was jealous, Jared. Seeing you two together… it fucking wrecked me.” A flicker of something—surprise, satisfaction?—crossed Jared’s face, but it was quickly buried under a fresh wave of suspicion. “You were jealous of me? Or jealous of him?” “I don’t know!” The confession burst out of him, raw and honest. “Both? All of it? He told me… he told me he’s been obsessed with me for years. Since high school. In the locker room, the showers… just watching. And when he kissed me that day, it… it did something to me. Something I didn’t understand. And then I saw him with you, and I felt like something that was supposed to be mine was taken.” Jared was utterly still, a statue processing a cataclysm. The silence stretched, taut and unbearable. “And tonight,” Jordan continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “When I went to confront him… he said it. He said he’s in love with me.” Jared flinched as if he’d been struck. He uncrossed his arms, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Fuck off,” he said, the words cold and flat. “Jared, please—” “No, fuck off!” he roared, taking a threatening step forward. “You called me over here to tell me you’re in love with some… some fucking side-piece? After everything? After I forgave you for the shit with your stepdad?” “I’m not in love with him!” Jordan countered, his own voice rising to match Jared’s fury. “But I… I feel something for him. Something real. And I can’t just pretend I don’t! But that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you. I don’t want to lose you. That’s why I’m telling you this. Because Scott said the only way through this is with honesty, and you… you’re the most important person in my life.” The anger on Jared’s face fractured. The raw pain beneath was terrifying to see. His voice cracked when he spoke again. “So what are you saying, Jordan? You want us to break up so you can be with him?” “No,” Jordan breathed, taking a tentative step forward, closing the distance between them. He could see the conflict raging in Jared’s dark eyes—the hurt, the betrayal, the fierce, possessive love that had always defined them. “I’m saying I don’t know if I can choose. And I’m terrified that if I have to, I’ll lose one of you. And I think losing you would destroy me.” He reached out, his fingers gently brushing against Jared’s clenched fist. Jared jerked at the touch but didn’t pull away. “An open relationship? Polyamory?” Jared spat the term out like it was poison. “You want to share me? You want me to share you?” “I want you,” Jordan insisted, his voice pleading now. “I will always choose you. But maybe… maybe we don’t have to limit ourselves to just… this. Maybe we can figure out a way where it’s not a secret. Where it’s just… more.” Jared stared at him, his chest heaving. The fight seemed to drain out of him all at once, leaving behind a profound exhaustion and a deep, startling vulnerability. “You really love me?” he asked, his voice small, stripped of all its usual bravado. “More than anything,” Jordan whispered, his heart in his throat. A long, suspended moment passed. Then, slowly, Jared’s hand unclenched. He turned it, threading his fingers through Jordan’s, his grip tight, almost desperate. “I fucking hate this,” he murmured, his eyes glistening. “I hate the thought of him touching you. Of you wanting him.” “I know,” Jordan said, his own eyes burning. “But I’m right here. I’m choosing you right now.” Jared’s other hand came up, cupping Jordan’s jaw, his thumb stroking over his cheekbone. His gaze was intense, searching. “If I say we try this… if I even think about it… it’s because the thought of losing you is worse. You know that, right? This is for you. Only for you.” The admission was a gift, a fragile, heartbreaking concession. Jordan nodded, unable to speak. Jared leaned in then, and his kiss was nothing like their angry, passionate clash from before. It was slow, deep, and tasting of salt and surrender. It was a kiss of possession, of fear, of a love so complicated and fierce it could bend reality to its will. They broke apart, foreheads resting together, breathing the same air. “I need you,” Jared breathed, his voice rough with emotion and a rising, familiar heat. “Right now. I need to know you’re mine.” His hands went to the hem of Jordan’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one swift motion. Jordan reciprocated, yanking Jared’s grease-stained tee off, their chests colliding, skin against skin. The feeling was electric, a reclamation. They stumbled toward the couch, falling onto it in a tangle of limbs. Jared settled over him, his weight a comforting anchor. His lips found Jordan’s again, his tongue plunging into his mouth with a desperate hunger. Jordan could feel the hard ridge of Jared’s erection straining against his jeans, pressing into his own growing hardness. Their hands fumbled with belts and buttons, a frantic, shared goal. Denim and cotton were shoved down thighs, not coming all the way off, just enough. Their cocks sprang free, sliding together in the hot, confined space between their bodies. Jared’s hand wrapped around them both, his grip firm and perfect. A broken, simultaneous gasp escaped them. Jared began to stroke, a slow, slick friction that made stars burst behind Jordan’s eyelids. He could feel the wetness of his own precum mingling with Jared’s, making the glide effortless, impossibly hot. “Look at me,” Jared commanded, his voice a husky growl. Jordan’s eyes fluttered open. Jared was watching him, his expression a mixture of anguish, desire, and unwavering love. The intimacy of it was more intense than any physical act. They were joined, completely exposed, not just physically but emotionally laid bare. Their hips began to move in a slow, syncopated rhythm, thrusting into the tight, hot tunnel of Jared’s fist. The pace quickened, their breathing growing ragged, their foreheads pressed together. They weren’t just chasing release; they were sealing a promise, trying to fuck the uncertainty and fear away, if only for these few, fleeting minutes. “You’re mine,” Jared whispered against his lips, his stroke becoming frantic. “Yours,” Jordan gasped in agreement, his own climax coiling tight in his gut. “Always yours.” Their eyes locked, and that was all it took. The world dissolved into sensation—the pounding of their hearts, the slick, feverish friction, the overwhelming rightness of their connection. A shared, muffled cry was swallowed by their kiss as their releases hit them at the same moment, warmth spreading between their stomachs. They collapsed together, spent and sticky, limbs entangled on the couch. The only sound was their ragged breathing slowly returning to normal. Jared’s head was buried in the crook of Jordan’s neck, his body heavy and warm on top of him. After a long time, Jared shifted, pushing himself up on his elbows. He looked down at Jordan, his expression serious, resolved. He swiped a thumb through the mess on Jordan’s stomach, his touch surprisingly tender. “Okay,” Jared said, his voice quiet but firm. “You should call him.” Chapter 17 The phone felt like a block of ice in Jordan’s hand, his thumb hovering over Blake’s name. Jared’s scent still clung to his skin, a musky, possessive reminder of the fragile truce they’d forged on the couch. He said to call him. This is for us. He took a shuddering breath and pressed the call button, each ring a hammer blow against his ribs. It was answered on the second ring. “Jordan?” Blake’s voice was cautious, laced with a hope so fragile it felt like it might shatter through the speaker. “Hey,” Jordan said, his own voice softer than he intended. “Can we… can we talk? In person?” A beat of silence. Then, a rush of air, like Blake had been holding his breath. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. My place? My dad’s on a double shift.” “I’ll be there in ten.” The drive to Blake’s was a blur of neon and shadow. Jordan replayed Jared’s words, his conflicted expression, the raw need in his touch. This is for you. Only for you. The concession had been a gift, and now Jordan was about to test its limits. He pulled up to the familiar, slightly dilapidated house, the beat-up sedan parked in the driveway. Before he could even cut the engine, the front door flew open. Blake stood there, silhouetted against the warm light from inside, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants that hugged his lean hips, the intricate lines of his floral tattoos just visible above the waistband. Jordan barely had time to get out of the car before Blake was striding across the lawn. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of him, and then his arms were around Jordan, pulling him into a hug so tight it stole his breath. He buried his face in the crook of Jordan’s neck, his body trembling slightly. “I thought… after I said that… I thought I’d scared you off for good,” Blake mumbled into his skin, his voice thick with emotion. The ferocity of his embrace, the sheer relief in it, washed over Jordan like a wave. Any lingering doubt evaporated. This was right. This was what he wanted. He wrapped his own arms around Blake, holding him just as tightly, his hands splaying across the smooth, warm skin of his back. This. Him. And Jared. “You didn’t scare me off,” Jordan whispered, his lips brushing against Blake’s ear. He felt Blake shiver in response. They stood like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other under the dim glow of the porch light, the night air cool on their skin. Finally, Blake loosened his hold, pulling back just enough to look at Jordan. His blue eyes were searching, bright with unshed tears and a desperate kind of hope. “Why are you here, Jordan?” Jordan took a deep breath, his heart thundering. This was it. The honesty. “I talked to Jared.” Blake’s face immediately fell, the hope snuffing out into wary defensiveness. He took a half-step back. “Oh. So you’re here to let me down easy. Got it.” He started to turn away. “No!” Jordan’s hand shot out, catching Blake’s wrist. The contact was electric. “That’s not it at all. I told him everything. About us in the car. About what you said.” Blake went very still, his eyes wide with disbelief and a flicker of fear. “You… you told him I love you?” he breathed, the words barely audible. “I told him I have feelings for you,” Jordan corrected gently, his thumb stroking a slow, soothing circle on the inside of Blake’s wrist. He could feel the wild flutter of his pulse. “And I told him that I love him. And that I’m… confused. That I don’t want to lose either of you.” The confusion on Blake’s face was profound. “I don’t understand.” “I want to try,” Jordan said, the words feeling both terrifying and liberating. “I want to be with Jared. And I want to be with you.” The silence that followed was absolute. Blake stared at him, his expression shifting from confusion to dawning comprehension, and then to something that looked like hurt. He pulled his wrist from Jordan’s grasp. “So I’m what? The side piece? The thing you do when he’s not around?” He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Man, Jordan. I knew I wasn’t enough for you, but I didn’t think you’d rub my face in it.” “No,” Jordan insisted, stepping forward again, closing the distance Blake had tried to create. “That’s not it. That’s the opposite of it. You are enough, Blake. You’re more than enough. You’re… fucking incredible.” He reached up, cupping Blake’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “My heart… it’s just… it’s bigger than I thought. It has room. I don’t want to lose you because I’m clinging to some idea of how things are supposed to be. I want to build something new. With both of you.” Blake’s eyes searched his, and Jordan could see the war raging within him—the deep-seated insecurity battling against a desperate, yearning hope. “You really mean that?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “This isn’t just some… kinky experiment for your videos?” “It’s real,” Jordan said, his voice thick with emotion. He leaned in, his forehead resting against Blake’s. “It’s the most real, terrifying thing I’ve ever done. But the thought of walking away from you… it feels like losing a part of myself I just found.” A single tear traced a path down Blake’s cheek. Jordan caught it with his thumb. The vulnerability in his expression was utterly breathtaking. “I need time,” Blake breathed, his eyes fluttering closed. “This is… a lot. I just… I need to think.” Jordan’s heart sank, but he nodded. He understood. He’d dropped a bomb on him. “Okay,” he whispered. “Take all the time you need.” He started to pull away, but Blake’s hands came up, grasping his shoulders, holding him there. “Don’t go yet,” he murmured, his eyes opening. They were dark now, pools of wanting and conflict. “Just… stay for a minute.” He leaned in and captured Jordan’s mouth in a kiss. It wasn’t like the hungry, desperate kiss in the car. This was different. This was deep, and slow, and tasted like salt and hope and fear all mingled together. It was a kiss that spoke of a love confessed and a future uncertain. Jordan kissed him back with everything he had, pouring all his fear, his want, his desperate need for this to work into the connection. When they finally broke apart, both were breathless. Blake rested his forehead against Jordan’s again, their eyes closed, sharing the same air. “I’ll call you,” Blake whispered, his voice raw. Jordan nodded, giving him one last, tight hug before finally turning and walking back to his car. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. The taste of Blake was still on his lips, the feel of his skin imprinted on his hands, and the terrifying, thrilling possibility of what came next hung in the air like a promise.

