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Misha didn’t know exactly what it was. But between the LA summer heat, the fact that Vicki had teased him mercilessly last night, and not having seen Jensen for over a month—he was on edge.
No, no, let’s be honest. He was fucking horny.
Wicked horny.
Wanting to be touched, stroked, licked… penetrated. He’d settle for raunchy texts at this point. Damn his wife, she knew exactly what she was doing. In fact, he’d bet it was a joint effort between her and Jensen.
The kids were a decent distraction. Constant running and screaming and falling and laughing and noise and chaos. But they went to bed at seven-thirty. After that, what was he to do but imagine his wife tying him up and doing some twisted shit to him? Maybe inviting Jensen for a weekend visit? Or even Jensen and Danneel?
The thought alone made the heat rise under his skin.
Foursome action was more of a once-in-a-blue-moon sort of thing. But right now? Fuuuuck. He could handle eight hands and four mouths. Ugh. And maybe they could all act as the dom... Leaving him at their mercy.
Jesus. How often was a man in his backyard making repairs to his deck with a raging hard-on while his wife made lunch for the family. It was deplorable, and shameful. (Not that he considered himself proper by any means.)
Even so, he needed to get himself under control. Picking up the drill beside him, he lined up a screw and secured the loose board near the deck stairs.
At least something is getting screwed, he thought.
—
That night, kids asleep, Misha stood at the kitchen counter and shoveled spoonfuls of decadent ice cream with caramel swirls into his mouth… Something cool to temper the annoying heat in his groin. Although, if he were truly making an effort, he’d take a cold shower and watch a horror movie. That had always done the trick in the past.
Vicki sauntered into the kitchen wearing a white tank, braless, and clingy yoga pants. She knew exactly what she was doing. “Mmm, can I have some?” she asked.
Misha drew the tub to his chest and said, “Can I?” in the most sarcastic insinuation ever.
She laughed and grabbed a spoon from the drawer. There was a gleam in her eyes. It was that plotting look he adored, the same one he’d acquired himself over the years they’d been together.
He watched her carefully as she dipped her spoon in and dragged out a mountainous bite. Caramel oozed off the side, threatening to drip onto her clean shirt. Misha couldn’t help picturing the sweet sauce running down her cleavage… maybe she’d let him lick it off.
“What did you do?” he asked, his mind clearing of low-key porn. “Or are about to do?” he wondered, licking his own utensil clean wishing it wasn’t the metal spoon he was tasting.
With an ambivalent shrug, she said, “Nothing.”
“Liar.” He pointed at her with the spoon, accusing. “I knew there was a reason you wouldn’t let me come last night. Evil woman.”
With a quiet chuckle, she blatantly ignored his feeble attempts to uncover her schemes. They continued working their way through the ice cream together, trading stares and smiles.
It was 8:03 when the doorbell rang and their neighbor and friend, John, came in—apparently at Vicki’s invitation.
“Date night, huh?” he said, following them into the kitchen.
Vicki answered, “Yeah, if you don’t mind keeping an eye on the kids tonight.”
“Of course not! Have fun, guys.”
Misha waited till they were in the car to ask what was going on. “All right, spill the beans.”
Steering towards the highway, his wife replied, “I hope you’re not tired cause it’s going to be a long night.”
“I don’t know whether to be excited or scared,” he admitted, laughing casually as he leaned back against the seat.
They went northeast of the city and eventually pulled into a walk-up condo. Not exactly what Misha had been expecting. Silently, he trailed Vicki up two flights and down a hall, where she knocked on a door. It was a modern development, fewer than five years old by his guess.
Where were they?
The door opened and while the “where” wasn’t answered, the “who” part was. Wearing a bold smirk, leaning into the open doorway, was Jensen.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he teased.
With a short laugh, Vicki said, “Uh-huh. I booked it, remember?”
“Booked what?” asked Misha, striding into a sparsely furnished upscale apartment to see Danneel dancing around to low music with a cocktail in her hand. His eyebrows went up.
Jensen smiled and glanced back at his wife. “Yeah, so, she got into the booze a bit early. We got here four hours ago! And it’s an AirBnB or whatever. Sort of a non-getaway getaway.”
Walking by Jensen, towards the open living space, he felt a kiss brush his cheek seconds before Danneel took notice of their arrival and yelled out, “Yeah! Let’s get this party started!” She dashed over, drink in hand, and pulled Vicki in for a hard kiss on the mouth in one hell of an exuberant greeting before rushing at Misha.
Oh god, she was going to jump him. He saw it coming and braced himself for the impact. All at once, her legs were tight around his waist and her one free arm was roped around his neck. Some of her no-doubt-sticky drink had spilled on the back of his shirt.
“Wow,” he beamed at her. “I clearly have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Damn right!” Giving him an eye, she snuggled closer and kissed him. Even over the music, he heard Jensen suck in a breath.
When he managed to untangle Danneel and catch Jensen’s eye, he noticed the glaze-over that spoke of four or five drinks down already. Tipsy Jensen was always a good time.
