“Told ya,” Robert replied, talking to Cyrus but with his eyes glued on Alex now, the connection crackling like static. “He gets off like crazy on this shit. You gonna let him keep that?”
“Of course I am,” Cyrus answered very casually as he put a hand on Robert’s broad chest to push him back to the bed with friendly command. He passed one leg over Robert’s body, climbing on top of him, and lowered his body close to Robert’s mouth. “This is all for him, remember?”
Robert only hummed then, a deep, gravelly vibration that rumbled from his chest as Cyrus kissed him again, harder this time, frantic in the best way, lips crashing with a hunger that said those lazy earlier pecks were just appetizers, not enough to quench the thirst building like a drought in drought. It was the real deal now, play’s over, the curtain yanked back on the main act. Cyrus splayed over him in full, muscular arms planted on both sides of Robert’s head, trapping Alex’s husband in the best kind of cage. His bulk eclipsed the view in a wall of muscle, blocking Robert from Alex’s sight.
Alex had to move his chair just a bit, scooting the legs scraping faint on the rug to snag a new angle, careful not to miss a goddamn frame of the scene unfolding and, this time, neither man gave him a glance, lost their own orbit. Their cocks were brushing now, pulsing hot in that sword-fight grind, Robert’s dragging over Cyrus’s divine monster, tips kissing slick in the friction, pre-cum smearing messy trails like war paint. Cyrus moved his hips with easy grace, undulating, and Robert answered in kind, his beefy hands holding Cyrus hard from the hips, guiding the movement like a maestro conducting a symphony. Groans spilling loose as their cocks slotted fuller, the heat desire between them thick enough to taste.
Cyrus broke the kiss then, pulling back just enough to trail his full lips down Robert’s bod. He latched onto Robert’s neck first, biting hard enough to bloom a red mark that’d bruise purple by morning, a claiming hickey that bloomed over his skin brand. Then, with a flick of that powerful tongue, he teased one of Robert’s hard nipples, circling the pebbled peak, drawing a hiss from deep in Robert’s chest that edged toward a growl. The other nipple got a bite too, teeth grazing sharp, tugging just shy of cruel and Robert hissed again, body jolting off the mattress in a full arch. Cyrus laughed, threading the sound as he soothed the sting with another flick of his tongue.
The guttural moan Robert let out when Cyrus finally dropped lower, and took him whole would follow Alex for the rest of his life. He’d heard it before, made Robert that unhinged in the height of their passion, when hours of grinding and gasps had worn him to the edge, but never this soon, not when they’d barely cracked the spine of the night. Cyrus took him in easily, like child’s play, lips stretching like velvet around the girth, throat opening without a hitch. No gag reflex to stutter as he descended more and more, inch by inch, swallowing Robert till his nose brushed the blond thatch at the base. Alex watched, transfixed from the armchair, chills erupting fresh down his arms as Robert slowly unraveled. His beefy frame quaked and that arrogant smirk fractured into panting gasps, hips stuttering up into the wet heat like he was chasing the horizon.
He loved every second of it. Robert threw his head back hard, but snapped forward almost immediately, like he couldn’t bear to miss a single frame of Cyrus working his mouth on him. His face a beautiful ruin: jaw slack and trembling occasionally, cheeks flushed crimson, lips parted on groans that bordered to something desperate. He closed his eyes tight for a beat, pleasure crashing too much, too soon. A full-body shudder wracked him, but then his eyes flew open again, glassy, and he rasped out, pleading, “Fuck, Cy, don’t stop,” as if the onslaught wasn’t nearly close to enough, as if he was chasing the edge like a man starved for the fall. Alex watched it all, the jockstrap still clutched in one hand like a lifeline. God, the sight of his husband, his confident, cocky Rob, unspooling like that under Cyrus’s command had Alex’s free hand fisting the armrest, teetering on the brink of palming himself just to breathe.
Cyrus stopped sucking him then, pulling off with a wet pop that echoed filthy in the hush, his massive fist fisting Robert’s cock at the base and stroking up in elegant drag that milked another fat bead from the slit. A sliver of saliva stretched taut between the flushed head and Cyrus’s messy mouth, glistening like a silver thread in the firelight. Robert’s cock was so wet from spit and pre-cum that it shined against the fire, glossy and obscene, twitching eager in Cyrus’s grip like it ached for the heat to return.
“You like that, Rob?” Cyrus asked, almost second-handed, his dark eyes fixed not on Robert’s face but on the cock in his hand, like it was a fascinating experiment under glass.
“So fucking much, Cy,” Robert rasped.
“Oh yeah?”
“So, so much, Cy, don’t stop man, just keep going,” Robert all but begged then, the words spilling loose like a dam burst.
“You know the drill, then, right?” Cyrus asked, casually as flipping to the next page, his tongue darting out to trace one of the fat veins along Robert’s cock, from root to tip in a slow glide that left a glistening trail, enough to pull a shuddering hiss from Robert’s throat.
“W-what?” Robert managed, voice punching out on a pan, confused.
“Tell that to your husband, Rob,” Cyrus explained, patiently like a parent gently guiding his son through homework. “Tell Alex how much you like my mouth on you.”
