Chapter 2: 002
The wet, rhythmic sound of Xavier’s tongue was the loudest thing in the room. It filled the space, a private, obscene metronome counting out the seconds of Dalai’s surrender. His broad back was slick with a fine sheen of sweat, each muscle defined in the low light, clenched tight then reluctantly released. The marks Xavier had left earlier stood out like violent blossoms against his skin.
Dalai’s face was buried deep in the pillow, his long curls matted to his neck. Every few moments, a shudder would rack his frame, a full-body tremor that started at his shoulders and ran all the way down to his thighs, which Xavier held apart with an unyielding grip. A low, muffled groan escaped the linen, halfway between pleasure and profound embarrassment.
“There it is,” Xavier murmured, pulling back just enough to speak, his voice wrecked and thick. He swiped the back of his hand across his glistening mouth. “Just like that. Let it go.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He dove back in, his tongue flat and firm, licking a broad stripe that made Dalai’s hips jerk off the mattress. Xavier’s hands tightened on his ass, fingers digging into the dense muscle, holding him open and immobile. He was relentless, a study in focused devotion, his usually serene composure shattered into this single-minded act of consumption.
Leo watched, his own breathing shallow. He’d seen Xavier like this before—this quiet, consuming intensity—but it never failed to stir something hot and possessive in his gut. He saw the way Dalai, his Dalai, the one who could clear a room with a silent look, was reduced to this trembling, vocal thing under Xavier’s mouth. It was a power exchange so absolute it felt sacred.
He shifted on the bed, the movement causing a creak in the springs. Dalai flinched at the sound, a subtle tightening of his shoulders.
“Hey,” Leo whispered, leaning over the massive form. He placed a hand between Dalai’s shoulder blades, feeling the heat and the frantic rhythm of his heart. “You’re doing so good. Just breathing. That’s all you gotta do.”
A shaky exhale was his only answer.
Leo’s gaze traveled down the long line of Dalai’s spine, over the curve Xavier was currently worshipping, to where his body was pinned. He saw the tense set of Dalai’s thighs, the way his knees were digging into the mattress. And he saw something else, hinted at in the shadow where his body met the sheets.
Slowly, carefully, Leo moved his hand. He slid it down Dalai’s side, over the dip of his waist, following the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath him. His fingers slipped through the warm space between Dalai’s belly and the mattress.
Dalai went stone-still. The ragged breathing stopped.
Leo’s fingertips brushed against soft, hot skin. Then lower, to the wiry curls, and further, until he felt him. Dalai was fully hard, the length of him trapped against his own stomach, slick with precome and strained with a tension that felt like steel cable.
“Oh,” Leo breathed, the word filled with a kind of soft surprise. He hadn’t expected it, not really. Not with Dalai’s protests, his historical indifference. This wasn’t indifference. This was a want so deep it had bypassed his mind completely, speaking only through his body.
Gently, Leo curled his fingers around him.
Dalai made a sound. It was a choked, desperate noise, like a man drowning. His hands, which had been gripping the sheets, shot back. One large, calloused hand found Leo’s wrist and clamped down, not to push him away, but to stop him.
“Leo,” he gasped, the name torn from somewhere deep.
“I know,” Leo murmured, his voice a low, steady hum against Dalai’s ear. He didn’t try to pull his hand free from the iron grip. He just held himself there, not moving, letting Dalai feel the encircling warmth. “I know, big guy. It’s a lot.”
“Don’t,” Dalai pleaded, his voice muffled and broken. “It’s too much.”
“It’s just me,” Leo said. He turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to the frantic pulse in Dalai’s neck. “And Xav. That’s all. Just us.”
Xavier chose that moment to press his tongue inside again, a deeper, more insistent penetration. Dalai’s back arched sharply, a broken cry escaping him. His grip on Leo’s wrist tightened painfully, then, all at once, went slack.
Leo took the opening. He began to move his hand, a slow, tentative stroke from root to tip. The skin was silken and hot, almost feverish. Dalai jerked as if electrocuted, a full-body convulsion.
Dalai jerked as if electrocuted, a full-body convulsion.
Leo didn't stop. He tightened his grip, the slide now easy with slickness, and began a slow, deliberate rhythm. His thumb swept over the leaking head on each upstroke, spreading the wetness down the length. His other hand cupped Dalai’s balls, rolling the heavy weight gently in his palm.
“See?” Leo murmured, his breath hot against Dalai’s ear. “Your body knows what it wants. Even if you don't.”
