We stumbled back into the room, foreheads damp, hair disheveled, shirts a little untucked, suit jackets draped carelessly over our arms, our style and composure from earlier nothing but a distant memory. The hotel room felt cooler than I remember. Maybe it was just the sweat drying on my shirt, clinging to my skin after hours of drinking and dancing and pretending not to be completely confused as to why I kept wanting Marcus to grind up against me, why I kept pressing back against Sam’s broad torso on the dance floor.
Marcus threw his jacket onto the chair and stretched as soon as we walked in, unbuttoning his shirt with the same ease he does everything else.
“Well, boys,” he grinned, already halfway out of his clothes, “I don’t know about you, but I need a fucking shower.”
I laughed, a little too loudly. “Yeah, man. Definitely.”
I watched him unbutton his shirt and toss it aimlessly towards the closet. I kept watching as he stepped out of his dress pants, leaving them crumpled on the floor. In one quick swoop, he pulled off his briefs and kicked them to the baseboards.
I tried not to stare – but I did. His body was lean and tan, smooth except for an immaculately groomed patch of brown hair on his groin. For some reason, this contrast captured my attention, this mixture of hair and smooth skin. It’s masculine, but also somehow delicate? It’s so…Marcus. Gentle and boyish, but simultaneously manly. So I kept staring. His cock hung there, plump but relaxed, not big but not small, either. Unselfconscious. Unashamed. He reached down to adjust himself, pulling his balls off where they’d stuck to his thigh.
I swallowed hard and pretended I wasn’t still looking as he walked toward the bathroom, his ass flexing with each step.
Behind me, Sam moved slower, methodical. He folded things, stacked them neatly on the chair. I watched him, fumbling with the buttons on my own shirt.
Where Marcus’s body had room for juxtaposition, Sam’s was the epitome of rugged manhood. His torso was broad and proud – his chest hair prominent, his muscles commanding and strong. He dropped his briefs, revealing his cock. It was heavier than Marcus’s. Thicker. Darker at the tip. I had no idea why I noticed that detail, but I did.
He bent down to pick up his briefs, and I watched his thighs ripple, the muscle coiled with potential power. He had a patch of hair on the small of his back. Not too much, but definitely there. Somehow, it looked good on him. I don’t know he made back hair look becoming, but…he did.
He folded his briefs, placed them on the chair, and turned around. He looked at me, still in my dress pants, shirt unbuttoned, open in the front. Our eyes met for a second and he smiled. Or smirked. Or something I couldn’t quite interpret.
But I could feel the heat of his gaze on my torso.
Without a word, he walked to the bathroom, leaving the door open. Not even a glance back. I stared at the open doorway, heard the sound of the water spraying, heard the glass door opening and closing. Maybe it was just the alcohol, but somehow, this time, it felt different. This wasn’t just them sharing a shower to be expeditious. This was something more. But what?
Trust? A tease?
An invitation?
Slowly, steam started curling into the room. I undid my belt and dropped my pants, walking over the closet to drape them over a hanger. I could hear the sound of their voices, low and warm. I heard laughter. Not at my expense. The casual, easy laughter of two people at ease together. The murmur of bodies getting close again. And I stood there in my open dress shirt and my briefs for what felt like a full minute before I turned around.
I approached the doorway and cleared my throat.
“Hey,” I said. My voice was soft but surprisingly clear. “You guys mind if I pee? The drinks are catching up with me.”
Marcus answered easily, “Not at all, man. Come on in.”
I stepped through the doorway, feeling the cool tile beneath my feet. The steam hit me like breath, warm and wet, clinging to my skin. I crossed to the toilet, unsure where to look. On my right is the wall of frosted glass, barely concealing their bodies; on the left, the mirror, throwing them back at me. I got to the toilet, pulled down the front of my briefs, stood there for a second. But nothing happened. I couldn’t go. Not with them right there, behind the frosted glass.
Not with my dick slowly swelling in my fingers.
I felt my neck grow hot, from the humid air or embarrassment, I couldn’t really tell.
I wasn’t even sure if I had to pee or if I’d just wanted a reason to enter the bathroom, to stop being the odd man out, waiting alone in the hotel room.
I took a breath, willing myself to go, and looked up. And in the mirror I could see them – barely, but enough.
The glass was foggy, dotted with droplets of water, obscuring the details, but their shapes were clear. Their silhouettes. Their shadows.
I could see Sam’s towering figure, arms raised high, elbows out wide as he washed his hair. I could see the dark shading of hair on his chest. His armpits. I could see Marcus, standing in front of him, always somehow perfectly balanced in their shared orbit, his head under the water, rinsing out suds of shampoo. I could see the long, clean line of their backs, the curves of their ass, their long legs. They weren’t doing anything graphic – not yet, anyways. Just sharing the shower. They traded places, Sam rinsing under the water, Marcus watching him. Admiring him while he began to lather up body wash and spread it across his torso.
They shuffled again, Marcus under the stream of water, Sam close behind him, massaging his shoulders, washing his back, recklessly shoving past that one nonnegotiable rule of the only shared showers I’d ever known: Do Not Touch.
Sam's hands moved like they were applying more sunscreen, but now each touch carried infinitely more weight. More electricity. More heat. His touch was effortless. Easy. Innocent.
And yet, somehow, the most erotic thing I’d ever seen.
“Pee shy?” Marcus’s voice cut through the water and the fog.
I laughed, caught. I hadn't realized how long I'd been standing there, holding my dick in my hand. “A little.”
“I’m the same,” Sam added casually, as if I wasn’t shamelessly watching them shower.
“It’s true,” Marcus said with a laugh. “It’s like, I’ve taken his dick a hundred times but he still can’t pee if I’m in the bathroom.”
“Jesus, babe,” Sam laughed. “Thank you for sharing.”
“You're welcome.” I could practically hear Marcus’s shit-eating grin.
I laughed again – nervous and breathy. My dick was getting hard now, unmistakably so. I gave up on peeing, tucked it back into my briefs and turned around. But I didn’t leave.
I didn’t want to.
Instead, I leaned against the counter.
“I didn’t think gay guys could get pee shy,” I said, trying my best to sound confident and smug. “I figure you’d seen enough dicks you’d be immune.”