Robert glanced at Alex then and for a moment Alex swore his husband looked panicked, as if he’d blanked on the fact that he was still there, perched in the armchair like a shadow saint, watching everything. Robert’s face was a mask of pleasure and desperation, eyes watery and glassy like he’d been hit by a wave too big to ride. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe how good it was, spilling the praise Alex didn’t need spelled out, as if he wasn’t seeing it right then, but at that same instant, Cyrus swallowed him whole again in one seamless plunge.
Robert shouted, the sound bursting from his chest, starting with a ragged “Fu...” that dissolved into unintelligible garble that twisted into something animal. He threw his head back against the pillow with a thud that rattled the headboard, uttering unintelligible sounds that spilled loose in a torrent: half-moans, half-whines, needy bleats of “Nngh—f-fuuh—ah—Cy,” each one punching the air like a plea, the pleasure crashing him under till he was just noise.
“Shit, I think I broke your man, Alex,” Cyrus said.
He pulled off Robert’s cock with a final, lingering swirl of his tongue that left the length bobbing slick and abandoned in the cool air. Cyrus’is voice was laced with just a note of cockiness now, like he was savoring the effect his blowjob had wrought, eyes cracking up to meet Alex’s across the room with a wink that said you’re welcome.
Alex’s cock hadn’t been touched yet, not since he’d crossed the bedroom threshold to that gut-punch sight of Robert and Cyrus tangled in each other’s armS, but he couldn’t take it anymore. The ache scorched through him and every nerve screamead for relief. He didn’t think he’d ever been that hard. It even surprised him a bit. He knew he had voyeuristic tendencies, had no doubt he’d enjoy watching Robert take another man, but he’d never thought it’d hit this bad, a full-body siege that left him panting, chills rippling under his skin like aftershocks from a blowjob he wasn’t even feeling. It was by far the most intense sexual experience he’d ever had, and he wasn’t even part of it. Born to it, wired for the sweet sting of watching his husband unravel over another while his own want built to breaking.
Alex’s hand dove inside his shorts, furious and frantic, fingers wrapping his cock in a vise that bordered brutal. Part of him, that twisted, voyeur knot in his gut, felt like his cock didn’t belong out there with Robert and Cyrus’, didn’t deserve the air, the light, like pulling it free would intrude on something sacred that belonged to them and that had no room for his own desperate addition. So he kept it hidden, stroking so strongly he thought he’d break it. He watched his husband unblinkingly, laser-locked on every flicker of pleasure that ran through Robert’s body. All the while, Alex’s hand worked in the same rhythm to the beat of Robert’s desperate moans, up on the “fuuuuck,” down on the shattered “Cy,” furious pumps syncing perfectly, his own breath punching out in ragged echoes. And fuck, maybe he should’ve jerked off earlier, back in the kitchen with the bourbon burn, or under the cold spray of the shower, because at this rate, he knew he wouldn’t last longer. The pleasure winded tighter with every wet gluck from Cyrus’s throat, every guttural plea ripping from Robert’s chest, the edge yawning wide and hungry, ready to swallow him whole before the real show’s intermission even hit.
He felt his orgasm building inside of him then, and as a mirror, he recognized the signs that his husband was getting there as well: Robert’s beefy thighs quaking, his pecs heaving in staccato bursts. The way his moans pitched higher, cracking on the edges like glass under too much heat.
“Fuck, Cy, don’t stop, don’t stop, please, please,” Robert was openly begging now, shameless and desperate for the final push to the edge.
Alex was almost there too, he was gonna cum, fuck, balls drawing tight as his strokes blurred frantic, the rhythm syncing perfect to Robert’s begs, the wet gluck-gluck from Cyrus’s throat pushing him in. He needed to stop, needed to stop right the fuck now, edge it out, save the flood for the finale, but his hand didn’t listen, pumping relentless, the friction burning sweet-torture up his spine, a whimper slipping past his bitten lip because god, it was too much, too fucking much.
He didn’t stop, but Cyrus did. He pulled off Robert’s cock nonchalantly with a final, teasing swirl of his tongue. Robert’s sound was of pure misery then, a wrecked, keening whine that punched from his chest like a gut-shot. His body sagged back against the pillows in a full-body shudder, trembling as the denied peak crashed away. He was left panting, ruined, eyes cracking open to glare at Cyrus with betrayal raw as a fresh burn, hands flexing empty in the sheets like he’d lost his grip on heaven itself.
“You only cum when I say you can cum, you hear?” Cyrus said, voice serious and booming.
Robert only nodded at him then, almost meekly, his breath still coming in hitched pulls as he rasped a soft “Yeah... yeah, ok,”, threading gratitude and obedience through the desire.
It was too much for Alex. The sight of his husband, that unbreakable firefighter, almost submissive under Cyrus’s command, completely owned in the best, most shattering way… fuck, it cracked Alex wide open. Just one single stroke later he came undone, spilling hot and helpless into his palm, unable to hold the moans this time, a choked “Fuuuck” ripping free. He was a heavy cummer, always had been, and shoot after shoot of cum erupted in ropes that overflowed his hand. It soaked the cotton front of his sweatpants, the excess dribbling warm down his knuckles to splatter his thighs. Alex dropped back against the armchair then, overwhelmed to the bone, body convulsing in aftershocks as stars exploded behind his eyes and left him gasping, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon.
