The Deal
Austin worked my cock like he’d been training his whole damn life for this.
Not sloppy, not nervous, deliberate.
Long strokes, tongue tracing every vein, jaw relaxed like he’d studied how to take me. Every few seconds, he’d lift his eyes, lips stretched around my shaft, waiting for approval while I smoked my cigar and fed him the taste of my previous night's conquests
He knew what he was doing.
The boy worshipped my dick like it was something sacred, something he’d waited a long time to get his mouth around.
But, it was not the sex or the attention he wanted. He needed someone to carve him into the kind of man he admired, the kind of man he aspired to be.
And, he wanted me to be his mentor, a daddy figure.
While he sucked me off, I was reminded that
I wasn’t a man who took to commitments well.
I was fifty, set in my ways, happy with my side pieces and quiet nights. I wasn’t looking for a husband, a boyfriend, or some pretty little project.
This kid was asking for a lot. He wanted to be moulded. Shaped. Broken down and rebuilt in my image. I asked myself, Am I really up for this? Is it something I want to do?
The boy’s mouth was too good to think straight. My cock was slick, tight, his throat opening clean for me each time. I pushed his head down. I realised the thought of having my own personal cocksucker on payroll, eager, hungry, grateful just to be on his knees, was appealing. Especially someone as talented as he was.
Just as I felt my load building, I thought, Fuck it. What am I even hesitating for? The boy is good. He’s useful. And he’s begging for direction.
I grabbed the back of his head and shoved him all the way down. No warning, no chance to breathe, just showing him exactly who was in charge.
He choked once, then relaxed, like he wanted it.
I held him there, grinding his face to my base, and shot my load straight down his throat.
Two, three hard pulses, not my full strength, not after last night, but enough to fill him.
Enough that he tasted last night’s sweat and sex. He didn’t blink.
When I let go, he eased back slowly, lips sliding off my cock with a final suck that made my spine jerk. He sat back, arms resting on my thighs, licking the taste off his lips with a proud, satisfied grin.
“Now get up cunt” I said. “Get me a coffee. Shower. Clean yourself up.” He was quick to do as he was told.
I sat back, smoking and sipping, listening to the shower start. The kid was singing, fucking singing. Good mood, excited, eager. He clearly liked the arrangement more than I expected.
Curiosity pulled me up. I walked to the bathroom, the door wide open.
There he was, naked, wet, soap running down that tight little body.
And for the first time, I really looked at him. The small waist. The defined abs. The round, firm ass he clearly worked on daily. Water running down the curve of his back, dripping off his pecs, rolling over the ridges of muscle. A body built from vanity, for Grindr hookups.
He saw me watching and spread his cheeks just slightly, rubbing the soap between them, holding my eyes while he teased himself open.
He wanted round two. He wanted anything I’d give him.
But I only stood there, arms crossed, cigar between my fingers.
“Not this time,” I said quietly.
I admired him for a beat longer, then walked back to my chair, sat down as I drank my coffee, I thought about what came next for him, for me, for this fucked-up, perfect arrangement being planned.
Austin came back into my living room looking freshly scrubbed, hair still damp, clothes clinging to his body, trying hard to look composed. I watched him straighten himself like he was preparing for round two.
I didn’t take the bait. I tilted my head. “You can join me for dinner. We’ll cook. We’ll talk. That’s it. You need to learn restraint.”
He nodded, already tortured.
I looked at him and said, “Alright, boy. Looks like we’ve got a deal.”
His eyes widened.
“I’ll be your daddy. Your mentor. The man who teaches you the ropes, the real ones. The kind that turns a boy into someone who can take what he wants how he wants.”
His breath hitched, hungry, ready.
“But listen carefully,” I said, leaning forward. “This? It isn’t exclusive. We are not a thing. I am not your boyfriend, I will still need some hardcore fucking myself. That requires someone who can handle me the way a man should. You’re not there yet. You’re my project, what I use as I want. And when I need something else? I’ll bring someone over.”
He nodded immediately, obedient, almost relieved. Of course, he understood. He wasn’t looking for commitment either. He was a horny little fucker who had bevy of men at call. But he also needed something to orbit, something to worship, something to shape him.
I'll train you, give you lessons to live by. “And you,” I added, “i expect to practice what you learn here on other boys. Practice on them. Learn dominance. Learn control. Then I need you to come back and tell me what you did, how you did it. I can then tell you how to get better.”
