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Hazing Ritual

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To say, "this wasn't how Trevor had expected today to go" would be an understatement. Most days do not go how Trevor expects they will, ever since joining the Crew, to the point that he's essentially stopped coming in with expectations. Essentially being key, because, as he's finding out now, he actually does have some expectations, and what's happening now is flying in the face of all of them.

First: he is zip-tied to a wall.

Second: everyone else in the office has gone out for lunch.

Third: except Ryan.

"Uh," says Trevor. "Hey." He wiggles a hand. That's about all he can do. His fingers are starting to go to sleep, and his arms hurt like hell.

"Left ya up there, huh," says Ryan. He sips his coke, his other hand stuffed into his pocket.

"Uh-parrently!" Trevor says, laughing. "Hey, you—you wanna get me down? Kinda starting to go numb in some uh . . . some places. Hahah."

"Mm-hm, yeah, I bet you are," says Ryan.

He doesn't move. Trevor shifts, pushing at the couch under him with his toes. Ryan is watching him oh-so-very closely. Trevor counts three knives on him that he can see, which means there's probably at least eight more that he can't.

"Uh," he says. "Little help?"

"Depends," says Ryan. He sips his coke again. "What kinda help were you looking for?"

"To . . . not be zip-tied to the wall anymore?" Trevor guesses. He's sweating. Ryan shakes his head, pursing his lips.

"Nope," he says. "Can't help ya there, buddy. Rites of initiation, y'know. We left Jeremy stuck to the wall for a good . . . oh, four hours."

"Well I might—lose my hands," says Trevor. "Hahah. If—if you do that. Circulation."

Ryan slugs back the last of his coke and squashes the can flat on the kitchen counter with one effortless slap of the hand. He crosses the room and steps up onto the couch, one foot on the back of it like he's posing for a Captain Morgan ad. He pinches each of Trevor's fingertips in turn and watches them wiggle.

"Uh," Trevor squeaks. Ryan's so close that Trevor can feel the heat of him through his t-shirt, so close he can pick out every hair on his jaw.

"Seem okay to me," says Ryan. He moves to the other hand, repeats the process. "Those, too. Losing circulation any other places?"

He meets Trevor's eyes. Trevor's whole body turns to hot wax, malleable and sweaty.

"S-some," he manages. "Hahah."

Without breaking eye-contact, Ryan slips a finger through the zip-tie cinched around the top of Trevor's thigh and tugs on it.

"You want me to check?" he asks.

Trevor gulps, mostly to keep from screaming. His hands flex, his heart pounds in his ears. Ryan smirks at him.

"Well," Trevor says. "I mean."

"Yeah?"

"If it's gonna be a while."

"Where'd they go for lunch?"

"Pinches Tacos."

"Oh, at least another hour."

"Hm, yeah, I—I guess somebody should probably check to . . . make sure nothing uh—nothing important is getting, uh. . . ."

"Blue?" Ryan suggests, laughing at him.

"Oh jeez," says Trevor.

"If that's the kinda help you were looking for," says Ryan.

"Yeah that'd be fine," Trevor wheezes.

"You like teasing?"

"Do—what?" says Trevor, going hot all over.

"Teasing," Ryan repeats. "Edging, denial, gettin' strung along. You like it?"

Trevor squirms and blushes and mumbles something approximating a yes.

Ryan grips the wooden slat next to Trevor's head and pulls himself up, plants both feet on the back of the couch to straddle him. Trevor flinches back instinctively. Ryan's other hand curls around his belt, and Ryan's breath brushes across his face.

"Sure?" Ryan asks, playful.

Trevor just nods, immensely far out of his depth but finding that he'd really, really like to start swimming.

"Say when," Ryan says with a shrug, and kisses him.

A bolt of electricity shoots down Trevor's spine, arching his back. Ryan's breath is hot in his mouth, and Trevor chases it with his tongue. Ryan undoes his belt roughly, kissing him slow and filthy and open-mouthed. Trevor's feet kick against the couch, his arms strain against the zip-ties. Ryan presses against his hip, hard and hot. The constricted blood-flow to Trevor's groin isn't doing him any favors, and he's aching so bad that he can't help but whimper into Ryan's mouth as the backs of his knuckles brush bare skin.

Ryan pulls back, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide. His tongue traces his teeth and his hips rock against Trevor's.

"Oh, I'm gonna fuck you up so bad," Ryan breathes, grinning a vicious grin.

A breathless Hah? is all Trevor can manage.

"Mm-hm," says Ryan, trailing his thumb over Trevor's hip and watching him twitch. "Hey, just in case it's important, you can be as loud as you want."

"It's uh . . . soundproof?" Trevor guesses weakly.

"Nah," says Ryan, with a wicked grin. "But the neighbors are used to it by now."

Before Trevor can say anything to that at all, Ryan dives in to lick a long stripe from Trevor's collarbone to his ear, and all that comes out of Trevor's mouth is a squeal. Ryan bites down at the corner of his jaw, not quite sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and presses the flat of his hand to Trevor's hip. One leg slips in, the thigh presses between Trevor's legs, heat and hard muscle on swollen and sensitive parts.

"Oh fuck," Trevor gasps. His hands flex and clench, his head falls back against the wooden slats. Ryan tenses and relaxes the muscles of his thigh in a slow rhythm, too slow, alternating between not-quite-enough and not-nearly-enough. Trevor's feet dance on the back of the couch, scrabbling for purchase, for an inch of leverage. Ryan laughs against his neck, scrapes his teeth against Trevor's stubble.

"Y'want me to touch you?" Ryan asks, lips ruffling raised hairs, breath so hot and wet it leaves fog on Trevor's skin.

"Please," says Trevor. "Please, please—"

Ryan chuckles again. His hand slides up under Trevor's shirt. His touch is feather-light, brushing fingertips over Trevor's stomach and ribs. Trevor writhes, zip-ties biting into his arms so hard they must be drawing blood, scraping denim stripes of road-rash under his jeans. Ryan kisses and bites along his neck, never hard enough to leave a mark, and his thigh still flexing against Trevor's crotch, not hard enough. Trevor whimpers and wriggles and Ryan gives him nothing, moving fluidly with Trevor's every squirm to be just out of reach.

"Didn't say where," Ryan says into his ear. He rucks up Trevor's shirt, brushes just under his nipple, and then circles it, pulls his thumb around in a slow spiral until finally he's toying with the hard peak in the center. A shock goes through Trevor's chest and he groans aloud.

"You're evil," he says. "It's all true, everything they say about you, you're evil."

"Aw shucks," says Ryan. He nibbles Trevor's ear, eliciting another groan. "Y'wanna touch yourself?"

"I—yes," Trevor babbles. "Yes, please, I—I want—"

"Too bad," says Ryan. He tweaks Trevor's nipple and hikes his leg up sharply and Trevor yelps.

"Ryan, please!" he whimpers. He's so hot he's dripping sweat, his insides are full of molten gold, and if he doesn't cum in about the next thirty seconds he's going to die.

"Tell me what you want," Ryan teases. His hand ghosts across Trevor's ribs again and Trevor's whole chest spasms painfully. He jerks against the restraints, and Ryan does it again, brushing the hyper-sensitive skin with the lightest of touches. Trevor kicks and squirms, gasps and writhes and whimpers and begs, but there's just nothing he can do. Stinging lines of pain fill his arms with red light and he can't tell if it's sweat or blood tickling his skin.

An endless mantra of please please please please please bubbles through his lips, his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut. Tears crawl down his cheeks, helpless frustration makes his voice crack. Ryan laughs at him and nips at his neck. His hand slides down Trevor's chest to his belly. The backs of his knuckles trace along the waistband of Trevor's jeans. Trevor bucks his hips so hard he pops one of the zip-ties clean off.

"No, no, no," Ryan admonishes, pushing Trevor back against the wall. "Don't do that. Not gonna let you cum if you won't hold still."

"I'll—I'll hold still," Trevor gasps, beyond dignity, beyond coherence. "Please, Ryan, please, I want—I want—"

"Mm-hm?"

"Want you to—I want—I wanna cum, I want you to make me cum, please, please."

"Oh, well why didn't you just say so?" says Ryan. His grin is devilish against the fever-hot skin of Trevor's neck. He palms Trevor's throbbing cock through his jeans and Trevor whines like a tea-kettle about to boil over.

Ryan plants his mouth against Trevor's neck, first a kiss and then a nibble. His hand rubs the crotch of Trevor's jeans, still not enough pressure, not enough anything, and Trevor's weeping with frustration, begging and trembling and drenched in sweat. He can feel the precum leaking out of his slit, tickling down his length and soaking into his boxers. Ryan slides his hand up and lays the palm flat over Trevor's stomach, and it's so hot and so wet with sweat that Trevor nearly cums right then and there.

"You're sure you—" Ryan says.

"Fucking jack me off, you asshole!" Trevor snarls, utterly wrecked.

"Okey-doke," says Ryan.

The hand pops the button on Trevor's jeans, tugs them open, then wriggles under the waistband of his boxers. When Ryan's hand wraps around Trevor's aching cock, he moans so long and so filthily that it'd probably be illegal to record. Ryan steps back onto the lower part of the couch and shoves Trevor's shirt up again, kisses up his chest until he finds his nipple. His hand slides up to the tip of Trevor's cock and back, smearing sweat and precum over the length of it. He flicks Trevor's nipple with his tongue and Trevor's whole body convulses.

Ryan jacks him unbearably slowly, teasing his nipple with his tongue, fingers dancing over Trevor's ribs. Trevor's utterly ruined, trembling with the effort of holding still, his fists clenched so hard his fingernails bite into the bones of his hands. His legs twitch whenever Ryan's hand slides over the head of his cock, pathetic whines spilling out of his throat and tears crawling down his face. He's so close, perennially so close, and he knows Ryan can tell, knows he's being edged on purpose, knows Ryan's going to drag this out as long as humanly possible. Trevor begs anyway, begs until his voice is hoarse and his whole body is screaming from the tension.

With a long, filthy swipe of his tongue, Ryan leaves off of Trevor's nipple and looks up at him.

"Y'wanna suck me off when we're done?" he asks.

"Yes—yes—I do, I want—I'll—"

"Okay, okay, champ," says Ryan, shaking his head. He steps back up onto the back of the couch, presses hard and heavy against Trevor, and growls into his ear, "Mine now."