I heard Marcus snort and felt relieved my joke had landed.
“Consider it unresolved middle school locker room trauma,” Sam said sarcastically.
“Hey,” Marcus cuts in, his voice dripping with innuendo. “It still works how it needs to.”
Sam’s laugh cut echoed off the tile, deep and resonant and knowing.
My dick twitched. Maybe from Marcus’s joke. Maybe just from the sound of Sam’s laugh. Probably both. I pretended to adjust my waistband, to adjust myself, but really, I just wanted the pressure, wanted something to ground me.
The fogged glass obscured their bottom halves, so for all I knew, that could've been less of a joke and more of an observation.
My throat went dry and I found myself wanting to know which it was.
They moved again, stepping closer together, sharing the space under the water. Marcus stood in front, Sam close behind him, his hands sliding down Marcus's sides, coming to rest on his hips. I watched Marcus lean back, pressed against him, his shoulder blades on Sam's chest, his ass coming to rest on Sam's upper thighs.
Sam leaned down and kissed a slow line along Marcus’s neck, out towards his shoulders. Even over the sound of the water, I heard the sigh escape Marcus's lips.
And suddenly that was it.
After a solid day of subtle hints and stolen glances, they'd dropped the facade, stopped being polite, stopped pretending they didn't want to tear each other's clothes off and go to town on each other like I hadn't crashed their romantic getaway. And honestly? I couldn't blame them. They're both young, both hot, both clearly infatuated with each other. They should be having great sex on their vacation. Hell, even I was mad at me for standing in their way.
Only now, I wasn't.
I was standing in their bathroom, half-undress, dick hard, heart racing, watching them take the first steps towards crossing that boundary together. And the weirdest part? I wanted to watch.
I wanted to do more than watch.
I wanted –
“Can I, uh,” I heard myself ask, stunned by the sound of my own voice. They paused in the shower, not like they'd been interrupted, like they were waiting. When I spoke again, my voice was barely audible. “You guys got room for one more?”
“Sure,” Sam said, his voice gentle and hoarse.
Then I heard Marcus.
“Come on in.”
-- -- --
I pushed away from the bathroom counter and let my shirt fall from my shoulders. It landed somewhere behind me, but I'd already forgotten about it by the time it hit the ground.
I took a step forward. Then another.
Then I hooked my thumb into my briefs and, before I could have the chance to talk myself out of it, pulled them down. Kicked them to the side. The glass door opened, Sam's hand on the silver bar, his head peeking out, his face calm but inviting.
I stepped inside.
The space was snug but provided a surprising amount of room for three grown bodies. Marcus hung to one end, behind the steam of water; Sam hung to the other. I felt the water hit my feet, my thigh, my dick, my belly. It was warm and soothing. I turned, let it land on the small of my back, let it massage my shoulder blades. I turned back and ducked my head under, letting the water soak my hair and roll down my neck. I pulled back, shook my hair out, opened my eyes. Marcus was looking at me.
“What?” I asked, a hint of a smile in my voice.
“Nothing,” he smirked, his gaze running down my body like drops of water. “Just like old times, huh?”
“Yeah,” I snorted. “Exactly the same.”
And in some ways it was – just guys sharing a shower, not all that different from the fraternity house. Only this space was way smaller. And we only had one showerhead. And all three of us were shamelessly half hard.
I let myself take in Marcus's body. The curve of his chest, the ridges of his abs, that patch of pubic hair I found so intriguing. There was something really…beautiful about his body, lean and sculpted, like a statue in the Louvre. It was strange, there were things about him – his lean frame, his smooth skin, his meekness – that felt almost feminine. Attractive in the way I found girls attractive. But the details – his muscles, his tapered waist, his obvious arousal growing between his legs – were so obviously a dude's…it's like my eyes didn't know how to process it, what to notice more.
“Soap’s back here.” Sam's voice snapped me out of it. I turned, reached out a hand, felt the glob of cool get in my palm. I started to wash myself, my skin feeling extra sensitive under Sam and Marcus’s barely-averted gaze.
“I can get your back?” Sam offered, his voice low.
I just nodded, unsure how to answer. Unsure if I could.
I stood there, feeling the water hit my stomach, feeling Sam's capable hands land on my shoulders, glide down my back and out to my sides.
I closed my eyes, felt myself sigh, heard my voice echo in the crowded shower, low and warm, while Sam's hands massaged into my skin. When I opened my eyes again, I saw Marcus looking at me. His face was nearly blank, save for a slight curve on the edge of his mouth, the faintest trace of a smile.
“What?” I asked breathlessly.
Marcus just shook his head. Took a step closer. Cautiously, he reached up and placed a palm on my chest. His fingers curled in and extended again, tracing through the damp hair on my pecs.
“Is this okay?” He asked quietly.
Our eyes met again. I nodded.
His hand continued. It moved down over my chest, his thumb grazing my nipple. It rested on my rib cage, just above where my belly softened. Sam's hands worked my lower back, teasing that curve where my back met my glutes before circling back up my sides.
Marcus took another step closer, our erections just glancing off each other. He leaned forward and kissed the damp skin just above my nipple.
I moaned.
I couldn't help it.
It felt too sensitive. Too good.
He kissed a line up my chest, along my collarbone. My hand came up and gripped his shoulder, bracing myself, pulling him in closer to me. I leaned down as Sam's hands found my shoulders, massaging me like he knew what he was doing, and my cheek grazed Marcus's.
And then…we were kissing.
His mouth moved against mine, his lips plump and baby-soft. His hand continued down my stomach, tracing the line of hair that began at my navel and went down. His fingers pulled away for just a second before I felt them on me again, this time cupping my balls, kneading them with just the right amount of pressure, like he knew exactly how much to be rough, how much to be gentle.
I felt his tongue glide along my lower lip as he dragged his fingers along the underside of my shaft. Then he closed his hand around me and started to stroke. I moaned again, this time right into Marcus's lips. I cursed, mumbling expletives as our mouths crashed against each other like waves against a rock.
Then I felt Sam press against me. I felt a tickle of hair against my shoulder blades, felt his mouth move against my neck, felt his shaft push into the small of my back.
I felt dizzy.
