Page 51 of Piece Us Together

Oh fuck me, these two are entirely too fucking sexy.

Nolan cries, turning his head to the side. “Oh, god,please.”

I see something falter in Maison’s expression, his hips stuttering—and not in the way they would if he was about to finish. I jump in, grabbing Nolan by the hair and forcing him to look right at his boyfriend. “Stop complaining. You and I both know you’re fucking loving this. Tell him how much.”

“So much, so much, so much,” he sobs, his subtle trembles turning to shudders. I smirk as I watch his cock twitch and pulse, nothing coming out. Fresh tears fall down his cheeks as the sensation of what must be an incredibly overwhelming dry orgasm passes over him. Anything that falls from his lips after that is pure babble and pretty sounds.

“See, Maison?” I lock eyes with the man before flashing him a smirk. His breath hitches, his movements faltering. He’s too unraveled right now to pretend I don’t affect him. That could quickly become addicting if I’m not careful. “You’re giving your needy boy exactly what he needs, even if he’s whining about it. Fuck him harder.Usehim.”

Relief floods his expression before it transforms into one of pure pleasure as he lets it overwhelm him completely. I watch. I can’t fucking helpbutwatch. He’s impossibly beautiful with his slack jaw and flushed cheeks and the stray curl that’s fallen on his forehead. His broad shoulders shift beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt with every push and pull of his hips. The muscles and veins in his arms stick out of his tan skin as his fingers flex.

Nolan is just as beautiful with his flushed skin and sprawled arms and puffy nipples. His tears have stopped, the boy now just blinking up at the ceiling with glazed eyes, trembling and panting as his boyfriend uses his hole to get off. His poor cock is lingering in a half-hard state, the skin bright red, dry at the slit, useless. He’s whispering something under his breath, his lips barely moving like even his mouth is tired. When I lean in, I hear the word he’s repeating.Green.

Green, green, green.

“Come on.” I start carding my fingers through Nolan’s hair, knowing why he’s repeating that word, knowing he’s playing with the idea of the wordyellow. I settle my eyes on Maison’s face. I want to see him when he comes. Last time I was focused on his body as he pounded his way to an orgasm, but tonight I want to see more. I want to see the one thing he tries so hard to keep carefully concealed any other time. I want to seeMaison, unraveled, unashamed, unmasked. “He’s been so fucking good. Give him your cum, Maison. Fill him up. He’s earned it.”

Nolan turns his head, pressing his face against my tired but willing-to-become-interested cock, his sobs hot and rumbly against me.

“Go ahead, darling,” I murmur, using my hand in his hair to guide him to a better angle. “Take it in that pretty mouth of yours. Needy little cockslut needs something to suck on, hm?”

He gives me a jerky nod before hurrying to wrap his lips around my cock. I groan at the sudden wet warmth. His suckling is fucking frantic. Desperate. He’s using it to soothe himself.

I look up just in time for Maison’s movements to start stuttering, his chest heaving with the depth of his breaths. His head slowly falls back, his jaw loose, his pink tongue darting along his bottom lip before tucking into the corner and settling there.

His eyes close as a shudder runs through his whole body. He thrusts twice more before turning his movements into more of a grind instead of thrusting. Like he’s trying to get his cum as deep inside of Nolan as he can.

When he straightens his head, his eyes fall open. He’s completely unguarded in the moment as he looks right into my eyes. My lungs seem to forget how to breathe at the sight before me.

There are no more walls keeping me out. There’s no false confidence, no misplaced anger, no underlying worry. This isjustMaison, raw and open and unbelievably vulnerable. Even his body is loose and relaxed. His breathing is steady. His shoulders are dropped, no longer tense under the weight of the world. There’s trust in his expression. Trust and relief. So much fucking relief.

His breath catches as his lips move to form a silent word I can’t quite make out. Then he drops his head low to hide.

I know before he even looks back up that I’ve already lost that version of him. But I saw it. Just for a second, I saw it. Sawhim. The real Maison, when he forgets the rest of the world exists.

And I’ll be damned if I’m not going to figure out a way to get that version back for good.

Chapter Thirteen

Nolan

It feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Last night felt more intense than our first time at Hunter’s. I don’t know if it felt that way because he fucked me for the first time or because we were more comfortable or because emotions are starting to cloud things. All I know is it felt different, it felt like something more, and I know Maison well enough to know he could feel it too.

I wait for him to freak out when we wake up in Hunter’s guest room, Hunter no longer in the chair he was sitting in when we fell asleep last night. I wait while he gives me sleepy kisses and whispers declarations of love. While he turns me onto my stomach and spreads my ass cheeks, his thumbs nudging at the plug still inside me as he checks my rim to make sure I’m not sore. While he peppers kisses and little nips of teeth to each ass cheek before rolling me back over and shooting me a wicked grin. While we shower together in the room’s attached bathroom, him sliding a soapy finger into my ass whilewhispering in my ear, “When we get home, I’m eating this hole and then stuffing it full of my cum.”

I make a quick breakfast, still waiting for the shoe to drop, waiting for the panic to set in. If he’s going to withdraw and get weird again, I want it to happen back home. I don’t want him doing or saying something here that will have Hunter’s hackles rising. Best-case scenario, Hunter would be suspicious and things with him would feel tense. Worst-case scenario, he tries commenting on it and Maison lashes out and ends this whole arrangement.

Hunter kisses my forehead, thanking me for cooking. He gestures for me to kneel on my usual cushion where it’s settled at his feet. He alternates between stroking my hair and handfeeding me bits of scrambled egg and toast. Other than some simple questions about sleep and physical and emotional well-being, there’s no talking. I wait for the silence to feel uncomfortable, but it’s just silence. Peaceful silence, even.

He walks us to the door, helping me into my coat as Maison tugs on his own, then handing our duffel to Maison.

“I had a wonderful time,” he says, giving himself a moment to look at each of us. “Call if you need anything. Otherwise, I look forward to seeing you next weekend.”

Last time, Maison couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

Today, he fidgets with the duffel’s strap, shuffling his feet. He looks at Hunter, then away, then at Hunter again. “Thanks. For having us.”

Hunter smiles. It’s wide and bright, reaching all the way to his eyes.