Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.
We calmed down after that first night.
The next morning everyone acted like it was temporary horniness. A one-time thing. Experimentation. Just guys being guys. Helping a friend out.
But I could sense things weren't different in a bad way. If anything, they were both trying to claim me. I could see it in subtle ways.
Liam started doing little things. Bringing me coffee in the morning. The way I liked it. With oat milk and two sugars. Standing close when we talked. His hand on my lower back when he passed behind me in the kitchen. Casual touches that weren't casual anymore.
Brandon was more obvious. More territorial. Alpha energy dialed up to eleven.
At breakfast he'd positioned himself between me and Liam at the table. Took the seat I usually sat in. Made me sit next to him instead. His thigh pressed against mine. His arm draped over the back of my chair. Proprietary. Possessive.
"Pass the orange juice," Liam had said.
Brandon grabbed it. Handed it to me. "Noah will pour it for you."
I'd rolled my eyes. But I'd poured it. Played along. Watched them watching me. Both of them. Like I was something they were competing for. Something they both wanted to win.
I knew things were more serious when Brandon told me we needed to make a grocery run.
"I'll drive," I said. Reaching for his keys on the counter.
He snatched them away. "Nah. I don't let a bitch drive my car."
I stared at him. "What?"
"You heard me." He was grinning. That cocky grin. That I'm-fucking-with-you-but-also-not grin.
"Brandon. I've driven your car a thousand times."
"That was before." He headed toward the door. "Now you're in the passenger seat. Come on."
I followed. Annoyed. Amused. Confused. All of it mixing together.
We got in. I reached for the radio. He slapped my hand away.
"Hey—"
"My car. My music."
"I always pick the music."
"Yeah, well. Not anymore." He scrolled through his phone. Put on some trap rap. Heavy bass. Aggressive lyrics. "Your classical shit is too gay."
"You don't actually think that."
"No. But I'm meeting the New You. The bitch version. And bitches don't get to pick the music."
I rolled my eyes. Settled back in my seat. Tried to ignore the way my cock was already getting hard. The way this new dynamic. This power shift. This claiming. Was doing something to me I didn't want to examine too closely.
We pulled out of the parking lot. Onto the main road. Brandon drove with one hand. Casual. Confident. Like he owned the world.
Then his other hand went to his zipper.
I watched. Transfixed. As he unzipped his jeans. As he pulled his cock out. Already half-hard. Thick. Perfect in the afternoon light.
"What are you—"
"Put your head in my lap," he said. Not asking. Telling.
"You can't be serious."
"Listen." He glanced at me. Back at the road. "You're a bitch now. I'm meeting the New You. And I'm a guy who gets what I want. How I like it. You're meeting the new me too."
His hand came to the back of my neck. Not harsh. Not violent. Just. There. Guiding. Insistent. Inevitable.
The resistance melted away. I let him push me down. Let him guide my head into his lap. Let my face hover over his cock. The car still moving. Traffic around us. People in other cars who could see if they looked close enough.
"I need road head to repair this friendship," Brandon said. That mocking tone. Like he was the victim here. Like I was the one who'd done something wrong by coming out. By changing the dynamic. "You traumatized me with your confession. This is the least you can do."
I would have laughed. Would have called bullshit. But his hand on the back of my head pushed me down more. Firmer. More insistent.
"I need road head. Now. Please."
I opened my mouth. Took him in.
The taste was the same as last night. Clean. Masculine. That specific Brandon flavor I was already getting addicted to. His cock swelled in my mouth. Getting harder. Thicker. Filling my throat.
I worked him carefully. Aware of the car moving. Of his divided attention. Of the danger. The thrill. The complete insanity of sucking my best friend's dick while he drove to the grocery store.
His hand stayed on the back of my head. Guiding. Setting the pace. Not forcing but definitely controlling. Making sure I knew who was in charge. Who had the power here.
"That's it," he breathed. "Fuck. Your mouth is so good. So fucking perfect."
I took him deeper. Relaxed my throat. Let him slide past my gag reflex. My nose pressed against his pubes. His cock buried completely. The car slowing for a red light. Stopping.
Other cars around us. People who could see if they looked. If they noticed. If they paid attention to the guy whose head was suspiciously low in the passenger seat.
Brandon's phone rang. He answered. Casual. Like he wasn't getting his dick sucked at a red light.
"Yeah?"
Liam's voice through the speaker. "Hey. You guys at the store yet? Need anything?"
"Not yet. Almost there." Brandon's hand pushed my head down harder. Making me take him deeper. Making me struggle. "What do you need?"
"Just beer. And those chips Noah likes. The kettle ones."
"Got it." Brandon's voice was strained. His cock pulsing in my throat. Getting close. "Anything else?"
"Have you seen Noah? He's not answering his phone."
Brandon's hand pressed harder on the back of my head. Holding me down. Keeping me quiet. His cock swelling. Throbbing. Ready.
"Nope," he said. His voice almost steady. Almost normal. "Haven't seen him."
He came. Right there. At the red light. His cock erupting in my throat. Flooding me with cum. Hot. Thick. So much I had to swallow immediately. Had to keep swallowing as he pulsed. As he emptied himself down my throat.
The light turned green. Brandon started driving. One hand on the wheel. The other still on my head. Still keeping me down. Still making me take it.
"Cool," Liam said. Oblivious. "See you when you get back."
"Yep." Brandon hung up. Dropped the phone. Both hands on me now. One on the wheel. One on my head. "You don't have my permission to take my cock out of your mouth yet."
I stayed there. His cock softening. Still in my throat. Still claiming me. Still making me his.
"And there better be no mess," he continued. "You swallowed it all. Right?"
I tried to nod. Couldn't really. Just made a sound. Confirmation.
"Good bitch."
We pulled into the PriceShopper parking lot. Brandon parked. Turned off the engine. Finally let me up.
I gasped. Caught my breath. Wiped my mouth. Looked at him.
He was grinning. That satisfied predator grin. "Feel better?"
"You're insane."
"You loved it."
I couldn't argue. My cock was hard in my jeans. Painfully hard. Evidence I couldn't deny.
Brandon tucked himself back in. Zipped up. "You better hope this place has lube, by the way."
"What?"
"I'm totally out. And I wouldn't want to stretch you dry tonight." He looked at me. Serious now. "I mean, I guess there's always spit if they don't."
My stomach flipped. "Tonight?"
"Yeah. Tonight. Me and Liam. We're gonna fuck you. Properly. Show you what you've been missing. What that asshole Alex never gave you."
"Both of you? At the same time?"
"Maybe. Eventually. But tonight. One at a time. Me first." He opened his door. Started to get out. "Come on. Let's shop. And you're pushing the cart. Bitches push carts."
He walked toward the store. Confident. Casual. Like he hadn't just face-fucked me in a parking lot. Like he wasn't planning to actually fuck me later. Like this was all completely normal.
I followed. My legs shaky. My throat raw. My cock hard. My mind spinning.
The new me. The bitch. The one who got face-fucked in cars and pushed grocery carts and was about to get stretched by not one but two straight best friends who'd decided I belonged to them now.
I should have been scared. Should have pumped the brakes. Should have established boundaries.
Instead I grabbed the cart. Followed Brandon into the store. And hoped to god they had lube.
Because I was done resisting. Done pretending I didn't want this. Done being the old Noah who let someone like Alex make him feel ashamed.
This was the new me. And the new me was ready for whatever came next.
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