“Oh, did he...?” Cyrus’s voice yanked him back to Earth, his timbre threading a note of surprise through hush.
Robert and Cyrus were looking at him now, Cyrus slightly surprised, while Robert grinned from the quilts, his cock bobbing slick and forgotten against his abs like it was waiting for round two.
“Oh yeah, he did,” Robert said, voice almost normal now, the drawl edging back to its confident tone.
“Oh,” Cyrus said simply, the word hanging in the air. For the first time that night, he sounded unsure of himself, almost awkward. He was trying to be polite, Alex saw it clear, fighting the surprise that Alex had cum that quick, unraveling from the corner like some eager kid. Humiliation crept in then, warm and stinging up Alex’s neck. Fuck, he had stamina usually, more than able to hold his own against a beast like Robert. He felt like a little boy creaming his pants at the sight of his hot gym teacher, all flushed and fumbling while the real players tangled on without him.
“Should we... stop?” Cyrus asked Robert, the room’s pulse, ready to pull the plug if the vibe soured.
Robert was looking at Alex, wondering the same. Alex watched them both, tangled loose on the bed, Cyrus’s huge cock draped over Robert’s hip as if it belonged there, heavy and shining with pre-cum that caught the flames like liquid gold. Both still hard, both flushed and panting, nowhere near done.
“No,” Alex answered, shaking his head furiously, feeling his cheeks grow even hotter under the stubble. “No, no, it’s fine. I can go again.”
“You sure, Alex?” Cyrus asked, seriously. He was so careful it broke Alex’s heart a little.They couldn’t have chosen better, this perfect gentleman turning their fantasy into something safe, something real. “We can stop if you’re not up to it anymore.”
Alex looked at Robert, his husband’s forehead frowning now, jaw set in a line that screamed we absolutely fucking cannot without a word. Something shifted inside Alex, a spark catching in his chest.
“I’m sure. I can go again,” he said again, voice steadying.
“He sure as fuck can, Cy,” Robert grinned at him from the bed. “Alex’s a fucking stud. Give him five, he’ll be runnin’ the room.”
Alex rose from the chair, legs a bit wobbly but steadying quick. His sweatpants clinged tacky to his thighs, the mess cooling but ignored. “I can, really. Just give me a moment,” he smiled at Cyrus again, feeling slightly more like himself now.
“Well, if you’re sure,” Cyrus shrugged, voice still laced with that unsure note, dark eyes searching Alex’s face one last time, like he was double-checking the plot didn’t veer off-course.
“I am,” Alex said, making his way to the door. “Go on, don’t stop. I’ll be right back.”
He left the room before either man could say something and made his way to the cabin’s small bathroom. He fumbled the window sash open. A low whimper escaped as the frozen air slapped his overheated face, the bite sharp enough to sting his stubble like a wake-up slap. He hadn’t noticed until then how hot the bedroom was, the fire in Cyrus and Robert’s bed heating the whole room like a furnace. Sweat beaded on his skin like dew on fevered glass. His shit was clinging to his chest, and he peeled it off in a quick yank.
He remembered how it felt, jerking off inside the shorts so that the sight of his cock wouldn’t disturb Robert and Cyrus’s passion, like a ghost in his own fantasy, fueling the fire without fanning the flames. He had no idea why he felt like that... maybe something clicked right inside of him, a switch flipped in the dark wiring of his want, turning the humiliation sweet, the denial into a drug that hooked deeper than any touch. He liked that, fuck, he liked it, the thrill of being the shadow, the watcher who spilled unseen.
Alex twisted the faucet with a squeak. Cold water gushed out in a sharp rush that he cupped in his palms and splashed over his face, cooling the flush before he combusted right there on the tile. What does it mean, he thought, that I’m… what? A cuck? What did it say about him that the most powerful orgasm he’d ever chased ripped through him just from watching his husband get taken apart by another man? Was it bad? Would Robert think he was weird for it?
He laughed at himself then. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s Robert, for fuck’s sake, the man who’d forced him into that first date after weeks of Alex ghosting him, who’d proposed at 23 with a ring hidden in his turnout jacket like it was a rescue op, who’d growled “only my husband calls me Rob”. He wouldn’t judge a kink if it bit him on the ass. Hell, he’d probably think it was fucking hot. Talk to him later, Alex told himself, wiping his face with the back of his hand. We’ll figure this out. We always do. Stop wasting time hiding in the bathroom like a skittish virgin and go back to your husband and the hunk who’s rocking his world.
He laughed again, easier this time, the sound lighter in his chest as he straightened.. Alex the cuck. He liked the way it sounded.Yeah, he could live with that.