I broke the kiss with Marcus just long enough to gasp for air. To feel Sam's mouth move up my neck and find the base of my jaw. I leaned back, leaned into him, felt a hand turning my head, and then I was kissing Sam. His mouth was stronger, more commanding. I felt his beard on my skin, sharp and scratchy and exhilarating. He kissed me, sure and deep, his tongue diving fearlessly where Marcus had only teased. His forearm slid around my chest. My cock twitched in Marcus's grip.
I groaned, deep and feral and unhinged.
I'd never felt like this before.
Like an object. Like a toy.
A plaything for them to explore.
It sounded demeaning, but it felt fucking powerful. Felt fucking alive.
I'd never felt anyone want me this badly before. And it felt fucking great.
Marcus pulled his hand away, and my cock pulsed at the sudden absence. I felt two hands on my hips, and wet warmth around my tip.
I gasped, and broke away from Sam, looking down just in time to see Marcus's lips curling around the head of my cock, sliding slowly further, taking me in deeper.
“Oh fuck,” I exhaled.
My body relaxed, sinking further into Sam for support. His mouth nibbled behind my ear. Marcus moved slowly, delicately, savoring it, like he was enjoying it just as much as I was. My tip grazed along the roof of his mouth, his tongue working the underside, like sandpaper and velvet, the perfect combination of textured and smooth. I watched his head bob back and forth, his hands steady on my hips, his own cock hard between his legs. He reached down with one hand and started to work it.
After a minute, he pulled away.
“Fuck,” he groaned, gasping, his hand taking over where his mouth had just been. He looked up at me, eyes dark and hot and shimmering. “I've wanted to do that for years.”
For some reason, that made me laugh. A deep, rich, satisfied laugh, as if I'd always known that and found it funny he was stating the obvious. I held his gaze.
“Then fucking do it,” I purred, not sure where the confidence came from.
“Okay,” he grinned, sly and mischievous, catlike. He stood up, turned the water off behind him. “Let's go get more comfortable.”
-- -- --
We toweled off, hurriedly, missing patches of droplets and leaving damp hair. Anticipation hung in the air like steam, clinging to our skin, making my cheeks hot and my breath shallow.
I didn't know what I was doing. Didn't know why I was moving forward with this. Why I was standing in this bathroom ogling my friend's hard-on.
But I was ogling.
And I was moving forward with it.
And, even more bizarre, I really wanted to.
It wasn't just because it had been a while – although, let’s be honest, it had – it was something else. Something deeper. Something way more exciting than just the prospect of getting off.
This was something new.
I was standing here, skin flushed, dick hard, drying off in a room with two other guys like this was any old locker room situation – except now we got to be openly excited by it. Now we got to be openly aroused. Now we got to feel the buzz of knowing we'd get to do more than steal subtle glances and scope each other out. Now we'd get to touch. To explore. To play.
This was like having sex for the first time all over again.
Exciting. Exhilarating. New.
We shuffled into the bedroom, still naked, still aroused, still acting like it was no big deal. We ended up at Sam and Marcus's bed and climbed on, kneeling in a circle. It took me a moment to process the sight before me – their thighs flexing, torsos rippling, chests heaving. Our dicks were pointing towards each other like compass needles, rock hard, bouncing a little with our pulse, like we weren't even trying to deny how into this we were. And there was something about it, seeing another guy in front of me so shamelessly turned on, that might’ve been the hottest thing I've ever seen.
It was so…earnest.
So undeniable.
Just bloodflow and bodies and heat.
And I kinda loved it.
I locked eyes with Sam, and he shuffled an inch or two further into the circle. I followed suit, so did Marcus. Then, smirking a little, Sam leaned forward and kissed me. It was gentle and coy, teasing me. I pulled away, turned to Marcus. We did the same. His kiss was a little more loaded this time, like he was finally making up for all those college years of seeing me in the shower and acting like he didn’t care.
It was a weird thought – that he might have wanted this before – but it didn’t scare me. In fact, it made me want to lean in closer, kiss him deeper, show him that I didn’t mind.
We broke away, and now Sam kissed Marcus, their mouths crashing together like symbols, silent, but still somehow filling the room.
“Fuck,” I whispered, surprising myself. Because watching them kiss? Like, really kiss? It was fucking hot. It made me want to watch more.
They broke apart and looked at me, both their eyes holding a mischievous glint. Marcus reached out and took me in his hand, grazing over my shaft with his fingers. His eyes were glued to my dick, watching his hand move with a mixture of curiosity and wonder.
“Live up to your expectations?” I asked slyly.
His eyes flickered up and met mine, a shiteating grin creeping across his face.
“And then some,” he winked.
“Like I said,” Sam's voice rumbled. “At least we know you have good taste.”
He reached out and began to stroke Marcus, his hand moving with ease, a gesture he’d done a thousand times, like he was reaching out to pet a dog. Now it was my eyes locked in on the movement. Their hands moved in and out of sync, like pistons firing in a disorganized machine, each finding its own cadence.
And then my eyes landed on Sam's cock, tall and proud and unattended.
Marcus's hand grazed my tip just right and I shuddered, moaning a little, and before I knew it my hand reached out. I felt the hot, smooth skin of Sam's shaft before I realized my hand had closed around it. It was solid and thick, heftier than mine. My hand slid down its length till his pubic hair brushed against my wrist, then I worked my way back to the tip. It felt strange, having another guy's cock in my hand, so familiar but, at the same time, undeniably new.
I looked up and met Sam's gaze. He smiled at me, a mix of tenderness and heat. Like he knew this was a big deal but didn't want to waste time sentimentalizing. He cocked an eyebrow and it was either sly interpretation or wishful thinking that accepted his invitation. And then we're kissing again, fast and frantic and wet. His tongue ran circles around mine, making my breath hitch unexpectedly.
Then I felt another mouth moving on my neck. Marcus. He was kissing beneath my jaw. Nipping. Teasing at my stubble with his teeth. His lips reached the corner of my mouth, so I turned my head just enough for his tongue to take the place of Sam's.
He moved with more confidence now, less hesitation, kissing me like he wasn't afraid anymore of how I might react. And I found myself returning his kiss with equal enthusiasm. He was a great kisser – they both were – and I let myself indulge a bit.