A strangled noise was Dalai’s only reply. He’d bitten his lip so hard a bead of blood welled, a dark jewel against his skin. The dual sensations were a furious contradiction—the invasive, wet heat of Xavier’s mouth working him open behind, and the firm, knowing stroke of Leo’s hand in front. His nerves screamed, overloaded, unable to decide if they were trying to flee or lean into the touch.
Xavier’s tongue was a blunt, persistent pressure, circling and probing until the resistance gave way. He pressed deeper, fucking into him with shallow, relentless thrusts that made Dalai’s thighs shake. The obscene, slick sound filled the room, a counterpoint to Leo’s quieter, rougher friction.
“He’s so tight,” Xavier gasped, pulling back for air. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his hazel eyes glazed and dark. “So perfect. You feel that, Leo?”
“Feels like he’s gonna break my hand,” Leo chuckled, but his voice was strained with his own arousal. He twisted his wrist on the upstroke, a corkscrew motion that drew a sharp gasp from Dalai. “But in a good way. A really, really good way.”
He leaned down, nipping at Dalai’s earlobe. “You gonna come just from this? From Xav’s tongue and my hand? That’s all it’s gonna take?”
“N-no,” Dalai rasped, the word torn from him. It was less a refusal and more a desperate plea for it not to be true.
“Liar,” Leo sang softly. He sped his hand up, the pace becoming demanding, his fist a tight tunnel of heat. He paid equal attention to the full shaft and the sensitive skin beneath, his fingers brushing and squeezing until Dalai’s hips began to stutter.
It was too much. The coil in his gut was winding too tight, too fast. The pleasure was a searing wire, burning through his usual detachment. He tried to clench down, to shut it out, but Xavier’s tongue was there, relentless, a live wire in his veins.
Xavier felt the clench, the internal flutter. He growled, a low, possessive sound that vibrated against Dalai’s skin. He speared his tongue as deep as it would go, a final, conquering thrust.
The wire snapped.
Dalai’s head snapped back, a raw, guttural sound ripping from his throat—a sound none of them had ever heard. It was part sob, part roar, utterly stripped of restraint. His entire body locked, bowstring taut, as the world dissolved into white-hot pulses of sensation.
Leo felt the hot spill over his fist, the rhythmic pulsing against his palm. He kept moving, gentling his strokes, milking him through it until Dalai collapsed forward with a shuddering groan, spent and trembling.
The room was silent except for their ragged breathing. Leo pulled his hand back, wiping it slowly on the sheet. He looked at Xavier over Dalai’s heaving back. “Told you,” he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips.
Xavier was still kneeling there, his face flushed, lips swollen and wet. He stared at Dalai’s ruined form with something like awe. He leaned forward and placed a single, soft kiss on the small of his back. “Beautiful,” he breathed.
Dalai didn’t move. He lay there, face still buried, every muscle loose. A fine tremor still ran through him.
A fine tremor still ran through him.
Xavier watched the aftershocks ripple across Dalai’s broad back, a landscape forever altered by his mouth. He let out a long, satisfied sigh, the sound soft in the quiet room. He gave Dalai’s ass a final, gentle pat, the slap of skin on skin a soft, affectionate punctuation.
“Okay, love,” Xavier murmured, his voice rough but tender. He slowly disentangled himself, shifting on the bed. “My turn’s over. Time for Leo.”
Dalai made a small, incoherent sound into the pillow, a mix of protest and exhaustion. Xavier just smiled that serene, knowing smile and carefully slid his hands under Dalai’s shoulders. With surprising strength for his frame, he guided the larger man over onto his back. Dalai went limp, pliant, his energy utterly spent.
Xavier settled against the headboard, pulling Dalai’s head and heavy curls into his lap. His long, pale fingers immediately began carding through the dark, sweat-damp hair, stroking with a hypnotic, gentle rhythm. “Just relax,” he whispered, looking down at Dalai’s closed eyes and slack mouth. “Just be here with me. Let Leo take care of you.”
Leo, who had been watching this tender exchange with a predatory stillness, finally moved. A flicker of raw, unvarnished hunger crossed his youthful face, sharpening his features. He scrambled behind Dalai’s prone form, his movements quick and efficient.
The sound of his zipper was obscenely loud. He shoved his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself, his own arousal already flushed and eager. He didn’t give himself time to adjust or hesitate. Kneeling between Dalai’s spread thighs, he placed a hand on the small of his back.
