They always had rules.
No snitching. No drama. No hitting another man’s girl.
But those were high school rules. And tonight, out at the lake with nobody around and three empty bottles of whiskey between them, nobody seemed eager to enforce anything.
Micah sat on the edge of the porch, shirt off, forearms resting on his knees. He hadn’t said much since dinner, but that was nothing new.
Sean was stretched out in a chair, buzzed and loose. His arms were draped wide, thighs spread, chest rising with the slow breath of a man who didn’t want to think too hard anymore.
Rico was still moving. Always moving. He tossed another log on the fire and wiped sweat from his neck with his shirt.
“You remember that weekend in eleventh grade?” Rico asked.
Sean chuckled. “Which one?”
“The one with the girls’ camp across the lake. We snuck over after lights out.”
Micah smirked. “You mean when you almost got us banned from the whole state park?”
“Nah. That girl wouldn’t stop making noise. Not my fault,” Rico said.
“She was moaning like she wanted to get caught,” Sean added, shifting in his seat.
Rico grinned. “And what about you? You were with twins that weekend.”
“Don’t hate the player,” Sean said. He reached for the bottle and took another sip. “You know I stayed breaking hearts.”
Micah just watched them. Quiet, but listening.
Then Sean leaned forward.
“You ever think about how wild we used to be?” he said. “Like… we used to crash on the same bed, no problem. Naked. Drunk. Didn’t even flinch.”
Rico nodded. “Some nights, I woke up with your thigh on my back. I figured if we didn’t say nothing, it didn’t count.”
Sean laughed. “We were kids. That shit wouldn’t fly now.”
Micah turned his head slowly. His eyes didn’t blink.
“Wouldn’t it?”
The silence after that line wasn’t heavy. It was thick.
Rico walked up to the porch and passed the bottle to Micah, who took it without breaking eye contact.
“Only rule now…” Rico said, looking between the two of them. “Nobody backs out.”
Micah took a long sip, handed the bottle to Sean, then stood.
He walked over to Sean and looked down at him. Nothing in his face moved, but his body said everything.
Sean looked up, eyes narrowed, like he was waiting to see if this was a joke.
Micah reached down and grabbed his wrist. Firm. Solid. He pulled Sean up from the chair, and they stood chest to chest. Sean’s breath caught, but he didn’t pull back.
Rico stepped around them, eyes locked on the tension.
Micah leaned in, lips brushing Sean’s ear.
“Say stop,” he said. Low. Rough.
Sean didn’t say anything.
So Micah kissed him.
Not soft. Not sweet. Just full contact. Mouth to mouth, hand on the back of Sean’s neck. Sean stiffened, then relaxed. Opened. Leaned in.
The sound of breath was louder than the fire.
Micah stepped back, unbuttoning his pants, pulling them down without a word. His dick dropped heavy. Long. Thick. Veiny. Rock-hard, swinging as he stood still in the firelight.
Sean stared, jaw twitching.
Micah stepped closer. Sean knelt.
Rico moved behind Sean and slid a hand over his back, down his side, under his shirt to grip his waist.
“You good, bro?” he whispered.
Sean nodded once.
Rico pulled Sean’s shirt up and off. Then the shorts. The boxers. Sean’s ass was round, soft but firm, thighs strong and hairy, body built like he used to play.
Micah let him take his time. Didn’t push. Just waited.
Sean looked up, and Micah’s hand wrapped around the base of his dick, guiding it toward his mouth.
Sean opened.
Slow. Careful. Then deeper.
Micah grunted. “Yeah…”
His hand rested on the back of Sean’s head, fingers spreading wide, guiding him with steady pressure. Rico moved down behind Sean and started kissing his lower back, gripping his cheeks, spreading him slowly.
Sean groaned around Micah’s dick.
Rico spit, then pressed a thumb between Sean’s cheeks. Sean arched a little, mouth still working, dick dripping onto the porch floor.
Micah flexed his hips forward, and Sean took it.
Ten inches, thick and veiny, pushing past lips, tongue, throat.
Rico climbed up behind him and gripped Sean’s waist again.
“Still good?”
Sean nodded, still going.
Rico pulled his own dick out—thick, uncut, a little shorter but just as wide—and rubbed it against Sean’s ass.
He spit again, stroked a few times, then slid in slow.
Sean tensed, exhaled, then let it happen.
Rico filled him from behind while Sean swallowed Micah’s length. The night was full of breath, sweat, and grunts. No music. No talking.
Just release.
Rico started to fuck him slow. Deep. Each stroke pressing Sean harder onto Micah’s dick. Sean moaned, voice muffled, spit running down his chin.
Micah looked down and muttered, “Take it.”
Sean did.
Rico’s grip tightened. He sped up. Sean’s body moved between them like he was made for it.
Micah’s jaw clenched. “Gonna nut in your mouth, bruh…”
Sean moaned again.
Micah’s hips jerked, and he pushed deep, groaning low as he came. Sean didn’t stop. Didn’t pull back.
Swallowed all of it.
Micah pulled out slowly, breathing heavy.
Rico wasn’t far behind. He drove in harder, louder, then slammed deep and grunted. He stayed buried as he came, holding Sean’s hips tight until he was done.
They pulled back, letting Sean slump onto the porch, chest heaving, face wet, ass dripping.
Nobody spoke.
Micah handed him the bottle.
Sean took a long pull, wiped his mouth, and exhaled.
Rico pulled his shorts up and sat on the railing, grinning.
Sean looked at both of them and said, “So y’all been waiting on that, huh?”
Micah shrugged.
“Not waiting,” he said. “Just ready.”
Sean laughed. “Damn.”
He passed the bottle again.
“Next time, I’m on top.”
End
A Roman Black One-Shot. Where desire meets the page.