There was nothing romantic in the kiss. Nothing emotional. It was almost the opposite. There was something almost…competitive about it. Playful. Like an extension of our roughhousing earlier at the beach, only now it was tongues instead of arms. It was making out for the simple fact that it felt good to make out with someone. No more, no less.
High heat, low stakes.
And I enjoyed it.
I enjoyed it even more when I felt Sam's beard tickle my cheek, felt his mouth inch closer to mine and Marcus’s. And then we were all kissing. I don't even know how. We were just a jumble of lips and tongues and breath. Our hands kept stroking, keeping time with our mouths, and I couldn't tell where I ended and they began. And something about it all – the logistics, the hedonism, the absurdity – overwhelmed me, and I couldn't help but laugh.
That kind of low, rumbling belly laugh that works its way up your throat and escapes whether or not you want it to.
I pulled back, trying to get some air. Sam and Marcus looked at me with amused smiles and raised eyebrows.
“Sorry,” I giggled. “I just…this is all…a little crazy.”
“That's fair,” Sam laughed. “Here, let's try this.”
He took my hand and we tumbled onto the mattress, shoulder to shoulder, backs resting against the headboard, the hair on our thighs tangling like velcro. Marcus remained on his knees between us, looking down with a hungry, wolfish smile. Sam’s arm was around my shoulder. It felt safe and comforting and sure, despite the wild scenario I found myself in.
“Better?” Marcus asked.
“Yeah,” I shrugged, laughing. “Sure.”
“You're about to be,” he winked.
And with that, he leaned down and took me in his mouth again.
“Oh fuck,” I moaned, my head rolling back onto Sam's shoulder.
“He's good, isn't he?” Sam asked.
I just nodded, a soft whimper escaping my lips.
He was good. Great, even. Devouring my cock like he couldn't get enough. Slurping and moaning and pulling back with a satisfying pop, conducting a whole symphony with just my dick as his instrument. He moaned, the vibration running down my shaft like a lightning rod, causing my hips to twitch, to buck deeper into his throat. He winked at me, kept going, kept touring with me, then went to work on Sam.
Sam sighed contentedly beside me, his arm instinctively tightening around my shoulders. Marcus continued to work me with his hand while he swallowed Sam whole. And fuck, it was a sight.
He moved confidently, gracefully, greedily, like he'd done this a thousand times and still loved it just as much as his first. I remembered his comment from earlier – about blowing the president of KA – and my imagination pictured the two of them, drunk and sweaty in a messy room after a house party, clothes falling into the floor, moans drowned out by the music downstairs. My stomach leapt at the image, and I tried to pretend I had no idea why.
I came back to the present when Sam's arm wrapped further around me, his hand gliding across my chest, fingering my nipple. It hardened under his touch.
I looked back at him and before I knew it we were kissing again, his stubble doing wondrous things to my chin, my cheeks, my jaw. Below, I felt Marcus's mouth find me again, catching me between them, making me into something new, and it all compounded – the kiss, the nipple, the blowjob, Sam's arm, the devilish glint in Marcus's eye, until suddenly…
Fuck.
I groaned into Sam's mouth, tried to give a warning, tried to pull Marcus off me, but it was too late. I came. Quick and dirty and very premature, right down Marcus's throat.
My hand gripped the sheet beneath me and a mangled cry snuck out of my mouth.
“Fuck,” I cursed, breaking the kiss. “Goddamn it.”
I looked down and saw Marcus slurping the last drop out of me.
“Shit, I'm sorry,” I said, my cheeks growing warm.
“Sorry?” Marcus asked, finally pulling off my cock. He rested his chin on my hip, tapping my still-hard shaft against his cheek. “What for? That's kind of the end goal, yeah?”
“Yeah, but not this early,” I groaned.
“Eh,” he smirked. “This is just Act One, buddy, we still have all Act Two to go.”
“Yeah?” I asked, suddenly bashful.
“Oh yeah,” Sam confirmed from beside me. I looked over and saw him stroking himself lazily, like he had nowhere to be. “This is just Intermission.
“Okay,” I laughed, a little flattered, a little relieved.
Marcus smiled again then climbed up my torso and gave me a long, indulgent kiss. He tasted saltier now, the remnants of me still on his tongue, and something about the way he let me taste it – like he wanted me to savor it alongside him – made my stomach turn over like a car engine.
Ellie had never even wanted to swallow. She'd always made me warn her if I was getting close so she could pull away and make be blow all over my stomach. And even then I'd wipe it up with a rag or a pair of boxers and dispose of it like evidence at a crime scene. She never wanted anything to do with it. But Marcus, he treated it like honey. Sweet, sticky, and indulgent.
And damn, if that didn't make me feel something.
-- -- --
He pulled away, leaving my heart swelling and my cock deflating, and climbed over to Sam, laying on top of him as they started to make out. Sam's hand found Marcus's hips as he began to rock. The sound of their mouths and their sighs floated through the air, and I was mesmerized watching their tongues dance in perfect choreography. More than that, I was mesmerized by their bodies – by Sam on bottom, solid and immovable; by Marcus on top, delicate and tender; by the curve of Marcus's back, where it sloped up to the perfect arc of his ass and rode down again to his lean legs. He was a specimen – muscle and curve and smooth skin.
Looking at him, I could understand how someone would recreate this body from marble. It was just begging to be sculpted.
He kissed down Sam's torso, started sucking him again.
I watched, leaning in, my shoulder against Sam's. My hand reached to explore Sam's chest, to feel the broad muscles I'd been staring at all weekend. I felt it – the soft, dense skin; the wiry chest hair; the quiet strength in every breath. It was…well, it was like what I'd imagined a girl felt having sex with, well, me.
Except if never been this jacked.
But still. Close enough.
There was something…soothing about it. About his size, his strength. Something that invited you to let your guard down. To relax. To trust.
I took the invitation.
After a while, when their moans got more frequent, their breath more ragged, and Marcus started to shuffle. He flipped around, throwing a leg over Sam's sternum, shoving his ass in Sam's face. A part of me wanted to laugh, remembered high school hijinx mooning each other in the locker rooms, making this part of our bodies into a total joke.
But this wasn't a joke, it was an offering.
An offering Sam took eagerly.