“You’re a mess, big guy,” Leo said, his voice a low, teasing thrill. He used his thumb to part Dalai’s cheeks, revealing the glistening, furled skin beneath. Xavier’s work was evident. The hole was flushed a deep pink, wet and glistening with saliva both inside and out. It twitched under his gaze, clenching tight in involuntary reflex.
Leo let out a low whistle of appreciation. “Perfect,” he breathed, more to himself than anyone. He leaned forward, his other hand guiding himself. The broad, smooth tip of his cock pressed against Dalai’s entrance, a blunt, warm pressure against that hyper-sensitive ring.
Dalai jerked, a full-body flinch that was more shock than refusal. A sharp inhale hissed through his teeth. His hands, which had been limp at his sides, clenched into fists.
“Whoa, easy,” Leo soothed, but he didn’t pull back. He kept the pressure steady, a promise. “Just feeling. Just getting acquainted.”
Xavier’s fingers never stopped moving through Dalai’s hair. “Breathe, Dalai,” he murmured from above, his voice a calm anchor in the storm of sensation. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”
Dalai tried. The breath shuddered out of him, weak and uneven.
Leo began to move, but not to push inside. He dragged the head of his cock around the tight furl, sliding through the slickness Xavier had left behind. It was a slow, maddening circle, a teasing threat of what was to come. Each pass made Dalai’s muscles jump.
“See?” Leo crooned, his voice dripping with playful malice. “All wet for me. Xav did all the hard work.” He applied a slightly firmer pressure, a deliberate nudge that didn’t break the seal. “You feel how ready you are? All soft and open.”
“Leo,” Dalai rasped, the name a strained plea. He turned his face into Xavier’s thigh, hiding.
“What?” Leo’s tone was all innocence. He dragged himself downward, over his perineum, then back up in a slow, torturous slide. “I’m just saying hello. Being polite.”
“You’re… not,” Dalai managed, his voice muffled.
Xavier chuckled, the sound warm and vibrating through his chest into Dalai’s skull. “He’s never polite. You know that.”
“Rude,” Leo agreed happily. He focused his attention back on Dalai’s entrance, tracing the pulsing rim with his tip. “But you like it. Your body’s talking, even if you’re not.” He leaned down, putting his mouth close to Dalai’s ear, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You wanna know a secret?”
Dalai didn’t answer, but his breathing hitched.
“Whenever Xav and I fuck,” Leo continued, the words hot against his skin, “we always leave you out. We tiptoe around you, big guy. All respectful-like.” He punctuated this with another firm, circular rub. “Because we know. We know you don’t really like it.”
He paused, letting the words hang in the humid air. The admission was a naked truth, rarely spoken aloud.
“But this?” Leo pressed the tip forward again, a persistent, undeniable pressure. “This isn’t for you liking it. This is for me. My first taste. My turn.” His voice lost its playful edge for a second, revealing the stark want underneath. “And you’re gonna give it to me.”
He pulled back completely then, leaving Dalai empty and clenching at the sudden absence. The cool air on his wet skin was a shock. A confused, wounded sound escaped Dalai’s throat.
“Shh,” Xavier soothed above him, his fingers still threading through his hair. “He’s just playing. He’s here.”
Leo positioned himself again, lining up with deliberate slowness. He rubbed the head back and forth over the quivering entrance, a silent, explicit threat.
The pressure built, a silent, shared heartbeat of anticipation. Leo’s smile faded into something focused, his dark eyes fixed on the place where his body met Dalai’s. He stopped the teasing circles. He just held himself there, a promise at the threshold.
“Okay,” Leo breathed, the word more for himself than anyone else. He braced his hands on Dalai’s hips, fingers sinking into the dense muscle. “Okay, here we go.”
He pushed.
The initial resistance was a fierce, hot tightness, a ring of muscle clenching in startled defiance. Dalai gasped, a sharp, broken sound into Xavier’s thigh. His body went rigid, a statue carved from tension. Leo didn’t stop. He leaned his weight forward, a steady, inexorable pressure.
The slickness gave way.
He sank inside, an inch, then two, the unbelievable heat and tightness stealing the air from Leo’s own lungs. “Fuck,” he whispered, the word ragged. Dalai’s body gripped him like a vise, a velvet-soft, searing hot clench that was clearly unaccustomed to any intrusion. It was dizzying.
He pushed deeper, slowly, feeling every millimeter of surrender. Dalai made a pained, humming noise, his fingers scrabbling against Xavier’s leg. Xavier’s hand stilled in his hair, holding him gently through it.
“Breathe, love,” Xavier murmured, his voice a low, steady thrum. “Let him in. It’s just Leo.”
