Shane says “I have nothing to prove,” and, in Ryan’s opinion, that’s probably his first mistake. They’re watching some saucy rom-com, the three of them, and during the sex scene the guy goes off like a rocket way too early. Not that premature ejaculation is a joke, really, but Shane’s shoving popcorn in his mouth and laughing at how openly cringy the scene is, everything from the dialogue down to the camera angles.
“Don’t know why you’re laughing,” Sara smirks, and gestures with her can of soda water. “I seem to remember when we first started dating—”
“I was twenty-nine,” Shane interjects, matter-of-factly.
“Hey,” Ryan protests, shoving at Shane’s arm draped over his shoulder. “I’m twenty-nine.”
Shane peers down at him, grimacing. “Good lord, who let a child in here?”
“Fuck you,” Ryan wheezes, and pinches at Shane’s ribs, high up enough to have Shane squirming away from him, laughing as Ryan prods at him. “As if you never shot off too early.”
“Whatever,” Shane laughs, and he seems to be purposely avoiding Sara’s knowing looks. “I have nothing to prove now .”
“Fucking insufferable,” Ryan mutters, as he takes possession of the popcorn bowl, tugging it from Shane’s hands. On Shane’s other side, Sara scoffs quietly.
“We’ll get him, Ry. Don’t worry.”
“That sounds like a threat,” Shane laughs, reaching for the popcorn even as Ryan holds it aloft, away from him. “C’mere with that.”
“Mm, nah, you don’t deserve it.”
They manage to watch the rest of the movie with only some mild jabbing and giggling; it’s a mediocre flick at best, but Ryan’s there for the quality time and enjoys Shane and Sara’s commentary more than the actual plot. He especially appreciates Shane’s grip on his knee, and how he slips his fingers through the rips to stroke the skin.
The way Shane starts to get handsy as they’re tidying up before bed is incredibly predictable but not unwelcome. Ryan feels a hand in his back pocket as he’s loading up the dishwasher, and rolls his eyes.
“Call ‘em home, Mr. Stamina,” he jokes and feels Shane chuckle even as he pulls his hand back, but not before he gets a little squeeze in.
“I just... love when you bend over,” Shane teases, as Ryan straightens up. “Couldn’t help myself.”
“Oh-kay,” Sara breezes through with more dishes, handing them off to Shane, “We all know Ryan’s got an ass. Try not to cream your pants about it.”
“Oh I think he made it abundantly clear that’s not going to be a problem,” Ryan grins, and Shane narrows his eyes.
“I was kidding earlier, guys,” Shane says, and it’s almost a whine, like he knows this is the kind of joke that will be held against him now.
Sara, with her hands empty, is free to wrap her arms around Shane’s waist, peering up at him with her chin settled against his chest. Ryan slots the last of their dishes and cups into the dishwasher and closes it up, leaning against the countertop.
“I know,” Sara says, brightly. “But I was thinking… maybe Ryan and I could have a little fun with you tonight?”
Ryan feels something hot trickle down his spine, like a shiver but better. Interest piqued, he watches as Shane’s face goes through a myriad of emotions before settling into something a little curious.
“What kind of fun?” Shane asks, carefully. If there’s one thing Ryan’s learned since they began dating, it’s that Shane is pretty much down to try anything once, especially when Sara is leading the charge. Sara grins up at him, grabbing his hand and Ryan’s — Ryan trips a little, laughing as she leads them towards the bedroom.
Sara gives Shane a shove towards the bed, and he stumbles hard from the surprising amount of force contained within such a tiny body.
“Get naked,” she tells him, and Shane looks up at her, wide-eyed, from the bed. He starts scrambling to unbutton his shirt, and Ryan’s cheeks hurt from grinning so widely; it’s not often he gets to see Shane flustered like this. He looks over to Sara, who’s watching him over the frame of her glasses, something molten in her gaze.
“Me too?” he asks, and judging by the way she closes her eyes for a moment, she too is enjoying this little power play.
“I mean, I do enjoy it when you take your shirt off,” she says, voice low and gentle. Ryan grins, gripping the hem of his t-shirt, and pulling it up over his head. If he does it slower than usual, if he takes his time with it, well, that’s his business.