We continued to talk about our arrangement, what he hoped for, how he wanted to serve, the structure of it.
As we talked, he was getting wound up, tight as piano wire. I leaned into this, and teased him at every turn. I saw this as part of his training.
Whenever I passed behind him, I made sure he felt my heat, my size… then stepped away before he could inhale me. When he looked at my arms, I flexed absently as if I didn’t notice. When his eyes dropped to my crotch, I let my shirt stretch across my chest and pretended nothing happened.
During dinner, I let long silences settle, heavy, charged. His eyes flicked to my mouth, my hands, my throat. His fork kept slipping in his fingers. He shifted in his seat like his cock was a problem he couldn’t solve.
Later, we moved to the lounge. I sat back in my armchair, legs apart, bulge obvious and deliberate. He couldn’t stop staring if he tried.
Sometimes I adjusted myself just to watch him twitch.
The effect was instant. His whole posture changed, leaning forward, eyes wide, breath quickening. His cock strained against those shorts, a wet spot blooming. He tried to sit still, pretend he wasn’t desperate, but everything about him screamed surrender.
When the tension was perfect, hot, miserable, I leaned forward.
“See how bad you want me tonight? Good. You’re going home with that pressure sitting heavy inside you. I want it to ache. I want you needing me like a drug you can’t touch.”
His throat bobbed.
“Friday! … that’s when your lesson begins, you’ll learn what real control looks like.”
I stood, grabbed his keys, and walked him to the door.
“Go home, boy,” I said without turning. “And don’t touch yourself until I say so.”
Then I shut the door and let him drown in it.
-
When Friday came around, the boy was already waiting by my car the moment I pulled in from work. One look at him and I knew he’d been thinking about tonight all damn week.
His eyes were hungry, that kind of restless, pent-up hunger that told me he hadn’t slept, hadn’t focused, hadn’t been able to think about a damn thing except what he thought Daddy was going to do to him.
I leaned against my car door and smirked.
“Boy… you’re in for a treat tonight. But remember, you stay in control this time. Being a bottom doesn’t mean you lose your power. You hear me? A real man stays in charge no matter the position.”
Before he could answer, I saw headlights rolling slowly down the street. A big black F-150. I didn’t know ifknew the boy recognised it at first, but when it pulled up behind us I watched the boy stiffen, the colour drain from his face.
He recognized that truck.
The door opened, and out stepped Mike.
He knew exactly who Mike was.
The man whose tyres he slashed.
The man he owed.
This was the confrontation he’d been dreading… or craving.
Mike was a badass, tall, thick, and rough around the edges. His jeans pulled tight over thighs as wide as tree trunks, said it all. He is the kind of man who filled every doorway, every space. The kind of man who made me look small, and that’s saying something.
I walked up to him and grabbed him by his t-shirt collar and pulled him for a kiss.
His moustache scraped my lips, and the weight of his body slammed me back against the bed of my truck. It hit me the same way it always did, a shot of adrenaline straight to my cock. I could feel myself hardening instantly.
I turned, just to see the look in the boy’s eyes.
Jealousy.
Fear.
A little awe.
He knew Mike had something he didn’t.
He knew Mike was the kind of man he wished he could be.
I leaned into Mike’s ear and whispered what I had planned. Mike grinned, that slow, dangerous grin he only gave when he was about to have fun, and looked straight at the boy, eyeing him up and down like he was inspecting new property.
I introduced them.
“Austin, this is Mike. Mike’s a good friend of mine, and the kind of man you want to learn from. Mike, this is Austin. Good fuck. Good cocksucker. Very trainable.”
They both gave polite smiles, but the air between them crackled. They were studying each other, sizing each other up. Testing.
I grabbed Mike’s overnight bag, and the three of us headed upstairs.
Inside my apartment, Mike already knew his way around. I called out, “You want a beer?”
“Of course,” he said.
I grabbed three.
Handed one to Mike.
Held another out to the boy.
He tried to act casual, tried to match us sip for sip, tried to sit like he belonged. But next to Mike, he looked small, and he knew it.
I saw Mike's eyebrow lift toward the humidor. “You got something for me?”
I smirked. “Always.” Knowing too well, for Mike, cigars and sex went hand in hand.
I pulled out two freshly trimmed cigars and handed one to Mike.
Then I glanced at the boy.
Mike and I lit up, smoke curling between us, heavy and masculine. We drank our beers and let the silence sit long enough to make the boy squirm.