Chapter 14 The stale, greasy air of the burger joint clung to Jordan’s clothes as he leaned against the driver’s side door of Blake’s beat-up sedan. His heart was a frantic drum against his ribs, a mix of residual anger from the video and a gnawing, anxious guilt. He’d driven on pure impulse, fueled by the raw, confusing aftermath of his encounter with Jared. He needs to know, Jordan thought. He needs to know it wasn't just about revenge. He knocked on the window, the sound too loud in the quiet street. The driver’s side window whirred down, revealing Blake’s surprised face. His eyes, a startling shade of blue, widened slightly before a guarded, almost wary expression settled over his features. The intricate floral tattoos on his hips peeked out from beneath the waistband of his low-slung jeans. “Jordan? What’s up?” “We need to talk,” Jordan said, his voice tighter than he intended. “About what happened. With Jared.” Blake’s jaw clenched. He looked away for a moment, out the windshield, before his gaze returned, colder. “Look, man, if you’re here to give me shit again—” “I’m not,” Jordan interrupted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’m here to say… what you did was fucked up. Going behind my back and having sex with Jared, on camera, for money. It was wrong.” Blake’s defensive posture softened a fraction, replaced by wary curiosity. “Okay…?” Jordan took a shaky breath, the hardest part still to come. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. I sent the video of my step dad because I was mad. “But only partly because I was mad.” He forced himself to hold Blake’s gaze, to let him see the raw, unvarnished truth. “It was mostly because I was jealous.” The admission hung in the air between them, heavy and electric. Blake’s eyes searched his, the ice in them melting into something else entirely—shock, confusion, and a dawning, fragile hope. “Jealous?” Blake breathed out, the word barely a whisper. “Yeah,” Jordan said, his own voice dropping to match. “You confessed this… this huge thing to me. This dirty secret. And I threw it back in your face. And then I heard you with him, and it felt like you’d taken something that was…” He trailed off, the rest of the sentence—that was meant for me—too terrifying to voice. A slow, understanding dawned on Blake’s face. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I was gonna ask you, you know,” he said, his voice thick with a sudden, vulnerable honesty. “That day. I was gonna ask if you wanted to… to collab. On camera. With me.” Jordan’s breath hitched. What? “But I was terrified,” Blake continued, his gaze dropping to his hands on the steering wheel. “After you pulled away from my kiss… I was so sure you’d reject me. I thought it was the stupidest idea I’d ever had.” He looked up, his blue eyes glistening. “So I went to Jared instead. It was easier. Safer. And I know he struggles more financially than you do.” The revelation landed like a physical blow, rearranging everything Jordan thought he knew about the last few days. The tension that had been coiling in the air between them—the hurt, the betrayal, the unsaid words—didn’t evaporate. It transmuted. It crackled, heating from within, shifting from emotional static into a pure, undiluted, erotic charge. They both felt it at the exact same moment. Jordan saw it in the way Blake’s pupils dilated, black swallowing the blue. Blake saw it in the way Jordan’s lips parted, his breathing turning shallow. The space inside the car suddenly felt too small, too hot, charged with a need so potent it was dizzying. There was no more talking. With a guttural sound that was half-growl, half-plea, Blake shoved the car door open. Jordan didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, meeting him halfway as Blake scrambled out of the driver’s seat. Their bodies collided against the side of the car, hands grabbing, pulling, mouths crashing together in a kiss that was nothing like the tentative one they’d shared before. This was a conflagration. It was all desperate, hungry lips and clashing teeth and frantic tongues. Jordan’s hands fisted in Blake’s shirt, yanking it up over his head and tossing it blindly into the dark car. Blake’s nails scraped down Jordan’s back as he worked the button on his jeans, the rasp of the zipper a obscenely loud counterpoint to their ragged breathing. “Inside. Now,” Blake panted against his mouth, pulling him toward the back seat. They tumbled into the cramped space, a chaotic mess of limbs and urgency. The doors slammed shut, sealing them in their own private, heated world. Jordan landed half on top of Blake, their hard cocks grinding together through the fabric of their jeans, drawing identical, sharp gasps from both of them. “Fuck, Jordan,” Blake moaned, his head falling back against the seat, exposing the long line of his throat. Jordan latched onto it, sucking a dark mark into the skin as his hands finally, finally, shoved Blake’s jeans and boxers down his hips. And there it was. Blake’s cock, just as he remembered from that first video session. Thick, impressive, curving upward, already glistening with a pearl of precum at the tip. Jordan wrapped his hand around it, and Blake bucked up into his touch with a broken cry. “You like that?” Jordan murmured, his voice rough with desire as he stroked him, his thumb smearing the slickness over the flushed head. “You have no idea,” Blake gasped out, his eyes screwed shut. “No fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.” The confession was a live wire. Jordan claimed his mouth again in a searing kiss as he shimmied out of his own clothes, their naked skin sliding together in the humid dark of the car. The scent of sweat and cheap cologne and pure, unadulterated male desire filled the air. Blake’s hands were everywhere—gripping Jordan’s ass, tracing the muscles of his back, tangling in his hair. “I need to feel you,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please, Jordan. I need all of you.” Jordan stilled, looking down at him. The streetlight outside cast shifting shadows across Blake’s handsome face, highlighting the desire, the trust, the raw vulnerability there. “You sure?” he asked, his own need a painful, throbbing ache. “It’s your first time… like this.” “Yes,” Blake breathed, his eyes blazing with certainty. “I’m sure. I want it to be you. Only you.” That was all the permission Jordan needed. He reached for his discarded jeans, fumbling for his wallet, his fingers shaking as he ripped open a condom packet. Blake watched him, chest heaving, his own hands stroking his hard, leaking length as Jordan sheathed himself. “Tell me what you want.” Jordan whispered, positioning himself, the head of his cock pressing against Blake’s entrance. “You,” Blake moaned, wrapping his legs around Jordan’s waist, pulling him closer. “Fuck me, Jordan. Make me yours.” The sound of his name coming from Blake's mouth lit his brain on fire. The filthy, desperate plea was Jordan’s undoing. He pressed forward, slowly, inexorably, breaching that tight, incredible heat. Blake’s breath caught, a sharp hiss of pain and pleasure as his body stretched to accommodate him. “Okay?” Jordan gritted out, stopping, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of holding still. “Fuck yes,” Blake gasped, his eyes rolling back. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” Jordan began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that made the old car’s suspension creak in protest. Each thrust was a revelation. The tight, clenching heat surrounding him, the way Blake’s body opened for him, took him in, the raw, unfiltered sounds being torn from Blake’s throat. “Harder,” Blake demanded, his nails digging into Jordan’s shoulders. “Oh, yes, just like that. Your cock feels so fucking good inside me. Keep fucking me...” Jordan obeyed, pistoning his hips faster, driving deeper with every stroke. The filthy talk, the complete surrender, the overwhelming sensation—it was all hurtling him toward the edge. He could feel Blake’s body tightening around him, could hear his moans climbing in pitch. “Look at me,” Jordan commanded, grabbing Blake’s chin. “I want to see you.” Blake’s eyes fluttered open, glassy with pleasure, utterly besotted. “Jordan…” he whimpered, his hand flying to his own cock, stroking himself in frantic time with Jordan’s thrusts. “You’re mine,” Jordan growled, the possessive words tumbling out, a perfect echo of the ones Jared had used on him. They felt right. They felt true. That was all it took. Blake’s eyes snapped shut as his orgasm ripped through him with a wordless shout, his cum shooting up in thick stripes across his stomach and chest. The violent clenching of his body around Jordan’s cock threw Jordan over the edge a second later. He buried himself to the hilt with a guttural cry, his own release pulsing into the condom in hot, endless waves. They collapsed together in the messy, cramped space, a tangled heap of sweaty limbs and spent desire. The only sound was their ragged, synced breathing fogging up the windows. Jordan, still buried inside Blake, felt the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through them both. After a long moment, Blake’s hand came up, his fingers weakly tracing Jordan’s jawline. His eyes, when they opened, were clear and held a terrifying, beautiful depth of emotion. “I’m in love with you, Jordan,” he whispered, the words raw and awed. “I think I have been for years.” He looked up, his blue eyes wide Chapter 15 The words hung in the air, a dense, suffocating fog that seemed to fill the entire interior of Blake’s car. I’m in love with you, Jordan. They weren’t just words; they were a seismic event, cracking the foundation of everything Jordan thought he understood about his own heart. He pulled back, the physical separation from Blake’s warmth feeling like a necessary, painful act of survival. The scent of their sweat and sex was suddenly overwhelming, a cloying reminder of the intimacy that had just forged a new, impossible connection. “Blake, I…” he started, but his voice failed him. What could he possibly say? Thank you? Me too? The first was inadequate, the second a lie. The truth was a tangled knot of affection, lust, guilt, and a deep, anchoring pull toward Jared that refused to loosen. Blake’s face, so open and vulnerable moments before, began to shutter closed at Jordan’s silence. The raw hope in his blue eyes dimmed, replaced by a flicker of the old defensiveness. “Right,” he said, the single word flat and heavy. He awkwardly shifted, pulling his jeans up over his hips, the movement breaking the last physical tether between them. “It’s not that I…” Jordan tried again, fumbling for his own clothes. The condom felt cold and alien against his skin. “What you said… it’s a lot. And I’m… with Jared.” Aren’t I? The thought was a fresh wave of confusion. After their explosive fight and the possessive, raw sex that followed, what were they? “I know you are,” Blake muttered, not looking at him as he pulled his shirt on. “Forget I said anything. It was the heat of the moment.” But the tremor in his voice betrayed him. It was anything but. The drive home was a silent, torturous affair. Jordan replayed Blake’s confession on a loop, each iteration tightening the knot in his stomach. He felt the ghost of Blake’s body against his, the intensity of his gaze, the raw honesty in his whisper. It stirred something deep and undeniable within him, a burning ember of want that was entirely separate from what he felt for Jared. How can I want two people so completely, so differently? The question had no answer, only the heavy weight of impending consequence. He pulled into his driveway, the house dark and quiet. His mother was at her evening shift, and Scott’s truck was parked in its usual spot. Scott. Of course. The only person in his life who wouldn’t judge the messy, chaotic tangle of his feelings. Jordan found him in the living room, a half-finished glass of whiskey in one hand, a book facedown on his lap. He looked up as Jordan entered, and his relaxed expression immediately sharpened into one of concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Scott said, his voice a low, steady rumble. “Everything okay with Jared?” Jordan sank into the armchair opposite him, running his hands through his hair. “It’s not Jared. Well, it is, but it’s… it’s more.” The words poured out of him then, a rushed, jumbled confession about the video, the confrontation, the desperate, passionate collision in the back of Blake’s car, and finally, the three words that had changed