When Alex returned to the hallway with his shirt clutched in one fist and his pulse still thrumming from the bathroom’s chill, Robert was eating Cyrus’s ass... or, even better, he was having his mouth eaten by Cyrus’ hole. The sight slammed him like a fresh wave: his husband sprawled flat on the blankets, splayed open like an offering, cock lying heavy and hard against his abs, forgotten. Alex couldn’t see Robert’s face at all, just the crown of his blond head buried deep between those divine glutes, but he heard it all: the muffled mumbles vibrating up from his throat, threading with moans that punched out wet and needy, and the obscene schlick-schlick of tongue working Cyrus’s hole like it was the last meal on earth.
Cyrus was squatting on top of him, almost completely seated on Robert’s face, thighs flexed to diamond hardness. His powerful quads bunched with each slow licks and he rolled his hips in a languid grind that smeared his pucker over Robert’s beard and mouth like he was claiming the territory. He wasn’t holding on to the bedhead or anything for balance, as Alex would’ve done in a heartbeat, but trusting the raw power of those legs to hold up. His own cock was bobbing between his legs, leaking fresh in fat drops that splattered Robert’s abs below.
Alex wasn’t surprised to see the bliss on Cyrus’s face. Robert could eat ass like it was nobody’s business, that tongue a weapon honed from years of turning Alex to jelly, lapping with the same fervent focus. Cyrus had his eyes closed, smiling in that dreamy wash of surrender, breath hitching on each grind. For the first time that evening, Alex knew the man wasn’t giving a show, not the calculated tease, the glances tossed his way like breadcrumbs. For the first time, Cyrus was actually letting himself get lost in the pleasure, poise cracking open to unguarded abandon, hips circling slower, deeper, a low hum escaping his throat that fractured into a gasp when Robert’s tongue speared just right.
Alex’s cock shot almost immediately, a sudden, vicious throb that bordered painful before he’d even crossed the threshold back into the bedroom’s haze. The fresh chill from the bathroom evaporated in the furnace heat rolling off the bed. Maybe he should’ve stayed a few more minutes in the bathroom, let his little guy have more time to get back on an even keel, splash some more cold water and breathe the frozen air before diving back into the fire. But no, the pull was too strong, that magnetic drag of Robert and Cyrus yanking him like a leash as he padded silent toward the doorway, peeking in like a thief in his own house.
Maybe, something whispered at him then, he should stay hidden, linger in the shadows of the hall, let Robert and Cyrus fuck each other to oblivion until they forgot Alex was even in the cabin with them, lost in their own passion without a glance for the cuck in the corner. That sounded actually really fucking hot, Alex thought. Being excluded from the sex happening on the account of his fetish, left out of the fantasy he’d willed to life. Would they like it better that way? He watched Cyrus’s face of pleasure again, that dreamy haze slitting his eyes, full lips parted on a sigh as Robert’s tongue delved deeper. Would it be hotter for them, just the two of them, no cuck husband intruding with his panting stares and premature spills, no awkward check-ins to shatter the spell? The thought sent a fresh jolt south, the whisper urging him to stay back, let them have it.
“Oh, there you are,” Cyrus said, his voice interrupting those spiraling thoughts. “I was beginning to think you’d bailed on us.”
Nah, maybe next time, Alex thought to himself. Let that exclusion fantasy be a hot little secret for another night. No, this one he wanted to watch till the end, soak in every moan and twitch like it was his personal archive.
“Nope, just needed a moment,” Alex grinned like he’d just stepped out for a smoke and not a soul-search.
“Welcome back, then. Can you be a darl…” Cyrus started, but the word cut off sharp as Robert must’ve done something particularly good with his tongue down there, because Cyrus moaned out loud, a throaty “Oh fuck, Rob, yeah”.
The sound hit Alex like a gut-punch of soundwaves, the break in Cyrus’s control so fucking hot.
“Sorry about that. Your husband knows what he’s doing down there.” Cyrus managed after recovering, breath hitching on a laugh. “Can you be a darling and get that lube from the nightstand?”
Alex almost ran to comply, legs pumping quick across the rug like an overeager errand boy, snagging the tube of lube from the nightstand. They’d bought it before the Everpine drive, more than half gone now from their own frantic nights, He didn’t took his eyes off the bed for a single second. Robert’s cock was so fucking hard it looked like it was gonna explode. The veins were bulging like overpressured hoses, the head flushed purple and leaking in a steady drip that pooled on his abs, begging for mercy or more, Alex couldn’t tell which.
“Anything else?” Alex asked, handing the bottle over to Cyrus, feeling like an overexcited puppy and actually kind of loving it.
Their fingers touched, just a brush, knuckles grazing in the handoff, and Alex felt a slight disappointment bloom when no shot of electricity zapped between them, no spark to rival the one crackling between Cyrus and Robert. Whatever chemistry that he had, it was limited to Alex’s husband alone. Cyrus hit him with a leveling stare then, his black eyes locking on like they could see straight to Alex’s soul, and whatever he saw there made him smile so wickedly that a full shiver ran through Alex’s body.
“You’re so fucking cute, honey,” Cyrus murmured. “I wanna keep you to myself.”
“’Ei, wha’ ‘bout ‘e?” Robert asked, voice muffled thick by Cyrus’s ass.