He bites Trevor's neck and sucks on it so hard it feels like he's going to draw blood, tightens his hand on Trevor's cock and jacks him fast and rough, and the noises that spill from Trevor's mouth are obscene and loud, and in seconds he's cumming all over Ryan's hand, hot sticky spurts spilling over his knuckles and onto Trevor's jeans. Ryan keeps working him, keeps sucking a hickey into his neck as hypersensitivity floods Trevor's whole system. In no time at all he's whimpering and writhing again, and it's only when the words stop, stop tumble through his pleading lips that Ryan finally eases up. He kisses the hickey he's left, keeps his hand loose and still on Trevor's softening cock.

The knife finally comes out, pops the zip-ties effortlessly. Trevor's first free arm slings itself around Ryan's shoulders and he hangs on for dear life, ringing like a church-bell and shaking all over. Ryan cuts his other arm loose, and Trevor yanks his legs free himself, and Ryan picks him up and sets him down easy on the couch. He spends a long, long time examining the scrapes and welts left from the zip-ties, touches each one with his fingers and his lips.

Trevor himself interrupts the process. He grabs Ryan by the hips and sinks to his knees in front of the couch.

"Hey, hey," he says, frowning. "Aftercare, man, don't interrupt the process."

"You have made me wait," Trevor utters, "so goddamn long, for everything, and I am not gonna wait for this. Capiche?"

"Okay," Ryan says, shrugging. "If you're sure. Don't wanna push you or anything."

"I'm gonna make you cum so hard you black out," says Trevor.

Ryan's eyebrows raise. "Well. Can't say no to that."

Trevor undoes his trousers, tugs the band of his underwear down over Ryan's cock. He's rock-hard, flushed and swollen, and his hips twitch at even that much contact. He tangles a hand in Trevor's hair and tugs on him. Trevor meets his gaze.

"Hey," Ryan says. He's smiling. "Welcome to the Crew."

Chapter Text

Trevor will give them this: the Crew is absolute garbage at nearly everything they do, but they sure as hell know how to party.

Michael brings some kind of peach moonshine and Mario Kart, which don't mix well but which he and Jeremy and Jack partake of liberally. Gavin breaks out some weed chocolate he got from a friend who used to be a narc and then opened a dispensary as soon as the legalization went through. The whole Crew indulges to varying degrees, except Ryan, and because Ryan doesn't, Trevor doesn't, either. The others raise their edibles and toast To Ray, Blaze It. Ryan toasts with his coke and chuckles and drapes an arm across Trevor's shoulders.

Trevor starts wondering if he might be getting some kind of contact-high just from breathing the same air as everyone else, as they start devolving from video games to yelling at dumb movies to lounging around and grooving to loud music and psychedelic lights. High off their asses, Jack and Geoff eventually stumble off to what Michael disparagingly refers to as The Old Fogey Sex Den (Geoff's bedroom).

Shortly after that, he and Gavin tangle themselves together on the couch and Trevor goes hot all over, because they're really not being subtle about what's going on and it's not that dark in the penthouse.

Ryan kisses his neck, and Trevor sucks in a startled breath. One hand rubs his shoulder and the other comes to rest on his thigh. Trevor glances at Jeremy, who's finishing his mason jar of peach moonshine, stripped down to jeans and binder and apparently not paying the least attention to anyone else in the room.

With a series of slow kisses, Ryan makes his way up to Trevor's ear.

"Y'wanna get off?" he murmurs, rubbing Trevor's thigh with his thumb.

"Wh—uhh," says Trevor. Gavin lets out a particularly filthy moan and Trevor gulps. "I mean. Um. I—I dunno, I kind of . . . I mean I thought we were gonna spend the night here. Um."

Ryan laughs. "I meant here, silly," he says.

Trevor boils in his skin. His eyes come unfocused.

"Y-you mean like . . . right here, here?" he squeaks.

"If you want," says Ryan.

Trevor glances at Michael and Gavin again. Michael's not paying any attention to anybody but Gavin, and Gavin is—to put it mildly—occupied. Trevor glances at Jeremy and sees him struggling out of his binder and cussing under his breath. He suspects Geoff and Jack aren't going to be coming back out tonight at all.

"If that's okay," Trevor says.

"Mm-hm, that's what these parties're for."

"Oh."

"Told you the neighbors were used to it."

"Yes, yep, you sure did."

Ryan kisses his neck again and slides his hand up Trevor's thigh. He palms his crotch and lets out a pleased hum.

"You been gettin' hard watching Michael and Gavin over there?" he asks.

"I—yeah," Trevor admits, squirming.

Ryan tugs Trevor over to sit him on his thigh, spreading his legs wide apart and putting an awful lot of pressure on his taint and balls. One hand rests flat-palm on Trevor's chest and pulls him back against Ryan while the other unfastens Trevor's pants, while Ryan suckles and nibbles on his neck. Trevor shuts his eyes and tips his head back, listening to the wet sounds, the grunts and moans coming from Michael and Gavin. He's trembling already, skin flushed with embarrassment and belly full of heat.

Ryan slips his hand into Trevor's pants and tugs his cock out. Trevor's hips buck at the loss of pressure, of friction, and he bites his lips to keep from making any noise. That's ruined the moment Ryan runs the knuckle of his thumb up the underside of Trevor's dick, touching much too lightly, and Trevor whines like a dog.

"Oh, damn."

Trevor's eyes snap open, and he sees Jeremy watching him, eyes half-lidded and mouth curled into an appreciative smile. He just about bursts into flames, and if Ryan weren't holding him there and touching his cock, he might scramble to tuck himself back in and run off to curl up in a ball of shame somewhere.

"Mm?" says Ryan, lips pressed to Trevor's neck. He raises his head and rests his chin on Trevor's shoulder. "Oh, like what you see, J?"

"You sure do know how to pick 'em, Ry," says Jeremy. His hand is in his pants, the muscles in his forearm twitching as he touches himself.

"Jealous?" Ryan asks. He runs his knuckle up Trevor's dick again and Trevor squirms, trying to get more and knowing there's no way he will.

"You know me," Jeremy says, smirking. "Size-queen to the end. Hey, can I borrow him sometime?"

"Mm, depends," says Ryan. "You can borrow him right now, if he wants."

Trevor gulps, and his hips twitch, and his skin burns. He's sweating through his shirt. Ryan toys with the head of his dick, rubbing the slit in slow, slick circles that make Trevor want to scream.

"How about it, baby?" he asks, murmuring right into Trevor's ear. "Y'wanna fuck Jeremy?"

"I—oh boy," Trevor pants. "If—if that's—I mean if that's okay, I wouldn't—I wouldn't say no. Hahah."

Ryan kisses him under the ear, gives his cock one firm, slow stroke, from head to base to head again, pulling a moan through Trevor's lips.

"'Course," he says. "But you remember what we agreed on, right?"

"Nobody gets to make me cum but you," says Trevor, and the words still send a thrill through him, especially in light of current circumstances.

"Ryan, you possessive bitch," Jeremy accuses. Ryan grins at him over Trevor's shoulder.

"Hey, everybody always wants to bang the new guy," he says. "Gotta have some provisions before we start passin' him around. You gonna come over here, or what?"

"Hell yeah I am," says Jeremy. He heaves himself to his feet and totters over. Over on the other couch, Michael cums into Gavin's mouth with a drawn-out moan. Trevor bites his lip and tries to hold still, even though he's aching.

Jeremy drops onto the couch next to them, but Ryan doesn't let go of Trevor. Instead, he pulls him over and nestles him between his legs, his dick pressing against Trevor's tailbone, hot and hard. He twines his fingers with Trevor's and pulls his hands out to rest knuckle-down on the couch while Jeremy wriggles out of his boxers.

"Yeah?" he murmurs into Trevor's ear.

"Uh-huh," is all Trevor can manage. His cock is wet with precum, cold and wanty in the open air.

Jeremy straddles the both of them, knees resting next to Ryan's hips. He takes Trevor's face in his hands and kisses him, and Trevor rolls his hips up, trying to get something, but Jeremy's sitting up too tall for any contact. Ryan kisses Trevor behind the ear.

"Be good," he admonishes. "Jeremy's my Battle Buddy, y'gotta be good for him. Gotta fuck him real slow, 'kay?"

Trevor moans into Jeremy's mouth, the taste of moonshine and chocolate and weed thick on his tongue. Jeremy reaches around behind Trevor's head and grabs Ryan by the ponytail, breaks off kissing Trevor and switches out for Ryan. Ryan rolls his hips against Trevor's ass, moaning appreciatively right next to his ear. Trevor whimpers, and Jeremy runs a hand down his chest, his stomach, wraps his hand around the base of Trevor's dick and jacks him clumsily while making out with Ryan over his shoulder. Trevor leans in and kisses Jeremy's neck, just for something to do, fighting to hold his hips still. Jeremy's so wet that he's leaving damp patches on Trevor's shirt whenever he rocks up against him.

He breaks off from Ryan with a breathless laugh, holding his gaze and grinning at him.

"God, you're such a fuckin' slut," Ryan says, appreciative. A swift punch of arousal hits Trevor in the chest and he bites his lip, shivering. Both Ryan and Jeremy turn their eyes to him.

"Oh, he likes it," Jeremy says. He taps the head of Trevor's dick with his thumb and Trevor's hips twitch again. "Like bein' called a little slut?"

"Mm-hm," Trevor manages, nodding, burning with embarrassment.

"Boy, you sure know how to pick 'em," Jeremy says to Ryan.

"You better hurry up and fuck him before he cums all over himself," Ryan returns.

"Mm, guess I better," says Jeremy. He kisses Trevor again, sinks down until the head of Trevor's cock touches his hole. He breaks off and leans back, positioning Trevor with one hand and gripping his shoulder with the other.

"You're gonna look real good riding him," Ryan says.

"Fuck yeah, I am," says Jeremy. "Hold me up a sec, I'm real fuckin' drunk."

Ryan lets go of one of Trevor's hands to wrap his arm around Jeremy's waist. Jeremy lets go of Trevor's shoulder and parts his lips with two fingers, then sinks down onto him slowly. The wet heat of him is overwhelming, just closing over Trevor's head, and he moans and bucks his hips, wanting more and wanting it now.

"Easy, tiger," Jeremy says.

"Be good," Ryan warns.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Trevor says, shaking where he sits. Jeremy sinks down another inch and then readjusts. Trevor throws his head back, biting his lip, and Ryan immediately starts biting his neck. Trevor grips the couch cushions with his free hand, squeezes Ryan's hand with the other, and Jeremy laughs breathlessly.

"God, he's such a dirty bitch," Jeremy says. He sinks down farther, taking Trevor slowly, slowly, clenching and relaxing around him, dripping wet. Trevor's struggling to breathe, digging his heels into the floor, arched like a bow and strung out.

