Garcia Flynn was ninety percent sure he was going to die.
The thing was, when he’d agreed to this, he hadn’t really considered all of the consequences. He’d just thought, hell yeah, and then hadn’t thought about what all the rest of it would mean.
Now he had Lucy giving him little kitten licks all over his cock while Wyatt watched obediently because Lucy had told him to watch in that sweetly demanding voice of hers and Flynn was really, really, really going to die.
“You’ll want to start out with your hand wrapped around here,” Lucy said, taking Wyatt’s hand and wrapping it around the base of Flynn’s cock. Wyatt squeezed, because, well, Wyatt knew how to give a damn hand job, and Flynn was reminded of the fact that he was going to die.
Lucy flicked her tongue over his slit, peering up at Flynn through her lashes. “You’ll get good at learning when you have to squeeze because he’s close,” she said, speaking to Wyatt but pinning Flynn with her dark, teasing gaze. She leaned forward, swirling her tongue around the head, then sucked gently just at the tip.
Flynn’s hips jerked reflexively, and Wyatt reached up, using his forearm to force Flynn’s hips back against the wall.
Lucy smiled proudly. “Go on then.”
Wyatt gave her a split-second look of alarm, but then gamely tried himself. He was a little less coordinated, messier, but Flynn really didn’t give a fuck when he had Wyatt’s clear enthusiasm to make up for it. Wyatt slid his tongue up the underside from the base to the tip at Lucy’s instruction, sucking on the head, and Flynn’s legs damn near buckled.
“You literally signed up for this,” Lucy told Flynn, probably off of the strangled noise Flynn made in the back of his throat.
“I’m well aware of that,” Flynn shot back, because he had, and he wasn’t regretting it, but now Wyatt was running his mouth all over and sucking and licking, just exploring, and holy shit, Flynn was being reminded that knowing intellectually and actually experiencing were two very, very different things.
“Be sure to have fun with this,” Lucy added, and Flynn was going to kill her, absolutely going to kill her, because she was tugging lightly at his foreskin now, working her tongue underneath it, showing Wyatt how to make Flynn feel like stars were exploding underneath his skin. Precome leaked from the head of his cock and Wyatt, who was also getting a spot on Flynn’s must-kill list, squeezed him at the base with his hand, making Flynn pant and cutting him off.
Wyatt tried next, following Lucy’s example, and Flynn couldn’t help the growl in the back of his throat as he struggled to remember random historical facts, reciting American presidents, something to stave off the pressure he could already feel building at the base of his spine.
Lucy brought her hand up to slide it through the hair at the back of Wyatt’s head, gently tugging or guiding him as she saw fit. “Don’t go too fast,” she warned, because if they’d learned anything from this entire relationship it was that Wyatt Logan went from zero to one hundred and didn’t really seem to have any ability to slow it down or stop at, say, fifty.
Sure enough, the look on Wyatt’s face was a little too determined, and he sucked Flynn down as far as he could go. Flynn choked on his own spit, overwhelmed, even when he hit the back of Wyatt’s throat and Wyatt had to pull back, coughing, while Lucy said, “I told you so.”
The next time went better, Lucy tightening her hold in Wyatt’s hair as he started to sink down too far, murmuring instructions low in his ear—where to swirl his tongue, where to flick it, how to hollow out his cheeks and suck.
Sometimes Lucy would use her grip to pull him off and take over, demonstrating for him, her eyes flicking up to Flynn’s face warningly as her tongue and lips worked him. She was well used to all the ways he ticked by now, and it was all Flynn could do to keep himself from finishing this way too soon.
Then she’d pull off and tug Wyatt back, and the torture would start all over again.
Flynn kept a tight grip on the edge of the bed frame and the wall because otherwise he might collapse. Just a little. He wanted to jerk his hips forward, but Wyatt still had his damn forearm over Flynn’s hips, keeping him pinned.
Lucy looked up at him, winking. “You’re doing great, Wyatt,” she said, petting Wyatt’s hair. “Go as slow or fast as you like, play with the pace.”