“You can shush and keep working that tongue of yours, Rob,” Cyrus said, sternly like that moment when he’d commanded Robert’s release on his terms.
He lowered more on Robert’s face then, settling deeper into the squat, almost smothering, his ass enveloping Robert’s jaw till only the tip of his nose peeked out. Alex was half-afraid he’d suffocate his husband right there. Robert, however, loved it. He moaned deeper into the heat, tongue renewed with vigor, spearing and swirling like he could think of no better way to die than buried alive in Cyrus’s ass.
Cyrus rolled his eyes to Alex with humor, as if to say kids these days, right?. “I’ll let you know if there’s anything else, honey. You can go back to your chair now.”
Alex complied, not missing the emphasis on the word your. His chair, the cuck chair, where he belonged, parked in the shadows like a front-row penitent, not tangled on the bed with them.
Cyrus shifted his body then, rising from the squat with effortless grace. “Showtime, Rob,” he said as he positioned himself on all fours, directly in front of Alex, ass up and arched like a goddamn centerpiece, perfect glutes parted just enough to tease the smooth, waxed crease. Robert took his place behind him, kneeling up on the blankets; His thighs bracketed Cyrus’s hips, hands splaying wide on his ass to spread them reverent. He looked at Alex just for one second before giving his undivided attention to the man in front of him, focus narrowing to laser as he licked two fingers broad and plunged them home, scissoring the heat with careful twists.
Cyrus let Robert play in his ass for a while, his massive body rocking back into the intrusion with a throaty hum. He even enjoyed the fingering, fuck did he, as Robert curled them right, nailing that spot with a swivel that pulled a gasp from the Cyrus’ throat. But soon Cyrus straightened a fraction, his hand reaching back to squeeze Robert’s wrist in reassuring grip, eyes flicking over his shoulder, “It’s okay, I’ve taken bigger cocks,” he said, ”You can skip to the part you’ve been waiting all day for.”.
Robert laughed, as he withdrew his fingers with a wet pop, mumbling “fucking asshole” under his breath. He snagged the lube from the nightstand, slicking his cock in broad, twisting strokes that had it gleaming like oiled steel. He lined up then, the blunt head nudging that prepped pucker with a pressure that had Cyrus sighing indulgent before pushing home, slow and savoring the drag, the crown popping past the rim in a stretch that pulled a hiss from both.
Robert started fucking Cyrus then, lining up wth a desperate nudge against the prepped pucker. Slow at first, Cyrus swallowing him inch by inch till he bottomed out, balls slapping home against smooth skin with a wet smack that echoed filthy in the hush. “Shit, Cy, fuck,” Robert rasped, voice cracked and grateful. He picked up tempo, slow pulls out to the head that left Cyrus’s hole winking empty for a heartbeat before slamming home again. The bedframe creaking protest under the building rhythm, Robert’s beefy ass clenching vise-tight on each thrust, his thighs pistoning with fervent focus, sweat beading on his pecs as they heaved.
Cyrus took it all with ease, rocking back into each plunge like it was a gentle stroll, dreamy expression softening his features, full lips parting on sighs that wove throaty hum. His massive frame yielded without a flinch and his cock bounced heavy between his legs, leaking steady in fat pearls that dripped to the quilts below. “Yeah, Rob, just like that,” he murmured.
Alex saw his husband was doing his best, brows furrowed in that concentrated scowl, brown eyes narrowed on Cyrus’s back as if he wanted to make the man regret that quip about bigger cocks. He pounded harder, hips snapping with fury, the wet schlick-schlick of skin on skin filling the room like a dirty metronome. He chased that sweet spot in a swivel that had Cyrus’s dreamy haze sharpening to a gasp, the rhythm building to a frenzy that left Robert panting ragged, “Cy, fuck, so hot,” between grunts.
Alex started stroking himself, his hand diving back inside the shorts, fingers wrapping his length in a furious pump that matched Robert’s thrusts. Cyrus noticed, his eyes flicking to the corner mid-moan, full lips curving wicked as he rocked back into Robert’s assault. “You like that, don’t you, Alex? You like watching your husband fucking me.”
“Yes, so much, Cyrus” Alex gasped, not using Cy because, in his mind, the nickname belonged to Robert only.
“So fucking much, right? You freak. You little fucking freak. Getting off on being cucked like that,” Cyrus teased.
Alex only whimpered, high and needy, the word landing like a spark on dry tinder, his strokes stuttering as the pleasure bloomed hot and sweet, cock jerking in his fist like it agreed,.
“It feels good?” Alex asked, breath hitching on the question.
“Oh yeah, so fucking good, honey,” Cyrus purred. “I think I’m gonna keep your husband’s cock to myself. What you think, huh? I’ll let you have the rest, but his cock is gonna be all mine.”