Music was cranked up, there was a drink in his hand before he knew it, and it was a mini-party erupting out of nowhere. Danneel and his wife shot off to the kitchen to pull something out of the oven. He wasn’t sure what but It smelled amazing.
Feeling his insistent arousal pound back into his veins, he set his half-empty rye and Coke on the dining table and stalked towards Jensen… Who, seeing the threat in his stare, started to back up toward the bedrooms.
Misha felt really bad for whoever owned this place. Here’s hoping they didn’t own a blacklight.
The instant they were past the threshold of the bedroom, Jensen dove at him. The room spun as Misha was slammed face-first towards the wall. It was an expert maneuver. Not rough enough to hurt, but jarring enough to punch the air out of his lungs.
His hips were pinned and Jensen’s breath ghosted over the shell of his ear. “Vicki seems to think you need a good fucking.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
“Yesss,” he whimpered in relief. It was astounding how easily he fell into acceptance and anticipation. “I can’t believe you’re here—” he said, adding, “I can’t believe you’re both here.”
Jensen hummed and ran his lips over the back of Misha’s neck, forcing goosebumps to crawl across his skin. “Been planning it for a while actually. Sort of a… hiatus surprise kind of thing.”
Surprise indeed. “Can I have a couple more drinks first?” Because—truth was— with a little more booze in his system, he’d last longer.
A sharp nip tore a groan from his throat. Jensen chuckled at his reaction. “No, actually, you may not. What’s the fun in teasing you if you’re not hypersensitive? Wouldn’t want a few rye-and-Cokes to mess that up, Mish.”
“Dammit, Jensen.” He tried to wriggle free, but Jensen was stronger. And man had they ever tested that over the years! Jensen easily held both Misha’s wrists pinned to his lower back and used his weight to keep Misha plastered to the wall.
“Normal rules apply?” asked Jensen, moving in to suck at his earlobe.
“Hmm,” he breathed, distracted. “Uhmm… yeah... Yes.” Breath flowing from his lungs, his head rolled back to Jensen’s shoulder, exposing his throat. Though he knew it was coming, the feel of Jensen biting and nibbling, scruff scraping, all down the column of his neck had him jerking against the unyielding painted surface.
“Don’t… fuck—” he pleaded. “You know I can’t—” Words abandoned him in favour of senseless moaning at the feel of Jensen assaulting the base of his neck, at the most sensitive part where it joined his shoulder. A contrasting blend of smooth wet tongue, and then the scrape of a weeks old hiatus beard, followed by the pinch of teeth.
Were his eyes open anymore? It was hard to tell. Squished between the rock-solid wall, and the unforgiving press of Jensen’s body, he strained uselessly, growing dizzier by the minute. His breath heaved between his lips, puffing onto the paint beneath his face.
“You smell like summer today,” Jensen commented, a smile in his voice as his tongue traced up the top part of Misha’s spine. “Like grass, and heat, and sweat.”
Unconsciously, Misha widened his stance, a low groan rumbling through him. Jensen whispered soft praise and let his free hand slide between them, stroking and squeezing his ass through his jeans—
“Unhf.” Misha was yanked back from the wall, twisted and turned until he faced the door.
Standing in the frame were both of their wives, watching them with heated interest. It was only then he realized the music no longer pounded through the rooms, but existed only as low hum in a distant room. He felt like he was in a dream.
“Hold him,” instructed Vicki.
Misha knew Jensen had nodded because he felt Jensen’s hands tighten around his wrists, and pull him in closer. Biting his lip, he stood absolutely still and watched as Danneel winked and proceeded to grab his wife by the chin, dragging her close a kiss. Not a peck, or raunchy tongue-fuck, but a sensuous delving of soft nips and little licks. As she plied at Vicki’s parted mouth, her eyes darted back to him and Jensen, grinning as they stood there transfixed and mute.
Already, Misha’s hips were writhing in place. And Christ, they way they blocked the light from the hallway, creating delicate lines of light and shadow, it was no wonder his jeans were tight behind the zipper. Jensen was faring no better behind him. Vicki felt down the firm length of Danneel’s torso, gently palming her breasts before stopping at the hem of her tank top and sliding it up.
“Oh god,” he mumbled, unable to hold back as the women undressed each other, painstakingly slow, putting on a fucking show for the men. When Vicki slid her hand into the front of Danneel’s thong, pushing between her legs, Misha unconsciously tried to escape the hold, forgetting entirely who it was that trapped him.
Jensen tsk’d and clamped a hot, damp palm over his mouth. Exhaling hard through his nose, Misha made fists at his back and tried to yank and twist his arms free—not positive how sincere his own efforts truly were. There was something exhilarating about Jensen restraining him.
“Mish.” Jensen nibbled at his earlobe and spoke with the low drawl that revealed how severely aroused he was, “I need to grab something and you are not allowed to move, got it?”
Flexing his hips, hating the tightness in his pelvis, Misha nodded with the weight of Jensen’s palm held firm over his jaw. The heat and scent of Jensen disappeared, but not before one last instruction: “And no matter what you hear, you are not permitted to look at our hot wives until I tell you.”
Naturally, as he said those words, Vicki was going to her knees and Danneel was throwing her head back and shifting her feet apart.