"Sure is," Ryan says. Jeremy settles onto Trevor's lap and shifts his hips around, getting comfortable. Ryan takes his arm from around Jeremy's waist and laces his fingers with Trevor's again.

Jeremy tangles a hand in Ryan's hair and starts kissing him again, rolling his hips against Trevor's slow and shallow. At the front of each roll, Trevor can feel himself bottoming out inside Jeremy, the head of his cock nudging the cervix. Jeremy moans each time, muffled by Ryan's mouth. Trevor fights to hold himself still, and in the effort loses control of his mouth.

"Please," he gasps. "Please, please, God, please, I want—I wanna—I want it, I want it, please—"

Ryan lets go of Trevor's hands, trails his fingers up Trevor's sides and makes him gasp and thrash. Jeremy gasps too, arching and throwing his head back and clenching around Trevor. Ryan puts his hands on Jeremy's hips and tugs on him at the same time as he lifts his own hips against Trevor's ass.

"C'mon, Jeremy, give him somethin'," Ryan teases. He slides one hand around and circles Jeremy's dick with his thumb. Jeremy bucks his hips, hard, and Trevor gasps, eyes rolling back in his head.

"Oh, I'll give him somethin', all right," Jeremy says. "Gonna break your fuckin' dick, Ryan. Gonna bust your fuckin' dick with his ass."

Ryan laughs and pinches Jeremy's dick. Jeremy grabs Trevor's shoulders with both hands and kisses him, open-mouthed and sloppy. He raises up until just the tip of Trevor's cock is inside him, then sinks back down again with a drawn-out moan. Trevor tries to grab his hips, but Ryan catches him by the wrists and firmly pins his hand back down to the couch.

"No, no, no," he murmurs into Trevor's ear, while Jeremy fucks himself on Trevor's cock again, while Jeremy rolls his tongue against Trevor's. "Gotta be good, Trevor. Gotta let Jeremy fuck you how Jeremy wants, no touching."

Trevor whimpers. He can't help but buck his hips when Jeremy sinks down on him the next time, and Ryan tsks and shakes his head and loops his arms—and Trevor's arms—around Trevor's waist, pinning him against Ryan's body.

"Hold still," Ryan admonishes. "Or else I'm gonna fuck Jeremy and you're not gonna get to cum tonight."

Trevor shivers and whines. His legs tremble, and when Jeremy breaks off the kiss he just sits there with his mouth open and his tongue hanging out, panting.

"Ryan, you're a bastard," Jeremy says. There's a tremor in his voice that makes Trevor crazy, makes him want to rail Jeremy until he forgets his fucking name, but Ryan's got him totally pinned and he can't do anything but sit there and sweat and shiver.

"I'm trying to kill him," Ryan jokes. "Fuck him real slow, Jeremy. Take your time. He likes it."

"Oh fuck yeah," says Jeremy. He fists a hand in Trevor's hair and goes to work biting a hickey into his neck, going up and down on him in time with the music, which—god dammit—has slipped from club to trance somewhere along the way.

Ryan bends his head and bites the other side of Trevor's neck, moaning against his skin, and then Jeremy takes it up, too, obscene noises oozing out of him every time he sinks down on Trevor's cock, teeth and tongues. Jeremy rucks up Trevor's shirt and starts playing with his nipples, both hands, teasing him with the speed of his fingers when the rest of him is still moving so slow. Trevor whines and moans, his mouth hanging open and his heels kicking at the carpet as he squirms between the two of them.

The song changes, and the next track is a little faster, and again Jeremy matches the tempo, still sliding all the way from tip to base and back while Trevor throbs and oozes precum in spurts. Ryan finishes his hickey and drags his tongue up to Trevor's ear, nibbles on it while Trevor whines.

"Y'want a drink, baby?" he asks.

"Aah," is all Trevor can manage, strung out beyond the point of coherence.

"Yes or no, c'mon, use your words," Ryan teases. He squeezes Trevor's hands, squeezes his middle and rolls his hips against Trevor's ass. "Y'want a drink, or not?"

"I—I—y-yes," Trevor gasps. An instant later, cold glass presses to his lips and somebody grabs his hair, pulls his head forward enough to pour liquid into it without choking him. It tastes like peaches and lighter fluid. Trevor's eyes fly open to see Michael standing over them, a jar of peach moonshine held to Trevor's mouth and a look of bright-eyed and drunken arousal on his face.

He tips the jar up and Trevor drinks, swallows down as much as he can while Jeremy keeps on fucking him, while Ryan nibbles on his ear. It's too much, and he can't drink as fast as Michael pours, and it spills over his lips and chin, down his neck to soak his shirt. Jeremy pulls back to let it pour all over him, to let him sputter and choke. Michael empties the jar over him. Trevor probably only manages to chug half of it and the rest spills, cool and sticky. Jeremy dives back in immediately, licking the moonshine from Trevor's neck with long, filthy swipes of his tongue.

"Filthy fucking slut," Michael says. He tosses the jar over his shoulder. "God, you're such a dirty bitch."

"Wait your turn," says Ryan.

Michael snorts. "Whatever, have fun, you nasty cunts."

"Oh, we will," Ryan promises.

"Th—but—oh," Trevor pants. Jeremy's still licking the moonshine off him, much more preoccupied with that than with riding him anymore. Ryan nuzzles up behind Trevor's ear and kisses him.

"He's right, though," he murmurs. "You're a dirty fuckin' slut, aren't you."

Hhhhn, Trevor whines. His hips twitch and Jeremy obligingly sinks down on him—but just once, then he's back up at the tip of Trevor's cock, hips circling as he laps up the mess on Trevor's collarbones.

"Love gettin' fucked, don't you," Ryan murmurs. "Love having Jeremy on your cock. Is he good, baby? Is he wet for you?"

"Yes," Trevor gasps. "Yes, yes, fuck, so—so fucking good, I—I—"

"Y'wanna cum in him, baby?" says Ryan.

"I do, I do, I do, please, please," Trevor babbles. His hips twitch again, and this time Jeremy picks up his rhythm, up and down, excruciatingly slow.

"Mm, yeah, bet you do," says Ryan. He rolls his hips, matching Jeremy's rhythm, driving pathetic whines out of Trevor. "Bet you wanna cum real bad, huh."

"Please," Trevor begs, his eyes stinging with tears. "Please, I want it, I want it so bad!"

"Y'gotta make Jeremy cum first," Ryan says. "That's only fair. He can keep goin' after he cums."

"And I'm gonna," Jeremy breaks off to say. He's picking up his pace, bit by bit, panting and sweaty.

"Oh, yeah?" says Ryan. "You want me to take over when Trevor's done?"

"Gonna ride your fuckin' face," says Jeremy.

"Mm, I dunno," Ryan says. "'Cuz once you were done, I was gonna fuck him."

"He's gonna need a minute anyways," says Jeremy. Every time he sinks down on Trevor's dick, Trevor can't help but moan, can't help but raise his hips to meet him. Ryan's letting him, too, although not much.

"I guess," Ryan sighs. He nibbles Trevor's ear. "You want me to fuck you afterwards? You wanna cum twice tonight?"

"Please," Trevor moans.

"Wreck him," Ryan says to Jeremy.

Jeremy fastens his mouth on Trevor's neck again and starts bouncing on him, hard and fast. Trevor's mouth falls open, his eyes rolls back. Ryan bites the other side of his neck. Trevor gasps his breaths, the air thick with the smell of sweat and sex and peach moonshine. Jeremy's moans get higher and higher until he's whimpering, then louder and louder until he's nearly screaming. He takes one hand off Trevor's chest to touch himself, fingers flying over his cock until his back hunches and his mouth falls open and he clenches so tight around Trevor it makes him yell out, too. Jeremy keeps riding him through his own orgasm, whimpering and gasping.

"Changed my mind," Ryan says suddenly. "Don't make him cum."

And Jeremy, god damn him, just pops right off Trevor's dick and sits back, playing with himself and panting, whining and slack-jawed. Trevor screams through his teeth, the denial wracking him like a physical pain. Ryan laughs and squeezes him while he bucks his hips at nothing. Tears spill out of Trevor's eyes and Ryan nuzzles into his neck, breath ghosting over sweat-slick skin.

"Told you," he said. "I'm the only one who gets to make you cum."

"Ryan, please," he begs, desperate and ruined. "Please, please, I'm gonna—I can't—I need—"

"Hey, Jeremy?" Ryan says. "Could you go and get the lube and condoms from the bathroom?"

"Yuh-huh," says Jeremy, hazy and smiling. He slithers down off their laps and wanders off, leaving just the two of them and Michael and Gavin, who've passed out naked on each other.

"No, no no, please, please," Trevor babbles. "I can't—Ryan, please, I'm not—"

"Color," Ryan says quietly, into Trevor's ear.

"I don't—I don't—"

"Trevor, baby, tell me your color."

Trevor whines and throws his head back, writhing against Ryan.

"Green," he grinds out. "Green, I'm—I'm—"

"You wanna cum with me in you, or right now?"

"With—with—I want you, I want—"

"Kay, then quit complaining," says Ryan. He takes his arms from around Trevor's waist and tugs on his jeans. Trevor squirms out of them, whimpering and biting his lip. Ryan pushes him forward just for a moment, just long enough to unzip his own jeans and get his cock out. It presses against Trevor's tailbone, hot and damp with precum.

"Fuck," Trevor whispers, rocking back against him. Ryan hums an encouraging noise.

Jeremy comes back with lube and condoms, then settles down on the couch next to them and goes right back to touching himself. Ryan pushes Trevor over to him with a gruff, "Don't let him touch himself."

"Mmkay," Jeremy says. He tangles a hand in Trevor's hair and starts kissing him messily—then soon gets distracted by licking the sticky peach moonshine off his jaw and neck. Trevor digs his fingernails into Jeremy's shoulders, whimpering and bucking his hips at nothing again. The slick, filthy sounds of Ryan lubing himself up leave him aching.

While he's kissing Trevor, Jeremy makes himself cum again. Trevor whimpers as Jeremy moans into his mouth, steals Trevor's hand and presses it to his cunt. Trevor takes the cue and fucks Jeremy with his fingers, crying with want and frustration.

"Should I interrupt?" Ryan asks, sounding considerably more breathless.

"You can prep him while he works," Jeremy says, wriggling against Trevor's hand.

"True," Ryan says. A cold, slick finger presses to Trevor's hole and he nearly cums right then and there. "Keep goin', Trevor. Be nice to my Battle Buddy."