Marcus went back to work on Sam's cock, while Sam grabbed hold of Marcus’s cheeks. He leaned forward, licking a line from taint to tailbone, and I could see the shiver radiate up Marcus's spine. He moaned, and Sam dove back in.
By this time I was getting hard again, feeling like the lights had just dimmed and Act 2 was about to begin; but I just watched, mouth agape, feeling like I was getting a personalized sex education.
I was fascinated by Marcus’s hole. It was pink and smooth, relatively hairless, like the rest of his body. This thing I’d always associated with shame and filth suddenly looked so clean and…enticing. Glistening with Sam's saliva. Pulsing with desire.
I hadn't realized how far I'd leaned in until Sam pulled away, his face inches from mine.
“Want to try?” He asked, his voice earnest.
I couldn't speak. I could only lean in, bracing myself across his shoulders, resting a hand on Marcus's smooth, perfect ass. I paused, inhaling. It smelled soapy and musky and intimate as hell, like his entire essence distilled into one body part. It made me dizzy, and before I knew it, I was dragging my tongue across the velvety smooth crease.
“Fuck, Drew.”
I heard Marcus moan but I wasn't seeing anything. Maybe I'd closed my eyes, or maybe my brain was rerouting all power to my other senses. To smell and taste and touch. I licked again, pressing harder, feeling the skin give way. It was kind of like eating out a girl, only different. The motions were similar but the architecture was different.
The taste was different.
The fact that this was one of my best buddies from college was very different.
I pulled back, studying it, memorizing the details, like coming down off a mountain after a long hike and looking up at the summit just to remind yourself that that's where you'd been.
“What do you think?” Sam asked softly.
I nodded.
“I –” I stuttered. “It's not bad.”
“You're not bad either,” Marcus said, grinning back over his shoulder.
“I never thought I could do that, but…” I paused. “I didn't hate it.”
“Ever had it done to you?” Sam asked.
“Me? Fuck no,” I laughed. “Never had anyone adventurous enough.”
Sam raised his eyebrows.
“Well. Hop on.”
“Wait, for real?”
“I mean,” Sam smiled. “Only if you want to.”
“Okay,” I said warily. “But, like…just tongue okay.”
“Don't worry, dude, he's not gonna fuck you,” Marcus teased, already repositioning himself. “Unless you want him to.”
“No,” I laughed nervously. “I think I'm having enough firsts for one night.”
Sam laughed, rich and warm. “Thats fair.”
I hopped on, throwing a leg across Sam's chest like Marcus had done. I felt him adjust a little beneath me, his hips shuffling, shoulders crawling down.
“Sorry, I'm a little…harrier back there than Marcus,” I confessed, unsure why.
“Oh, dude, not a problem,” Sam said from beneath me.
“Sam wishes I was hairier,” Marcus quipped. He'd turned to face me, straddling Sam's hips, positioning himself right over Sam's groin.
“I do not!” Sam shot back, lightheartedly. “Only some parts of you.”
“Whatever,” Marcus rolled his eyes.
And then I felt it.
Sam's hands cupping my ass cheeks, gently coaxing them apart. I felt a warm breath between them, my body tightening in response. My cock twitched, sticking straight out towards Marcus, a response I found alarmingly immediate. And then, tongue. Warm and wet and gentle, dragging across my hole. Teasing. Exploring.
“Jesus,” I exhaled.
He licked again, more pressure this time, more direct. And then he stopped playing around.
“Fuck,” I gasped, fighting off a surprised laugh.
“He knows what he's doing,” Marcus smiled. I was so busy processing the new sensations shooting up my spine I almost didn't notice Marcus reaching behind him, positioning himself over Sam's body just so. Then he started to sink down.
Holy shit.
He was riding Sam's cock.
Sam moaned into my ass, hands palming my glutes like basketballs, while Marcus bottomed out on top of him. I reached forward, braced myself against Marcus's shoulder, a twisted cry pouring from my mouth. He returned the gesture, gripping my shoulder, pulling me in for a kiss. His other hand found my shaft, probably just on instinct, and I gripped his, smooth and slender, like a missile in my hand. I stroked it, feeling him moan into my mouth, feeling Sam's tongue press further into my ass. My back arched and my hips ground against his face, willing him closer, beckoning him deeper, feeling every nerve ending of my body firing at once, to the point where I couldn't even tell where the pleasure was coming from; it was just all of me.
Sam and Marcus played my body like a game they knew the cheat codes for – pressing combinations I never knew existed – and while I felt the tongue in me, the hands on me, the skin burning against mine, I couldn't help but wonder why the hell I'd wasted so much time playing by the rules.
Whose fucking rules were they anyways?
We rode the wave of this position through its crest, losing track of everything but our bodies, until Marcus broke away from our kiss.
“As much as I'm loving this, my legs need a break,” he laughed. “This and the dance floor is just too much quad.”
I laughed and released his cock, shuffling off of Sam, kneeling on all fours while everyone shifted positions.
“How do you want it?” Sam asked, his words vulgar but his tone full of care.
“Hmm,” Marcus thought. “On my back. I want to try something.”
-- -- --
Sam stood, grabbing Marcus by the thighs and pulling him towards the edge of the bed with a strength and ease that made my mouth go dry. Marcus was splayed on the duvet, his legs hooked under Sam's forearms, abs tight, cock resting against his stomach. Sam adjusted himself, squatting just a little, and slipped back into Marcus easily, leaning over to give him a heavy kiss on the mouth.
“That feel okay?” Sam asked tenderly.
Marcus just nodded, brow furrowed, eyes already glazing over.
Then Sam started to move, hips rocking slowly back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm, bringing Marcus under their spell. He threw his arms behind his head, his mouth open, his breath short and uneven, like Sam was hitting all the right spots.
“Fuck, babe,” he whimpered. “God, you feel good.”
“That's all you, baby,” Sam purred.
I knelt there, feeling a little awestruck I was watching this happen in real life. The chemistry between them was electrifying. Palbale. Making the hair on my arms stand up, charged like the air in a summer storm. Like lightning could strike at any minute.
Not knowing what else to do, I reached down, started touching myself, watching like I had a front row ticket to the hottest show in town.
I probably did.
Hell, I doubted even Beckham and Olivia could hold a candle to this right now.
“Drew,” Marcus said, breathlessly. “Come here.”