He shifted on the couch, trying to pretend he wasn’t anxious. But his leg bounced, his fingers fidgeted, and the beer bottle shook just slightly. He wanted a role, wanted instructions, wanted to know why he was here.
I exhaled a long stream of smoke and said,
“Mike, this boy wants to be trained. Wants to be one of us. Harder. Sharper. A man who takes what he wants. He’s got a long way to go, but tonight’s a good start.”
Mike chuckled, staring directly at Austin.
“Oh yeah. This one’s got work to do.”
I continued, “And before anything else… he’s got a debt to pay. Slashing your tires wasn’t nothing. So he’s going to make that right. Tonight.”
I turned to the boy.
“You know what to do. Make sure Mike leaves satisfied.”
Excited to now have a task, he set his beer down, and slid off the couch. He positioned himself in front of Mike, head hovering near Mike’s crotch, waiting for permission.
Mike barked, “What the hell are you waiting for, cocksucker? Get to work.”
The boy obeyed instantly, hands going to Mike’s tight jeans, unbuckling, unzipping, reaching inside. He hesitated just long enough for me to catch his expression, the flicker of shock when he felt what he was about to deal with.
Mike’s cock wasn’t long… but it was thick. Coke-can thick. The kind that built fear before pleasure.
The boy freed it from Mike’s jeans, tried to wrap his hand around it. His fingers barely met. His eyes darted to me, just for a split second.
I smirked.
“That’s your lesson tonight. You’ll learn to take Uncle Mike’s cock like it's second nature. You’ve taken mine before, now let’s see how you handle his.”
The boy leaned in, lips touching the fat, swollen head. He opened his mouth slowly, stretching around it, tongue working the slit.
Mike looked at me and grinned.
The boy’s lips stretched wide around the swollen head of Mike’s cock. Slow. Careful. Testing the weight of it on his tongue.
Mike didn’t move at first, just leaned back on the couch, one arm stretched across the backrest, cigar between his fingers, watching the boy like he was some new toy he wasn’t sure would hold up.
I sat back in the armchair, smoking, watching, enjoying every second.
“Come on slut,” Mike muttered, voice gravel deep. “Show me you know how to work it.”
Austin pushed lower. Not far, just enough for the head to pop past the tight ring of his throat. He gagged once, pulled back, swallowed hard, then tried again.
I eagerly watched every second.
The boy was determined, more determined than I expected. He wanted to impress Mike. Wanted to impress me. Wanted to prove he belonged in the company of men like us.
He forced himself down another inch. Then another. His lips dragged along the thick shaft, leaving it wet and glistening.
Mike chuckled around his cigar.
“Look at that, Dave. Your boy’s trying real hard.”
I exhaled smoke and crossed my legs.
“He better. He owes you.”
Austin finally managed to swallow half of Mike’s cock before he gagged and had to pull back, sucking air through his nose, spit hanging in strings off his chin. He didn’t even bother wiping it, just looked up at us, eyes glassy, desperate, checking our faces like a starving dog waiting to be told he’d done well.
Mike glanced down at him and gave him exactly what he needed, in that low, commanding growl of his.
“That’s it, slut. Stretch those pretty cocksucking lips around that monster cock. You can take it. Open up that little cunt mouth and work it.”
That was all it took. Austin dove back down, hungry
This time he took more.
His jaw strained. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. His throat worked around the impossible thickness. He was fighting himself, fighting the urge to pull off, fighting the ache, fighting the burn, but he wanted it. He wanted to be seen doing it.
Mike kept staring at me, not at the boy, like he was giving me a show.
“You sure you don't mind me using your little cocksucker, Dave? You'll seem like a walk in the park after me,” Mike teased. “All good,” I admitted. “he’s yours tonight.”
Austin whimpered at that, an involuntary sound that made Mike grin.
The boy went down again.
And again.
He hollowed his cheeks, sucked hard, tongue dragging along the underside, doing every trick he knew. His throat opened just barely around the widest part of Mike’s cock.
Mike finally decided he’d seen enough.
His hand shot down, grabbed a fistful of the boy’s hair, and yanked his head down. “Enough of these games”
Austin choked.
Hard.
His hands flew to Mike’s thighs, nails digging in as Mike forced him deeper.
“That’s it, cunt”, Mike growled. “Take it. Don’t fight it.”