Swearing internally, Misha slammed his eyes shut and resented every sound that crept through the room. A zipper was undone (of a duffle bag? of Danneel’s jeans?), something hit the floor, a breathy “Ooh..” from Jensen’s wife almost buckled his knees.
When Jensen’s fingers came back to his wrists, he jumped. Familiar leather cuffs slipped onto him, the pressure cinching as Jensen closed the buckles and tightened the link between them leaving him with no slack.
Misha expected nothing more than this. Being tied up and having a foursome was more than kinky enough, but Jensen took it one step further. The dark stretch of fabric appeared in front of his eyes, and he could no longer see. Not even a strip of light eased in from the sides. His mouth fell open and he focused on the feel of the two ends being knotted and tied off at the back of his head.
Not being able to see the women, after so much anticipation, pissed him off. Flexing his jaw out of frustration, he forced his mind to clear, to remember that acting out right now would only make things worse for him in the end.
“Mish?” Jensen stroked the inside of his palm. A tacit form of communication, unique to them alone. Nothing more than a gesture to let Misha know he would be cared for and in that moment, he could say whatever he pleased without reprimand.
There was only one thing he felt necessary to express, “I love you.”
Jensen’s response was low, voice thick, “Love you, too.” And after a sweet kiss on the cheek, the atmosphere warped and became charged with tension. Playtime had officially begun and his body reacted with a series of twitches, gearing up for the assault of adrenaline and prolonged stimulation without release.
Standing in false darkness, hands secured, he had no means of knowing what would come next. Judging by the dull sounds and subtle shifts in the air, he knew the women had come closer. Behind him, he was certain Jensen was getting naked. Someone moved around him and he heard a low masculine groan, followed by the subtle smacks of kissing and the changing patterns of breath that told him there was some intense make-out action going on.
Someone dragged the pad of their finger over his bottom lip. His mouth parted on impulse but nothing more happened. There was a sudden slap of skin-on-skin, followed by a surprised grunt of gratification. And another…
It irked him that he was not the one being spanked, nor the one doing the spanking. Listening intently, the sharp, gruff expressions of bliss were undoubtedly Jensen. Misha fantasized the various positions, and wondered whose hand was doing the deed. Three rapid smacks cut into the room and a low, thready whimper trailed in the contrasting quiet.
Misha swallowed and released a steady exhale, proceeding to chew at the inside of his cheeks, doing his best to block out the lewd acts around him. Where his senses failed, his imagination ran rampant, causing the blood in his veins to race and his heart to beat faster.
A long pause piqued his interest, and he hoped they’d come to him.
The heat and presence of a tall form moved in behind him, and with the barest hint of touch, Misha felt bare skin brush the tips of his fingers. Yes. Finally! The familiar expanse of Jensen’s stomach flexed against his knuckles and he hated not being able to see, but more than that, Misha hated that no matter how hard he tried to shift his hands lower and stretch his fingers, he couldn’t cop a feel of the obviously stiff sex pushing against his backside.
“I’m going to undress you,” the words came, whispered into his ear. “While they watch. And if you’re really good and don’t make a sound, maybe I’ll give you a peek at what’s going on.”
Misha bit down on his lip—the only sure way to keep it together. How the hell would Jensen even get his shirt off? He’d have to untie him or—
Cool metal brushed against his arm and then, snip-snip-snip.
The harsh sound that breached his lips was obscene and wanton. Jensen was cutting him out of his clothes. It was the strangest turn-on—one he decided he’d rather not over-analyze too much. There was an articulated pause, weighted with the knowledge that he’d misbehaved.
As he trembled with expectation, Misha was jostled by Jensen clutching the front of his jeans, pressing hard over the bulge of his trapped erection, and jerking him backwards. He slammed awkwardly into Jensen’s chest, painfully aware of something long and solid pressing against his ass.
“Did I say you were allowed to make those noises yet?” Jensen’s grip tightened, not quite eliciting pain, but not moving either… Definitely not doing anything to relieve him.
Fucking hell, Misha’s cock started to throb under the weight of Jensen’s touch. If he moved, if he thrust, like—three fucking times—he could come in his pants. The blatant whimper that escaped was unavoidable. And he knew it screwed him… and not in a good way.
“Ohh…” Jensen chastised. “Babe, you’re gonna regret that.”
The hand covering his groin disappeared and the scissors were back. A few fast cuts and the t-shirt dropped from his torso and landed on the floor. Jensen’s solid hand took the back of Misha’s jeans and yanked him in reverse. He slammed into Jensen’s chest a second time, nearly losing his balance and falling over. He might have, if Jensen hadn’t wound his arms around Misha’s body and starting yanking the front of his jeans open.
Every twist and jerk, his body jostled and manhandled, only served to create hints of friction over the length of Misha’s dick and it was irritating enough to make his blood hot with anger. When his jeans and underwear ripped down his legs, the movement threw him off-balance and he teetered.
Jensen smacked him on the ass. “Step out.”