"Mm-hm," Trevor whimpers. He finger-fucks Jeremy while Ryan presses first one finger, then two into Trevor's hole. Trevor moans, and his dick twitches and spurts precum all over Jeremy's belly. Jeremy reaches up and grips the base of Trevor's dick, forestalling his orgasm. Trevor's head falls forward and he curses, rutting against Jeremy's hand to try and get something, but Jeremy won't give him anything.

Ryan works him open, and Trevor, in desperation, fucks Jeremy hard and fast with his hand while playing with his dick, until Jeremy's cumming into his hand panting and moaning. Ryan pulls him back, nestles the hot head of his cock between Trevor's cheeks. He takes over for Jeremy, wrapping his hand around the base of Trevor's dick and squeezing tight enough to keep him from cumming.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Fuck, please," Trevor whimpers.

"Kay," says Ryan.

The first half inch makes him scream, so loud that it wakes up Michael and Gavin, and then Ryan pulls him down slowly, inch by inch, until Trevor's sitting on his hips, jaw slack and tongue lolling. Jeremy watches, leaning back on the couch and playing with his own dick. Ryan fastens his mouth on Trevor's neck and wraps his fist around the head of Trevor's cock. Trevor's drenched in sweat, blitzed out of his mind, head spinning and mouth filled with the taste of peach moonshine.

"C'mon, Ry, don't make him wait anymore," Jeremy teases. Ryan sucks a hickey into Trevor's neck, making minute adjustments of his hips and letting Trevor squirm on him. Ryan unfastens his mouth with a loud, wet pop.

"He's gonna cum in about two seconds, I'm just givin' him a couple more," Ryan says.

"Don't want—I don't—I want you to fuck me, please, please," Trevor begs.

"Yeah, you've been good enough," Ryan says.

He doesn't waste any time being slow. He grips Trevor's hips in both hands and holds him in place while he slams up into him, fast hard thrusts that leave Trevor gasping and reeling. He jacks himself because nobody's stopping him, and he's so close now with Ryan fucking him like that, hot and full, but then somebody grabs his wrist and moves his hand aside. Before he can even complain, before he can beg, Jeremy pushes him down onto Ryan and straddles him, and with the next upward thrust of Ryan's hips Trevor is buried balls-deep in Jeremy again. He cries out, and his whole body convulses, and in one-two-three-four-five more fast, heavy thrusts, he's cumming into Jeremy and his vision clouds over with sparks.

Ryan keeps fucking him, even while he goes hypersensitive all over, and Jeremy keeps riding him and letting the momentum of Ryan's thrusts fuck him with Trevor's cock. Trevor just hangs on for dear life, clutching anything he can get hold of, until finally Ryan buries himself in Trevor and moans and fills him with hot cum. The three of them stay there for a moment, panting and sweat-soaked and all joined together. Ryan runs a hand through Jeremy's hair and kisses him slow, and then turns Trevor's head and kisses him, too.

"Thanks for letting me borrow him, Ryan," Jeremy mumbles, nuzzling Trevor's neck.

"Mm-hm," says Ryan. "Thanks for playin' along."

"You two," Trevor says weakly, "are . . . are. . . ."

"What?" says Jeremy.

"A hell of a team," Trevor says.

Chapter Text

The lead-up to Michael is half the fun.

It starts during a game of Forza, when Michael snarls out a you fucking cuck at Ryan when Ryan screws him over just before the finish line.

"Oh, yeah?" Ryan says, laughing. "I mean, only if Trevor's all right with it—"

"Shut the fuck up, you piece of shit!" Michael retorts.

"I'm cool with it," Trevor volunteers, just in case they aren't joking.

Michael just mutters obscenities and Ryan just laughs, and after a second Trevor decides he's probably supposed to be laughing, too.

Until two days later, when Ryan's poking fun at Michael for something or other and pushes it one line too far.

"Shut the fuck up, Ryan!" he barks, slamming a fist down on the arm of the couch. "I'm gonna fuck your shitty boyfriend right in his fat fucking face!"

Ryan folds over laughing. Trevor quietly pulls a pillow into his lap and stays very quiet in the hopes that nobody will notice his face turning red.

And then the day after that, they get into an argument over some pop culture trivia, and just when Trevor thinks Michael's head is going to pop off Michael grabs Trevor by the throat and shoves his tongue into his mouth. Trevor goes hot from his scalp to his toes, stiffens in more than one way. Sweat prickles on his skin. Michael's mouth tastes like cheap whiskey and cinnamon, his hand dizzyingly tight around Trevor's throat.

"Hey," Ryan whines.

Michael breaks off, but he has eyes only for Trevor.

"You like that?" he growls. "Like gettin' a little roughed up?"

Hhhhh, says Trevor. Ryan's watching, and Jack's watching, and even though Gavin and Geoff and Jeremy are out, it still feels like too many eyes at once. He hasn't quite recovered from the last team-building exercise.

"Whatever," Michael says, dropping him on the instant. "Ryan, you're still a piece of shit."

"No I'm not," Ryan says, pouting.

Michael just snorts and walks away. Gingerly, Trevor touches his own throat, licks his lips. Ryan scoots over to him.

"Hey," he says softly. "You okay?"

"I—yeah," says Trevor. "Yeah yeah, just . . . I mean, y'know. A little. . . ."

"Too much too fast?" Ryan guesses.

"Yeah," Trevor says sheepishly.

"I'll tell him to lay off," says Ryan.

"No no, no, don't—it's just—" He glances around, at Jack in the kitchen, at the front door where Gavin and Geoff and Jeremy could be back any minute. He squirms. "I don't know if I really wanna do stuff, like . . . in front of everyone. Right—right now. At this . . . point."

"Gotcha," says Ryan. "I'll pass that along."

"Thanks," says Trevor. Ryan kisses his cheek and chucks him on the shoulder.

"'Course," he says. "I'm not a total piece of shit."


 

About a week after that, he and Ryan and Michael are alone in the penthouse while everyone else runs errands. Ryan pops out to replenish their diet coke supply, and for a while, Michael and Trevor do not talk.

"Hey," Michael says at last.

"Uh-huh?" says Trevor.

"You feel like gettin' fucked?"

Trevor blinks. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, trying to find the words.

"You mean like . . . right now?" he asks.

"Yeah man, fuck it. I got all this sweet shit to use on you and it's been makin' me horny as fuck."

"Sw—uh," says Trevor, going red in the face. "Is—what—"

Michael shrugs. He looks more annoyed than anything.

"Ryan said you liked gettin' teased, so I got some handcuffs and a cock ring and a gag, 'cuz Gavin's not into that shit."

Trevor swallows. He shifts his position to alleviate some of the building pressure between his legs.

"That . . . sounds good," he says. There's a squeak his his voice. Michael looks at him and smirks an evil little smirk.

"Said you liked dirty talk, too," he says. "So you want me to call you a little bitch while I fuck your face?"

His breath catches, his heart skips a beat. He fidgets some more.

"Sure," he says, somewhat breathless.

"Good, 'cuz you are a little bitch," says Michael. He slaps his knees and gets to his feet. "C'mon, bitch, I wanna get you fucked up before Ryan gets back."

Oh, boy. Trevor gets to his feet and follows Michael back to the bedroom, already walking a little funny. The moment they get inside, Michael grabs Trevor by the arm and shoves him down onto the bed.

"Strip," he orders. "And if you gotta piss, go do it now, I ain't cleanin' that shit up."

Trevor nods and starts fumbling with his shirt buttons. Michael leaves, slamming the door behind him. Trevor wriggles out of his shirt, jeans, underwear, leaves them in a pile at the foot of the bed. He leans back on the pillows and bites his lip. He's already plenty hard, flushed pink and pretty, but he touches himself anyway. He keeps his hand slow and too-gentle, makes himself twitch and curl his toes. It's a little chilly to be stripped naked and alone, but at least the sheets are soft.

Michael returns with a black plastic bag and once again slams the door. Trevor jumps, yanking his hand back from his dick like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Michael crosses to him and grabs his wrist.

"Bad," he says. "No touchy your dicky, that's my job."

"Sorry," Trevor says, choking on laughter.

Michael yanks his wrist over to the bedpost and retrieves a pair of handcuffs from the bag. They're padded leather, and when he straps one cuff around Trevor's wrist, it's snug. Michael cuffs the other one to the bedpost, then climbs up onto the bed and straddles Trevor.

"Not sorry yet," he says, and pulls out another pair of handcuffs. He grabs Trevor's other hand and Trevor, in the spirit of the thing, bucks his hips. "Hey, bad! Hold still, dumb bitch."

"No," says Trevor, and tries to buck him off again.

Michael slaps him across the face, just hard enough to sting. Trevor goes stiff with shock, and while he's scrambled, Michael cuffs his other hand to the other bedpost, leaving him spread-eagled.

"Color," Michael barks.

"I—green?" Trevor guesses. "Green. Yeah. Um."

Michael sits back on Trevor's hips and folds his arm.

"Pick a safeword, bitch," he says. Before Trevor can answer, he reaches back into the bag and comes up with a ring gag, dangles it in front of Trevor's face. "And make sure you can say it with this on."

"Uh," says Trevor. "I—how—I could just snap three times, that's—does that—"

Michael gestures at his hand. Trevor snaps three times.

"Works for me, now open up," Michael says, snapping the leather bands of the gag taut between his hands. Trevor's hips push up against Michael of their own accord, a shock of arousal bursting through his chest.

The moment Trevor opens his mouth, Michael shoves the gag in with the ring horizontal. It flips right-side up when Michael fastens the clasps behind Trevor's head. While he's leaned in, Michael kisses Trevor, pushing his tongue in through the cold metal of the ring. Trevor jerks at the restraints as his eyes roll back in his head. Michael puts his hand around Trevor's neck again and squeezes until moans come out.

"Yeah, that's the stuff," Michael murmurs, watching while Trevor's face goes taut and swollen.

Trevor moans again and presses his tongue to the ring, rolling his hips against nothing. Michael releases his grip and oxygen floods back to Trevor's brain, clearing out the roaring in his ears and pulling his eyes back into focus. Michael leans back in and runs his tongue around the inside of the ring gag, licking Trevor's tongue.

"You're gonna look so good choking on my fucking cock," he says.

"Hnn," says Trevor, hazy and hungry. He swallows, and Michael squeezes his throat again, and Trevor ruts against air, whining.

"Hmm, missing somethin' here," Michael says. He glances back over his shoulder at Trevor's cock and snaps his fingers. "Ah-hah! That's right, Ryan's got that dumb little rule about nobody getting to make you cum but him."

"Nn-hn," says Trevor, nodding. His chin bumps Michael's hand, which isn't squeezing too hard, but which still hasn't let go.