The boy’s throat swallowed around the fat shaft, gagging repeatedly as Mike used him like nothing more than a hole.
I felt my cock throb in my pants. This was what training should look like.
Mike rocked his hips, fucking the boy’s face with slow, brutal thrusts. The wet sounds filled the apartment, slurping, choking, the slap of Mike’s heavy balls tapping the boy’s chin.
Austin wasn’t in control anymore. And he loved it.
Saliva streamed down his cheeks. His eyes were glassy, unfocused. His face was red from the lack of air. And still, he tried to take more.
Mike looked at me again, smirking.
“You watching this? This is your boy?”
Something flickered across the boy’s face when he heard that, something desperate, possessive, jealous, but it disappeared the moment Mike shoved him back down.
Mike’s breathing changed.
I knew the signs.
That tightness in the jaw.
The way his hips stuttered.
The sudden, deep grunt rumbled from his chest.
He was close.
He tightened his grip on the boy’s hair, held him down, and pumped the thick cock straight past the boy’s lips, burying him face-first into his groin.
Austin gagged violently, body shaking, but Mike didn’t let up.
Then Mike growled:
“Fuck, yeah, there it is. You ready for this slut?”
His whole body seized as he came, hard, shooting thick, deep into the boy’s throat. Austin tried to pull back, but Mike held him there, forcing him to take every pulse, every drop.
The boy’s throat worked convulsively, swallowing what he could, drooling out the rest.
Finally, Mike let go, letting the boy fall back, gasping, coughing, spitting and cum dripping from his mouth.
Mike took one long drag of his cigar, exhaled, and grinned.
“Now that is one good little cocksucking whore you have there”
Austin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing hard, eyes shining with a twisted mix of pride and shame.
He looked at me.
Waiting for my reaction.
Waiting to see if he’d pleased me, too.
I took a slow drag of my cigar, leaned back, and nodded.
“That,” I said, “was a good start.”
I sat back in the afterglow, cigar between my lips, letting the moment settle. Mike leaned into his chair too, that lazy, satisfied look on his face, the kind a man only gets after a damn good cocksucking. The boy had earned it, no question.
Austin sat close beside him, grinning like he knew exactly how well he’d performed. That smug, eager pride of a boy who wants nothing more than to please his Daddy. Seeing both of them, Mike, the man I wanted, and the boy, trained and hungry, had me smirking around my cigar. The three of us were drinking, smoking, soaking in the tension and the heat… the night was far from over.
Keeping an eye on Mike, I noticed when he started to shift in his seat. Restless. Ready. Round two was calling.
I caught Mike’s eye, then snapped my fingers at the boy.
“Come here.”
I spread my legs wide, leaned back, hands behind my head, cigar still burning between my lips. No question in his mind what I expected. The boy slid between my legs and started working my groin, eager fingers, eager mouth. If I’d known he could suck cock like this, I would’ve used him a long damn time ago.
But tonight wasn’t about my pleasure. Not yet.
I angled him so Mike had a perfect view of Austin. His lips working my cock, but more importantly, that tight little ass pushing against his shorts like it wanted to be seen. It wanted to be taken.
I leaned forward over him, one hand grabbing his ass. I kept my eyes on Mike as I rubbed over the boy’s cheeks, slow and teasing. Then I undid the button on the boy’s shorts and dragged them down, letting Mike see that perfect round ass fully exposed. Mike’s eyes widened, his cock getting harder by the second.
I spread the boy’s cheeks and ran my fingers slowly between them, teasing his hole, dipping a fingertip in just enough to make him whine around my cock. Mike was breathing heavier, watching like a predator waiting for the moment he’s allowed to strike. I smiled. Round one had him hungry as hell.
Then I pulled the boy off my cock by his hair. He gasped, lips wet, pupils blown wide as I exhaled smoke over his face.
“Now,” I said softly, “you’re gonna pay your debt. Mike needs retribution for those tyres you slashed. And you know a cock like his is gonna hurt good.”
The boy nodded, dazed, needy, wanting my cock back but knowing something bigger was coming.
I gripped his jaw.
“And listen, boy. This is where you show the man what you want. You’re gonna have to take control, tell Mike what you want his cock to do. He doesn’t take orders easily. But this is how you prove yourself.”
He looked confused, nervous, and hungry.
I smirked.
“I’ll help you. I’ll show you.”
Mike didn’t need an invitation. He stood up, hard and ready, eyes locked on the boy’s ass.