Hoping to God he didn’t trip and land on his face, he lifted his feet off the floor one at a time and moved away from his clothes. This also separated him from Jensen and he realized he had no idea which way he was facing or where everyone was. All he could picture was them watching him stand there like an idiot. Tied up and turned on, left alone to fight off a weird mixture of raging arousal and irrational humiliation.
There was movement close by, faint, with the kind of creaking that reminded him of bed springs. They were on the bed then, without him. Sort of behind and a few feet over? He didn’t dare move. But Christ, he wanted to.
The tease of erotic whispers rose once more into the relative silence of the room. It began with movement, the shifting of skin against skin, and then the unmistakable notes of kissing, and sucking, low groans and ragged breaths.
He finally heard Danneel’s choppy words, “Unh God—Fffuuuck... Oh Misha, you should see what we’re doing to your wife...”
Every muscle in his body went hard. Precome leaked down over the crown of his dick when he heard the muffled sound of Vicki’s moans. Jesus. What was that beautiful, wicked mouth doing?
“You wanna know?” asked Danneel, reading his mind, taunting him.
He nodded sharp and quick, knowing how ridiculous he must look.
She laughed, and painted him a picture: “I laid Vicki out on this big bed and straddled her face. Hmmm, her tongue is, uhhnn, God, Misha… it’s so good... And my gorgeous husband who looooves that stiff, straining cock of yours currently has his head buried between her thighs. I bet you’d come just watching it...”
The low chuckle he caught right then was Jensen, unmistakeable.
Misha didn’t know how long he could endure it. In reality, they probably only continued this particular brand of torture for five minutes, but it ticked by seeming endless. Relief coursed through his limbs when Jensen returned to him, guiding him towards the bed. His knees met the edge of the mattress, but he was left to linger.
There, delicate fingers traced over his skin, dipping into grooves and scraping their nails over the lines of his torso and thighs. Hot breath tickled his ear, “Bend over, Mish… and give me some room.” Jensen nudged his instep and he tried quickly to comply, but it was a delicate balance between leaning over the mattress, and falling on it without the use of his hands to aid him. Somehow, he managed—the bed gratefully high enough for him to brace his thighs against it. Jensen stroked up between his legs, caressing his skin as the women did, but each inch higher had his heart beating faster. Not long after, Jensen was kneading his perineum so incessantly he was twitching from suspended euphoria, every rolling sensation dazed and taunted him.
Someone needed to touch him, and soon. The crest of a pulsing orgasm was pushing the boundaries of his control, and if he was left to come untouched he was going to scream and lash out from the sheer injustice of it all!
Delicate but sure fingers pinched his nipples, tugging at them as another set of hands stroked around the base of his cock and around his hips, never altering course to offer him relief. But it was Jensen, working at his prostate from the outside massaging the sensitive spot behind his balls, that tested Misha’s limits.
Every inhale shortened, sharper and less satisfying than the last. Misha trembled as his muscles gave up control and his toes curled against the floor. There must have been some unspoken command, because every one of their touches disappeared from his skin.
It was worse, it was so much worse without the feel of their hands on him. Misha shivered, rippling, from the top of his scalp to the tips of his toes and everywhere between. His cock jerked from the withdrawal of sensation, tingles set off in places that made his mouth go dry. Distantly, he knew they were allowing him to find some semblance of control, but he was too far gone. “Please…” he begged, not caring how tight his voice sounded.
“Maybe we should gag him,” suggested Vicki.
Danneel hummed in agreement. Half of him hated the idea, while the other half rode a strenuous high. Already, he was tripped out of his mind with lust and arousal that thumped through his veins, his heart pounding behind his chest. It scared him, with a sudden thought to the possibility of this triggering a heart attack.
“Sounds good to me,” teased Jensen. There was something about the way he said it. Misha’s muscles bunched tight and he ground his teeth.
After some arranging and maneuvering to get him on the bed, Misha was placed on his back with his head dangling off the end. The worst part was having his hands locked up behind the arch of his back. Lips brushed his, and the coarse drag of Jensen’s scruff told him who it was. Hovering over his face, Jensen said, “Open your mouth, Mish.”
He gasped in anticipation and did as he was told. Nothing happened immediately, and he felt a flush of embarrassment, laying there splayed out, mouth gaping open. As if it appreciated the front stage, his dick jumped eagerly at the juncture of his hips and he wanted to curse the damn thing. A sweet rush flooded him from head to toe when the women—he just knew it was them—spread his legs and pushed his knees back. A large, steady hand slid in behind his neck, and before Misha had time to take another breath, Jensen’s solid, warm cock was filling his mouth, pushing back towards his throat.
The shock of it triggered his gag reflex and he coughed, grateful when Jensen withdrew for a second. But only a second, easing back in again, slower this time—allowing him to adjust. At the exact moment when Jensen bottomed out, the women’s hot, wet mouths appeared as abrupt sensations between his legs, one on the inside of his thigh, and one suckling at his balls. He would’ve screamed if not for Jensen’s intrusive erection cutting off his air supply.