"Yeah, well I'm gonna be fucking you way too good for that," says Michael. "And you're a thirsty little cumslut, so we're gonna make sure you follow the rules, whether you like it or not."

Trevor lets out a shaky breath and nods again. Michael lets go of Trevor's throat and scoots back along his body. Trevor moans when Michael rubs up against his cock, and Michael clicks his teeth.

"See, I knew it," he says, fishing around in the black plastic bag. "Can't be fuckin' trusted."

He pulls out a shiny brass ring and a bottle of lube, keeps talking while he slicks it up.

"Even when Ryan gets back, I'm not gonna let him fuck you," he says. "He's just gonna watch. But you bet your tight little ass, he'll get off on it. You want that, slut? You wanna watch Ryan get off on me fucking you?"

Oh, God, what an image that is. Trevor's hips twitch at the thought of it, at the thought of Ryan's eyes all over him while Michael wrecks him from behind. He's so caught up in it that he yelps when Michael drags a cold, lube-slick hand down his cock.

"Hey, lover-boy, eyes on me," Michael snaps. He jacks Trevor's cock a couple times, roughly, smearing lube all the way up and down its length. Trevor moans and lets his head fall back, rutting into Michael's hand. Michael slaps his hip and leaves a stinging handprint.

"Quit," he says. "Hold the fuck still, you nasty little slut."

Trevor presses his hips down to the bed and fights to hold himself still as Michael continues jacking him off. He trembles with the effort, moaning around the gag and pressing his tongue through it to wet his lips. Michael's hand is strong and firm, building a heat in Trevor's belly. His moans start to rise in pitch, his hands flex and clench and his toes curl. Wordless pleas tumble from his mouth, garbled by the gag.

"You sound so fucking stupid," Michael says, laughing at him. "Unh nuh huh guguh duh, you fucking idiot, use your goddamn words."

Trevor just moans, his back arching as Michael drags him top-speed towards orgasm. When he's seconds away, leaking precum and twitching all over, Michael slips the cock ring over the flushed head and pushes it all the way to the base. Trevor's voice shoots up to a glass-shattering whine, and Michael laughs as Trevor fucks uselessly into his hand.

"I fuckin' told you," he said. "Can't fuckin' help yourself, you dirty bitch. You'd cum for anybody, wouldn't you?"

Trevor nods frantically. The heat is unbearable, his whole body drawn tight and blistering, and he can't stop rutting against Michael's hand even though it's starting to hurt with how sensitive he is.

"Bad and naughty," Michael says. He jacks Trevor's dick a couple of times, and the sudden forceful contact makes Trevor yelp.

And right just about then, the door opens.

"Oh," Ryan says.

Trevor freezes. His heart leaps into his throat. He doesn't dare to look. Michael rubs the head of his dick with his thumb and he can't help but squirm.

"The fuck're you lookin' at?" Michael demands.

"I leave for ten minutes," Ryan says, exasperated.

"And you got back just in time, 'cuz I was about to start fucking your boyfriend's fat face."

"Am I invited?"

"You're invited to sit down and shut the fuck up," Michael retorts.

"Oh," says Ryan. He sounds pleasantly surprised. "Well okay then."

Michael climbs up Trevor and wedges both calves under his shoulders. He fists a hand in Trevor's hair and pulls his head up. Trevor whines at the loss of contact on his dick, writhing from the shoulders down.

"God, you're such a squirmy bitch," Michael says, unzipping his jeans and tugging his cock out. "Gonna fuck you 'til you fucking choke. Gonna fuck you 'till you pass the fuck out."

With the gag in his mouth, he can't really say please, but he gives it a good fucking try. Michael snorts and strokes himself, resting the head of his cock on the ring gag.

"I fuckin' hate those dumbass noises," he says. "You sound so fuckin' gross. Ee, ooh, what the fuck are you, a fuckin' monkey? Shut the fuck up."

"Unh," Trevor says.

"Shut the fuck up," Michael insists. He tips his hips forward and slides the head of his cock through the ring. Trevor licks up the slit and Michael shudders. "Nnh, fuck, that's good."

So Trevor does it again, and watches Michael tip his head back and bite his lip. Next he traces the inside of the ring with his tongue, circling Michael's head.

"Shit, fuck, you're so fucking wet," says Michael. "Such a fucking wet hot mess, I'm gonna fucking cum all over your goddamn face."

Trevor licks at him again, and Michael pushes into his mouth, an inch in, half an inch out, deeper and deeper. Trevor rolls his tongue against his cock, feeling out every inch of him while drool leaks from the corners of his mouth. Michael's head pokes him in the back of the throat and he gags.

"Fuck, not even halfway, you little bitch," Michael says. "You gonna throw up if I fuck your throat?"

"Mm," says Trevor, his brows pulling together.

"Useless fucking slut," Michael says. He grabs Trevor's hair in both hands and, with no build-up at all, starts fucking his mouth in fast, short thrusts.

Trevor sucks in a breath through his nose, tugs at the restraints as he tries in vain to brace himself, to take back any control. Michael grunts and pulls on his hair, changes his angle to hit more of Trevor's tongue. His knees pinch against Trevor's neck and shoulders, his heels dig into Trevor's ribs. Michael fucks him like he's nothing but a toy, and fuck, it's good. Trevor whines and moans, his eyes roll back in his head as he gives up trying to have any control. Michael thrusts deep and shoves the head of his cock into Trevor's throat, chokes him, forces sudden stinging tears to his eyes, and then backs off shallow again, taking him, using him.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" Michael taunts. "You like it when I fuck you in your dirty whore mouth?"

Trevor moans again, presses his tongue up against where Michael's cock is sliding in and out. Michael curses under his breath and then pants out a laugh.

"You fuckin' like it too, don't you. Fuckin' cuck."

Trevor's eyes slide open, smeary with tears. Out of the corner of his vision, he can just barely make out Ryan, settled into the armchair and—

And touching himself, legs spread, eyes on Trevor, and it's so fucking hot that Trevor would be cumming all over himself if it weren't for the cock ring. As it is, he just moans and digs in his heels and arches so far off the bed he nearly touches Michael's back.

"Squirmy bitch," Michael pants. He shoves himself into Trevor's throat again, moans long and loud while Trevor chokes. "Fuck, you look so good, you look so fucking good—"

Trevor laves Michael's cock with his tongue, lifts his head to keep him in his throat, and Michael curses again and thrusts fast and shallow while Trevor's throat clenches around his head. Trevor can't breathe and his nose is running and his eyes are streaming tears, but he'll choke himself to death if it means making Michael cum in him like this.

Michael pulls back and Trevor gasps in a breath. He keeps fucking Trevor's mouth, more sloppily, faster, faster, and Trevor sucks as much as he can with the ring gag breaking the seal of his lips, and the noise of it is filthy, wet and slick, and the sound of Michael's cursing mingles with the sound of Ryan moaning under his breath.

Suddenly, Michael pulls out, drops Trevor's head and jacks himself so fast his hand blurs. With a protracted moan, he cums all over Trevor's face, hot and slimy. About a third of it goes in Trevor's mouth and coats his tongue with the taste of salt. Michael sits back heavily on Trevor's chest and admires his work, breathless and grinning.

"Fuck, now that's art," he says. He leans over on one elbow, casually reaches back and strokes Trevor's aching cock, slowly, almost idly. "That's so fucking hot, I'm gonna have to fuck you again."

"Jesus, Michael, you're gonna kill him," Ryan says. Trevor looks over—although one eye has to stay closed because there's cum all over it. Ryan's still sitting in the armchair, stroking himself just as slowly and lazily as Michael's stroking Trevor. His cheeks and lips are red, his eyes bright with arousal.

"Yeah?" says Michael. "He'll fuckin' die lovin' it. Won't you, you little cumslut?"

"Nn-hn," says Trevor, nodding emphatically. He pushes his hips up against Michael's hand, and Michael promptly lets him go.

"Good. I'm gonna go get somethin' to eat, and then I'm gonna come back and fuck you again. Don't go anywhere. And Ryan?"

"Mmhm?"

"If you fuck him, I'll fucking kill you."

"Me? Fuck Trevor? When have I ever, Michael. I'm insulted you'd even say such a thing."

"Piece of shit," Michael says. He rolls off of Trevor and off of the bed, tucks himself back in, and saunters out.

Trevor lets his head fall back against the pillows, whines and fidgets in a futile attempt to quell some of the aching lust in him. After a moment, someone sits down on the bed next to him.

"Got somethin' on your face, there," Ryan says.

He wipes the cum off Trevor's face with a tissue, then reaches around and unfastens the gag. Trevor works his jaw and wriggles his tongue, and Ryan leans in to kiss him, long and deep and hot. Trevor moans into his mouth, and Ryan tickles his nipple.

"Please," Trevor gasps, squirming. "God, no, you'll kill me for real, c'mon."

"Nah," says Ryan. He brushes his fingers over Trevor's chest, his ribs, his cock, and Trevor writhes, pleas spilling hoarse and useless through his swollen lips.

"Ryan—Ryan, please, please, I want—I can't—aah, God, I need y—I need—I wanna—"

"Ah, but Trevor, I can't fuck you," Ryan laments, rolling his eyes. "Sorry, pal."

"Ryan," he whines, as Ryan touches his cock again and his whole body spasms.

"Ooh, Michael gotcha all lubed up, huh," says Ryan. "Mm, now—Michael did say I couldn't fuck you. He didn't say you couldn't fuck me. Hm?"

"Oh my God," Trevor breathes. He pulls on the restraints, pushes at the covers with his heels and rolls his hips. "Oh my God, please, Ryan, please."

Ryan chuckles and kisses him again. Trevor whines and pants as Ryan slips out of his clothes and climbs up on top of him, skin against skin. Trevor tugs hopefully at the restraints, rutting up against him.

"Hahah, no," says Ryan. He empties out a couple fingerfuls of lube and reaches around behind himself, then winces. "No-hoh, I'm not gonna mess up all Michael's hard work."

"Y—but," Trevor stammers. "But—but I wanna—"

"Mm, and you will," Ryan promises. He makes some faces, shifting his hips. The slick sounds of him prepping himself are obscene. "But I'm not gonna mess up Michael's stuff. He gets mad if I do that."

"Ryan, I wanna cum in you," Trevor whines. "Please, please, I want it so bad."

"Nah," says Ryan, grinning. "You—nnh—you can't always get everything you want, baby. Spoil you rotten if we did that."