Alex only moaned then, low and broken, trying to hold it in behind his bitten lip but failing spectacularly. Fuck, he almost wanted to say it, do it, Cy, steal Robert’s cock from me, make it all yours, the plea bubbling hot in his throat, that twisted thrill of surrender coiling tighter in his gut. He looked at Robert to see his reaction, but Robert completely ignored the dirty talk happening right in front of him, lost in the rut like he’d waited his whole life for this. His hips snapping home with fervent, sweat-slick frenzy as he growled low and guttural. “Nngh, fuck, Cy”, absolutely lost in the man’s body. It was like his universe began and ended at Cyrus’s body. He chased the peak with single-minded devotion, pounding like the world narrowed to this, to him, no room for words or husbands.
Cyrus was feeling it too, beginning to moan, velvet sighs fracturing higher, spilling loose in a tide that matched Robert’s grunts. His body begun to contort under the onslaught, that dreamy expression sharpening to something rawer, sweeter, lips parting on gasps that wove throaty pleas of “Yeah, Rob, right there”. Ellegant poise melting to abandon as he rocked back, meeting the fervor halfway, the rhythm stuttering wilder between them.
“Hey, look at me, Alex,” Cyrus said then, his voice fractured on the edge of a moan, face full of pleasure. “Watch this.”
Alex’s fist stuttered in his shorts as he leaned forward in the armchair, breath hitching because fuck, Cyrus mid-fuck was a sight, that command turning the plea into a tease just for him. Cyrus took control of the fucking, seamless, his hands planting firm on the mattress. thighs flexing to power the shift. He started twerking on Robert’s cock, rolling his ass in hypnotic grind that clenched and released around the girth like fist, up and down in rhythmic squeezes that milked every inch without mercy.
Robert let him take over without a fight. His beefy hands snapped to Cyrus’s hips like lifelines, fingers digging bruises into the toned flanks as he held on for dear life, grounding himself to the earth through that grip alone. “Oh, fuck, Cy,” he moaned loudly, the sound booming, and he kept moaning, a torrent of “Cy, shit, yes,” spilling loose shameless.
Alex didn’t get what Cyrus was doing, it didn’t even seemed that special, just his ass rolling in a steady twerk, but the reaction it was having on Robert was undeniable. His husband was going crazy, shattering, moans pitching higher, body clenching like the pleasure was a live current frying him from the inside. His arms trembled as they clamped Cyrus’s hips tighter, pulling him closer, harder on each rise, “Don’t stop, Cy, fuck,” the words breaking into grunts that punched the air, lost and found, the best unravel Alex had ever witnessed.
“Alex, you little perv,” Cyrus said, laughing that rich, velvet rumble. “Look at you. You’re loving this, right?”
Alex could only nod, head bobbing frantic, curls flopping wild as his fist slowed to a torturous drag inside the shorts, trying not to jerk off too fast now, not to end things too soon again and leave himself hanging in the afterglow while they kept going. But it was hard, so fucking hard. The friction was a burn that had his thighs clenching, pre-cum slicking his palm till the slide turned sloppy, his cock jerking eager in his grip like it had a mind of its own. The edge was close, despite his best grip on the reins.
“Gonna ruin your husband for you, cuck,” Cyrus teased. “That big cock of his is only gonna get hard for me. Wan…” He lost control then, pleasure spiking high and sudden, the word cutting off on a throaty gasp as Robert nailed that spot with certainty, hips thrusting in a grind that had Cyrus’s abs clenching like steel cables under the smooth plane of his skin.
Cyrus lost force in one arm, the limb buckling as he dropped to the bed, forearm folding to the blanket with a muffled thump, body sagging forward in a full arch. He forgot the dirty talk for a moment, only focusing on the cock tearing him apart. Tobert dragged it out before slamming deep again, the stretch pulling a fractured “Ah, fuck” from his lips.
“Fuck, Alex, it’s so fucking good,” Cyrus gasped then, breathless, dark eyes cracking open hazy to lock on Alex’.
“Shit, Cy, I’m gonna cum, fuck, Cy, if you don’t…” Robert spluttered now, the words tumbling out desperate as his hips stuttered wild into Cyrus’s. He was getting more and more desperate, body quaking on the edge. His eyes were set on Alex, locking across the room in a hazy plea, but Alex was sure his husband wasn’t seeing him, not really, not through the fog of bliss clouding his face.
“What you think, Alex? Should I let him cum?” Cyrus asked, more in control again. He slowed the roll of his hips just enough to tease the denial, holding the reins now like a conductor pausing the crescendo.
“N-no. Not yet,” Alex managed, his voice. edged with his own desperate hitch. His fist stuttered in his shorts as the command landed like a spark on gunpowder. The edge yanked away just as it crested, a frustrated whine slipping past his bitten lip. Cyrus froze in that same moment, the twerk halting dead, holding Robert to the hilt without a single grind. Robert roared in frustration then, a guttural bellow that punched from his chest like a gut-shot. His face twisted in agony-bliss, “What the fuck, come on, please”.
Cyrus laughed. “Good call, honey. Let’s make him earn it,”
He shifted again, rising from the all-fours, thighs flexing as he made Robert follow the motion, a subtle hand on Alex husband’s shoulder guiding him up like a director cuing the lead. “Lay back for me, Rob,” Cyrus murmured as he patted the pillows. Robert promptly obeyed, like there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Cyrus, and eased down onto the bed with a hum of agreement, legs splaying wide, his cock pointing hard to the ceiling like a goddamn beacon.