Jensen pulled out to let him gasp for air and returned, picking up the pace and falling into a pattern of letting him take a single breath. Just one, before shoving his full length past Misha’s tongue until the plump head of his cock rammed against the back of Misha’s throat. The combination of holding back his gag reflex, along with trying not to close his legs in frustration, caused Misha’s entire frame to tremble.
The urge to come flared up out of nowhere and he tried to shout in warning around Jensen in his mouth, instinctively aroused by the muffled rumble of his own voice.
One of the women’s hands, he wasn’t sure which, wrapped tight around the base of his cock and someone else tugged on his sac. The sudden snap in the rising peak of his need caused his body to rebel in protest, bowing off the bed with every muscle clenching in spasmodic frustrations.
“Fuuuuck…” he whined. “Please, please, please… oh fuck, please. I can’t—” he panted for air, “I can’t... take it. Let me see you, take it off, please—please take it off...”
Hands rushed over his skin, comforting strokes to calm his rattled nerve endings. Jensen’s lips pressed against his, then his cheek, and lastly, his forehead. The hand beneath his neck rubbed at him and slid up the back of his head to slide off the blindfold.
For a sharp second, the light from above blinded out details. But it all oriented—or disoriented—itself, considering his vantage point of being upside down and staring at the underside of Jensen’s sex.
He tried to lift his head, to see the rest of the picture they made, but the weight was too much. When he tried, he only made himself dizzy, Jensen had to help. Misha continued to shake as he sat up halfway and saw their wives laid out side-by-side on their bellies, their feet on the pillows, both sets of eyes watching him. Smiling.
“You guys are killing me,” he mumbled, leaning into the support behind him. Vicki laid a soft kiss on the side of his knee and rested her cheek on his thigh.
Tipping Misha’s head back, Jensen stared down at him. “Promise I’ll bring you back,” he teased, bending down to join them in a kiss, a warm tongue pushing past Misha’s lips.
After gentle reassurances to soothe him, their combined torture of him resumed... exquisite implosion-causing torture. The women held his legs apart and sucked and nibbled at all of his exposed parts. If he could tell them how fucking hot it was, he would have, but not with Jensen occupying his mouth.
Repeatedly.
They knew how to read each other, how to follow long-established cues. If Misha curved his spine, it meant he wanted his nipples tweaked, and if Jensen squeezed the back of his neck it was a warning that he was going as deep as Misha could take it. Which in this position… was... completely.
One of those squeezes triggered his reflexes and he relaxed, concentrating on being good and still. To help him out, Jensen lifted Misha’s head and pushed in simultaneously. Misha felt every inch creep over his tongue, forcing his jaw wider. Drool leaked from of the corner of his mouth but he had no way to wipe it off, so it slid over his cheek, leaving a cool, wet trail.
Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes from the strain. He managed one last inhale, before Jensen’s sac nestled against his nose, warm and soft, and he didn't dare flinch—which was fucking impressive considering he had two tongues currently licking up and around his swollen sex.
In a thick voice, Jensen praised him, “That’s it, Mish. Fuck, babe—” Misha stirred unintentionally, his body trying to regain control. “Mmm, not yet—a little—longer—” Jensen’s fingers tightened on the back of his neck. “Ahhh, God... that’s good...” That lingering too-long, mind-shattering feeling of being completely at Jensen’s mercy had goosebumps chasing each other over his flushed skin.
Two short seconds before he was about to protest, his lungs starting to fight him for air, Jensen quickly pulled all the way out, and he gasped hard, his chest heaving and—
“Unhhh—fuck!” Someone pressed something against his ass and he had no idea who or what was doing it but Jesus-fuck it was… it was... vibrating... “Aaahhh—”
Jensen murmured something about getting him on the bed but at this point, Misha was oblivious to everything outside of the unhinged chaos that was his senses. The lights were too bright, his mouth was dry, his skin was prickly, and one second he was feverish and sweating and the next he was shivering.
Even so, nothing was worse than the ache at the center of his hips. He was near tears, ready to say fuck the rules and beg for them to take him over the edge.
But no, they dragged him further onto the bed and moved him around. Misha felt very much like loose, shaky spaghetti and had no idea what they planned to do with him next. The women kissed his face and stroked his hair. It felt incredible. Vicki’s eyes were tracking him, and he watched her, focusing on her as a guiding point and was finally able to take a deep inhale and sort of stop shaking... But not really.
The cuffs on his wrists were unhooked and he whipped a look over his shoulder and found Jensen there, tossing the black restraints to the floor and quickly taking Misha’s face between his hands and pulling him in for a kiss. Misha wound up on his knees, facing the end of the bed, leaning into a slow, reverent kiss with Jensen. Nothing but gentle strokes into the other’s mouth, and the exchange of warm breath.
Behind him, two sets of hands stroked his thighs and his ass. When he felt fingers dig in and spread his cheeks apart he whimpered into Jensen’s mouth, wanting to plead shamelessly to be fucked, but Jensen refused to let him pull away. Angling Misha’s neck, forcing his lips to part more, Jensen licked a deep, intense kiss into his mouth, one that had its own set of power dynamics. Misha knew his place was to stay put and let Jensen plunder him.