Shane, on the bed, kicks his pants aside, sits with his hands folded in his lap. He’s already getting hard, but obviously unashamed of it. Not that he has anything to be ashamed of.
“Okay,” he says, “now what?”
Sara gives him a once over, looking satisfied with the result. “Just sit there,” she says.
“And do what,” Shane presses, and Sara smirks, just very slightly. Enough that Ryan can see Shane’s throat bob as he gulps. She can be intimidating when she wants to be.
“Don’t come,” she says, sweetly, and Ryan thinks oh shit, feels his knees getting weak. Shane looks nothing short of shellshocked, leans back on his elbows with a heavy huff of air.
Sara then, smiling between the two of them, starts to shimmy out of her yoga pants.
“Fuck,” Shane hisses, his head dropping back, and Ryan reaches out to grab the hem of the t-shirt Sara’s wearing — another of Ryan’s, slightly too big on her — to help her out of it. He knows she rarely wears a bra at home, but he’s still floored and thankful whenever he’s reminded. He can’t resist ducking down to get his mouth on her, pleased when she giggles and sighs, slipping her arms around his shoulders. Shane, still on the bed, makes a strangled sort of noise, obviously desperate to join in but unwilling to move from where Sara has told him to stay.
Ryan lifts his kisses towards Sara’s throat, all the way up to her ear where he presses his lips and asks, “Okay, so what are we gonna do with him?”
He can hear the smile in Sara’s voice as she looks at Shane over his shoulder and sighs so softly.
“I wanna sit on him. Ride him nice and slow, tease a little. Tease him a lot,” she says, and then lets out a quiet moan. “Oh, Ryan, look at him. He twitched when I said that. Think he liked it.”
“You think talking about me like I’m not here is mean and nasty but, the joke’s on you, I’m totally into that,” Shane grits out, like they both don’t know exactly what he likes. Like they won’t purposely tease the living hell out of him.
Ryan does a half turn so that both he and Sara can look at Shane, who’s almost entirely reclined on the bed, knees spread and cock lying invitingly against his stomach, too heavy to stand.
Ryan kisses Sara’s cheek, his eyes still on Shane, kisses the shell of her ear too.
“I wanna see that,” he answers her, softly. “I’d like to help.”
Sara strokes his hair back from his face, cheeks round as she smiles even wider and breaks from their embrace to step towards Shane. Ryan watches as she climbs onto the bed to straddle Shane on her knees, over his hips, over his pretty, fat cock.
“Okay?” she asks him, and Shane nods. If he says anything, Ryan doesn’t hear it, even as he nears the bed too, sitting next to Shane and stretching out, lounging. He lets his knuckles drift along Shane’s ribs and Shane jerks, ticklish.
Sara reaches down to take his cock, giving him a gentle stroke as she lines him right up with her opening, but as Ryan thinks she might be about to sink down and take him inside, she stays kneeling upright, just rubbing the head of Shane’s cock through her folds and getting him wet.
Ryan, still in his jeans, rubs the flat of his palm over the tented front, briefly grips himself through the fabric before taking his hand away altogether. He barely brushes his knuckles against the outside of Sara’s thigh, just enough to get her attention as he briefly leans up to kiss her. Underneath her, Shane is starting to huff each time his cock slides just shy of her opening, twitching with the effort of restraining himself; Ryan knows were he in Shane’s position, he’d be fighting not to just thrust up into her heat, desperate for it.
“How ya doin’ there, Shane?” Ryan asks. He reaches out, placing his hand over Shane’s belly, feeling him tense up in frustration.
“Exasperated more than anything,” Shane replies, probably aiming for droll but coming out far more tense. “Maybe a little bored— oh, fuck .”
Ryan looks down, and Sara is grinning, biting into her lower lip as she slowly slips down onto Shane’s cock. Shane still rests on his forearms, though they shake noticeably as Sara starts to ride him, nice and slow as she’d promised.