I inched closer, my knees on either side of Marcus's head. He reached up, found my cock, and started stroking again, guiding it towards his mouth.
“Fuck,” I gasped as his lips closed around me. “That feels so fucking good, dude.”
“You taste fucking good,” he growled in reply.
I adjusted my hips, stretching out across his torso, hands planted on either side of his hips. From this angle, I could thrust into his mouth, could see Marcus's cock leaking onto his stomach, could watch Sam's shaft sliding in and out of him, plunging depths of intimacy I don't think I'd ever experienced for myself.
It was raw, primal, intimate. And somehow the manliest thing I'd ever seen.
I'd always thought that somehow taking it up the ass would be a threat to someone's manhood, but watching these two in action felt like the absolute opposite – like they'd figured out how to make a man's body feel things I'd never dreamed of, and they did in a way only two guys ever could.
It was crazy.
It was wild and sexy and a little taboo, the sexual equivalent of a speakeasy found by only those who were willing to look, to walk down the dark alley and knock at the unmarked door and descend the dim-lit staircase without knowing what lay below.
Apparently the best-kept secret in town.
And then…
I don’t know what made me do it. Maybe it was the way Marcus’s cock twitched every time Sam drove into him. Maybe it was the sound of him moaning as he sucked me off. Or maybe it was just the inevitability of it all – that at a certain point, the only logical thing left to do was more.
I leaned down. Marcus's cock was already glistening, bobbing against his abs. It smelled like sweat and sex and salt, and the second my lips touched it, he groaned so hard I felt it in my chest.
I opened my mouth and took him in. He arched under me, which pushed his ass further into Sam. And Sam didn’t miss a beat.
The rhythm was obscene. I could feel it — the push-pull of their bodies, the way Sam’s hips drove into Marcus and made his cock press deeper into my throat. His navel kept tapping my forehead with every thrust, keeping time like some kind of metronome.
We were one human knot of muscle and need, tangled and unshakable.
It wasn’t just a position. It was a fucking ecosystem.
Eventually, I lost the rhythm, but I didn’t care. My mouth was full of Marcus. My hands were clutching at thighs, hips, anything I could reach. Sam’s stomach kept brushing my forehead every time he thrust, like a little tap, a reminder – hey, you're really doing this. And God, I was. We were. I didn’t even know whose moan came from where anymore, the sound vibrating through my chest like I was hollowed out and made into an instrument just for this.
There wasn’t a single thought left in my brain that didn’t have to do with the taste, the sensation, the camaraderie of it all. That was it. My senses were the whole universe. Marcus’s cock pulsing on my tongue, the smell of sweat and soap and skin, Sam’s steady presence behind it all – the push, the pace, the way his voice kept rumbling something filthy every few seconds that made my toes curl. I felt like an animal. Like a vessel. Like a fucking brother-in-arms.
And the wildest part? I wasn’t nervous anymore. I wasn’t overthinking. I wasn’t wondering how I looked or whether this counted as something or whether I’d regret it in the morning. I just was. I was the guy in the middle of a three-man pileup, happily choking on his friend’s dick while the other guy railed him from behind.
And it felt…normal.
Natural.
Hell, it felt fucking perfect.
Like I wasn’t just okay with it. I was built for it.
Sam’s pace picked up – deeper, harder, steady as a drumbeat. I could hear his breathing start to go ragged, feel the tremor in Marcus’s thighs as his body absorbed each thrust. His cock jumped in my mouth, and I moaned around it, letting my lips stretch to take him deeper. He whimpered, and I felt his whole frame tense.
“Fuck, Drew,” he gasped, and that’s all the warning I got. “I think I'm gonna –”
He came. Hard. Pulsing down my throat in salty waves, and I took it – held him steady, milked him for every drop, like a prize I’d earned. I didn't even think twice about it as I swallowed his load, warm and salty and smooth. I'd tasted mine before, so nothing about it really surprised me, except for maybe the amount. He shot rope after rope, and I tried to take it all, tried to keep up. My fingers dug into his hips, anchoring myself as he rode it out with twitching shudders and a string of breathless swears.
But Sam didn’t stop.
His hands clamped around Marcus’s waist, holding him flush. I looked up, dizzy and lightheaded from swallowing Marcus down, and caught the look on Sam’s face – wild, feral, locked in.
I leaned back, sitting on my haunches, giving him room.
“I’m close,” he grunted. “I'm close, baby.”
Marcus moaned. “Do it. Give it to me.”
Sam growled – literally growled – and slammed forward one last time, a deep thrust that made Marcus cry out. Sam’s hips jolted, and then I felt it through Marcus’s whole body. Sam came deep, eyes fluttering shut, chest heaving. And it was the airlock and the room went still. All sound, all scent, all texture disappeared into the void of their collective afterglow.
“Oh, fuck, babe,” Sam finally exclaimed, breathing heavy.
“Fuck,” I heard myself whisper admiringly.
Sam looked up at me, a proud smile on his face. Marcus looked up, too, a curious line swooping across his brow. He looked at my face, at my cock, throbbing between my legs.
“Did you finish again?” Sam asked. He pulled out of Marcus slowly, collapsing onto the bed beside him.
“No, I –” I paused. “I didn't.”
“What?” Marcus yelped. “Well, come on then. Let's see it.”
“You sure?” I asked.
“Duh,” he reached up and gave me a tug. “Come on. Paint me.”
That did it.
I got up on my knees and started stroking, fast, messy, fueled by everything we’d just done. Sam reached over and fondled my balls, Marcus tongued at the head of my cock between breathy moans, and then…
“Oh fuck. Fuck!”
I came like a cannon, spurting hot ribbons across Marcus’s chest, one after another, until I wasn't sure how I had any more to spend. My abs were twitching, my cock spasming, my moans coming light and breathy, until it began to pass and I regained control of my body.
-- -- --
“Holy shit,” I muttered as I looked down. Marcus's torso was a dripping, glistening mess — my cum painting him like a mural of our shameless filth.
“Goddamn, Drew,” Marcus marveled, dragging a finger through a puddle on his chest. “That’s gonna need a lot of tissues.”
I laughed, sighed, sat back on my heels, looking down at the glorious mess I made.
“Jesus,” I whispered, mostly to myself.