Not moving was harder than it looked, and made worse by the constant grabbing of his ass. Grabbing, and pulling and kneading at the muscle. He shifted around, trying to get closer and to escape at the same time in a ridiculously contradictory tactic.
Out of nowhere, a stinging slap landed on his right cheek. Vicki gave a low warning, “Stop moving, honey.”
He exhaled loudly through his nose and he went as still as he could, doing his best to appease these women who loved everything about him. But he needed help, needed some delirious kind of support in this and he reached up for Jensen’s hands, clawing at them to try and pry them off of his face. Misha’s low sobs crept into the kiss and Jensen relented, letting go so they could link their fingers together.
The kiss broke off a moment later and he was greeted with a hungry stare. Those green eyes were nothing but dark shadows under low-hanging lashes. “Keep looking at me,” Jensen told him.
And he did, wondering what to expect.
Something broad and wet pressed against his ass, testing his readiness. He tried to relax for whatever it was, but failed miserably. Whatever toy the women had stroked up and down his crease, spreading cool lube in exaggerated excess. Vicki knew it drove him mad, only because he felt like a fucking slut when she did that. As it was, he recognized her low chuckle as the slick toy dipped between his legs and made his balls slippery too.
“Oh he really hates that,” noted Jensen, a smile spreading into his expression. Misha scowled back. “Baby,” Jensen looked down at Danneel, “pour a ton on your hand and really slick him up.”
Misha opened his mouth—it was automatic—the immediate “No” poised on the tip of his tongue. But he saw the flare in Jensen’s eyes, a simmering thrill as he waited to see if Misha would actually pump the brakes.
Fuck. It made his jaw stiffen with the effort it took to not say anything. It was leagues harder when he felt Danneel slide her palms and fingers all over his groin. God, the lube was practically dripping off her fingers. They spread his thighs and she got all... up... under there... All over his sac, his fucking hips even, and lastly, funneled her hands over his sex, coating him in slick.
The cool wetness made his entire midsection feel warm by comparison. His thighs shook in anger, wanting to be repaid for his patience and fairly good behaviour. With his stare locked on Jensen’s, he tried to convey how on-edge he was. Simply based on feel and familiarity, he knew it was Vicki whose fingers were now dragging between his cheeks. And then her voice, “Do you want to get fucked good, sweetheart?”
Misha sucked in a ragged breath and answered her through clenched teeth. “Yes.” She pressed her thumb against his rim and his stomach clenched with a wave of arousal. “Yes,” he said once more.
“Who do you want to fuck you?” she asked, rubbing harder, nearly sinking past the ring of muscle but not quite.
“All of you.”
All three of them laughed, a mixture of light and deep sounds radiating around him. God, he was going to come before he was allowed.
“You sure you can handle that?”
Before he could answer, she sank her thumb past his entrance and didn’t stop until he felt her hand squish against his rear. And then, because she was a fucking master in bed, she rotated her wrist and pulsed her hand, sending vibrations racing up his spine.
“Yee-eess-s-s-s—” he stuttered. “Yes, yes, fuck yes—” he rambled.
She pulled back, two fingers replacing her thumb and she spread them apart, scissoring them, and all the while he didn’t look away from Jensen’s gaze. Those familiar green eyes were set on him, staring with an intensity that sent a flutter through his stomach. Half bent forward, Misha watched Jensen watch him be finger-fucked by his wife.
“Your wish is our command,” Vicki promised.
Winking, Jensen gestured to her. “Ladies first.”
Expectantly, Vicki took the lead and instructed the others, “Work him with your hand and your mouth, whatever you want,” she told Danneel and then focused on Jensen, “Hmm… I think you should pleasure your beautiful wife.”
Jensen nodded, “I agree.”
Giving Misha a quick kiss on the mouth, Jensen shifted back and reached out for Danneel, who laughed in exhilaration as he manhandled her at the end of the bed, bending her over it and lining her face up with Misha’s mostly untouched cock.
Misha had no idea what to do. He was going to lose his mind. Where should he put his hands? He had no time to figure it out because he forgot how to think when he saw Jensen reach forward to swipe off some excess lube from Misha’s skin and spread it over his own length, and then immediately slammed into Danneel, his eyes set forward, a wolfish grin stretching his lips.
Vicki tapped Misha on the rear in warning, and then he felt the familiar dildo, the one she bought years ago that fit into a harness so she could fuck him, press firmly against his entrance. She’d made him a damn slippery mess and the broad head of the toy kept sliding up and down instead of going in and he nearly growled in vexation. Instead, he stopped breathing because it was at that damn second Danneel decided to engulf his entire cock in the slick suction of her mouth.
Jensen cursed sharply and stretched out for him, cupping the back of Misha’s head and dragging him forward for a rough kiss. The pressure against his rim intensified, and a second later, he felt his ass stretch open and the pronounced girth of the toy pushed in. He moaned into Jensen’s mouth, low and thready, and didn’t stop until he felt Vicki’s hips smack against his ass.
With an involuntary spasm, his body tightened around the intrusion, and he yelled, “Oh my fucking God,” around Jensen’s tongue. It wasn’t easy, nor articulated, but they got the idea.