everything. He left nothing out, the relief of unburdening himself making him dizzy. Scott listened without interruption, his gaze fixed on Jordan, his expression unreadable. When Jordan finally fell silent, spent and waiting, Scott took a slow sip of his whiskey. “Wow,” he finally said, letting out a low whistle. “That’s… a situation.” “You’re telling me,” Jordan groaned, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “What the hell do I do, Scott? I can’t have two boyfriends. That’s… that’s not how this works. Is it?” He looked up, seeking wisdom from the one person who might have any. Scott swirled the amber liquid in his glass, thinking. “It can work,” he said carefully. “For some people. It’s called an open relationship, or polyamory. But it only works on a foundation of brutal, terrifying honesty. It’s not a way to avoid making a choice; it’s a choice in itself, and it’s a hell of a lot harder than being monogamous.” Honesty. The word felt like a punch. He’d been hiding so much from everyone, including himself. “So, what? I just go to Jared and say, ‘Hey, I know we just reconnected after a huge fight, but I also really want to be with the guy you just made a porn video with’?” The absurdity of it made a bitter laugh escape his lips. “He’d lose his mind.” “Probably,” Scott agreed, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips. “But you have to start somewhere. You have to talk to him. You have to tell him how you’re feeling—the confusion, the pull you feel toward Blake, everything. You owe him that. And you owe it to yourself.” Jordan’s mind recoiled at the thought of that conversation. Jared’s jealousy was a fierce, palpable thing. The image of his furious, possessive expression from their last argument flashed in his mind. “He’ll never go for it. He’s too… Jared.” “You don’t know that,” Scott countered gently. “People can surprise you. But even if he says no, even if it ends things between you, you’ll have been honest. And you’ll be free to explore what you have with Blake without this guilt eating you alive.” He leaned forward, his gaze intense. “And you need to be just as honest with Blake. Tell him you have feelings for him, but that you’re also committed to figuring things out with Jared. He deserves to know where he stands, even if it’s a difficult place.” The advice was logical, mature, and utterly terrifying. It meant walking into potential fire twice over. But beneath the fear, a sliver of clarity began to form. The knot in his stomach loosened just a fraction. Scott was right. The only way out was through. “An open relationship,” Jordan murmured, testing the words. They felt foreign on his tongue, a concept from a world far more complicated than the one he thought he lived in. The idea of it sent a jolt of something through him—anxiety, yes, but also a dark, thrilling curl of anticipation. Jared’s possessive fire and Blake’s vulnerable intensity… could I really have both? He stood up, a new, nervous energy coursing through him. “Okay,” he said, mostly to himself. “Okay. Honesty.” Scott nodded, a look of quiet pride in his eyes. “It’s the hardest path, kid. But it’s the only one that leads somewhere real.” Jordan pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over Jared’s name. His heart hammered against his ribs. Every instinct told him to retreat, to hide, to fall back into the easy pattern of secret hookups and suppressed desires. But he thought of Blake’s heartbroken expression, of Jared’s furious passion, and of the confusing, overwhelming want for them both that refused to be ignored. He took a deep, shaking breath and typed out a message, the words feeling like a point of no return. We need to talk. For real. Can you come over? He hit send before he could lose his nerve, the whoosh sound echoing in the quiet room. The three dots appeared almost immediately, bouncing on the screen. Jordan’s mouth went dry. This was it. The first step onto the hardest path. The dots stopped. Jared’s reply was simple, stark, and utterly terrifying. On my way.

Chapter 13 The silence in Jordan’s bedroom was thick, heavy with the scent of sex and revenge. Scott had left with a final, knowing look, leaving Jordan alone with the phantom vibrations of the sent text message. He stared at his phone, the screen dark now, waiting. The adrenaline that had fueled his actions was ebbing, leaving a hollow, shaky feeling in its wake. What have I done? A sudden, violent pounding on the front door shattered the quiet. Jared. It wasn’t a polite knock. It was a demand. A threat. The sound echoed through the still house, a frantic drumbeat that matched the sudden frantic rhythm of Jordan’s heart. He pulled his shorts back up, his skin still tingling, and moved on unsteady legs toward the living room. He pulled the door open, and there he was. Jared stood on the porch, chest heaving, his face a mask of fury and something else, something raw and wild Jordan couldn’t immediately name. His eyes were blazing, his phone clutched in a white-knuckled fist at his side. The video was still playing on its screen, a tiny, silent, damning loop of Scott’s release. “What the fuck is this, Jordan?” Jared’s voice was low, a tremble of barely controlled rage underlying each word. He didn’t wait for an answer. He shoved past Jordan into the living room, the force of his entry making Jordan stumble back a step. “You sent me a fucking video of your stepdad jerking off,” Jared spat, whirling around to face him. “Are you insane? What is wrong with you?” The hollow feeling vanished, incinerated by a fresh wave of defensive anger. “What’s wrong with me?” Jordan shot back, squaring his shoulders. “I know what I heard at your house, Jared. I know who was in your bed. Don’t you dare stand there and act like I’m the crazy one.” Jared’s expression flickered, a flash of guilt quickly smothered by renewed anger. “So this is your solution? You fuck my boss? You send me a porno of it?” “We didn’t fuck!” The denial was out before Jordan could stop it, too quick, too defensive. We just got off on the idea of it, on hurting you. He saw the instant Jared processed the distinction, his eyes narrowing. “You just… what? Had a mutual jerk-off session? That’s supposed to be better?” Jared took a step closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming the space between them. The air crackled. “You did this to get back at me.” “Yeah,” Jordan admitted, his own voice dropping, losing its heat and gaining a dark, confessional tone. “I did. You hurt me. I wanted to hurt you back. It felt… good.” Jared stared at him, his breathing still ragged. The fury in his eyes was slowly being diluted by confusion, by a dawning, shocking understanding. His gaze dropped from Jordan’s face, trailing down his body, and Jordan knew, with a sudden, visceral certainty, what he was seeing. The memory of the video. The image of Scott. The raw, unfiltered masculinity of it. Jared’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. The anger wasn’t gone, but it was… shifting. Transforming. His eyes, when they lifted back to meet Jordan’s, held a new, terrifying heat. “It felt good,” Jared repeated, not a question, but a low, fascinated statement. He took another step, closing the distance until they were almost chest to chest. Jordan could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the rapid pulse beating at the base of his throat. “Watching him. Making him do that for you. It turned you on.” Jordan couldn’t look away. He could only nod, a tiny, jerky motion. “It turned me on,” Jared whispered, the admission ripped from him, harsh and honest. The confession hung between them, a live wire. All the jealousy, the betrayal, the rage—it all funneled into that single, electrifying point. They weren't two guys arguing anymore. They were two animals, circling, driven by a need that was bigger than reason. Jared’s hand came up, not to shove, but to grip the back of Jordan’s neck. His fingers were warm, possessive. “You wanted a reaction?” he murmured, his voice gravelly, his breath ghosting over Jordan’s lips. “You got one.” And then he kissed him. It was nothing like their previous kisses. There was no tenderness, no exploration. This was a clash. A claiming. Jared’s mouth was hard and demanding on his, his tongue plunging inward with a desperation that felt like violence. Jordan met him with equal force, his own hands coming up to fist in Jared’s shirt, holding him there, accepting the punishment, the apology, the desperate, fucked-up desire all at once. They stumbled backward, a tangled mess of limbs and furious energy, until the back of Jordan’s knees hit the arm of the couch and they spilled onto it. Jared landed on top of him, his weight familiar and anchoring. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down Jordan’s jaw to his neck, sucking a bruise into the skin there that would bloom purple by morning. A mark. Proof. “You’re such an asshole,” Jared growled against his throat, his hips grinding down, the hard ridge of his erection pressing insistently against Jordan’s through their clothes. “You’re a bigger one,” Jordan gasped out, arching up into the pressure, his own cock throbbing in response. The friction was maddening, not nearly enough. His hands scrabbled at Jared’s waistband, desperate. Jared sat back, kneeling over him, his eyes dark with a possessive fire Jordan had never seen before. He grabbed the hem of his own shirt and ripped it over his head, tossing it aside. His chest was heaving, his muscles taut. “You want to show me what I’m missing?” he challenged, his voice dripping with a new kind of intent. “Then show me.” He leaned down, his hands going to the button of Jordan’s shorts. He didn’t fumble. He made quick, rough work of it, yanking the fabric down Jordan’s thighs in one sharp movement. Jordan’s cock sprang free, already fully hard, dripping onto his stomach. Jared’s gaze locked onto it, his lips parting slightly. The anger was still there, simmering, but it was now entirely wrapped in a blinding, all-consuming lust. “Mine,” he said, the word a low growl of possession. He didn’t use his hands. He lowered his head, and his mouth, hot and wet and impossibly skilled, enveloped Jordan in a single, devastating motion. Jordan cried out, his back bowing off the couch. Oh, god. It was different from before. This wasn’t the experimental, curious blowjob from their first night. This was… vengeance. This was claiming territory. Jared’s tongue worked him with a brutal, exquisite expertise, swirling around the head before plunging down again, taking him deep, until Jordan felt the head of his cock hit the back of Jared’s throat. Jared’s hands pinned Jordan’s hips to the couch, holding him still, forcing him to take every devastating inch. The sight was unbelievable—Jared, his best friend, the guy he’d just tried to destroy, between his legs, sucking his cock like his life depended on it. Like he was starving for it. The incoherent, pleading sounds falling from Jordan’s lips only seemed to spur Jared on. He moaned around Jordan’s length, the vibration shooting through Jordan like lightning. His own hips began to move in tiny, helpless thrusts, fucking up into that perfect, hot wetness. He was losing control, teetering on the edge far too quickly, the combined emotional whiplash and physical sensation shattering his composure. “Jared… fuck… I’m gonna…” Jared pulled off with a wet, obscene pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Jordan’ glistening tip. His own breathing was ragged, his eyes glassy with need. He looked wrecked, and it was the most beautiful thing Jordan had ever seen. “Not yet,” Jared commanded, his voice hoarse. He shoved his own jeans and boxers down just enough to free his own thick, eight-inch cock. It curved upward, flushed a deep red, leaking copiously. He spat into his palm, a crude, primal gesture, and fisted his own length, stroking once, twice, his eyes locked on Jordan’s. “You wanted to play games?” Jared panted, shifting his weight. He positioned himself over Jordan, the head of his cock pressing against Jordan’s, sliding through the slickness there. “Let’s play.” He lowered his body, his cock aligning perfectly with Jordan’s. Their lengths slid together, a hot, velvety friction that made them both gasp. Jared’s hand wrapped around both of them, his grip firm, and he began to stroke. Oh. My. God. It was an entirely new kind of pleasure. The feel of Jared’s thicker skin sliding against his own, the way their precum mixed to form a slick, perfect lubricant, the overwhelming visual of their bodies