Ryan wraps a hand around Trevor's cock and slides over it, replenishing the lube, going too slow, being too gentle. Trevor ruts against him and Ryan lets go, only puts his hand back when Trevor's hips fall back to the bed. His own cock is swollen, precum beading at the head as he fuck himself on his fingers.

"Y'gonna fuck me good, Trevor?" he asks.

"Yes, yeah," says Trevor, breathless. "So good, Ryan, I'm—I'll be so good for you."

"Mmhm," says Ryan. "If you're real good, I'll let you cum in me, mmkay?"

"Okay," says Trevor, straining against the handcuffs, against Ryan's weight on his hips. "Okay, I'll—I'll—"

"Once Michael's done with you," Ryan adds wickedly.

Trevor whimpers.

Ryan grins and licks his lips. He positions Trevor's cock with one hand, spreads himself with the other. Slowly, he eases himself down, and he's so tight that for a moment Trevor thinks he won't fit, but then Ryan grunts and pushes a little and Trevor's head sinks into him and they both moan aloud.

"Fuck, Ryan," Trevor gasps. "Oh, fuck, you're so tight."

"Never been a patient kinda guy," Ryan says, equally breathless. Slowly, grunting and panting, he fucks himself down onto Trevor, until the cock ring presses against his hole and Trevor's whole length is squeezed inside him.

"Are you—you okay?" Trevor asks. "I don't wanna—if you need to—"

"Yeah yeah, just gimme a sec, just a sec," Ryan says, bracing himself on Trevor's hips. He breathes deep, shifting his weight, adjusting his position. Every slightest movement sends shockwaves rippling through Trevor's body, every twitch of muscle against his cock makes his eyes roll back and his jaw slacken.

"Wanna fuck you," he mumbles, almost to himself. "Wanna fuck you so good, Ryan, I wanna make you scream. . . ."

"Yeah baby, yeah," says Ryan. He rolls his hips against Trevor's, makes him gasp and twitch. "Y'want me to ride you? Since you're all tied up."

Trevor pushes his hips up, and Ryan rolls with the motion, and it's fucking incredible. Trevor moans, and Ryan lets out a shaky breath, digging his fingers into Trevor's sides.

"Please," says Trevor. "Please, yeah, I wanna make you cum."

"Yeah you do," says Ryan, smirking. He lifts himself up and sinks back down, slowly, feeling out the motion and the length of Trevor's cock. Trevor watches him, breathless and sweating, raises his hips to meet him with just the slightest forward push. Ryan makes a quiet, pleased noise and bites his lip.

"'S that good?" Trevor asks.

"Real good," says Ryan. "Almost got the sweet spot. C'mon, try again. Little sharper, little more up."

He lifts up again, all the way to the head of Trevor's cock, and sinks back down. Trevor snaps his hips up to meet him. Ryan throws his head back and arches, moaning.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he says, his voice rusty with longing. "Yeah, just like that, baby, just like that."

They go again, and again, slowly getting faster. Trevor hits Ryan's prostate maybe one time in three, but it's enough, enough to get him moaning and sweating, enough to make him ride Trevor faster and faster until he's bouncing on his cock, making the springs squeal in a quick and breathless rhythm. Trevor's whole stomach is on fire, a zillion too many crunches with no training, but he'll be damned if he's going to stop before Ryan's squirting all over his belly, before Ryan's screaming his name—

Once again, the door opens. Trevor fumbles his rhythm, and Ryan looks over, startled and panting.

"You fucking cunt," Michael snarls. He storms across the room and grabs Ryan by the arm. Ryan laughs, manic and breathless.

"Hi—hi Michael," he says. He rolls his hips against Trevor and presses a moan out of him.

"I fuckin' told you not to fuck him!" Michael says, shaking Ryan, but Ryan just keeps laughing, high on sex and passion.

"I didn't!" he says. "I didn't, I'm not! He's fucking me, see, so it's—"

"Oh, you wanna get fucked, Ryan?" Michael demands. "You wanna get fucked right now?"

"Yeah," Ryan breathes, grinning.

"Good," Michael says. He hauls Ryan off of Trevor, and the loss of contact is enough to make Trevor scream. He's permanently stuck on the edge of orgasm, hotter than hell and aching all over, dizzy and breathless and wanting.

Michael slams Ryan face-down on the bed, kicks his feet apart and unzips himself roughly. Ryan lets out another breathless laugh. Michael spreads his cheeks with both hands and slams into him so hard it scoots the bed half an inch. Ryan gasps and clutches the sheets with both hands, eyes flying wide open and back arching like a bow pulled taut.

"You wanna get fucked, I'll fuckin' fuck you," Michael says. He pulls back slow and then rams into Ryan again, drawing another gasp. "If you can't keep it in your fucking pants for a goddamn hour, can't do one fuckin' thing like you're supposed to—"

Another rough thrust, another gasp. Ryan's mouth hangs open, his eyes flutter half closed—but they turn to Trevor, and meet his gaze, and Ryan's slack mouth curls into a smile.

"Don't wanna do what I'm supposed to," he says. "Wanna fuck."

"Fucking horndog," Michael accuses. He thrusts into Ryan again, and Ryan keeps watching Trevor. "You wanna fuck? Fine, if it'll fuckin' get you outta my way."

Michael strikes up a fast rhythm, wet skin slapping against wet skin as he bottoms out on every thrust. Ryan's eyes roll back, his spine arching. Trevor can only lie there and watch as Michael fucks him, and fucks him hard. Ryan drools into the covers, moaning on every thrust, and he looks so good like that, lust-drunk and stuffed full, twisting the sheets in his hands while Michael takes him over and over. Trevor whines and twists his hands in their cuffs, his cock aching and leaking a wet puddle all over him, so hot and so desperate that he's about to scream.

Ryan reaches out a fumbling hand, finds his thigh and then his cock, and jerks him off fast and clumsy while Michael keeps up his relentless pace. Trevor does scream then, through his teeth, bucking up into Ryan's hand because it's not enough, it can't be enough, and he tries to scrape the cock ring off like a dog with a box stuck on its head, but as fucked as Ryan is he's still not giving Trevor enough friction.

"Fucking—hands—off," Michael snarls, grabbing Ryan's wrist and twisting his arm behind his back. Ryan gasps, and Michael hauls him upright, bites his shoulder and reaches around to jerk him off while he keeps fucking him. Ryan's moans go high and breathless, and Michael fucks him clear through his orgasm, letting him spill all over the bed and his hand, and then shoves him back down on the bed and keeps fucking him.

"Michael, Michael, Michael," Ryan gasps, his feet kicking, hands grasping for nothing.

"Shut the fuck up," Michael says. He keeps going until, with three powerful thrusts, he cums balls-deep inside Ryan, shuddering and moaning. While his eyes are closed, Ryan reaches out and toys with Trevor's cock some more, playing with the head, fingers skating over the raw and aching length of it.

"Y'wanna stay and watch?" he asks, looking over his shoulder at Michael.

"Fucking . . . slut," Michael pants.

Ryan laughs, and Michael pulls out of him, sinks to the floor and strokes himself slow and easy. Ryan crawls back up onto the bed. He takes the head of Trevor's cock in his mouth and eases it in, sucking and massaging, and Trevor is writhing again in an instant, sweat-soaked, desperate. Ryan deep-throats him, takes him so deep his nose smushes into Trevor's pubes.

His teeth catch on the cock ring and tug it off as he slides off Trevor's dick, leaving it wet and wanting. Trevor gasps and bucks his hips, so desperate he's about to start crying again.

"Please," he says. "Please, Ryan, please, please—"

"Y'been good, don't worry," Ryan says. He crawls up onto Trevor and guides him in again. Trevor can feel Michael's cum leaking out, tickling against his shaft, and that alone is almost enough to finish him off. "Gonna let you cum in me, too."

"Thank you," Trevor says.

"C'mon," says Ryan. He bounces a little, encouraging. "'S gonna be real good for you."

"I want—I want you to—I want—" Trevor says. His hips twitch, even though he's trying so hard to hold still.

"Okay, baby, yeah," says Ryan. He sinks down on Trevor, hot and still so tight, and Trevor throws his head back and cries out.

"Jesus, he's loud," Michael remarks.

"Hush," says Ryan, sliding up and down on Trevor. "You fucked him up real bad, he's allowed."

"Uh-huh," says Michael.

"Fas—please, faster, I'm so close, I'm so close," Trevor says. "Faster, please, Ryan!"

Without a word, Ryan leans back and bounces on Trevor's cock, not as fast as he wants but plenty fast enough, moaning and twitching from overstimulation, and in seconds Trevor's cumming into him, too, a full-body spasm and a full-throated scream as all the built-up tension finally, finally releases. Ryan curses under his breath, sits still and lets Trevor fuck him through his orgasm. Finally, Trevor falls back, gasping for breath, softening where he's buried deep inside Ryan.

With a groan, Michael gets up off the floor and uncuffs Trevor's hands. They immediately reach out for Michael, pull him down and kiss him on the mouth. Trevor's never going to get used to how good it feels, having his dick in one person while kissing another. It's almost enough to get him hard again, especially with the sloppy, fiery way Michael kisses, especially with how hot and wet Ryan is around him.

"Hey," Michael says, pulling back. "You have fun?"

"Yeah," says Trevor. He lays a hand on Ryan's hip, plays with Michael's hair. "Yeah, lots of fun."

"Good," says Michael. "'Cuz next time Ryan leaves, I'm gonna fuck you for real."

Trevor thinks of how good Ryan looked, blitzed out of his mind with Michael slamming into him.

"Good," says Trevor.

Chapter Text

Ryan's out of town, and it's been, to say the least, difficult for Trevor.

While it was explicitly stated in their "contract" that Trevor is more than welcome to jack off (provided, of course, he doesn't do it with anyone), he doesn't want to. It'll make things more fun when Ryan gets back—they've already decided, via voicechat, that it's going to be a day-long event with pizza and bad movies and as many margaritas as Trevor wants. Like a bottle of good champagne or fine china, he's saving up his orgasms for the special occasion, thereby to make it all the more special.

Unfortunately, the whole damn crew fucks like rabbits.

The lads are the worst offenders by far, partially by virtue of getting the drunkest and partially by virtue of having the requisite stamina for it. Ryan's been gone two weeks and Trevor's already walked in on Michael and Gavin three times, Gavin and Jeremy once, Michael and Jeremy once, and all three of them twice—although technically, a few of those times it was less walked in on and more they just started fucking in front of him. There have been a couple times with Jack and Geoff, too, but they're either more discrete or less horny.

To be fair, they make it look good.