Misha was assaulted with overwhelming stimulation as they coordinated their movements and he felt all of it. The way Danneel’s face thumped into his hips as Jensen fucked her, how her mouth vibrated around his cock when she moaned, Vicki’s firm hands holding him steady as she hammered into him, and Jensen’s mouth, plying his lips and tongue in a frenzy of dizzying activity.
Misha rocked between them, eyes barely open, legs losing hold of his weight. Rising up in salacious tension, he fought his orgasm back twice before he couldn’t do it by willpower alone. Head thrown back, breaking away from Jensen’s lips, he babbled for them to stop, “Oh fuck I’m gonna come—you need to stop—you need to stop—oh my God—”
They all pulled away from him, and Misha’s skin prickled from the sudden chill. He whined, an angry, struggling sound, and started to shake again, tears welling in his eyes. Jensen pulled him forward into a hug, kissing the side of his face and down his neck, whispering as he did, “Okay, babe. It’s okay, we’ve got ya.” Jensen caressed his skin, crushed him in a sweltering, skin-sticking embrace. “Lay on your front, Mish, relax. Lay down and take a breather, okay?”
The moment Jensen let go, he fumbled onto the comforter, breathing hard, trying to stop the tremors. Vicki laid beside him, watching his face and stroking his hair. “Tell me when,” she said.
He lay there for some time, entranced, watching her eyes as she assessed him. “Can I have some water?”
A bottle appeared out of nowhere and he chugged some of it down. “Okay,” he said, adjusting on the rumpled blanket to be as comfortable as possible and closed his eyes. Vicki kissed his slackened mouth and he felt Jensen’s strong hands hoist his hips up, while someone who must have been Danneel shoved a pillow underneath him.
Jensen worked him with a few teasing strokes of his fingers, the women exchanging kisses, and Danneel eventually took Vicki’s place behind him. Vicki lay back down beside him, nestled close, stroking his skin and lips with love and affection.
Jensen’s sudden touch split his attention. He knew it was Jensen’s mildly rough hands that spread his cheeks for Danneel. The re-lubed toy slid back into him with ease, filling him in a way that drew a sigh from his lungs. Having only the single sensation instead of three made it far easier to stay relaxed. Hopefully, he could hold on a little longer this time.
Vicki watched in adoration at the faces he made. Somewhere unseen, Jensen ran his hands down Misha’s back, scratching across his scalp, and massaging his ass as the his own wife fucked Misha into the bed.
It wasn’t a hard fuck, but a slow taunting sort of fuck, knowing there was no way he could get off on it. By the time her turn was over, Misha was drooling into the pillow like a moron. Not that he could help it.
“Now,” Vicki declared softly, “since Jensen hasn’t had you all to himself in a while, Danneel and I are gonna head out for a shower and finish each other off, and he’s going to flip you over and make such sweet love to you, baby, you’re gonna lose your fucking mind.”
It was insane how close he was to tears—and not a light trickle, either; he was teetering on the edge of a breath-stopping sobfest. All he could do was nod.
“You’re okay with that?”
He nodded again and pursed his lips for a kiss. She leaned in and obliged, lingering to relish the moment before she left.
In between the kiss and Jensen flipping him over, he was certain he lost consciousness for a moment. The room was startlingly quiet, the air still, and he locked eyes with Jensen and a rush of emotion burst through him. Misha rubbed his cheeks the way tired children do, and raked his nails into his own hair. The moment had become too much.
Laying over him, Jensen gripped his wrists and pulled Misha’s hands away from his face. “Stop... Mish, stop, look at me.”
“I’m breaking,” whispered Misha, his stomach clenching and unclenching, tremors wracking his body. The prolonged tension was making him sore and irritable, exhaustion weakening the remnants of his composure.
“I know, Mish. Let me take care of you, let me make love to you. I’m right here.”
Jesus. He wasn’t always this fucking emotional when they played around, but sometimes it just couldn’t be helped, couldn’t be controlled. Not that he wanted to really— it was good to let go sometimes, but that didn’t mean it was easy. It was a struggle to let yourself fall completely apart in front of someone.
“Hips up,” instructed Jensen.
Pushing with his feet, he raised his lower body and felt Jensen move the pillow into a better position. Jensen grabbed Misha’s ankles, hooking them over his shoulders and reached down to feel whether he’d need more lube.
Misha rapidly shook his head no. “Please, need to feel you.”
Dildos were great, all kinds of toys were fun as hell. But nothing beat the feel of Jensen’s thick, warm sex stretching him, becoming a presence in his body that awed him.
“You want to hold my hand?” asked Jensen, knowing it was one of Misha’s favourite ways to connect during sex.
“Mm-hmm,” he mumbled, blindly reaching out and sighing when their fingers settled in a tight grip.
His rim was already sensitive and when Jensen pressed the sweltering head of his cock against the puckered entrance, Misha hissed and fought back against the unwanted tightening of his muscles.
“Don’t shut your eyes,” said Jensen, “Look up at me, Mish.”