I went to the kitchen and grabbed lube, because a cock like Mike’s wasn’t about to fit anywhere with just spit. When I came back, I poured it over the boy’s hole, letting the cool slickness drip down the crack of his ass before working my fingers in, stretching him, coating him, getting him ready to be split open properly.
“You mind if I prep you that beast too?” I asked Mike, glancing up.
“Do your best,” he growled.
I lubed his thick cock, watching the liquid slide down his shaft, catching in the hair at the base. I wrapped my hand around him and worked it slow, deliberate, feeling him swell, hearing his breath catch.
It got me so damn hard I could’ve taken him myself right there.
But this moment was for the boy.
Watching Mike line up, that massive cock poised at Austin’s tight hole, made me pause. How the hell was that going to fit? But I knew Mike, skilled, precise, unrelenting. He’d make it work.
Mike teased him slowly, rubbing the tip against Austin’s ass, and then growled, “You ready for this, you cunt?” I wasn’t sure if he meant Austin or me, but the tension made my pulse spike.
Austin didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Uncle Mike! Give it to me! Give it to me!”
He paused, lube precum dripping from the tip of his cock as he slowly lined it with his hole.
Mike didn’t need instructions. Lube and precum glistening, he pressed it in, inch by inch. I watched as he pushed his monster cock in, stretching his hole. Mike took it slow; he knew with a cock like this there was no other way, every inch deliberate, every thrust controlled. I was in a trance as Austin's pussy engulfed Mike cock. He flinched at the stretch, sweat dotting his brow, jaw tight, but he held it.
“Fuck, boy, you’re tight as hell. This is gonna be one hell of a ride,” Mike said, voice low, dangerous.
“Give it to me, sir. I can’t wait,” Austin gasped, eyes wide, chest heaving.
Mike replied, “That's a good little fucking whore, you think your daddy can fuck you, wait till Uncle Mike's done with you.”
It was then that I realised that I needed to step in. I leaned into Austin. I could see the pain in his face as Mike's cock stretched his ass wide. The sweat on his brow, his eyes wide. I then whispered into his ear. “Remember, tonight is not just about taking it. Tonight you are not just a cock-hungry whore. Tonight it is about you taking control. Being the man you want to be. Tell him what you need. Make him give it to you.”
Austin’s eyes met mine. Fear and pain melted into raw determination. “I… I can do this. Make Daddy proud,” he murmured.
I then stood back and continued to watch Mike’s huge monster cock tear into the boy's arse. Mike pushed deeper, the sound of flesh slapping filling the room. Austin let out a sharp moan. It was a scene of epic proportions. I grabbed my cigar and took a huge puff. It was all I could do not to grab my cock and start masturbating right there. The scene was almost too much; I needed some release.
When Mike yelled, “Okay, cunt, ready for a pounding?” Austin sheepishly replied, “Yes! Give it to me!” I could see he wasn’t there yet. I leaned close again. “No. Say it as you own it. Say it like he better fuck you, or else.” I locked eyes with the boy, “ focus on your needs, channel the pain and ecstasy you are feeling, get angry, this is your chance to let go of your pent-up frustrations”
Austin’s voice dropped, rougher, more commanding: “Give me that hard cock of yours. Stuff it fully in. Make me feel every inch, you motherfucker!”
Mike didn’t hesitate, pulling almost out, letting Austin feel every vein, every inch, before ramming back in. Austin’s gasp turned into a low, ecstatic growl. “That’s it! Pound my ass! Let me hear it! Slap me harder!”
Mike caught the rhythm, hips driving, hands gripping Austin’s hips, following every command. Austin leaned into the pain, embracing it, feeding off it, becoming aggressive in his submission, egging Mike on, pushing harder.
The sounds in the room were primal, skin against skin, gasps, moans, grunts, and it was mesmerising. Austin’s confidence grew; each time Mike cursed or called him a whore, Austin fired back, teasing, daring, taking control even as he was being fucked like a man possessed.
Mike found his sweet spot, thrusting with precision, hands digging into Austin’s hips, matching the boy’s rhythm, their movements syncing perfectly. Austin’s chest heaved, voice rising over every slap, commanding, demanding, owning the moment: “Harder! Fuck me like I can’t take any more! Push me, fucker!”