Ryan’s quite content just to sit and watch for now; they make a pretty picture together. Shane seems to want to thrust upwards, to push up into each rolling motion Sara makes with her hips, and he appears to start once or twice, but then settles again as she presses her hand to his chest, as though that one touch from such a delicate little hand could hold his entire body still. Ryan hates to admit it, but he admires Shane’s resolve, his silent obedience.
“Still bored?” Ryan asks, and Shane hisses between his teeth, shakes his head.
“No, this is good.”
“I’m good,” Sara corrects him, and Ryan’s not sure what she does, but something makes Shane gasp and fall onto his back with a groan.
“God, yeah, Sara. So fucking good,” he whispers, as Ryan strokes his belly, slowly migrating up towards Shane’s chest. He scratches blunt nails through the sparse hair there, toying with his nipples a little. He can feel the way Shane’s lungs expand with every breath.
“Sounds like you’re getting close, Shane,” Ryan smiles. The noises they’re making are obscene, Sara’s pleased little sighs as she’s being filled, the wet sounds as he slides inside again and again. Shane rumbles out a moan now and again when he’s caught off guard, when something feels almost too good. But he’s holding it together infuriatingly well.
“Sara told me not to come,” Shane replies, so quiet that Ryan almost doesn’t hear it. “I can wait.”
“You’re doing so well,” Ryan agrees, “But I think she’s getting tired.”
Sara’s thighs are shaking. Ryan almost wants to get in there and help her, get his hands on her hips and lift her off Shane’s cock again and again until she comes.
Sara shakes her head, murmurs some kind of disagreement, but Ryan knows. He can see it on her face. Ryan’s hand on Shane’s chest slides upward even further, fingers tapping against the base of Shane’s throat. He feels a pulse fluttering under his fingers, and Shane breathes out heavily, shudders hard into the touch, almost — almost pushing into Ryan’s hand.
For a moment, it feels like a switch is flipped in Ryan’s brain, a bulb lighting up, throwing the whole picture into view: The way Shane likes when Sara sits on his face for just a little bit too long, or when Ryan presses his palms hard against Shane’s chest when he rides him. For want of a better phrase — Ryan connects the dots.
Slowly, carefully, he slides his palm up the column of Shane’s throat, until the joint of his thumb and index finger is nestled under Shane’s adam’s apple. He can feel the vibration of Shane’s moan under his palm, hears Sara’s quiet, breathy 'oh' over his shoulder as she catches on. Ryan pushes himself up over Shane and the movement most definitely puts a little pressure on Shane’s throat. Not enough to hurt him, or cut off his air just yet, but enough that Shane twitches, as Ryan sees the muscles in his belly jump, his thighs going taut under Sara.
“Aha, thought so,” Ryan says, fondly, and gives Shane a gentle squeeze around the throat. He’s not even sure if his technique is right, or if it’s safe, but he figures if this goes down alright he’ll have plenty of opportunities to research, and learn, and to practice.
“Fuck,” Shane hisses out, because he can still catch his breath between his teeth. He’s still trying so hard to last for Sara, but Ryan doesn’t even think the game they started is their main focus anymore. Shane has more than proved his staying ability, and now Ryan just wants to set him off, pop him like a champagne bottle.
“You know what she wants, Shane,” Ryan murmurs, glances back over his shoulder to look at Sara; she’s completely engrossed in her own pleasure, grinding on Shane the way she does when Ryan knows she’s trying to hit that sweet spot. “You could come in her now, I bet she’d love for you to fill her right up. Right, Sar’?”
“Uh-huh,” she murmurs, half gone, and Shane looks torn, desperate.
“I—” he starts, and Ryan begins to squeeze, fingers tight around Shane’s throat. And then he keeps squeezing, fighting his own instinct to let go. Shane’s hands are fisted in the sheets beneath him, but Ryan trusts he’d tap out if he needed it.
“You gonna come, Shane?” Ryan asks, and feels Shane swallow hard against the palm of his hand. “You’ve done so well. You deserve it.”
Shane shakes, and Ryan’s not sure if it’s the need for air or the need to come, but then Sara swears loudly as Shane bucks up into her, hard, almost unseating her as she moans, and Ryan realizes Shane is coming.