Eyes locked on Alex, Cyrus straddled Robert’s hips, positioning himself with deliberate poise. He sank down slow, taking Robert’s cock to the hilt in one glide, his hole loose now, prepped and pliant from the earlier worship. The stretch pulled a throaty purr from Cyrus’s full lips as he bottomed out, balls slapping home against Robert’s furry ones with a wet smack.
He rode Robert’s cock like a pro. Up and down in rhythmic drops that clenched on the rise, grinding deep on the low with a twist that had the hilt circling his spot, hips rolling hypnotic and expert, better than any porn actor Alex had ever seen. He couldn’t see his husband now, Cyrus’s bulk hiding him from view save from the occasional flex of calves or the jut of elbows digging the mattress, but he could hear him, could hear the cries spilling loose like a dam burst.
Cyrus just kept riding with expert ease, milking Robert’s in waves that pulled desperate bucks from below. Fuck, if someone filmed Cyrus riding a cock like that, hips circling lazy then slamming home, glutes dimpling on the drop, they’d be millionaires overnight, that perfect body a porn empire in motion. One of Cyrus’s hand landed Robert’s thigh for leverage and the other played with his own nipples, pinching the dark peaks to stiff twists that pulled low hums from his throat. His big pecs bounced pornographically with the rhythm and the sight so raw and rhythmic it had Alex’s fist blurring again in his shorts, the voyeur in him twisting to breaking because god, Cyrus was lost in it.
His magnificent horse cock was bigger than ever, harder than ever. It was truly a sight, thick as a wrist and veined like lightning cracked in teak, the slight curve hooking toward heaven, the flushed crown weeping a steady pearl that caught the firelight like a crown jewel. Alex never saw a cock more beautiful, more delicious, not in porn or fantasy, not even in his own hung husband. It was a divine slab of steel, swinging heavy between Cyrus’s thighs like it was forged for worship alone. The sight of it made him jerk off furiously. His mouth flooded with saliva, thick and hot, jaw aching as he swallowed reflexively, imagining the salt-burst of that tip on his tongue, the weight stretching his lips wide.
Alex didn’t even know what he was doing when he got up. It was like he had no control of his own body, Cyrus’s perfect cock hypnotizing him like a clock in a magician’s hands, swinging slow and inexorable and pulling him from the armchair’s shadows without a thought. He dropped to his knees on the rug in front of the bed. One minute he was in his cuck chair, safe in the voyeur haze; the next, he was there, face level with that monster. The musk hit him like a drug, hot and heady, and his mouth was on it. His lips parted automatically to take the head in, tongue swirling tentative then greedy around the slit, sucking the salt-burst clean with a hum that vibrated deep. He didn’t even know what he was doing. It wasn’t part of the plan, he was only meant to watch, perched like a good little perv in the corner, but it felt right. Instinctive as breathing, like Cyrus deserved to be revered like that, no amount of servicing enough for the man handing Alex the best night of his life on a platter.
Cyrus, for his part, loved it. He cracked his eyes open just long enough to smirk wickedly at Alex before he threw his head back, groaning loud and throaty, the sound rolling rich from his chest like thunder wrapped in silk. Alex could barely take him in, lips stretched more than ever on any cock, not even getting to the middle of that ten-inch weapon, but it was enough for Cyrus, fuck was it enough, his hand fisted Alex’s curls gentle but firm, guiding the rhythm with that friendly coax, like good cuck, just like that.
He was a goner, his expression shattered to bliss. His abs clenched like steel cables under his skin as he began riding Robert that much harder, hips slamming down with renewed fury, grinding deep to chase the burn while he thrust forward into Alex’s mouth in counterpoint. It was a symphony of motion: simultaneously fucking himself on Robert’s cock, and thrusting deep into Alex’s eager mouth; Cyrus was screaming now, “Fuck, oh, boys, yeah”, laughing breathless between the gasps, lost in a manic haze.The slight curve hooked just right to tease Alex’s gag, but he took it, hollowing his cheeks on the upstroke, tongue swirling greedy because god, the taste, the power, it was everything, it was too much.
They didn’t know who was the first to cum. Maybe Robert, teetering on that denied edge till Cyrus’s next grind shattered him; maybe Cyrus, cock flaring in Alex’s mouth like it had a mind of its own; maybe even Alex, fist blurring frantic in his shorts as the symphony of moans crested too high. But once one of them started, all of them tumbled over in a chain reaction that lit the cabin like a flare, bodies seizing in a tangled, sweaty knot of release that echoed off the bedroom.
Robert emptied himself inside Cyrus, thrusting wild, flooding hot and pulsing deep as he contorted beneath the man’s body, his own body bowing off the blankets in a full, quaking arch. He moaned so loudly his throat would probably be hoarse the next day, a guttural, gravelly roar that cracked on the high notes, spilling “CyfuckCyohshitfuck,” in fractured pleas that punched the air.
Alex came inside his shorts once again, jerking himself to bliss in a furious pump that had his fist slick with the fresh load, shoot after thick shoot erupting hot against the cotton, body convulsing as the edge he’d chased all day finally broke him.
