Broken Compass

“Dammit, Nate.” Kash sprawls on his back, cock pointing up. He grabs it and strokes, his chest rising and falling fast. “Need to come.”

“Not yet, Blondie. Your turn to watch.”

“Fuck,” he pants, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I thought you said I was tired, and that you’d destress me.”

“I’m about to. Watch me. Watch closely, Goldie.”

“But…” He lifts his head to look, curiosity getting the better of him – and I take the opportunity to put my arms around both West and Syd. “Oh God,” he groans.

He can imagine perfectly well what I’m about to do. He knows me, and besides, guy has a filthy mind. He has no choice, living with us. We trained him well.

I lean in and kiss West, tasting Kash on his lips – mint and coffee and an undefinable, exotic spice. West slides his hand up to the back of my neck and grips me painfully tight. He and me, we can be that way with each other: savage, violent, testing each other’s limits. We grew up together sparring and running, and this sexual game is an extension of that.

He’s panting raggedly when I pull back, his hard-on hot and poking into my side. “Holy shit, Nate.”

“Yeah.” I grin at him like a cat and he’s the canary. “This is good.”

This is fucking awesome. And I’m so fucking hard right now I could push a nail through the wall with my dick. Tugging Sydney up against me, I kiss the ever-loving shit out of her and when her hand goes to my hard-on that’s swinging free of my pants, I groan in her mouth.

This is getting serious. My balls ache, heavy with the need to come, and my heart is racing. The air sizzles.

This girl is made of fire, and we’re just moths to her flame.

Kash makes a gasping noise. He’s gripping his dick in a white-knuckled hand, his hard-on impressive, the tip purple and wet. I love how he looks, so debauched and needy, so ready. But…

“Uh-oh. Hands off your dick, blondie.”

“What?” His voice is rough, his pupils so dilated he looks like he’s on drugs.

“Off.” I eye his dazed expression and make a strategic decision. “Tell you what. I’ll take it out of your hands.”

“Take what out of my hands?”

“Well, your dick, for starters.” I unthread my belt and scoot closer to him.

“Oh shit,” West breathes from behind me. Sydney moans.

Alarm enters that quicksilver gaze. “What are you doing?”

“Taking care of you,” I whisper. “Let me.”

He jerks when I grab his wrists but lets me tie his hands to the bedpost. I test the belt, to make sure I haven’t cut off his circulation.

I’m new to this, but I’ve read about it and I’m pretty confident, at least when it’s small things like tying one my lovers to the bed. “Comfy?”

His lashes flutter. His leanly muscled chest is on full display, the ink on his arms stark, his dick leaking on his stomach.

A surge of affection goes through me. This is what sex should be like, what love should be like: giving the ones you love what they want, what they need, not caring if it’s “normal” or not. As long as it makes your lovers happy.

And as I wait for Kash to settle, arms straining over his head, hands clenching helplessly, obviously damn aroused and entranced, I realize I’m not a sadist. I don’t love his pain, but I’m excited because of how much pleasure we’re about to give him.

I’m turning into an expert when it comes to my lovers. I have discovered ways to pleasure them, ways to push them until they’re shaking and then give them a release that will help them relax, and my fucking heart is about to burst with joy that we get to do this, have this.

This relationship. This life.

Hands slip around my hips – big, rough hands, smoothing over my stomach, up to my pecs. West. I lean back against his chest, allowing myself to enjoy his touch for as long as I can. He rolls my nipples into hard points, strokes my ribcage, then those wicked fingers slide down to wrap around my dick, making me hiss.

“Oh fuck…” Kash moans, tugging on the belt, body arching up, his gaze glued on where West’s hands stroke my cock and fondle my balls. “Fuck.”