Dan Needs A Public Education

"You want this, don't you Danny."

His voice is beguiling, syrup and amusement, but it's not Xander's coaxing which is making me nod. Nothing so easily explained, so readily excused. Because the truth is that I've been thinking about this - about how Luka would feel, pushed inside me and hitting places my fingers alone couldn't reach - ever since we first took those damn photos. 

But that's not the sort of thing you can tell your best friend. Not when you're both meant to be straight, ridiculous as that might seem right now. 

And so, when I reach back and pull my cheeks apart, it's with the knowledge that not only is Luka seeing me in the most intimate way ever, but that my compliance is absolute. 

I feel the thick brush of his cock, where his fingers just were, and it's all I can do not to push back. Bear down on him, take him raw and feel myself spread for him. Add "how Luka fucks" to my memory banks, filed alongside "how Luka jerks off" and "how Luka toys with his ass." No more camera between us, lending some insubstantial pretense of separation. 

He hisses, as my gooey hole submits to the fat head of his dick. No resistance at all, my well-plied body obedient and needy. Demanding neither patience nor restraint.

Another push, and now it's me who's hissing. My best friend's girth stretching me: abused muscles and tender flesh no match for the steady drive of his hips. Not that there's anything in the world that'd make me ask him to stop, or even to slow down. 

"Danny can take it faster, can't you Danny?" 

Xander sounds amused, but it's just hearing him at all that makes me jerk with surprise. Somehow I'd forgotten that it wasn't just Luka and I here, now; that we have an audience, watching as my closest buddy plows me. 

I still nod, though. Words beyond me, but needing to answer the question nonetheless. 

Luka's hips meet my ass with a slap. Propelling the air from my lungs, his own gasp hollow and shocked as he holds there, deep in me. 

It's a twitching, at first. Almost like he's shifting his weight from one foot to the other, rocking in me and against me. Cock churning the loads that have lubed the way for him, as I chew my lip in desperate hope of not crying out from the flood of sensations. 

Then can't hold it back as he jerks his hips and then pushes into me again. 

It's like my whimper has unlocked something, given him permission, because he's slamming into me now. Fingers digging into my hips, each stroke punctuated by the lewd, sloppy sound of strangers' cum gurgling out from around his shaft and the gape of my hole. 

"Your boy Danny's a real cumslut." Xander's voice is a sly murmur over Luka's shoulder. "Why should you hold back, if nobody else has?" 

I have to clench my jaw to stop the howl from escaping. Whole body vibrating, roasting hot from the friction of Luka's relentless slap, slap, slap against me, and from imagining him doing the same between Xander's splayed thighs. How the older man must look, as my friend pounds into him. The noise and the heat of it; crisp and bright in my mind's eye, as if I was sat watching from the corner of the room. Knowing, too, that this is Xander's way of showing me what I never knew was there, what he somehow unlocked. 

My legs are shaking, threatening to buckle, when I hear the sound of footsteps down the hall. 

I can feel Luka startling in surprise, in shock. Body stiffening, as I begin to stand myself, only instead of us separating we're suddenly pushed together. Xander pressing into the cubicle and shoving the flimsy, battered wooden door closed behind him. 

A hiss of breath, as my best friend prepares to say something, then just as fast the sound of it being muffled. Glance back, to see Xander's hand pressed across Luka's mouth - his eyes bulging above that tight grip - and then threaten to betray us all myself as his hips jab forward, shoving his fat prick deeper into me. 

My grunt is lost into Xander's palm, his other hand clamped to my own face as he reaches around Luka. Muffling the both of us, and in the process pulling us together. Making a sandwich of my buddy, his boyfriend, and I know it's that tight clench which makes him rock his hips and saw his cock in my hole. 

We should stop, I know we should, and yet I can't say that. Can't say anything, Xander's fingers digging into my cheeks and my lips mashed against his skin, and because my body disagrees, anyway. Doesn't want to give up the heft of what's inside me right now, the way Luka's stretching my tender ass as he shifts between us. My own dick harder than I can ever remember being, a precum hose, as I reach back and grip my best friend's head with both hands. 

His arms are around me in an instant. Hugging my back to his chest, like I know his own must be pressed into Xander's. The three of us moving together, a knot of limbs, trying desperately to keep our fuck from being overheard and yet not one of us able to actually stop it. To hit pause on what seems more and more ill-advised with each moment, as the flare of Luka's swollen tip grinds against my over-stimulated prostate. 

He squeezes me tighter, and it can only mean one thing, as I try in turn to clamp down on his shaft as it pushes into my sloppy, well-used insides. Whimpering into Xander's hand and imagining the same noises coming from Luka: the two of us so much more alike than different, the sort of closeness that can only come from being the best of buddies. And if I've only recently learned the sounds he makes as he loses control and the cum erupts from his cock, well, that just means it's all the brighter in my imagination as he vibrates against my naked back and I feel him swell in me. 