joined like this. Jordan’s hands flew to Jared’s ass, gripping the hard muscle there, pulling him closer, grinding up against him, needing more, more, more. Jared’s forehead dropped against his, their ragged breaths mingling. His strokes became faster, more frantic, his hips pistoning, fucking his cock against Jordan’s in a sublime, frantic rhythm. “This what you wanted?” Jared grunted, his voice strained, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. “This what you thought about when you made that video?” “Yes,” Jordan moaned, his own climax building again, a tidal wave of sensation. “Fuck, Jared, just like that…” “You’re mine,” Jared growled again, a final, desperate declaration as his rhythm began to stutter. “You hear me? Mine.” The possessive words were the final trigger. Jordan’s orgasm exploded out of him with a guttural cry, his cum shooting up between their sweat-slicked chests in hot, pulsing streaks. The feel of Jordan climaxing sent Jared over the edge a second later. He threw his head back with a choked roar, his own release joining Jordan’s, painting their stomachs in a messy, shared proof of their fucked-up, undeniable connection. They collapsed together onto the couch, a tangled, sticky, breathless heap. The only sound was their harsh, labored breathing. Jared’s weight was a comforting pressure on top of him. Jordan could feel the frantic beat of Jared’s heart against his own chest, slowly beginning to steady. After a long moment, Jared shifted, propping himself up on an elbow. He looked down at Jordan, his expression unreadable, his eyes tracing the mess on both their bodies. He reached out, his thumb brushing through the cooling cum on Jordan’s stomach. He brought his thumb to his own lips, never breaking eye contact, and slowly, deliberately, licked it clean. A shiver racked Jordan’s entire body. Jared’s voice was quiet, awed, and utterly wrecked. “What are we doing, Jordan?” Jared’s phone buzzed sharply on the coffee table, the sound cutting through the heavy, post-climax silence. He hesitated, his thumb still resting on Jordan’s stomach, before reluctantly reaching for it. Jordan watched as Jared’s expression shifted from dazed to focused, his brow furrowing as he read the screen. “Who is it?” Jordan asked, his voice hoarse. Jared didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he handed the phone to Jordan, allowing him to see the message from Blake: Miss me yet? Has our video made any money online yet? Jordan’s eyes widened. “What the hell is this?” Jared exhaled sharply, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Blake and I… we’ve been making videos. For extra cash.” “Videos?” Jordan sat up slowly, his stomach churning with a mix of shock and curiosity. “Like… porn?” Jared nodded, his jaw tightening. “It started as a joke, you know? Just fucking around. But then people started paying. A lot.” “How much is ‘a lot’?” Jordan asked, his voice lowering, a strange, almost predatory interest creeping into his tone. Jared hesitated again, his gaze locked on Jordan’s. “Enough to cover rent. Food. Whatever we need.” He paused, his voice dropping even further. “Sometimes… more.” Jordan’s mind raced. The implications were huge. All this time, Jared had been keeping this secret—this lucrative, dangerous secret. And now, because of that damn video with Scott, he was tangled up in it too. “So… what?” Jordan said slowly, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re saying there’s money in this? Real money?” Jared’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of something else—anticipation, maybe. “Yeah. There is. Why? You interested?” The question hung in the air between them, heavy with possibility. Jordan leaned back against the couch, his heart pounding. This wasn’t just about revenge anymore. This was about opportunity. About power. And maybe, just maybe, about something more. “Maybe,” Jordan said finally, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside him. “But if we’re doing this… we’re doing it my way.”

Chapter 12 The low, greasy hum of the fryer followed Jordan home, a greasy film on his skin that no amount of handwashing could remove. He’d spent three days wrapped in a thick fog of confusion, Scott’s secret a lead weight in his gut that pulsed in time with the memory of their mutual release. We didn’t touch. It wasn’t that bad. The mantra did little to quiet the roar in his head. He’d avoided Jared, the guilt making his texts feel like lies. Getting sent home early from the burger joint felt like a reprieve. A surprise visit with Jared’s favorite Western Burger, a return to normalcy, that’s what he needed. Something to ground him. But then he turned onto Jared’s cul-de-sac. And saw Blake’s beat-up sedan parked boldly in the driveway. His steps slowed. Why? They weren’t friends. Jared hadn’t mentioned hanging out. A cold trickle of unease dripped down his spine. He pulled out his phone. Hey, you home? No immediate response. The house was quiet, too quiet. The front door, which was perpetually unlocked in Jared’s famously open household, was firmly shut and locked.. His heart began a slow, heavy thud against his ribs. He circled around back. The back door was also locked. A first. The only light on was in Jared’s bedroom, the blinds drawn tight. He crept closer, the damp grass soaking through his sneakers. Then he heard it. A low, guttural moan. Unmistakably Jared’s. The exact sound he made when he was buried deep, when pleasure stripped him of all control. It was followed by a higher, breathy gasp. Blake. Jordan’s breath hitched. He stood frozen under the window, his world tilting on its axis. The paper bag containing the burger grew heavy, greasy, pathetic in his hand. Another moan, this one muffled, then the distinct, rhythmic thump-thump-thump of a headboard hitting a wall. The sounds painted a brutal, vivid picture in his mind: Jared’s muscular body moving, Blake’s tattoos flexing, their sweat-slicked skin sliding together. A cold, sharp fury instantly vaporized his confusion. Without thinking, his hand was steady as he pulled out his phone, thumbed open the video recorder, and held it up to the gap in the blinds. He captured thirty seconds of their private symphony—the ragged breaths, the wet slaps of flesh, Jared’s broken, pleasured cries. Proof. Then he turned and walked away, his stomach a tight knot of betrayal and white-hot rage. The house was dark when he got home, save for a single light in the living room. Scott was in his armchair, a book open on his lap, a glass of whiskey on the side table. He looked up as Jordan slammed the door a little too hard. “Home early,” Scott observed, his voice a calm, deep rumble. Then his eyes, always so perceptive, narrowed. “What’s wrong?” The concern in his tone was the final crack in Jordan’s dam. The story spilled out of him in a rushed, angry torrent—the locked doors, the sounds from the window, the recording on his phone. “He’s with Blake,” Jordan finished, the name dripping with venom. “After everything.” Scott listened silently, his expression unreadable. When Jordan was done, he set his book aside and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “The right thing,” he said, his voice measured, “is to talk to him. Show him the video. Confront him with the evidence and have a calm, honest conversation.” Jordan just stared, his jaw clenched. The advice was reasonable, adult. And it felt utterly inadequate. A slow, knowing smile touched Scott’s lips. He stood up, crossing the room until he was standing right in front of Jordan, looking down at him. He reached out, not touching him, but his presence was suddenly overwhelming. “But that’s not what you want to do, is it?” he asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You don’t want to talk. You want to hurt him back. You want revenge.” The word hung in the air between them, dark and tempting. Jordan gave a stiff, silent nod. Scott’s smile widened. “Good.” The single word was full of dark promise. “Then let me help you.” His hand finally came up, his thumb brushing against Jordan’s lower lip. The contact was electric, a jolt that went straight to Jordan’s core. “He took something from you. Your trust. Your... exclusive attention. So take something from him.” Jordan’s heart was hammering again, but the furious ache was rapidly being replaced by a different, hotter, more desperate thrum. “What?” he breathed out, his lips moving against Scott’s thumb. “Me,” Scott said, his voice a low growl. “He knows what I saw. Show him you have access to something he can only watch from the doorway.” His other hand came up to cradle Jordan’s jaw, forcing unwavering eye contact. “Let’s make him a movie of our own.” The proposition was so devious, so perfectly targeted, it stole the air from Jordan’s lungs. All the conflicted guilt from the other night vanished, burned away by the inferno of betrayal and this new, intoxicating offer of power. Yes. This was the language he understood right now. Not talking. Not crying. Action. “My room,” Jordan whispered, his voice husky. “Now.” Scott didn’t hesitate. He followed Jordan down the hall, a predator’s grace in his step. Once the door was locked, Jordan turned, his back against it. Scott stood in the center of the room, already pulling his tight black t-shirt over his head, revealing the broad, sculpted chest dusted with dark hair. His hands went to his belt buckle. “Wait,” Jordan commanded, the new authority in his own voice surprising him. He held up his phone. “We’re making this for an audience of one.” Understanding flashed in Scott’s eyes, followed by a wave of raw hunger. He dropped his hands to his sides, a willing participant. A prop. Jordan hit record, framing Scott’s powerful upper body in the screen. “Take them off,” Jordan said, his voice steady, his own arousal a hard, demanding pressure in his jeans. “Slowly.” Scott obeyed, his eyes locked on the phone’s lens. He unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness, the rasp of leather loud in the quiet room. He unbuttoned his jeans, the sound of the zipper coming down a slow, torturous descent. He pushed them down his thick thighs, along with his boxer briefs, and his cock sprang free, already fully erect, thick and formidable. Jordan zoomed in on it, on the glistening bead of precum welling at the tip. “Touch yourself,” he instructed, his own hand sneaking into his jeans to grip his own hardness, stroking in time with the fantasy playing out in front of him. Scott’s large, calloused hand wrapped around his shaft, and he gave a low, gravelly groan that vibrated through the phone’s speaker. He began to stroke, his fist moving with a practiced, devastating rhythm. Oh, fuck. The visual was overwhelming. The sheer size of him, the possessive way his hand worked his own flesh, the pure, undiluted masculinity of it. “Faster,” Jordan breathed, his own strokes becoming frantic. He panned the phone up Scott’s body, capturing the ripple of abs, the heaving chest, the intense, focused expression on his face. Scott’s breath hitched. His hips began to piston forward, fucking his own fist. “You like watching me pump my cock, Jordan?” he grunted, breaking the fourth wall, speaking directly to the camera—and by extension, to its intended viewer. “You like seeing what makes my cock feel good?” The possessiveness in the question, the implication that he was what was owned, sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through Jordan. He was so close. He could see Scott was too, his balls drawn up tight, his muscles corded with tension. “I’m gonna cum,” Scott growled, a warning and a promise. “You want me to cum for you, son? You gonna show him how I shoot when I lose it for you?” That was it. The trigger. With a choked moan, Jordan’s orgasm ripped through him, spurting hot into his own hand, his body trembling violently against the door. The phone wavered in his grip catching his orgasm on video. On the screen, Scott followed him over the edge with a stifled roar, his thick release pulsing over his fist and stomach in dramatic, pearlescent streaks. The video ended. The room was silent except for their ragged panting. Jordan lowered the phone, his legs feeling like jelly. Scott stood there, spent and glorious, a slight, triumphant smirk on his face. Without a word, Jordan typed Jared’s number, attached the video file, and added a single line of text. Missed you tonight. Thought you should see what you’re missing. His thumb hovered over the send button. He looked at Scott, who gave a single, slow, approving nod. He pressed send.