He lets go of Shane’s neck, and Shane gasps, swears hoarsely, groans. He’s still coming, so Ryan keeps his hand there, pressing lightly again as a reminder. Despite having done barely anything, he finds he’s panting over Shane. He’s so fucking hard it hurts. He can’t believe Shane just let him do this, that it made him come so hard.
“Fuck,” Sara says, quietly, and when Ryan looks back at her, she’s slowly lifting herself off of a sensitive, softening Shane. The sight alone makes him throb. Shane doesn’t react, his head tipped back and his arm thrown over his face as he catches his breath.
“Babe,” Ryan says softly, and she looks up at him, a little flushed. “You finish?”
“No,” she says, “Got pretty close.”
“Good,” Ryan sighs, admittedly a little selfishly, as he unbuttons his jeans, and shoves them down to his thighs, groaning as he frees his cock and it springs up, thick and flushed dark. “C’mere,” he says, even though Sara is already climbing over his legs — Ryan’s pretty sure she gets some of Shane’s come on his jeans, but he absolutely doesn’t give a shit. All he cares about is the way she takes him in, so slick and used and perfect, and Ryan can’t help it, rolls her over beneath him and uses the momentum to sink home hard and fast, pounding into her.
“Oh,” Sara gasps, surprised, “Oh, fff— fuck, Ryan.”
“Uh-huh,” he breathes, right against her lips. He can feel her hand moving desperately between them, rubbing herself off in time to his frantic, needy thrusts. It’s almost a joke how quickly Ryan’s going to come now, after making Shane wait for it, after teasing him so thoroughly. Sara hooks her leg around his lower back, dragging him in and crying out as she finally finds her release, and Ryan can feel her clenching around him, tight and hot and so already slippery with Shane’s come.
Ryan looks over, finds Shane looking right back at him — he’s still breathing a little hard, his throat mottled red and then slightly darker where Ryan must have dug his thumb in. Somehow, it’s the sight of that one purple bruise that sets him off, and Ryan pushes deep into Sara as she’s shaking through the last of her orgasm, hilts himself into her as he comes too.
It doesn’t feel like a regular Friday night with his lovers.
It’s never felt this— this filthy.
He loves it.
“Fuck,” he says, as he rolls off of Sara and into the space between her and Shane. It’s going to take him a while to catch his breath. “You two are gonna kill me,” he grunts.
Sara scoffs. “You kidding me? I just got— I just got double-loaded. I’m the one being killed here.”
Shane’s laughing, his voice all crackly in a way that makes Ryan’s lower belly ache, even though he’s spent.
“Plead the fifth,” Shane croaks.
Ryan laughs too, kicking his jeans the rest of the way down his calves and onto the floor. He can’t believe he didn’t even manage to get fully undressed for the whole thing.
After only a few minutes, Sara sighs quietly and sits upright.
“I have bathroom stuff to do,” she says. “Can one of you change the sheet? I don’t wanna sleep on that.”
Ryan gives her a thumbs up, rolling onto his side against Shane as he does so. Sara drops them both a kiss on the forehead and then does the awkward trying-not-to-drip-everywhere shuffle to the bathroom while Shane snickers.
Ryan hears the bathroom door click shut, and then the noise of the shower. He turns his chin to rest on Shane’s shoulder.
“Sorry if I sprung all of that on you,” he says, sheepish. “It wasn’t part of the plan.”
Immediately, Shane starts shaking his head.
“Fuck, Ryan, I’ve been— I’ve been wanting to ask you for weeks,” Shane chuckles, and Ryan’s completely gone for this new, rough quality in his voice. He sounds used.
“Well,” Ryan turns minutely to press a kiss against Shane’s shoulder, then leaning into his neck, where that delicious purple bruise is blooming. “Now we can figure it out. Do it again, maybe, but better.”
Shane grins at him, eyes tired, cheeks flushed.
“Wanna skip the sheets and join our girl in the shower?” Shane asks, with a devious little quirk of his eyebrow.
“Sounds like the perfect plan.”