Leo sank to the hilt, his pelvis meeting the swell of Dalai’s ass. He was buried completely, balls deep, engulfed in a clinging, perfect heat. He had to stop for a moment, his forehead dropping between Dalai’s shoulder blades, just to feel it. To believe it. Years. It had been years of wanting this, of tiptoeing around Dalai’s quiet disinterest.
And it felt so fucking good.
Dalai felt so good. Leo couldn’t fathom hating this. The connection was electric, a live wire of pleasure sparking up his spine. Dalai’s internal walls fluttered around him, a frantic, nervous pulse that gradually eased into a slower, rhythmic clench.
“Holy shit,” Leo exhaled, his voice shaky with awe. He lifted his head, looking over Dalai’s shoulder at Xavier. “You feel that? How tight he is?”
Xavier met his gaze, his hazel eyes dark and approving. A soft smile touched his swollen lips. “I told you. Perfect.”
Leo pulled back, just an inch. The drag was exquisite, a friction that made his vision blur. He pushed back in, a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. Dalai shuddered beneath him, a full-body tremor.
“There,” Leo soothed, beginning a gentle rhythm. “That’s it. Just getting used to me.” Each stroke was a revelation. Dalai’s body was a furnace, tight and yielding by turns, gripping him like it would never let go. He could feel every detail—the subtle textures, the way Dalai clenched when he brushed a particular spot, the overwhelming, intimate heat.
He kept the pace agonizingly slow, drawing out every sensation. “You take it so good, big guy,” he murmured, his lips close to Dalai’s ear. “All that quiet, all that stoic crap… and you’re just a fucking dream inside. Makes no sense.”
Dalai turned his face, his cheek still pressed to Xavier’s thigh. His eyes were squeezed shut, his brow furrowed. “Leo… stop talking.”
“Why?” Leo grinned, thrusting a little deeper, a little less carefully. Dalai’s breath hitched. “You wanna just pretend this isn’t happening? That I’m not all the way inside you? That Xav isn’t right there, watching me fuck you?”
“He likes watching,” Xavier supplied calmly, his fingers resuming their stroking of Dalai’s hair. “He’s just shy about it.”
“I am not,” Dalai growled, but it lacked conviction, broken by another slow, deep thrust.
“You are,” Leo singsonged, picking up his pace just a fraction. The wet sound of their joining filled the room, a lewd counterpoint to their breathing. “You’re shy and you’re tight and you feel like heaven. A complete contradiction.” He leaned down, nipping at Dalai’s shoulder. “My contradiction.”
He settled into a steady, deep rhythm, each thrust sinking him to the root. The bed began to creak in a soft, persistent tempo. Leo lost himself in the feeling, in the overwhelming rightness of it. The stretch and glide, the way Dalai’s body gradually, reluctantly, began to move with him, meeting his pushes with a tiny, answering shift of his hips.
“Look at you,” Leo breathed, his voice thick. “Taking it. Letting me have this. After all this time.” He slapped Dalai’s ass lightly, the sound sharp in the room. The muscle jiggled, and Dalai flinched, a shocked little gasp escaping him. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. To just… ruin you. To make you feel this.”
Xavier watched, his serene smile intact, but his eyes were heavy-lidded with desire. He traced the shell of Dalai’s ear with his thumb. “He’s doing so well, isn’t he?”
“Unbelievable,” Leo agreed, pistoning his hips harder, deeper. The force drove Dalai forward a bit into Xavier’s lap. “Look at him, Xav. All big and scary out in the world, and in here he’s just… ours. Just letting me use him. Isn’t that right?”
Dalai didn’t answer. A low, continuous moan was being punched from his lungs with every thrust, a sound of overwhelmed sensation. His hands had fisted in the sheets again.
“Use your words, gorgeous,” Leo coaxed, his own control starting to fray at the edges. The pleasure was a coil winding tight in his gut, but he refused to rush. He slowed again, pulling almost all the way out, teasing the tight, fluttering ring before sinking back in with a languid, torturous push. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“You’re… inside,” Dalai forced out, the words ragged.
“And?” Leo prompted, speeding up for a few punishing strokes before slowing back down to that maddening, deep roll.
“And it’s… a lot.”
Leo laughed, the sound breathless. “A lot. Yeah, it’s a lot.” He angled his next thrust differently, searching, and was rewarded with a sharp, choked-off cry from Dalai. His body convulsed, his walls clamping down like a vice. “There,” Leo hissed, zeroing in on that spot. “That’s the one, huh?”
He did it again, and again, each precise thrust earning a broken sound.