Chapter 11 The warm weight of Scott’s hand on his, the raw honesty of his story, the smoky burn of the whiskey—it all coalesced into a single, throbbing point of heat in Jordan’s gut. He was completely unaware of the effect it was having on his body, the blood rushing south so fast it left him lightheaded. His thin basketball shorts, worn without underwear as always, provided no defense. A fierce, six-inch erection tented the fabric, the tip already damp with a bead of precum that seeped through the grey cotton, leaving a tiny, dark patch. He only realized his own state when he traced Scott’s gaze. Those dark, intense eyes weren’t on his face anymore. They were fixed, unblinking, on the prominent bulge in his lap. Jordan’s own eyes flicked down, then back up to Scott’s khakis. A mirror image. A thick, heavy outline strained against the tan fabric, unmistakable and just as eager. Seconds stretched, thick and silent, charged with a current so potent Jordan could barely breathe. Scott was the one to break it, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated through the space between them. “I’ve been like this,” he admitted, his eyes flicking back up to meet Jordan’s, “Hard as a goddamn rock… all day. Ever since I…” He didn’t need to finish. Ever since I saw you. Something primal and fearless uncoiled inside Jordan, speaking with a voice that wasn’t entirely his own. “Did you like it?” The question hung in the air, bold and naked. “What you saw? You...want to see more?” Scott’s answer was immediate, a raw exhalation. “Yes.” A thrill, sharp and electric, shot down Jordan’s spine. “My room,” he whispered, the plan forming in a hazy, lust-drunk instant. “Wait until Mom’s asleep. Come to my room.” An hour later, the house was dark and silent. The soft click of his door opening sent Jordan’s heart into a wild rhythm. Scott stood there, silhouetted in the doorway, having traded his button-down for a simple pair of black gym shorts that did little to hide the formidable swell of his cock. He stepped inside and closed the door with a quiet, final sound. Jordan’s nerves were a live wire, his hands trembling slightly. He didn’t know what he was doing, only what he wanted. He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, his thumb swiping until he found the video. He turned the screen toward Scott. It was the clip Jared had recorded. Jordan on his knees, lips stretched around Blake’s thick, curved cock, his eyes rolled back in pleasure. Scott’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He stared, mesmerized, as the movie played out on the small screen. Jordan watched him instead, studying the rapid flicker of emotions on his stepdad’s face: shock, hunger, pure, unadulterated lust. His own hand slipped inside his shorts, fingers wrapping around his aching hardness. A soft groan escaped his lips as he gave himself a slow, slick stroke. Scott’s gaze snapped from the screen to Jordan’s hand moving under his shorts. That was all the permission he needed. With a guttural sound, Scott’s large hand plunged into his own gym shorts. His eyes fell shut for a moment, his head tipping back as his fist began to move, the fabric stretching and tightening over his frantic motion. He was the first to break the barrier. Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, he pushed his shorts down his powerful thighs in one rough motion. His cock sprang free, and Jordan’s mouth went dry. It was massive, thick and cut, rising from a dense thatch of dark hair. Heavy balls swung beneath it, already drawn up tight. A glistening pearl of precum already crowned the slit. Emboldened, Jordan mimicked him, shoving his own shorts down to his ankles. They stood there, just feet apart, their erections bobbing in the dim light, the only sound their ragged breathing and the wet, rhythmic stroking of their own fists. Scott’s eyes were locked on Jordan’s smaller, slick cock, watching the way his hand glided over the flushed head with each pass. “So wet,” Scott murmured, his own strokes becoming louder, slicker, sloppy sounding. “You too,” Jordan breathed out, mesmerized by the sheer, glistening size of the older man, by the way his thick fingers struggled to close around his girth. The visual was overwhelming—the contrast of their bodies, the [banned word] of it all, the raw hunger in Scott’s eyes. His hips began to thrust forward, fucking his own fist. “Fuck, this is so hot.” “Yeah, it has to be our little secret.” Scott grunted, his pace increasing, his other hand cupping and roughly kneading his heavy balls. “Just like that. Show me. Let me see you get off.” The command, so similar to Jared’s yet so entirely different, sent Jordan spiraling. His back arched, his free hand gripping his own thigh for support. He was close, so close, teetering on the edge. Scott was breathing in harsh gasps, his muscular body tensing, a sheen of sweat coating his chest. “I’m close, I'm so close. I'm cumm…!” Jordan choked out, his orgasm roaring up from his toes. Scott’s hand flew off his own cock and clamped over his own mouth, stifling a deep, guttural roar as his hips thrust into empty air. Thick, white ropes of cum shot from his pulsating cock, landing in his own waiting palm, pumping again and again until his hand was overflowing. The sight was Jordan’s undoing. With a cry that was half-sob, half-moan, his own release tore through him. His cum splattered across his stomach and thighs in hot, frantic spurts, his entire body trembling with the force of it. For a long moment, the only sound was their heavy, spent panting. Scott, still holding his messy hand away from himself, gathered his composure with a sharp, almost military precision. He cleaned himself with a tissue from the nightstand, pulled up his shorts, and without another word, turned and left the room, made the "Shh" gesture wit his finger to his mouth, closing the door softly behind him. Jordan collapsed back onto his bed, the scent of sex and whiskey and man thick in the air. His mind was a blissful, overloaded blank. Exhaustion pulled him under, and he fell into a deep, instant sleep, his body sated and his world irrevocably changed.