Sam looked up at me, smiling. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, head nodding slowly. “I think so.”
“That was really fun,” Marcus commented casually.
“Yeah,” I agreed, falling to my side on the bed behind them.
Marcus sat up, propped onto an elbow to look at me.
“You…had fun, right?”
I looked at him, voice catching in my throat for a second while I tried to collect my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I repeated. “That was just…intense.”
Marcus smiled.
“Good,” Sam said, voice tinged with pride. “I’d be disappointed if it wasn’t.”
I just laughed.
The three of us lay there, sweaty and sprawled out, still a little stunned by what we’d just done. No one spoke for a while. There was nothing to say. Not yet.
We just breathed.
And for a few minutes, that was enough.
Sam was the first to move. He stood and went to the bathroom to get a hand towel for Marcus to clean up with. Marcus wiped it across his chest, mopping up the last bits of my cum that hadn’t dried into his skin. Finished, he threw the towel on the floor and flopped backwards, his head resting on my thigh.
“Well,” he huffed, “I think that’s my exercise for the weekend.”
Sam let out a low laugh, leaning back against the pillows. “Yeah, I got my workout.”
My head rolled to the side, hair plastered to my forehead with sweat.
“Yeah, that was all very…athletic.”
Marcus smirked. “Welcome to good sex.”
I grabbed a pillow and lobbed it at him. “Shut up.”
He caught it and tossed it off the bed, grinning at me mischievously. “Dude. You were into it. ”
“I know,” I groaned, tossing a forearm over my head. “Don’t talk about it, I’m still processing.”
Sam chuckled warmly, his hand patting my shoulder. “Which? Your first rim job?”
“Probably the fact he just sucked me off like he was slurping a milkshake,” Marcus quipped.
“Yes,” I said flatly. “All of the above.”
“Uh oh, babe,” Marcus gave a stage whisper. “He’s spiraling.”
“I’m not spiraling,” I said sardonically. “I’m just…a little flustered is all.”
“Did you at least enjoy yourself?” Sam asked through a yawn.
“I mean…” I thought for a second, then shrugged. Laughed. “Yeah. Definitely.”
“Well good,” Marcus smiled. “For tonight, I’d say that’s all that matters.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I sighed, willing that to be true.
-- -- --
I woke up early again.
This time, the light coming in through the windows was pale and blue, the sign of either a cloudy day or an earlier morning than I wanted.
I sat up in bed, head a little dizzy, stomach a little uneven.
In the next bed over, Sam and Marcus were still sprawled out, asleep. Sam was on his side, one arm dangling off the edge of the bed. Behind him, Marcus laid on his stomach, face buried into the pillow so deeply I wondered how he was able to breathe. They were less serene than yesterday, less composed, a continuation of the wild night we’d shared.
It didn’t take long for us to get tired after we all came. Once the adrenaline and the alcohol wore off, the exhaustion of the day caught up to us all at once. I’d made the move to find my underwear, to brush my teeth, to crawl back into my own bed. I wasn’t sure what proper threesome etiquette was, but these beds were too damn small to sleep three.
I don’t think they minded.
Quietly, I climbed out of bed, grabbed a water bottle from the mini bar, and snuck out onto the patio. My body felt tender and raw, like I’d molted overnight and was greeting the world with brand new skin. I don’t know if it was the hangover or some weird psychosomatic aftermath of what happened last night, but it was something.
The morning stillness cleansed me as well as any shower could, bringing my brain into focus, filling my lungs with crisp, cool air. I sipped the water slowly, tempering my sour stomach, slowly unspooling the tangled thread of memories from last night.
Riding Sam.
Sucking Marcus.
Painting his torso like a Rorschach test.
Making out with both of them and feeling like I’d never been kissed before.
I didn’t have a category for this yet. Historically, I either slept with a girlfriend – with all the romance and emotional labor one might expect from the arrangement – or I had a hookup and let myself out before things had a chance to get serious. But last night we’d all just gone back to being friends…and it felt weirdly easy to do so. Like they didn’t expect anything different from me now, and I didn’t expect anything different from them. We were still just…bros.
Bros who’d had unfathomably hot sex.
I was halfway down that rabbit hole when I heard the door open behind me.
“Morning,” Sam said softly. “Mind if I join you?”
“Yeah, of course,” I said, turning around. “I mean…I don’t mind. I mean, of course you can join me. You know what I mean.”
He smiled and took a seat in the empty chair.
“Sorry if I woke you,” I went on. “I tried to be quiet.”
“You didn’t,” he reassured me. “I was only half-asleep. Had to pee but didn’t want to get out of bed yet.”
I chuckled. “Hate it when that happens.”
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“A little rough,” I admitted. “Those stupid cherry cola drinks fucked me up.”
“Yeah, man, those things were brutal,” Sam laughed.
“They’re awful. I have to learn how to make them,” I smiled.
We laughed for a minute then went quiet.
“How are you feeling about…everything else?”
I paused for a second, trying to decide if the sour pit in my stomach was the hangover or regret or shame or something else entirely.
“I think I’m okay,” I said, looking him in the eye. “I mean, I won’t lie, there’s something a little weird about the fact I just had sex with a guy. Two guys, actually. Like, if I think about it, it just feels insane. Or surreal. Like it didn’t happen. Like my brain doesn’t know what to so with the information. But if I don’t think about it too hard…I don’t feel any different.”
Sam listened. Nodded.
“Did you want to feel different?” he asked.
My forehead scrunched into wavy lines as I pondered his question. “I don’t know if I wanted to. I guess I just figured…I would. Like, if I ever did that it would bring me some lightning bolt of personal revelation. Like I’d either absolutely hate it or I’d, I don’t know, figure out I was gay on the other side. Does that sound stupid?”
“No,” Sam shook his head. “I don’t think that sounds stupid. But it maybe sounds like a lot of pressure.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Sam shrugged. “I guess I mean that it doesn’t have to mean anything. Maybe it could have told you something big and revelatory about yourself. But maybe it could just be a fun, wild night with some friends. And the fact you don’t feel any different…the fact you can look me in the eye this morning and aren’t totally paralyzed with shame…just means you’re an open-minded person who’s willing to try new things. I think that’s meaning enough.”
“Hmm,” I nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”
We went quiet for a minute, listening to the sounds of the morning.