Flynn glared at her. His part of the deal was essentially ‘stay hard until Wyatt knows what he’s doing’, but Lucy had apparently taken that as a challenge and was now making him regret promising anything.
Part of it, he had to admit, wasn’t the technique or the actual feeling of it. It was the fact that it was Wyatt. He loved Lucy on her knees and he loved getting on his knees for her, but this was a new experience. Wyatt hadn’t ever been with a guy before Flynn, and imagination could only take someone so far. Flynn and Lucy had been working him up to this, helping to give him the confidence. Now the sight of Wyatt—a proud man, a strong man, a man who could kill someone with his bare hands—willingly on his knees, doing this for Flynn, his lips red and wrapped around the head of Flynn’s cock… fuck if it wasn’t almost enough on its own to have Flynn blowing his load.
Lucy whispered something in Wyatt’s ear and Wyatt pulled off, only moving over the head, swirling his tongue before sinking down deep again.
“Fuck, Lucy,” Flynn warned as Wyatt pulled off again, licking another long stripe.
“What?” Lucy asked innocently. Wyatt pulled off completely and looked up at Flynn as well, adopting an equally innocent face.
“I hate you both,” Flynn groaned, tipping his head back so that it thunked against the wall.
“That’s my line,” Wyatt replied cheerfully, and then sucked Flynn all the way down.
“Fuck!” Flynn shouted, which caused Lucy to rise to her feet and grab the back of his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.
“Gotta be quiet,” she warned him, before kissing him again.
Flynn was panting helplessly against her mouth. Wyatt was a fast learner and as the seconds ticked by he grew more confident, even going so far as to explore more, biting at Flynn’s inner thigh, nosing at his balls, sucking a little, before returning to suck him down again.
He had no idea how much time had passed. Five minutes? Ten? Thirty? It felt like he’d been stuck like this forever, right on the edge, dealing with the exquisite torture of holding himself back as he was goddamn assaulted.
“How do you feel, Wyatt?” Lucy asked. Her hand, Flynn noticed, was still in Wyatt’s hair, and she used her grip to pull him back a little. “Think you’ve learned enough?”
Wyatt licked his lips and Flynn wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like. Wyatt flicked his eyes up to Flynn, down to the cock in front of him, then back up to Lucy. He gave a small, sly grin.
“Yeah, I think I’m good.”
Lucy looked up at Flynn, giving him a wicked grin, but it was to Wyatt she said, “Go on, then.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was not going to last long at all, and he almost whimpered a little when Lucy brushed her mouth against his. “You too,” she whispered. “Go on then.”
Flynn’s legs buckled a little as he came, everything whiting out for the span of a few seconds before he could catch his breath. Wyatt and Lucy helpfully kept him propped up, which really was the least they could do for pretty much sucking his goddamn brains out. Fuck, fuck, he was probably cursing up a storm and sounding like an idiot but he didn’t care, fuck, he really didn’t care.
He blinked down, clearing his vision, to see Lucy stopping Wyatt from wiping at his mouth. She yanked him to standing and kissed him instead, deep and filthy, and if Flynn had been about ten years younger this whole thing would have started all over again.
“Good job,” Lucy praised, giving Wyatt a final peck on the lips.
“Ten out of ten,” Flynn managed, which was probably the most words he was going to be able to speak for the next half hour.
Wyatt grinned at him, letting Flynn pull him in and kiss him. Apparently giving a blowjob activated Wyatt’s Zen, because he didn’t bite or get ferocious, just hummed happily and went pliant, letting Flynn kiss him as much and as deeply as he pleased, sucking the taste of himself from Wyatt’s tongue.
When he turned to kiss Lucy, however, he saw that she’d stepped back and had another gleam in her eye—the one Flynn had come to call her ‘I’ve got a plan’ gleam.
“Luce?” Wyatt asked, recognizing that look as well.
“Oh, you two thought we were finished.” Lucy’s smile widened. “We’re just getting started.”
Flynn couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. Hell. Yes.