Still, every time Trevor gets to the point of rubbing one out, he stalls. He isn't thinking about Ryan, he's thinking about Michael or Jeremy or (increasingly) Gavin, and it doesn't feel right. So he takes a cold shower and thinks about dead puppies and never quite manages to get rid of the ache between his legs. Ryan's too busy to talk for more than an hour or so a day, and Trevor's too shy to start the conversation with hey, so phone sex, so instead he just promises himself that as soon as Ryan gets back they're going to fuck for a week nonstop and all this will have been worth it.

It's also, admittedly, because he likes the ache, likes how distracting it is, how easy it becomes to shock himself breathless with arousal. Any time he has a spare moment, his mind wanders to Michael's hands, Ryan's lips, Jeremy's tongue, and it's like a swift punch in the chest and he can't get enough of it. He's done two days' worth of work in the past ten and he couldn't care less. It's like there's this big shiny button in his head that just says HELL YES and he can smash it to his heart's content whenever he wants.

It feels so good that it must, somehow, be bad for him. He doesn't care much about that, either.

On Monday afternoon of the third week, Gavin corners him.

"Oy, Treycs," he says. "Got a proposition."

"Oh?" says Trevor.

"Yes, well, I've been thinking," says Gav, rolling up onto his toes. "And I have talked with Ryan about this, before you ask, so not to worry on that account, but I've been thinking how lovely it'd be to shag you senseless."

Which is exactly what Trevor hoped he'd say, but didn't dare to expect.

"I . . . am super down for that," says Trevor. "Did you have a . . . time? In mind?"

"Yeah, how's tomorrow?" says Gav. "My place, much nicer than here."

"Sure," says Trevor. "Um. You know about the—the thing, right? With. . . ."

"Yep, got it covered," says Gav. "I'll pick you up from work, if that's convenient."

Trevor blushes just thinking about it.

"Sounds good," he says.

Gavin gives him a cheeky grin. "Cheers, love," he says.


 

And Gavin does pick him up.

On a motorcycle.

"Hop on!" he says, grinning. He tosses a helmet to Trevor.

"Do you even have a license for this thing?" says Trevor. The helmet folds his ears in half when he shoves it on.

"A what?" says Gavin. He revs the engine. Everything about the bike says fast. It also says traction. It also says when did you last update your will?

"Forget it," says Trevor. He swings a leg over the bike and scoots up flush with Gavin's back, wraps his arms around Gavin's waist and clacks their helmets together. "We're gonna die before you get pulled over anyway."

"That's the spirit!"

He revs the engine again. The vibration goes straight to Trevor's dick, already half-hard from the last forty minutes of thinking about this meeting. He can't help but press against Gavin's ass.

"If you cum on my jacket," Gavin says, "I'm chucking you off the back."

Trevor doesn't get a chance to respond, because Gavin revs the bike about six times in a row and then pushes off while Trevor's trying not to swallow his tongue.

The bike is fast.

The streets of Los Santos blur, and wind whips at Trevor's flimsy dress shirt like it's going to tear it right off of him. Gavin swerves through traffic, takes corners at speeds that have Trevor pinching his knees in to keep them from being scraped off. He runs every. Single. Red light.

And yet, somehow, they pull up in front of a swanky skyscraper with all their bones intact and their organs still inside them. Trevor's knees barely hold him. By the time he gets the helmet off, Gavin's already sauntered up to the front door. Trevor staggers after him. The world has not un-blurred.

Gavin greets the receptionist with a charming smile, leads Trevor to a gold-plated elevator and uses a little gold key to activate the penthouse button.

The instant the doors close, he shoves Trevor up against the wall and kisses him.

Trevor moans into his mouth and hooks a leg around his waist, clutching at his shirt. Gavin ruts against him, drawing another moan. With everything Trevor's seen, he knows Gavin's hung, but it's something else entirely when it's pressing up against his cock, hot and thick even through two pairs of jeans.

"Ooh, you're thirsty for it, aren't you," Gavin purrs, slipping his hands under Trevor's shirt.

"Yes," says Trevor. Gavin keeps humping him, leaving him breathless. "Jesus, yes."

"Not to worry, love," says Gavin, trailing the words down Trevor's neck. He nibbles, and Trevor has to push him off because he's that close.

"I—just—wait," he says. "Wait. Wait. I'm s—I'm way too close. For that. Right now."

"Michael-boi was right, you are a little cumslut," Gavin says, smirking. Trevor goes hot from his hips to his scalp, clears his throat and tugs on his jeans to relieve some of the pressure.

"Well," he says.

The elevator slides to a stop, and Gavin leads Trevor out. As promised, his penthouse is much nicer than Geoff's, although for the most part it looks like a four-year-old did the décor. Trevor doesn't have time to appreciate it, because Gavin takes him straight back to the bedroom, which is another beast entirely.

There's a four-poster bed, a full-length mirror against the wall opposite. Gavin sets Trevor next to the bed and goes to the desk, waking up his computer with a flick of the mouse.

"Get undressed, Treycs," he says. "Oh, and there's a cheeky little cock ring in the nightstand for you, Michael did say you'd be needing it. Put on a condom while you're at it."

Trevor swallows and fights to control his arousal, dead puppies, dead puppies, dead puppies, as he takes off his jeans and his boxers and his shirt, as he finds the cock ring and the lube and the condoms. He gets the ring on as fast as he can, and really not a moment too soon. Once it's in place, snug and cold around the base of his cock, he steadies himself, breathes. Over at the computer, Gavin clears his throat.

"Ryan," he says. "Lovely Ryan, you there?"

"Reading you loud and clear." Ryan's voice is tinny, although it's probably more the fault of his microphone than the speakers. "Annnnnnd there's video. Oh~"

Trevor doesn't look. He's not ready for the face Ryan's making, not ready to see those eyes on him, nude and hard and flushed pink.

"Yeah, he's quite good, isn't he," Gavin says. Trevor's blush deepens.

"Hey baby," says Ryan, outrageous. "You doin' good?"

"Iiiiii am doin' good." His voice squeaks. He laughs. "Glad you could make it."

"Mm, me too," says Ryan. "You mind if I watch?"

"God, please," Trevor blurts. He puts a hand over his mouth. His face is so hot he's sweating.

"Aw, bless," says Gavin. There's a sound of snapping latex, and Trevor finally looks over.

Gavin's still by the computer, pulling on a second white latex glove. Ryan's up on the monitor, alone in a dark hotel room with his headphones in and a deliciously hungry expression. Trevor waves.

"Hi," he says, and then, to Gavin, "um. What's with the gloves?"

"Don't like mess," says Gavin.

"That . . . seems uncharacteristic."

"Don't like mess on me," Gavin amends, rolling his eyes.

"Okay yes, now that I can see," says Trevor.

"Gavin's a prissy little bitch," Ryan says.

"Excuse me for not enjoying the stink of dick and arse on my hands," Gavin sniffs. "Treycs, love, shall we?"

"I'm . . . ready whenever," says Trevor.

"'Course you are. Ryan?"

"Dick out, cum loaded," he says.

"Aw, eugh," says Gavin, wrinkling up his whole face. Ryan laughs.

"C'mon, it was funny."

"You're repulsive."

"That's not what you said—"

Gavin mutes him.

"Prick," he mutters. Dusting off his hands, he turns to Trevor. "I will put him back on, later. Once he's done being mingy."

"Okay," says Trevor, a hitch in his voice. He bites the smile off his face. "So, um. . . ."

Gavin comes to him, takes his face and kisses him again. The latex is cold and smooth on his face. He goes to rut against Gavin's leg and Gavin pushes him off.

"Not on my jeans," he says. He takes Trevor by the shoulders and turns him around, bends him over the bed. Trevor's breath catches, and he spreads his legs. Gavin presses against his ass, still fully clothed. Trevor moans and grinds back against him.

"Please," he says. "Fuck, please, for real though—"

"Little slut," Gav says, affectionate. He roots around in the nightstand, and there's some slick and rubbery noises. "We'll have a whale of a time, you and me. Been plannin' this for weeks."

Trevor shivers, arching his back. Gavin puts one hand on the small of Trevor's back, traces a fingertip down his crack to touch his hole. Trevor whimpers and backs up into it, but Gavin withdraws the finger before he can get anything.

"Ah-ah," he says. "Slow and steady, love. I can see why you and Ryan get on, but that's not how we do things here."

Trevor whines. Gavin teases his hole, smearing lube all over it. It's enough to make Trevor leak into the condom, rutting against the bed. When Gavin finally pushes his finger in, Trevor lets out a moan so filthy the sheets will need to be washed.

"God," says Gavin. "Let's have another one of those right away."

He curls his finger, and Trevor moans again.

"That's right," says Gavin. "Lovely, lovely Trevor. You're very good, aren't you. Very good for Gavvy?"

"Yes," Trevor gasps. "Yes, yes, I wanna be good, wanna be good for you."

"Bloody hell," says Gavin. He fucks Trevor with that one finger, slow and steady, as promised. Trevor clutches the sheets and bites his lip and arches his back, moans and whines and begs, but nothing he does will get Gavin to go any faster.

Gavin adds a second finger, wriggling it in after the first. Trevor's hips buck and bury them both up to the third knuckle, and if it weren't for the cock ring he'd be cumming all over the satin sheets.

"So eager," Gavin tuts. "And not even a thanks. Thought you would've appreciated a bit more, but if you don't—"

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you, please, it's so good, you're so good," Trevor blurts, desperate. Gavin laughs and resumes finger-fucking him, curling his fingers every time he pulls back and reducing Trevor to a gibbering wreck.

"You're going to be fantastic, I can already tell," says Gavin, while Trevor squirms on his fingers. "Going to look amazing on the end of my cock. That's a sight we can't deprive lovely Ryan of, now is it?"

"No—no no, can't—can't—"

"Are you agreeing with me, or—"

"Please I want him to watch you fuck me!"

"There we are," says Gavin. As an afterthought, he adds a third finger, and Trevor's eyes roll back in his head. "Wouldn't want to deprive you either, actually. Give us a mo'."

And then Gavin is gone, all three fingers slid out and no contact at all. Trevor bites the sheets to keep from screaming aloud, arching and pushing back against nothing. He doesn't have the coordination to get himself upright, barely enough to look back over his shoulder.

Gavin's still clothed, but his jeans are undone and his cock is out and—

Well.

Trevor supposes people like Gavin are the reason they make condoms in extra-large.

Gavin sees him looking and flashes a grin as he rolls the condom down over his length. He doles out another generous portion of lube into his hands and slicks himself up, slow strokes that make Trevor shiver and blush.

"Like what you see?" Gavin asks.