Austin's confidence grew with each pounding his ass took. It was clear that Austin was holding his own against Mike, which was not a small feat. Austin took the aggressive dominant bottom to a new level, and Mike was doing everything to satiate the boy. He could barely keep up. I was proud to see Austin become more aggressive.
Austin then forced them to change positions. Releasing himself from Mike's grip, he pushed him back onto the couch. He then mounted Mike, taking that bull's cock up his arse with ease. Austin reached his hands onto Mike’s shoulder, then began riding him. He was bouncing up and down on that monster cock like it was nothing, shouting, “That's it mother fucker give me your fat cock, fuck me, you fucking brute.”
I could see from Mike's eyes that he was loving this. He looked over to me and smiled. He then added, “This fucking cunt knows what he is doing”. I just smiled back. He then ordered me to get his cigar for him. I handed it back to him, smoke billowing from his lips while the boy continued to assault his cock.
The pace built, each thrust faster, deeper, more punishing. Austin leaned forward, hands pressing into Mike’s chest, hips bouncing with controlled aggression. Every verbal jab, every moan, every slap against the couch became part of the rhythm. Austin’s control over the scene became absolute, even as he was stretched, dominated, he was driving the momentum.
“Yeah! That’s it, cunt! Take it!” Mike groaned, voice ragged.
“Stretch me! Ram it! Fill me!” Austin barked back, teeth clenched, sweat dripping. “I want it all!”
Mike responded, relentless, driving in with every ounce of strength, chest heaving, hands gripping Austin's waist tight, punishing, yet precise. Austin arched, grinding, pulling Mike deeper, letting every sensation mix, the pain, the heat, the raw pleasure, turning it into fuel.
The room was filled with the sounds of bodies slapping against each other, interspersed with grunts and moans. I sat there with my cigar, watching the scene before me.
After what felt like an eternity of pounding, the air thick with moans and gasps, I could see that the boy was bringing him to his climax. Mike’s body tensed, eyes rolling back, shaking, as he exploded, releasing deep inside Austin. Austin didn’t falter; he rode him through it, riding the wave, commanding the release with mastery, letting Mike feel every second of it.
When Mike finally slumped back, exhausted, Austin didn’t stop. Still cocky, he dismounted his cock and stood up on the couch, standing over Mike, his small frame looking taller and more powerful. He stood over him, cock still hard, chest heaving, smirking as he stroked himself, teasing the spent man below. “Okay, Daddy,” he said, low, dangerous. “My turn.”
Mike groaned, head sinking back, chest heaving, spent, defeated, and thrilled all at once. Austin stood over him, stroking himself with sharp, punishing intensity. His balls hung dangerously close to Mike’s cigar, the boy totally unbothered by the risk, completely consumed by his own victory.
The pace of his hand grew savage, and then, with a low growl ripping out of him, Austin unleashed. Thick ropes of cum. They hit Mike’s face, his hair, his eyes. They dripped down over the man’s lips, marking him, claiming him. Austin’s smirk was pure triumph, dark and wicked.
Mike looked up at him through the mess, defiant. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled the cigar from his mouth and dragged his tongue across whatever he could reach. No shame. No hesitation. Just a man who knew exactly what moment he was in.
Austin leaned down, two fingers dragging through the remaining lines across Mike’s cheek. He brought them to his lips, watching Mike the entire time as he sucked them clean, slow, indulgent, filthy. Mike parted his lips, an invitation without words. Austin accepted, pressing their mouths together. Their kiss was unhurried, claiming, the shared taste sealing something unspoken between them.
I sat back in my chair my cigar warm between my fingers, watching the come-down unfold. The room had shifted, charged air softening into something heavy, exhaling. Both men slumped back into the couch, sweat-slicked, breathing hard, completely undone. Limbs tangled. Heat still radiating off them.
For a moment, none of us spoke. We just existed in the aftermath, three men, three versions of satisfaction, all of us replaying the last hour in our heads.
Finally, I let out a slow breath and broke the silence.
“Lesson’s done for now, boys.”
Mike let out a tired laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face, smearing what he’d missed.
“Yeah,” he said, still grinning. “But I’d say a few more lessons definitely wouldn’t hurt.”
Austin turned his head, eyes still dark, mouth still swollen from the kiss. His grin was feral. “Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping. Teach me everything.”
I watched them both, Mike wrecked and proud, Austin transformed and hungry, and felt the spark of something new ignite in my chest.
This wasn’t the end.
Not even close.
And I couldn’t wait to see what came next.
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