Forcing his eyes open, he stared at Jensen, his lips were parted for air but he couldn’t inflate his lungs as he felt the push, felt his body open, and the solid, hot invasion of Jensen’s erection filling his ass.
His vision swam for a few seconds until Jensen reached forward and pinched his nipple hard. “Jesus Misha, breathe, you dummy.”
Laughing in surprise, he sucked in badly needed-oxygen and let his head roll back and forth on the pillow deliriously as Jensen started to thrust in waves, friction and heat flooding Misha’s pelvis with each slap of their bodies joining together.
The angle was precise, and he shouted with each penetration as Jensen’s wide cock rolled against his prostate. “Can I—” he was cut off by a jarring collision and tried again… “Can I—” Fuuuck… “Touch myself, please, unhh— it’s fucking aching—”
Jensen let go of Misha’s hand only to push his legs off his shoulders, gripping Misha under the knees and shoving them towards the pillows. Pushing Misha’s bent legs wide, Jensen leaned over into the space he’d made and brought them face-to-face, breath mingling in the narrow gap separating them.
“No,” replied Jensen. “But I’ll do it for you, is that okay?”
“Hnnnngh, fu-u-u-ck—” Misha whimpered.
Jensen traced his tongue over the curve of Misha’s lips, and followed it with a soft kiss. Reaching between them, Jensen gripped around his dick. Misha’s whole body let out a spasm, his heartbeat somehow pounding in the tips of his fingers and every inch of his sex.
“I love watching you come apart for me.”
Misha made the mistake of looking up, staring into those green eyes that had done a number on him from day one. Tears welled up again, this time brimming over and sliding down his temples to dampen his hair. Jensen shushed him and started rolling his hips into Misha again, over and over.
Misha’s ass throbbed and ached with each full thrust, and Jensen’s tight fist stroking him in steady passes tugged at the surges of his rising orgasm, waxing and waning, taunting him further. He stopped fighting the tears, letting them flow over his skin. Jensen kissed him in repetitions, whispering between them as their bodies rocked together. Sweat slicked his skin, and Jensen’s lips were warm and familiar, grazing over his as they breathed into each other.
“Oh—, Mish, babe, I’m gonna come.” Jensen’s hand tightened in warning around his shaft. “Come with me, come around my cock, babe, let me feel it… Fuuuuck—”
Misha knew Jensen would stop cold the second their orgasms took off. That man loved, more than anything else, to feel every single wave shudder through them. But this time, Misha didn’t trust himself to keep still. Tears spilled out faster, worry and pleasure tangling together.
“Oh babe, s’okay… let go…” Jensen moaned hard and loud, taking his own advice. “Unhh—. Fuck!”
Crushed under a bucking one-hundred-and-ninety pound man, Misha shouted as he felt Jensen emptying into him, his cock pulsing repeatedly. His own orgasm snapped out of him, punching him into a daze, his legs shaking in the air, stomach muscles clenching so hard they hurt. Every time his cock kicked out another jet of come, his ass tightened around Jensen’s unyielding sex and they both groaned, lost to the intimacy, as each wave stunned them in turns.
By the time every last drop of release had been expended, Misha was a mess. The crying hadn’t stopped. In fact, it was worse than before. But that was why Jensen was with him, to pull him close and wrap him in a sticky, but necessary, embrace.
“I love you,” Jensen rumbled out, kissing Misha’s cheeks and his ear and his throat, “Love you so much, Mish. Fuck, I missed you. Don’t know what I’m gonna do when the show ends. Fuck… I don’t know if I can handle it.”
Another sob wrenched from his chest, Misha smacked Jensen, wiping at his damp cheeks. “My god, Jensen, don’t say that stuff right now, I’m already a goddamn mess.”
In the grip of his own emotions, Jensen framed his face and started to kiss him as if they were on the brink of death. “Love you so much,” Jensen rambled some more, “never want to lose you.”
“Considering the fact that you make me sob during sex, I’d say I’m not going anywhere... Geographical distances aside.”
“I hate it,” complained Jensen.
“Well then, get better at sexting.”
Finally, Jensen laughed. And then sighed. “So…”
“Hmm?”
“Are you satisfied?” asked Jensen.
Snorting, Misha looked him in the eye and they stared at each other. At the same time, they burst out laughing. When the chuckles subsided, they curled around each other on the bed and rested in the aftermath, relishing the calm, letting every muscle go lax.
It was a while before they stood up, weak and lacking balance, and went off to find their wives, all intentions to have a quick snack and have a little foursome cuddle action on the couch and pop in a movie until they all drifted off.
* * * * *
The next morning, in a fuzzy haze, Misha woke up sporting a lazy grin. Across the room, standing quietly in the kitchen with a mug full of coffee, was his wife.
The words weren’t there but the smirk and her obvious, ‘I-told-you-we’d-fuck-you-good,’ face was damn evident. That woman was fucking exquisite. And God love her for letting him experience life and love in myriad forms.
Without her, he wouldn’t be who he was. Jensen would have been nothing more than a steamy dream in the middle of the night Misha would be too ashamed to own up to in the light of day.
Instead, he was surrounded by those who loved him, and there was not one damn thing wrong with that.