"Holy shit," Trevor manages.

Gavin winks at him. "Head down, love, if you don't mind."

Trevor puts his head down and focuses on breathing. He wonders if three fingers was enough stretching, if he's going to need more than that, if he should have done a more thorough cleaning and really flushed out everything this morning because he's not sure that Gavin's going to fit. It's a daunting prospect, he's never had anything longer than about four inches and certainly nothing that girthy, and most of it was his own dildo collection and not a real living human who was going to be fucking him.

Slimy latex hands close on his hips, and Trevor braces himself. Gavin presses his cock between Trevor's cheeks, lengthwise, like a New York hot dog in a bun. Trevor clenches on him, and Gavin ruts against him, a low hum in his throat. The hands slide up Trevor's sides to his shoulders, leaving snail-trails in their wake.

"I'd like you to see it, when I fuck you," Gavin says. His voice is a low purr that tangles Trevor's guts and makes his cock ache. "And Ryan would, as well. So once I'm in, we're going to have a waddle over to the mirror, if that's all right."

"Yeah," Trevor wheezes.

"Good," says Gavin. He leans down and kisses the back of Trevor's neck, then straightens up again. His hands slide back down to Trevor's hips, then to his cheeks. Gavin spreads him, tucks two fingers back in and works them in and out until the squeeze around his knuckles isn't so tight. Trevor focuses on breathing, focuses on staying relaxed. Gavin adds a third finger again, and Trevor tenses up.

"Shh, easy," says Gavin, fucking him slow and shallow. "We'll tease it in, love. Won't hurt a bit."

Trevor nods. His eyes fall closed, and he matches his breathing to the rhythm of Gavin's strokes. When the fingers pull out, Trevor whimpers, but only because he's so empty now, only because he wants it.

"Here we go," Gavin says. He sets the tip of his cock against Trevor's hole, and once again, Trevor pushes back against him. This time, Gavin lets him.

Three fingers was just barely enough.

Trevor's mouth falls open, his breath shudders out at just how wide Gavin's got him stretched. Gavin keeps his hands on Trevor's hips, steadying, murmuring encouragement and praise. He pushes until the head pops in and Trevor's hole tightens around him.

"Ooh, that's good," he says. "That's tremendous, love, you're tremendous."

"Yeah," Trevor moans. "Yeah, yeah."

"Sweet thing," says Gavin. He pinches Trevor's ass, and Trevor huffs out a laugh.

Gavin gives a tiny thrust, and all the breath goes out of Trevor again. Gavin fucks him slow and shallow, just the tip, until he gets his breath back.

"D'you want more?" Gavin asks.

"More," says Trevor. "Yes, more, I want more, I want it all."

"All right, one thing at a time," says Gavin. He steadies Trevor's hips, and on his next thrust, pushes in just a little farther. Trevor arches, encouraging, and on the next thrust Gavin goes farther still, always pulling back to the very tip, until finally finally finally his hips come flush with Trevor's.

"Fuck," Trevor whispers, more full than he's ever been. He can just about feel Gavin's cock nudging his stomach, it's so deep in him.

"Mm, couldn't agree more," says Gavin. He rolls his hips and Trevor almost passes out. "You're so hot, lover, you look so good like this. D'you want to see?"

Trevor nods. Gavin pulls back—and back, and back—until only his head is inside, and Trevor whines like a dog until Gavin pushes back in—and in, and in—and Trevor's drooling on the sheets with his tongue hanging out.

"C'mon, Treycs," says Gavin.

He leans down, sliding his hands back up to Trevor's shoulders, and the change in angle brushes his cock against Trevor's prostate and he gasps. Gavin chuckles, hooks his hands under Trevor's shoulders, and pulls him upright. Trevor can feel Gavin shift inside him, gasps three four five times in a row and squirms because it's so fucking good and he can't get enough. Gavin peppers his neck and shoulder with kisses, drags slick latex fingers over his nipples to make him squirm even more.

Gavin nudges Trevor's leg with his knee. When that doesn't get any response, he shoves. Trevor stumbles, and the two of them waddle to the full-length mirror. Trevor can barely see, can barely hold his head up, so he lets Gavin lead the way. The sensation is overwhelming, the constant little bumps and brushes against the sweet spot inside him, to the point that he's already moaning by the time they get to the mirror.

"God, you are a piece of work," says Gavin. "Look, love, have a look. Pick your head up."

Through a tremendous effort of will, Trevor raises his head.

He's shiny with sweat, flushed pink from head to toe. His cock is swollen and red inside the condom. The cock ring shines gold at the base, peeking out amongst his pubes. His knees shake, his mouth hangs open and his tongue is lolling. Every gasping breath presses his ribs out against his skin, makes his stomach swell and shrink. His pupils are so dilated with lust that his eyes look black.

And there, on top of the mirror, there's a webcam.

Trevor groans and tips his head back, baring his throat. Gavin leans in and kisses it, running his hands over Trevor's body. One hand wraps around Trevor's cock and jacks him slowly while the other continues exploring him, touching hip and thigh, stomach and chest, neck and shoulder. Trevor rolls his hips into the touch and fucks himself on Gavin's cock, and the blistering rush of sheer want nearly takes his knees out from under him.

"That's right," Gavin murmurs into his neck. "That's right, just like that, love."

"Un—un—" Trevor tries, but he can't get any farther before his hips roll again.

"Mm?" says Gavin. He settles his hand at the base of Trevor's cock and kisses his neck. "What?"

Trevor has to swallow three times before he can get any words out.

"Unmute Ryan," he says. "Please. Please. I want—"

"Oh, tits, I completely forgot," says Gavin. "Alexa, turn volume on."

There's a ding. Ryan's voice comes through the speakers.

"Thank you," he says, petulant.

"Sorry," says Gavin, who doesn't sound it.

"Trevor baby, you look amazing," Ryan says. "I was saying it for like five minutes, but somebody forgot to unmute."

"Mistakes were made," says Gavin.

"But you look good, like that," Ryan goes on. "You look real fuckin' good, all fucked up on cock. If I was there, I'd be suckin' you off, that's how good you look."

Trevor whines and pushes against Gavin's hand. Obligingly, Gavin resumes jacking him, although just as slowly.

"D'you want me to fuck you?" he asks. "Or d'you want to fuck yourself on me?"

What a choice.

"Ryan?" Trevor asks. His head is spinning. He can't get a real breath and he doesn't want one. "Whadda . . . whadda you wanna see? What d'you want, baby?"

"Fuck," Ryan hisses. "I'm spoiled. But I don't want you to have to work for it. I wanna watch him fuck you real good. You can even cum, if you wanna."

Trevor shakes his head.

"Waitin' for you," he says. "I'm gonna wait for you."

"Then I'm gettin' on a plane tonight," Ryan growls. Trevor's back arches, and he ruts against Gavin's hand again.

"Bloody lunatic," Gavin says. He rolls his hips against Trevor's in time with his hand. Trevor's head falls back on his shoulder. "Oy, no. Watch, love."

Struggling, Trevor pulls his head back up. He reaches back and grabs Gavin's hair with both hands, just to have something to hang on to. Gavin leans in and kisses his neck again.

"How long d'you need, Rye?" he asks.

"Zero time, have you seen him?" Ryan says.

Trevor is seeing himself, and he has to agree. His hips rock forward every time Gavin rolls against him, sliding his cock through the gloved hand. He's all stretched out and trembling, lithe, supple—it's a very fuckable reflection, especially the way his mouth hangs open all wet and red. Trevor disentangles one hand from Gavin's hair and sticks his fingers in his mouth, sucks on them until drool rolls down his knuckles and wrist.

"Fuck, fuck, I wanna fuck you so bad," Ryan says. There's an ache in his voice that makes Trevor burn, that coils arousal like a spring in his stomach.

Behind him, Gavin grunts and bites down on his neck. Trevor moans, presses his tongue up against his fingers and loves the heat of it, the wetness. Gavin pulls out an inch and then snaps his hips forward, and Trevor nearly bites his fucking fingers off.

"Oh!" he yelps. He flings out both hands and catches himself on the mirror, stunned. Gavin purrs and then repeats the maneuver, and Trevor yelps again, and then again, and again and again and again, and every time Gavin pulls out a little farther—but never any faster. Trevor locks his knees and elbows as Gavin slides both hands onto his hips to hold him steady as he slides all the way back to the head, leaves Trevor aching and empty, and then slams into him and shoves out another yelp.

"Gavin, fuck, Gavin," Ryan pants. "I'm—I'm real close, c'mon, I wanna see you—I wanna see you cum in him, please, I wanna cum to that."

"Well, if you insist," says Gavin, short of breath as well. "Brace yourself, Treycs."

Trevor does his best.

Gavin fucks him hard and fast, the full length of his cock every thrust, and moans spill out of Trevor's mouth with equal amounts of drool, dripping off his chin and fogging the glass. His cock and balls swing wildly until he catches them with one fumbling hand, jacks himself off while Gavin rails him. Ryan moans and pants into the microphone. The wet slap of flesh-on-flesh fills the room, the slick sounds of Gavin's cock going in and out of him, of Trevor's hand blurring on his own cock. He's on fire, he'd be spurting cum all down the mirror if it weren't for the cock ring, he wants it so bad he's going to die, even with—especially with—the image of Ryan jerking himself off, of Ryan sucking his cock on his knees while Gavin fucks him.

With a drawn-out moan, Ryan cums. Gavin curses and speeds his pace, slamming into Trevor so fast and so hard that he can do nothing but hang on until Gavin buries himself balls-deep in Trevor and cums, twitching and panting. Trevor screams through his teeth, and Gavin pulls him back up flush against him. He rolls their hips together, moaning into his ear as he works himself through his orgasm. His hand finds its way back to Trevor's cock, and the contact is so much, too much. Trevor squirms, and Gavin gasps and stills.

"All right, all right, too much, that's a bit much," he mumbles. "Sure you don't want to cum, love? God, but you're ready for it."

Trevor whimpers and fidgets—Gavin's still hard inside him, and fuck what a feeling, he never wants him to leave—and bites his lip, and nods.

"Wanna wait," he says, though there are tears prickling his eyes. "Wanna wait for Ryan."

"Baby, you don't have to," Ryan says, worn out.

"I wanna," Trevor insists.

"Okay, okay. I can be there in four hours, maybe less."

Four hours. Okay. Four hours he can do. He was expecting four more days.

"Please," he says.

"Four hours, I'll be up for another go," Gavin murmurs against his neck.

"Oh Jesus," Trevor whimpers.

Four hours, he thinks, is an eternity.

But it's gonna be so worth it.