Luka's shaking, whole-body ripples, as we hear the sound of the toilet flushing from down the row of cubicles. The snap of the lock and the door's creaky hinges; footsteps instantly dimming in volume as whoever it was turns the corner. After a moment, long seconds spooling, I feel Xander's fingers ease their death-grip across my mouth. By the time he pulls his hand away, the gesture almost feels tender. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." 

Luka's voice hoarse and quiet, the same word over and over. As though they built up, while he was screwing me, only to be trapped behind his boyfriend's muffling palm. Liberated now, aftershocks of his climax just like the way my ass can't stop twitching around his shaft. 

Xander steps back, just a little. Enough to make it clear that Luka's proximity to me is of his own volition, his arms still caught around my chest as I grudgingly release his head. I can hear him panting, breaths heavy and labored, but I'm afraid of turning around and seeing whatever expression might be on his face. 

When he pulls back, it's with a panicked jerk. Making me gasp, at the tug of his dick from my ruined ass. The thick, wet trickle of fresh cum down my thighs a moment later, my best friend's load mixed with that of the strangers who'd bred me earlier. I know he can probably see that frothy, gloopy mess oozing out of me; can only imagine how puffy and pink my hole must be right now. Embarrassment and a strange sort of horny pride flushing through me in near-equal measure. 

"We should go," he says, and his voice has a coldness I recognize, too. The tone that says he's teetering on the edge of a meltdown, brain retreating in desperation, to leave only this brittle, remote facade of the Luka I know. 

He's pushing his still-hard, sticky cock back into his pants - pointedly not looking at me - when Xander holds out a bag. 

Fresh clothes: a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that I don't recognize from Luka's closet. Understanding following with a jolt, remembering that he was at Xander's when I called, and so these must be from Xander's wardrobe instead. Something - as I find the black designer briefs tucked into the bag too - that sets a shiver of strange disquiet through my belly. His boyfriend just nailed me, and now I'm going to dress up in his clothes, too. 

There's no time for overthinking, though, not with Luka standing there looking as though he's about to implode, and so I set the bag down on the toilet's tank and - face bright red with embarrassment - try my best to wipe up the flood of cum from my legs. Fistfuls of cheap, rough tissue smearing the reminder of what has happened today, and what my best friend now knows about me, until I can't bear it, the sense of exposure, any longer. Have to yank the briefs up my legs, shoving my still-rigid prick to one side in their clinging pouch, and then squirm into the t-shirt and sweats. 

He's taller than I am, Xander, and so the pants are too long, but just being covered up makes me shudder with relief. When I look up again, it's to find he's watching me. Holds my gaze for a beat, before giving a nod - just one - and unlocking the door. 

The walk to the parking lot goes in a sort of daze. Part of my brain howling at how suspect it must look, for the three of us to come marching silently out of the restroom, and yet none of the thoughts sticking. That sense of overwhelmed numbness setting in instead, as Luka follows Xander, and I follow him. Trying to read the extent to which I've fucked up in the tight set of my buddy's shoulders. 

I can't ask, though, can only feel the tension building in my chest until we reach the car. Luka opening the door and pulling the seat forward, then waiting for me to clamber into the back while he stares at the sky and refuses to grant eye-contact. 

I can feel the weight of Xander's gaze on me in the mirror, though. Try my best to return that look, as if I have a clue what we could be trying to communicate to each other without words. 

Then he blinks, spell broken, and puts the car into reverse. 

"You can just take me home," I say, quietly. I feel like a little kid, relegated to the back row. Watch Xander glance at Luka, as if the both of us need his permission for whatever comes next. 

"No, we need to talk about this," my best friend says, eventually. His voice still cold and tight, attention locked on the road ahead as the car noses into traffic. "Now. Before you..."

The words trail off, but I know what he's saying. Before I do it again, succumb to what I know - to Luka - must seem self-destructive and downright dangerous. The fact that he just added to what feels like a gallon of cum inside me isn't going to stop him from staging an intervention. 

"Let's go to that coffee shop," he tells Xander, who promptly hits the turn signal and changes lane. I feel his eyes on me again in the mirror. Wonder whether he feels more like a chauffeur, or a coconspirator, or simply an amused observer as things get more and more brittle and tense between my friend and I. 

I could argue, could protest and demand they drop me off at my door, but I know there's no point. And part of me - and perhaps it's the self-destructive part which Luka seems convinced, has always been convinced, is tightly wired into my cortex - wants this, too. Wants to be able to talk about the shit that I've thought, desperately, about bringing up with him. Even if this isn't quite how I hoped it would happen. 