Chapter 10 The silence in Jordan’s room was heavier than before, thick with the phantom scent of sex and the echoing click of the closing door. They dressed in a frantic, wordless hurry, their movements clumsy with adrenaline and shame. Every creak of the floorboards outside made them freeze, hearts hammering, waiting for the storm to break. But the house remained silent. Finally venturing out, they found the hallway empty. The living room, the kitchen—all deserted. Scott was gone. The only evidence he’d ever been there was the lingering, gut-churning memory of his shocked face. “What do we even say?” Jared whispered, his voice tight as they stood by the side door, a buffer zone between the secret world of Jordan’s room and the real one outside. “We could say we were… I don’t know, wrestling? Practicing for a play?” Jordan shook his head, a sick feeling churning in his stomach. “He saw everything, J. Everything. My… my cum on your face. You… inside me. There’s no explaining that away.” The image was seared into his brain, a brutal, pornographic snapshot. Jared hesitated, then squared his shoulders. “I’ll stay. I’ll be here with you when you talk to him.” “No,” Jordan said, the word coming out firmer than he felt. “I need to do this alone. He’s my…” He almost said ‘dad,’ but it wasn’t right. “…Stepdad. This is my mess.” After Jared left, the house felt cavernous and accusing. Jordan paced, trying to script a conversation that always ended with an imaginary Scott’s face twisting in disgust. He was spiraling, his anxiety a live wire under his skin, when his eyes caught on the corkboard by the door. A crisp, white notecard stood out amongst the pizza coupons and old photos. In Scott’s precise, blocky handwriting, it read: Jordan, need to talk. My office. 3pm. -Scott. The clock read 2:28. His mouth went dry. This is it. The walk to Scott’s downtown office was a blur of nauseating dread. The sleek, modern reception area, the quiet hum of professionalism—it all felt like a bizarre dream. The secretary, offering a polite smile, led him back and closed the heavy oak door behind him, sealing him in. Scott’s office was all rich leather and dark wood. And there he was, behind a massive desk, looking every inch the successful, composed forty-two-year-old man he was. He was handsome in a rugged, distinguished way, his broad frame filling out his tailored shirt, a dusting of dark hair visible at his open collar, his thick beard neatly trimmed. He looked up from some paperwork, his expression unreadable. “Jordan. Have a seat.” Jordan sat stiffly in the leather chair, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. He could feel a fine tremor running through his body. He was near shaking, utterly laid bare. Scott leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on the desk. His gaze was direct, but not unkind. “So,” he began, his voice calm, measured. “You and Jared, huh?” Jordan’s throat was too tight to speak. He just nodded. Yes, sir. “You two are… a couple?” Another slow, hesitant nod. The truth was the only card he had to play. Scott watched him for a long moment, taking in his obvious terror. “So then you are… gay?” This nod was the hardest. It felt like admitting to a crime. He braced for the fallout—the disappointment, the anger, the lecture. Instead, Scott pushed his chair back and stood. He didn’t come around the desk with anger, but with a quiet purpose. He walked over and, without a word, wrapped his arms around Jordan in a firm, solid hug. It wasn’t a brief pat; it was a real embrace, strong and encompassing. The dam broke. A ragged sob escaped Jordan’s lips, and his entire body went limp with the shocking wave of relief. He buried his face against Scott’s shoulder, the rough texture of the shirt wool soft against his cheek. “It’s okay,” Scott murmured, his voice a low rumble so close to Jordan’s ear. “It’s okay, son. If that’s what makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.” The words were a balm, washing away the fear and shame. They talked for a while longer, Scott back behind his desk, a palpable shift in the room’s energy. Jordan, his voice steadier now, explained how it started after prom, how new it was, how it was just them figuring things out. Scott listened, nodding, asking a few gentle questions, his demeanor that of a concerned parent, not a condemning judge. “I won’t tell your mom,” Scott said finally. “I’ll let you do that when you want and are ready. That’s your news to share.” That evening, after a strangely normal family dinner where Jordan could barely meet his mother’s eye, he retreated to the back patio. The night air was cool, a relief against his skin. He heard the sliding door open and turned to see Scott stepping out, two glasses of amber whiskey in his hands. He handed one to Jordan and took the seat beside him, the old patio chairs creaking under their weight. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, sipping the strong, smoky liquor. “I meant what I said earlier,” Scott said, breaking the quiet. “Your happiness is what matters.” He took a long swallow from his glass. “But seeing you two today… it stirred something up in me. Something I haven’t thought about in a long, long time.” Jordan stayed quiet, letting him talk, his own curiosity piqued. Scott stared out into the dark yard, his profile strong in the dim light. “I want to tell you something. Something from my past. Back before I met your mother. Back in college.” He turned his head, his eyes meeting Jordan’s, and in their depths, Jordan saw a flicker of the same hungry intensity he’d seen in Blake’s eyes, but tempered by age and experience. A shared secret. “There was this guy on my football team,” Scott began, his voice dropping, becoming almost confidential. “My roommate, actually. His name was Mike. We were inseparable. Just like you and Jared.” He took another slow sip of whiskey, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “And one night, after a huge win, we were celebrating. Just the two of us in our dorm room, drunk on victory and way too much cheap beer…” He trailed off, a faint, nostalgic smile touching his lips. “We started wrestling around, like guys do. Just messing around. But then… it changed. It got… heavier. More intense.” Scott’s gaze was locked on Jordan now, unwavering. “I ended up pinning him down on the floor. We were both breathing hard, laughing at first. But then we just… stopped. We were looking at each other. And I could feel him, hard against my leg. And I knew he could feel me, too.” Jordan’s breath hitched. The whiskey felt like fire in his veins. He couldn’t look away. “I don’t know which one of us moved first,” Scott continued, his voice a low, intimate rumble. “But we kissed. It was… man, it was explosive. All that competitive energy, that pent-up… everything, just unleashed.” He leaned forward slightly, his elbow resting on his knee, the glass dangling from his fingers. “We spent the whole night exploring each other. It was fierce, and hungry, and so damn confusing. But it felt more real than anything I’d ever experienced with a girl.” He finally broke eye contact, looking down into his glass. “We were together, in secret, for the rest of the school year. It was the most passionate, electric time of my life.” He sighed, a heavy, weighted sound. “But then summer came. He went back home to his girlfriend. I met your mom. We never talked about it again. We just… went back to our lives.” Scott looked back up at Jordan, and his expression was raw, open. “Seeing you and Jared today… it was like watching a ghost of my own past. That raw need. That total surrender. It… awakened something in me I thought I’d buried for good.” He reached out, his large, warm hand covering Jordan’s where it rested on the arm of the chair. The contact was electric. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… I understand. More than you could possibly know.”

Chapter 9 The heavy, industrial scent of Jordan’s welding gear still clung to his skin, a metallic ghost from his afternoon class. It mingled with the greasy, comforting aroma of the Chinese takeout spread across his bed. The first semester of community college had settled into a rhythm, a comfortable grind of classes and stolen hours with Jared. Their secret world, a carefully curated space of locked doors and hushed moans, felt safer than ever. “Your mom and Scott won’t be back ‘til seven, right?” Jared asked around a mouthful of lo mein, kicking off his shoes. “My parents think I’m at the library. Which, I mean, technically your room is a library of carnal knowledge now, so…” Jordan snorted, shoving him playfully. “Shut up. And yeah, they’re gone. They never take off early. It’s a perfect.” They ate quickly, the familiarity of the routine as comforting as the food. The Tv was just background noise, a blur of colors and sounds neither of them processed. It was always just a precursor, a thin excuse for what they really wanted. As the opening credits rolled, Jordan shifted on the bed, his leg pressing against Jared’s. And just like clockwork, it started. A casual arm slung over Jared’s shoulder. A hand resting on his thigh. Jordan’s body had a mind of its own, a homing beacon tuned directly to Jared’s warmth, his proximity. It was an involuntary reaction, as predictable as the sunrise. Within minutes, his palm was cupping the growing bulge in Jared’s sweatpants, feeling the solid weight of him stir and thicken under the soft fabric. “You’re so predictable,” Jared murmured, but he was already leaning into the touch, his head tilting back against the headboard. His eyelids grew heavy. “Can’t help it,” Jordan whispered, his voice already rough with need. His fingers traced the outline, feeling Jared’s cock harden to its full, impressive length. A damp spot of precum already bloomed on the grey cotton. “You’re just… right here.” He squeezed gently, and Jared’s breath hitched. His hips gave a tiny, involuntary thrust into Jordan’s hand. A low, deep moan rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure, unadulterated want. “Mmm, Yes!…” Jordan’s own shorts were painfully tight, his six inches straining against the denim. He could feel his precum soaking into his boxers. The movie was forgotten, the world outside the room ceased to exist. There was only the heat of Jared’s body, the hard proof of his arousal under Jordan’s palm. Jared’s hand came up, not to push him away, but to grip Jordan’s wrist, holding his hand right where it was. His eyes, dark and glazed with lust, met Jordan’s. The command was a raw, needy whisper. “Put your mouth on it. Put my dick in your mouth.” The words were a live wire. Jordan didn’t hesitate. He slid down the bed, his own desire a roaring fire in his veins. He tugged Jared’s sweatpants and boxers down in one swift motion, and Jared’s cock sprang free, thick and flushed and already dripping. Jordan didn’t tease. He opened his mouth and took him in, deep, swallowing him to the root in one smooth, wet glide. The feeling was electric. The head of Jared’s cock hit the back of his throat, and Jordan relaxed, taking him all the way. He held there for a long, breathtaking moment, feeling Jared’s pulse throb against his tongue, savoring the muffled, guttural groan from above. He pulled back, a string of spit and precum connecting his lips to Jared’s slick shaft, then dove down again, deep-throating him with a desperate hunger. He was lost in it. The taste of him, clean and musky. The sounds he was pulling from Jared’s throat. The way his own neglected cock ached and leaked in time with his bobbing head. He was messy, enthusiastic, spit and thick, snot-like slickness dripping down onto Jared’s balls, coating his own chin. “Mmm, yes… just like that…” Jared panted, his hands tangling in Jordan’s hair, not guiding, just holding on. Then came the next command, a ragged, desperate order that sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to Jordan’s core. “Now sit on it! All the way down, take it all!" Jordan scrambled up, his movements frantic. He stood on the mattress, straddling Jared’s hips. He looked down at Jared’s face, his best friend’s expression a mask of blissful anticipation. He reached behind himself, guiding the slick, hard length of Jared’s cock to his entrance. He was so ready, so open for him. He didn’t lower himself slowly. He dropped, his full weight sinking down, taking every thick, hard inch in one breathtaking, brutal plunge. A shared, guttural cry tore from both of them. The feeling of being filled so completely, so suddenly, was almost too much. Jordan’s head fell back, a strangled moan ripped from his lungs as he bottomed out, Jared’s hips pressed flush against his ass. For a second, he just sat there, impaled, adjusting to the delicious, stretching fullness. Then instinct took over. His hands braced on Jared’s chest, and he began to move. He rode him, lifting himself up until just the tip remained inside, then slamming back down, taking him deep, over and over. The bedframe knocked a steady, rhythmic beat against the wall. “Oh, fuck… fuck, Jared…” Jordan moaned, the words incoherent. He was pure sensation, a vessel for pleasure, every nerve ending screaming. He could feel the rough drag of Jared’s cock inside him, the slap of their skin, the way his own dick bounced, hard and neglected, with every frantic bounce. Jared’s hands gripped his hips hard, fingers digging into his flesh, helping to piston him up and down. His eyes were shut tight, his own moans a continuous, low rumble. Fuck I love your hole. It feels so good… your ass is so fucking perfect… ride my dick, just like that…” They were a sweaty, desperate tangle of limbs and pleasure, lost in their own world, the sounds of their fucking drowning out everything else. Jordan was close, so close, the coil of his orgasm tightening unbearably with every deep thrust. He was mid-bounce, Jared buried to the hilt inside him, when a new sound cut through their passionate haze. The distinct, unmistakable click of a door opening. Jordan’s eyes flew open. His rhythm faltered. Still speared on Jared’s cock, he twisted his head, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The bedroom door was wide open. And standing in the doorway, his face a frozen mask of utter, shocked disbelief, was his stepdad. ScottFor a suspended moment, time stood still. Jordan’s wide, panicked eyes locked with Scott’s as he froze mid-stroke, still impaled on Jared’s cock. Scott’s gaze dropped, his face a mixture of shock and something Jordan couldn’t quite place, taking in the obscene sight of Jared’s thick shaft buried deep inside him. Then, slowly, his eyes traveled back up to meet Jordan’s again. “I—I’m sorry for intruding,” Scott stammered, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. As soon as the word “intruding” left his lips, Jordan’s body betrayed him. His cock, still hard and neglected, exploded in a series of thick, white ropes that shot across Jared’s face and chest. Jordan gasped, his entire body trembling as the orgasm ripped through him, involuntary and unstoppable. Scott’s eyes widened impossibly further as he took in the scene—Jared’s face splattered with Jordan’s release, Jared’s cock pulsing deep inside Jordan’s quivering hole, pumping his own load into him. The room was thick with the sounds of their ragged breaths and the slick, wet mess of their coupling. For a heartbeat, Scott stood there, utterly speechless, his face a mask of stunned disbelief. It was as if a jolt of electricity had hit him, snapping him out of his frozen state. Without another word, he turned abruptly and shut the door with a sharp click, leaving the boys alone in the aftermath of their interrupted passion. Jordan’s heart pounded in his chest as he collapsed onto Jared, both of them still connected, their bodies slick with sweat and cum. “Oh my god,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Oh my god, did that just—” Jared didn’t respond immediately, his face still glazed with Jordan’s release. He blinked slowly, his expression caught between shock and disbelief. “Yeah,” he finally muttered, his voice hoarse. “Yeah, that just happened.” The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of what had just occurred pressing down on them like a suffocating blanket. Neither of them moved, their bodies still tangled together, their minds racing with the implications of what Scott had seen. “What do we do now?” Jordan whispered.