“I do think that was the best sex I’ve ever had,” I admitted.
Sam laughed. “I’m honestly happy to hear that. It was really fucking hot.”
“Yeah, it was,” I chuckled. “Have you…did you ever date girls? Before Marcus?”
“No,” he shook his head. “No, I’ve known I liked boys since I was six.”
“Oh.” My eyebrows rose involuntarily.
“But I know Marcus does like girls. He and I have had long talks about it, and I don’t think any of his girlfriends were disingenuous. So if you think that maybe you’re…somwhere in the middle, I’m sure he’d be happy to talk about it.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Maybe. I don’t know if I think I’m there or not…I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“That’s okay,” Sam shrugged. “You don’t have to figure anything out.”
“But –” I continued. “I mean, I can’t really claim I’m straight if I liked having sex with dudes, right? Can I?”
Sam looked at me for a moment, thinking. “I think people should just be allowed to care about people who matter to them and sleep with people who they think are attractive. I think anything else is…details.”
I was about to reply when the door slid open again, and Marcus stepped out, hair wild, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Morning,” he mumbled, sounding extra boyish in his stupor. “What did I miss?”
“Morning, buddy,” I smiled.
“You didn’t miss anything, babe,” Sam said. “We were just chatting.”
“Is everything…okay?” Marcus asked, eyes flickering briefly towards me. And even though I know he didn’t want to show it, I saw the brief flash of fear behind his eyes. The anticipation of consequences. Of finding out he’d done something wrong. It broke my heart as quickly as it steeled my resolve. I squared my shoulders, looked him in the eye.
“Of course,” I smiled. “I was just telling Sam how much fun I’ve had with you guys. And how much fun I had last night.”
“Good.” I saw the relief evaporate in Marcus’s face. “Because…you’re, like, one of my favorite people and I’d fucking hate myself I ever did anything to ruin our friendship.”
“Dude,” I said, feeling something settle in the air between us. “I don’t think you ever could.”
-- -- --
The rest of the morning dissolved into the typical chaos of the last morning of vacation. The three of us combed through the room, dividing up the strewn toiletries and articles of clothing, returning them to their proper owner. I had an early evening flight back home, so I needed to hit the road before noon if I didn’t want to be pressed for time. Sam and Marcus were staying the night in Detroit and flying out the following morning, so they got to move a little slower. But still, we had enough of our morning that none of us were in a hurry.
We fell back into a comfortable rapport talking and teasing and laughing like we had been all weekend, only this time the charge of anticipation had been replaced by the reassurance of knowing. It was hard to describe. It wasn’t like the sense of accomplishment I had when having sex with a girl for the first time, that subtle, unacknowledged feeling I’d cleared a certain threshold or done well enough to be admitted into her confidence in the bedroom. That once we’d crossed that line a first time, we had permission to venture there again.
This was just the joy of shared experience.
The knowledge that we’d offered something vulnerable with each other and been rewarded with a closer friendship in return.
I tossed the final few items into my backpack and stood at the foot of my bed. Marcus and Sam were still packing – Marcus haphazardly shoving items into his suitcase, Sam carefully folding and stacking things to best utilize his space. I couldn’t help but laugh at their contrasting methodologies. It was so them. And I loved them for it.
I loved that they had found each other.
“Well,” I said, cutting through the quiet. “I guess I need to get going.”
Sam and Marcus looked up, disappointment heavy on their faces.
“Boo,” Marcus lamented.
“I know,” I nodded. “I just don’t want to gamble with the security line.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Marcus nodded. He tossed a lone sock into his suitcase and shuffled over to me. “It was really good to see you.”
“It was. Let’s not wait so long next time, okay?”
He perked up.
“You should come visit us in Denver,” Sam suggested, taking his place at Marcus’s side. “It would be really fun to have you.”
“Yeah!,” Marcus beamed. “We could go hiking or get a cabin or go skiing in the winter. It’d be great!”
“Okay!” I smiled, flattered by the earnestness of their invitation. “Yeah, I’d love that. Just let me know your schedule, and I can start scoping out flights.”
“Deal,” Marcus beamed.
Before I knew it, I’d reached out and wrapped Marcus in a tight hug.
“I love you, dude,” I murmured into his shoulder.
And I meant it. As much as my life had changed since graduation, I realized that Marcus’s friendship had been one of very few constants. I was grateful for that. And I was a little heartbroken at saying goodbye. Because I wasn’t just saying goodbye to my friend; I was saying goodbye to the haven he and Sam had created for me this weekend, to the version of myself they’d allowed me to be.
“I love you too, Drew.” Marcus squeezed me tighter, then we pulled apart.
I turned to Sam, who was already scooping me up into a massive hug.
“It was so good to meet you, man,” he said warmly. “I’m glad you stayed with us.”
“Me too,” I replied, meaning every word. “I’m really grateful for you guys.”
“Grateful for you, too, man,” Marcus said as Sam and I broke apart.
We stood there for a moment, awkwardly. I didn’t want to make the first move, though I was the only one with any move to make.
“Alright then,” I sighed. “Let me know what I owe you for my half of the room. And…let me know about coming to visit.”
“Will do!” They both nodded.
“Safe travels, man,” Sam said.
“Thanks! Okay. Goodbye.”
I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and willed myself towards the door. I had a long day of traveling ahead of me – a ferry boat, a long drive in the car, another trip on the fucking horse-drawn carriage – so I had plenty of time to feel sad, to process the cacophony of emotions shouting over each other in my head. And yet, as I reached the elevator, I felt a strange sense of liberation, a sense that, even though the trip was ending, the events of the last thirty-six hours had begun something new. Started a new chapter, catalyzed some new change. Not that I had any plans to download Grindr when I got home. But I wasn’t totally opposed to broadening my horizons.
A few weeks ago, my breakup with Ellie had felt like a total failure, like a dead end, but now it felt like an opportunity, a chance to be the version of myself I actually wanted to be going forward, whether or not I knew who he was just yet.
But I knew a few things to start: when I got home, I was going to get serious about getting back into the gym; I was going to buy whatever that crap was Marcus had put in my hair; and I was going to start checking flights for Denver.
Because the prospect of another weekend trip with those two?
How could I say no?
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