He lets me out onto the sidewalk when Xander shuts off the car, and I follow them into the coffee shop. Not one I've been to before, so I figure it has to be one of their haunts together. Feel a wrinkle of annoyance at that: at the idea that Luka is having these formative, life-changing experiences about which I'm entirely ignorant. Shut out, as he turns into somebody new, different. Even though all I really want is for him to be happy.

There's a girl behind the counter, and I see her face light up when Xander approaches. Not that I can really blame her: I might've been distracted today, but the fact that he's drop-dead gorgeous still managed to filter through into my brain. He probably has girls falling over him everywhere. And, for that matter, guys. 

Guys like Luka. I blink, a sudden flurry of confusion at how things have changed in what feels like such short order, looking between them. My best friend standing next to the guy who I now know is his boyfriend, even if they're not holding hands or being tactile. Invisible connection lines between them nonetheless, and there's a swelling in my chest which makes me want to drag them away and - explanations of my own ridiculous behavior be damned - insist on them telling me everything. Explain just what happened, and what this is, now, so that I can understand the topography of their relationship. 

I don't, though. Just sidle up to the register when Xander cocks his head at me, and order a smoothie from the big menu board on the wall. 

"Oh, sorry. Can't make those right now," the girl explains, grimacing apologetically, "I'm not allowed to leave the counter and go back into the kitchen. But someone's coming on shift in a few minutes, so we can make one then."

I shrug. "I can wait."

I regret it, a couple of minutes later, because a cup would've been nice if only to occupy my hands. Sitting across from Luka and Xander, facing the weight of my friend's full attention.

"How long," he starts, then pauses. Swallows. "How long have you been... doing..."

I wait a moment, until it's clear he's not going to finish that question. Still, there was enough of it for me to answer. 

"Not long. It kinda... accelerated."

His frown deepens. "Accelerated? You mean you can't help yourself."

There's something about his tone, the way he says it. No way not to read the subtext, the idea that once again, Dan has let his urges run away with themselves, and overrule any inclination to sensible behavior he might have. 

"It feels good," I tell him, sullenly. "I... I can't explain it."

He's grinding his teeth. Jaw clenched, and now I'm glad he insisted on doing this here, out in public. Because if we were at my place, or his, there's every chance Luka would be shouting at me by now. 

"It's dangerous!" The words spat out, in an angry hiss. 

Xander reaches out, a hand on Luka's thigh. Just resting there, but I can't take my eyes off it. 

"Lots of things are dangerous," Xander points out, "but we still do them."

There's a flash of frustration across Luka's face, before he chews it back. "He could get mugged, or attacked, or... or... or killed!" 

He worries about me, that's what makes it so difficult. What makes my guts knot up, as if someone has pulled them from my belly and looped them into a makeshift noose. He's angry, because what I do sometimes scares him, and Luka knows that - for all he might scream at me - there's every chance I'll keep on doing it. 

"Usually it's fine," I say, and watch the scowl further cloud his expression. 

"Oh, 'usually'? Just how many times have you been letting people fuck you in the ass?" 

I can't help the annoyance spiking through me. "I dunno, Luka, how many times this week have you been fucked in the ass?" 

His lips tighten. "That's different." I catch the glimpse across, at Xander alongside him. 

"It sounds to me," I continue, still feeling that burr of anger lodged in my throat, "like you've been doing some pretty risky, public shit yourself lately." 

It's my turn to look at Xander, but if I'm expecting ire, or self-consciousness, or pretty much anything bar a cool, measured stare, I'm to be disappointed. He's watching me like I'm something fascinating, and the intensity of his attention makes my skin crawl.

"I'm using the bathroom," I say, pushing myself up off the couch. "Some of my hypocrite best friend's load is dripping out of my ass."

I see his renewed scowl as Luka turns away.

It's like there's a tide of annoyance and one of horrible sadness, both sloshing around inside of me. Leaving me feeling adrift as waves of unpredictable feelings set me spinning emotionally: one minute furious at Luka for seizing some sort of moral high ground I'm not sure he's entitled to, and the next moment hating the fact that we're arguing when, as I understand deep down, all this comes from his own fears about my wellbeing. 

I'm so caught up in that morass that, as I stamp around the corner to the restrooms, I almost collide with someone walking the other way. 

"Fu... I mean, sorry, I wasn't..." I start, then freeze. Not even able to blink, as the guy I almost bumped right into - as he ties a coffee shop apron behind his back - is both staring right back at me in surprise, and someone I instantly recognize.

Because how could I forget the face of the man who cruised me down into the woods, watched as I fucked a guy for the first time, and then made out with me on the forest floor until my cum-slicked lips felt raw?

---

This is a spin off from "Xander Shows Me My Prostate" which, along with more stories, is over on my site. I also have a brand new story releasing this week: it's called "Same Old Bobby" and it's about what happens when you accidentally fall for your best friend's hot older brother 🥵 Appreciate you checking it out!

-Alex