And Cyrus flooded Alex’s mouth with his cum, much, too fucking much, pulsing on his tongue like a heartbeat gone nuclear. The first hot rope bursted salt-bitter across his palate, thick and endless as Cyrus’s throaty roar spilled loose “Alex, oh honey, fuuuuuck.” Alex did his best to swallow, gulping greedy around the girth, but soon he was gagging on all the cum coming out of Cyrus’s cock. The overflow spilled past his lips in creamy dribbles that splattered his face, drenching him chin to cheeks in sticky white ropes that dripped hot down his stubble. He coughed once, twice, the salty tang coating his throat like a brand, but he didn’t pull off, sucking through the flood, tongue swirling the underside as Cyrus’s hips stuttered forward in the last jerks.
The world paused then, the three of them suspended in the aftershock of that nuke. The bedroom was air thick with the salt-sharp reek of cum and sweat, the fire’s crackle the only thing daring to move in the hush. Alex was still kneeling on the rug, knees grinding into the weave, face full of Cyrus’s load, a stray dribble slipping down his chin to splatter his bare chest like abstract art gone wrong. He looked up slow, eyes hazy from the blur, and there they were: Robert and Cyrus kissing again, all tongue and saliva in that same lazy, aching tangle from the start, like congratulating each other on a job well done. Robert’s beefy arm was slung loose around Cyrus’s neck, pulling him down into the blankets, Cyrus’s curling close, their lips sliding slick and unhurried like they’d invented the afterglow.
One of Robert’s eyes shot open mid-kiss, crinkling at the corner as it found Alex’s across the rumpled bed—taking in the mess on his face, the way he knelt there like a devotee post-ritual, curls plastered damp to his forehead. Slowly, that arrogant grin spread through his face, saying mission accomplished. Alex never loved his husband more than in that moment, warm brown eyes locking on his with that forever spark, the one that said we’re us, always. It hit Alex like a gut-punch of pure, fierce want, and he shot to his feet, and climbed the bed in a hurry.
Cyrus barely had time to move out of the before Alex was diving to kiss Robert’s mouth, crashing in passionate and deep, like it was their first kiss all over again, that club-night frenzy reborn in the cabin’s glow. Robert met him halfway, beefy arms banding Alex’s waist to yank him close, tongues tangling sloppy and sweet. Alex’s mouth still full of Cyrus’s cum, divine nectar he shared with the one he loved above all, ambrosia that would render them immortals. Robert hummed grateful into the press, swallowing it down like it was the vow they’d shared at the courthouse.
Cyrus laughed, eyes sparkling with the show. “Aww,” he cooed, the sound soft and affectionate, like a big brother catching his kid sibling at play, which made Robert break the kiss just long enough to surge up. He captured Cyrus’s full lips again in a lazy, claiming drag. Then Cyrus took Alex’s face in his massive hand, his palm warm and sure, thumb tracing his cum-smeared jaw with gentle reverence. He brought their lips together. No real heat this time, not like the fire he’d stoked with Robert, no frenzy or claim, just a peck, almost between brothers: soft and quick, lips brushing chast.
They lay on the bed after, content and satiated, bodies tangled in a lazy sprawl of limbs. The air was humming with the echo of their frenzy like a song winding down. Robert was in the middle, the anchor for it all. On one side, Alex was glued to him, feeling the heat radiating off his skin like a personal furnace, that familiar cedar-smoke scent wrapping him close, grounding him in the afterglow. He missed his husband. God, even after all that, the ache for just them flickered sweet under the high. He played with Robert’s wedding ring, twisting the white-gold band slow on that callused finger, head pillowed on his chest to listen to the steady thump-thump of his heartbeat. It was one of Alex’s favorite sounds in the world, a rhythm that said home, always, no matter what.
On the other side, Cyrus lay down too. Robert pulled him close with a arm slung over his waist, welcoming him into their post-orgasm haze like he was a perfect extension of the couple, no awkward edges, just the easy fit of three becoming one. Cyrus threw a massive arm over Robert’s body then, covering them both in that warm, protective drape, his hand resting on Alex’s waist, petting him a bit in lazy circles that soothed the lingering chill. Robert kissed Cyrus again, lips brushing full ones in a claim that tasted of affection and thanks, before pulling back with a shared hum.
The three men fell quiet after that, breaths evening out in sync. The only sounds in the bedroom were the fire cracking lazy in the hearth and the wind howling low outside, rattling the windowpanes like a distant applause.
“Snacks? Then round two?” Robert mumbled finally, bravado creeping back into his voice after having his world shattered by Cyrus.
Cyrus hummed agreement, his petting hand stilling on Alex’s waist as he nuzzled closer to Robert’s neck. “Then round three. Maybe four too. I have some ideas for you two.”
Alex just listened to their banter, the easy back-and-forth rumbling through Robert’s chest like a lullaby, his fingers still toying with his ring as the fire popped soft. The wind whispered on, and the night stretched endless ahead, full of promises, full of kinks, and that stunning connection that made it feel like he had come home.
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