Chapter 8 The silence in the living room was a physical thing, thick and swollen, after Jared’s footsteps faded toward the kitchen. The only sound was the faint hum of the freezer door opening and closing. Jordan let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, the aftermath of their explosive encounter still tingling across his skin. He turned to make a comment to Blake, some stupid joke to break the weird, post-nut tension, but the words died in his throat. Blake was already looking at him. Not just looking. Staring. His dark eyes were locked on Jordan’s, wide and unblinking, stripped of all the easygoing confidence from moments before. They were full of a raw, hungry intensity that sent a primal jolt straight to Jordan’s core. Before Jordan could process it, before he could form a single thought, Blake was moving. He surged forward, his hand cupping the back of Jordan’s neck, and slammed their mouths together. It wasn’t like the sloppy, nervous kisses from their group session. This was different. This was singular. Focused. Blake’s lips were insistent, possessive, his tongue sweeping into Jordan’s mouth with a desperate urgency that tasted of sweat and then a muffled sound of surprise was swallowed by the kiss. Jordan’s hands came up, not to push him away, but to grip his biceps, his fingers digging into the solid muscle there as his mind spun. After a few stunned seconds, Jordan managed to turn his head, breaking the seal of their mouths. He was breathing hard, his own lips tingling. “Whoa. Whoa, hold on,” he panted. “Where did that come from, man? I thought… I thought you were straight. After all that, I thought…” Blake didn’t pull back far. His forehead rested against Jordan’s, his breath hot on Jordan’s lips. His voice was a low, ragged whisper, the confession tumbling out in a rush. “I am. I am straight. I only ever have feelings for women. But I like to mess around with guys. It’s just… a thing. A physical thing.” He paused, his grip on Jordan’s neck tightening almost imperceptibly. “But when I realized it was you… when I saw it was you on your knees for me that first time… fuck, Jordan.” He pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, his gaze burning with a years-long secret finally seeing the light. “All those times in the gym. During practices. In the locker room, changing, showering… I’d watch you. Bro, I watched you all the time. I had no fucking clue what it meant, I just knew it made me hard. Made me crazy.” Jordan’s heart was hammering against his ribs. He could only stare, captivated, as Blake laid himself bare. “So many times,” Blake continued, his voice dropping even lower, becoming almost confessional. “I’d go home after practice, after seeing the water run down your chest in the showers, the way your muscles flexed when you pulled your shirt off… sometimes I wouldn’t even make it all the way home. I’d have to pull my truck over on a back road because I couldn’t fucking take it anymore.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing Jordan’s ear, his words a hot, shocking caress. “I’d sit there in the driver’s seat and stroke my dick raw thinking about you. Wondering how your skin would taste under my tongue. How your precum would taste, clean and salty. How your lips would feel on mine. I’d even… fuck, this is so messed up… I’d sniff my own jockstrap after a practice, the one that had been soaked with my sweat right next to yours, and it would give me the most intense orgasms I’d ever had. I was mesmerized by you, Jordan. Your body. Your smell. You.” The confession hung in the air, obscene and flattering and terrifying all at once. A warmth, entirely separate from the heat of arousal, spread through Jordan’s chest. To be wanted like that, so desperately and for so long, was a powerful, heady drug. His own cock, spent just minutes ago, gave a interested, traitorous twitch against his thigh. But his mind, cutting through the haze of lust and surprise, threw up a red flag. A big one. Jared. Jared was all he wanted. This thing with Blake… it was intense, it was filthy and hot, but it was just physical. It had to be. Jared was his heart. He opened his mouth, unsure what he was even going to say—a thank you, a rejection, a question—when the creak of the kitchen door hinge cut through the thick silence. Both of their heads snapped toward the sound. Jared stood frozen in the doorway, a baking sheet of frozen wings in one oven-mitted hand. His eyes took in the scene in a single, sweeping glance: Jordan and Blake, faces inches apart, their body language intimate, charged, their breathing still uneven. His expression flickered, a rapid-fire shift from casual expectation to sharp, perceptive curiosity. His gaze dropped, lingering for a fraction of a second on the obvious, renewed bulge tenting the front of Jordan’s athletic shorts, then flicked to Blake’s similarly strained jeans. A slow, knowing, confident smirk spread across Jared’s face. It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t jealous. It was utterly, wickedly turned on. He tossed the baking sheet onto the coffee table with a loud clatter, never breaking eye contact with them. “Well,” he drawled, his voice a low, husky thing that vibrated through the room. "Now, time for the main course." Jordan pulled away abruptly, his chest tight with an unplaceable guilt. Blake took a step back, his face flushed and his breathing still heavy. He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact. “I think… I should go,” he muttered, his voice thick with something between shame and desire. Jared blinked, confusion flickering across his face as the charged atmosphere in the room dissolved into awkward tension. “Wait, what’s going on?” he asked, glancing between the two of them. Blake shook his head, grabbing his jacket from the couch. “Nothing. Just… I’ll see you guys later.” Without another word, he headed for the door, leaving Jordan and Jared alone. Jordan exhaled shakily, running a hand over his face. “He… he told me something,” he admitted, looking at Jared. “About how he’s felt about me for a long time. Like, years. It just… caught me off guard.” Jared’s eyebrows lifted, but his expression softened as he stepped closer. “Damn. That’s… intense. Poor guy.” “Yeah,” Jordan agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I feel kind of bad for him. But… I don’t know, it’s not like I did anything wrong, right?” Jared chuckled softly, closing the distance between them. He placed a reassuring hand on Jordan’s shoulder, his touch steady and grounding. “Hey, don’t overthink it. You didn’t lead him on or anything. It’s not your fault he’s been harboring all that.” Jordan sighed, leaning into Jared’s touch. “I know. It’s just… weird.” Jared smirked, his confidence returning as he tilted Jordan’s chin up to meet his gaze. “You know what’s not weird? Us. I’m not threatened by Blake or his confession. I know where we stand, Jord. You’re mine, and I’m yours. End of story.” Jordan felt a warmth spread through him, his guilt melting away under Jared’s unwavering certainty. He smiled faintly, nodding. “Yeah. You’re right.” Jared’s smirk widened, and he leaned in, brushing their lips together in a soft, reassuring kiss. “Always am. Now, let’s forget about Blake and focus on us. Because honestly? This whole thing just made me want you even more.” Jordan laughed softly, the tension finally breaking as he wrapped his arms around Jared. “You’re insatiable.” “And you love it,” Jared shot back, his voice low and playful before capturing Jordan’s lips again, sealing away any lingering doubts.

Chapter 7 The humid late-summer air clung to the walls of Jordan’s living room, thick with the promise of a storm and the lingering ghost of their last encounter. When Blake finally texted—On my way—the energy between Jared and Jordan shifted from anticipatory to electric. They’d spent the last month exploring every inch of each other, their bodies becoming a familiar map of pleasure, but this… this was a new frontier. Blake arrived with the scent of rain and cheap beer on his breath, his movements a little looser, his smile a little less guarded. “Family reunion,” he explained with a lopsided grin, dropping onto the sectional. “My uncle’s homebrew is lethal.” They made small talk, the kind that felt like dancing on the edge of a cliff. College was a week away for Jared and Jordan, a fact that lent a desperate, now-or-never energy to the evening. Blake talked about his mechanic classes at the community college, his eyes constantly flicking to the dark TV screen. Finally, he couldn’t wait any longer. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked directly at Jared. “So. Are we gonna watch me get my dick sucked again or not?” The code was clear. Hell yes, I want to be here. Hell yes, I want to jerk my cock with you two. Jared’s answering smile was all predator. “Thought you’d never ask.” He grabbed the remote, and a moment later, the screen bloomed with the familiar image of Blake’s unfastened jeans. The three of them sat side-by-side, a row of tense, buzzing masculinity. Hands drifted to laps, palming growing bulges through denim and athletic shorts. On screen, Jordan’s recorded voice, soft and sure, said, “Stand up.” Jared turned his head, his lips close to Jordan’s ear. His voice was a low, hungry murmur meant only for him. “I’m so horny. I want you to fuck me. Right now.” The words were a lightning strike. Jordan’s cock jerked to full, aching attention. He glanced at Blake, who was staring at the TV, his hand stilling on his own dick. Blake’s eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape. He was caught off guard, but he wasn’t looking away. “Y’all do what you want,” Blake breathed, his voice raspy. “I’m just here to watch me and stroke me.” But his protest was weak, his gaze already sliding from the screen to the two of them. It was all the permission they needed. Jordan stood, pulling Jared up with him. They didn’t go to a bedroom. They did it right there on the rug in front of the couch, in the flickering blue light of Blake’s own blissed-out face. Clothes were shoved out of the way. Jared got on his hands and knees, presenting himself to Jordan, his ass a pale, perfect curve in the dim light. Jordan knelt behind him, spitting into his hand once, twice, slicking his own hard length before guiding himself to Jared’s entrance. He pushed in with one smooth, relentless thrust, burying himself to the hilt in the tight, familiar heat. Jared gasped, a sharp, gratifying sound, and pushed back against him. “Fuck, yes… God, you feel good.” The rhythm started slow, a deep, rocking motion that made Jared’s back arch. Jordan kept his eyes locked on Blake, who was no longer even pretending to watch the TV. His hand was motionless on his cock, his beer-flushed face a mask of stunned, rapt arousal. He was watching Jordan’s hips piston forward, watching the way Jared’s body yielded and took him. “So good,” Jordan groaned, his voice thick with effort and desire. He was talking to Blake now, narrating the show. “His hole is so fucking tight… so hot inside. Clenching on my cock like he doesn’t want to let go.” Blake made a small, choked sound in the back of his throat. “You should see it,” Jordan continued, driving into Jared with a little more force, making him moan. “See how he opens up for me. How wet he is for it.” On the TV, the recorded Blake was moaning, “Deeper…!” In the room, the real Blake was breathing in shallow pants, his cock visibly straining against his jeans. Jared, lost in the sensation, turned his head, his cheek pressed against the