Jared and Jordan

[sneakbator]

 

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.”

[sneakbator]

 

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.

 

[sneakbator]

 

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.

[sneakbator]

 

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.

 

 

 

 

[sneakbator]

 

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.