Clover loved the complete abandon he could experience with Tank. He could let himself be reduced to his most pliant and submissive, because whatever happened, Daddy would watch out for him. He rolled his forehead over the wood with a grunt when Tank made another thrust, this time pushing his cock all the way in.
With his brain soaked in pleasure, Clover almost missed a movement nearby, and he stilled in surprise at the sight of Drake sitting on the carpet close enough to reach him if he chose to. His chest was working hard as he watched Clover getting fucked from behind, open lips and cheeks stained by a deep flush. Was it possible that he’d finally realized Clover wasn’t irreversibly shattered? That despite all that had happened, he still had the same sexual desires, and still craved Drake’s closeness? Apollo would not destroy their love, even if he left scars.
Clover raised his hand, about to touch Drake, but seeing him stiffen, he let it drop and focused on meeting Drake’s gaze instead. Behind him, Tank wasn’t holding back. The fat cock stabbed into Clover over and over while strong hands tightened on Clover’s hips to hold him still and make him into the perfect vessel for Tank’s spunk.
“You’ve been so brave, boy. You’ll get your reward,” he rasped and petted Clover’s back with long strokes of his palm. The caress had Clover shivering with pleasure, but he wouldn’t let go of the eye contact with Drake, who stared back at Clover with a deep flush sinking down his neck and under his clothes.
“I hope it’s your cum, Daddy,” he said between one moan and another, gripping the table. It excited him to say that, and Tank would surely love to hear it, but seeing the words ripple all the way to Drake was the cherry on top.
The black sweatpants couldn’t hide Drake’s erection, but when he finally reached out, he just stroked Clover’s hair in the gentlest way. It was only natural for Clover to turn his head and kiss the fingers.
The digits twitched, and for the briefest moment Drake looked like he might pull away, but instead, he cupped Clover’s face, caressing him with absolute tenderness while Tank sawed into Clover. Sinking his chest lower, Clover changed the angle at which Tank’s cock went in, and in this new position, the cockhead kept insistently dragging over his prostate, tugging him toward orgasm with each thrust.
“Oh, fuck yess!” His knees were getting weak, but he didn’t want to reach for his cock to jerk off, too excited about the steady touch to his prostate. He opened his lips, and once he caught Drake’s fingers, he sucked on them, imagining it was Drake’s cock, once again hot, stiff, and available to him.
“Don’t you just want to eat him up, Drake?” Tank whispered, never stopping his relentless rhythm. Clover could just imagine how obscene they looked like. Him—smaller, pale, long-limbed. Tank—big, tattooed and muscular, gripping Clover’s hips with those strong hands and he thrust his cock in time and time again.
Drake’s chest rose, and his gaze darted to Tank’s, holding it for the longest moment. “I just want to watch you two for now,” he said and stroked Clover’s tongue with his thumb when Tank’s dick hit Clover’s prostate that bit harder. The force behind the push had Clover trembling, his body balanced on the faint yet delicious edge between pain and pleasure.
Clover moaned around Drake’s finger, but there was no holding back. He was on the brink of orgasm, and it wouldn’t take long to push him over that edge.
“More for me,” Tank said, and every thrust he made had Clover moaning, on the verge of tears from the intensity of the fuck, but also because of Drake’s closeness. He hated the wall between them, and wanted nothing more but to tear it down.
“Suck on those fingers, boy. Show Drake what you’d love to do with his cock.”
So Clover did. He leaned in to take the thumb deeper into his mouth and sucked, but focusing became too hard when Tank fucked him so rapidly Clover’s thighs trembled.
He came all over the table but didn’t take his mouth off Drake’s finger even when he teared up from the emotions exploding within him. He was a sweaty mess, dissolving into goo all too fast, but Tank slapped his buttock.
“Hold your ass up, boy! I’m not done with you.”
“Yesh, Dwaddy,” Clover lisped, unwilling to let go of Drake yet desperate to communicate.
Warm arms pulled him in, and his cheek rested on a shoulder that had offered him so much comfort in the past. The scent of cigarettes clung to Drake’s hair, so he must have smoked after his shower, and Clover was sorry he hadn’t gotten to rub against his right hand, which also had that distinct aroma of nicotine.