rug. His eyes, glazed with pleasure, found Blake’s. “You wanna try it?” he panted, the question a bold, filthy challenge. “Wanna see how it feels?” Blake froze. Conflict warred on his face—straight-guy denial battling against a curiosity that had been simmering since his first mind-blowing orgasm in this very room. His eyes dropped to where Jordan’s cock disappeared into Jared, watching the slick, rhythmic motion. He saw the way Jared’s rim stretched, glistening. His resistance crumbled. Without a word, Blake stood up. He fumbled with his belt, his fingers clumsy, and shoved his jeans and boxers down his thighs. His cock sprang free, fully erect, thick and curving upwards. He knelt behind Jared, his movements hesitant but determined. He placed a trembling hand on Jared’s hip, his touch hot. Jordan pulled out slowly, his own breath catching at the sight he revealed: Jared’s hole, pink and well-fucked, gaping slightly, glistening with spit. Blake stared at it, his expression one of pure, primal hunger. He touched the tip of his cock to the wetness, a questioning pressure. Jared pushed back against him, a silent, eager answer. Blake’s eyes squeezed shut for a second, as if in prayer, and then he pushed forward. He slid in, the tight ring of muscle yielding to him, sucking him inward until he was fully sheathed. A guttural, involuntary groan was torn from his chest—a sound of such profound, unexpected pleasure it seemed to shock him. His eyes flew open, wide with disbelief. “Oh my god,” he whispered, his hips giving a tentative, shallow thrust. “It’s… fuck…” Jordan watched, mesmerized. The sight of his best friend being filled by another man, by Blake, was the most potent aphrodisiac he’d ever experienced. He was hard again, aching to be back inside that warm, shared space. They found a rhythm, a shaky, unspoken choreography. Jordan would slide in, fucking Jared with deep, claiming strokes until he was close to the edge, then pull out, letting Blake take his place. Blake’s initial hesitance vanished, replaced by a raw, greedy hunger. He fucked into Jared with growing confidence, his muscular thighs driving him forward, his hands gripping Jared’s hips tight enough to leave bruises. The room filled with the lewd symphony of their bodies: the slap of skin on skin, Jared’s ragged moans, Blake’s deep, grunting breaths, and Jordan’s own desperate panting. The air grew thick with the musky scent of sweat and sex. Blake was the first to break. His rhythm stuttered, became frantic. “I’m gonna… I can’t… I’m gonna cum!” he warn them, his voice strained. He buried himself as deep as he could, his body locking up. A series of raw, guttural cries were punched from his lungs as he came, his release pumping into Jared in hot, pulsing jets. He held himself there for a long moment, trembling, before collapsing forward, slipping out. Jordan was there instantly. He didn’t wait. He guided his own slick cock back to Jared’s well-used hole, now dripping with Blake’s release. The feeling was incredible—slick, warm, and impossibly intimate. He pushed in, fucking Blake’s cum deeper into Jared, the wet, sloppy sounds pushing him toward his own climax instantly. “Yeah, fuck his load into me,” Jared begged, his voice wrecked. “Fill me up, Jordan. Come on!” It was all he needed. With a cry that was half-sob, half-triumph, Jordan came, his own orgasm crashing over him. He pulsed inside Jared, adding his seed to Blake’s, his vision whiting out at the intensity of the shared possession. Spent, Jordan pulled out, and they all stayed like that for a second, panting in the aftermath: Jared on his hands and knees, Blake kneeling behind him, Jordan beside them. Then Jared moved. He rolled onto his back, his stomach and chest glistening with sweat, his cock still hard and leaking. His hole, a wet, spent mess, was exposed. He looked up at Blake, his eyes dark with a deviant spark. “Sit on my face,” Jared demanded, his voice hoarse. “I want to taste you both while I finish.” Blake’s eyes widened, but the hesitation was gone. A slow, dirty smile spread across his face. He shifted, kneeling over Jared’s head, and lowered himself. Jared’s tongue snaked out, lapping at cum leaking from Blake’s softening cock, then lower, tasting Blake's sweet musty hole. This was the final trigger. Jared’s hand flew to his own dick, stroking furiously. With a choked gasp, he came, his release shooting up onto his own chest in thick, pearly strands, his body shuddering through the waves of pleasure. Complete silence fell, broken only by the ragged sound of three sets of lungs struggling for air. Blake finally moved, shifting off of Jared and collapsing onto the rug beside him. He looked at the ceiling, then turned his head, his gaze traveling over their sticky, exhausted forms. A laugh bubbled out of him—a low, incredulous sound. “You guys,” he said, shaking his head in sheer wonder. “You guys are fucking filthy, dirty perverts.” He paused, letting the words hang in the sex-heavy air. Then he grinned, wide and genuine. “I fucking love it.”

Chapter 6 Blake stared at the phone in Jared’s hand, his cum-dazed expression sharpening into something more focused, more curious. The silence stretched, thick with the scent of sex and the fading adrenaline of what had just happened. He slowly pulled his jeans up over his hips but didn’t bother to fasten them, the denim hanging open, framing his softening cock. “Did you… did you like it?” Blake asked, his voice quieter now, less of the performative straight guy and more genuinely himself. “Sucking my dick, I mean.” Jordan, still kneeling on the rug, wiped his chin with the back of his hand and nodded. “Yeah, man. A lot.” Blake’s eyes flicked to Jared. “And you? You liked watching it?” A slow, wicked grin spread across Jared’s face. “Loved it.” He held up the phone, the screen now dark. “Got the whole thing right here.” Blake swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked from the phone to the large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. “What are you gonna do with it?” Jared’s grin didn’t falter. “Just for me. I’ll jerk off watching it later.” The words seemed to hit Blake like a physical touch. A visible shiver ran through him, and Jordan saw the faintest twitch in Blake’s loose-hanging cock. He’s getting hard again, Jordan thought, his own body responding instantly to the possibility. “Let’s watch it then,” Blake said, the suggestion tumbling out in a rush. “Right now. So you can jack off.” Jared didn’t hesitate. He was already moving, fumbling with his phone before finding the casting icon. A second later, the TV screen blinked to life, displaying the same video thumbnail from his phone. The room was suddenly illuminated by the cold, blue light of the menu screen. “Sit,” Blake commanded, his voice gaining a new layer of confidence as he pointed to the large sectional couch. He positioned himself squarely in the middle, a king on his newfound throne. Jared sat to his right, Jordan to his left. Jared tapped ‘play’. The video began with a shaky, close-up shot of Blake’s jeans. The audio picked up Jordan’s voice, soft and coaxing. “Stand up.” On screen, Blake’s hands fumbled with his button, then his zipper. The sound was obscenely loud through the surround sound speakers. “Now,” Blake said, his eyes glued to the screen, his own image now kneeling before him. “Take your clothes off. Both of you. And jack off for me.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order, and it sent a jolt of pure, submissive heat straight to Jordan’s core. He and Jared locked eyes for a split second, a silent, eager agreement passing between them. They scrambled to comply, their movements frantic. T-shirts were pulled over heads and tossed aside. Jeans and boxers were shoved down legs and kicked into a pile on the floor. Within seconds, they were both naked again, their cocks already swelling back to full, aching hardness. The room filled with the soft, slick sounds of their hands on their own flesh. On the TV, the video-Jared took the video-Jordan took Blake into his mouth for the first time, and a low, guttural moan echoed from both the speakers and the real Blake sitting between them. “Fuck,” Blake breathed, his own hand snaking into his open jeans. He wrapped his fingers around his own dick, giving it a slow, tentative stroke. He was getting hard again, his thickness filling out beautifully in his grasp. The sight of it—the three of them, all stroking themselves, all watching themselves—was the most surreal, erotic thing Blake had ever experienced. His eyes darted between the two other cocks. Jared’s, thick and cut, his hands gliding smoothly over the glistening head with each long pull. And Blake’s, curving up, his grip firm and sure. Jordan matched his rhythm to theirs, his own hand a tight fist around his six inches, his thumb smearing the fresh bead of precum that had already formed over his slit. The video played on, a lewd symphony of wet sounds and ragged breathing. The camera angle shifted as Jared had moved, now capturing the perfect profile of Jordan’s head bobbing in Blake’s lap, the look of utter ecstasy on Blake’s face. “Look at you,” Blake murmured, his voice husky as he stared at the screen. His stroking became more purposeful. “Look how deep you take it. God, your mouth…” Jordan couldn’t look away from the TV. Seeing himself like that, seeing the sheer skill and hunger in his own performance, was a bizarre and powerful turn-on. He watched his own throat work, heard his own gagging sounds turn into moans of approval. He was fucking himself with his own hand in time with the memory, his hips pumping into his fist. “I’m getting close,” Jared groaned from the other side of Blake, his strokes becoming shorter, more frantic. “The way you two look together… fuck…” On screen, the video was reaching its climax. Blake’s back was arching, his hands were gripping the couch cushions. Jordan’s own recorded voice was a muffled, desperate sound around a mouthful of cock. “I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna…” Blake’s on-screen voice cried out, a broken plea. The real Blake’s breath hitched. “Me too,” he gasped, his hand a blur on his own shaft now. “Now. Do it now.” It was the trigger. The permission. The shared energy in the room crested and broke. Jordan came first. With a choked cry, his body seized. His cock jerked violently in his hand, and the first thick rope of cum shot across his stomach, landing just above his navel. A second pulse followed, then a third, painting his skin with warm, white stripes. The sight and sound of him was the final push for the other two. On the TV, Blake’s orgasm hit, his body bowing in silent, ecstatic release. In the living room, the real Blake’s orgasm mirrored it perfectly. His head slammed back against the couch cushion, his eyes squeezing shut as his cock erupted. Thick, pearly jets spurted from his tip, arcing through the air to land on his own stomach and chest, mixing with the sweat already there. Jared followed a heartbeat later, his own release a torrential, groaning affair. He came all over his own fist, his cum splattering onto his thighs and the couch cushion beneath him, his body trembling with the force of it. For a long moment, the only sounds were the three of them panting, the frantic stroking slowing to gentle, oversensitive caresses on their spent cocks. The video on the TV continued to play silently, showing the aftermath—the collapsed, blissed-out form of Blake's first blowjob from a guy. Blake was the first to speak, his voice wrecked and full of awe. “Play it again.”