Gabe isn't entirely sure as to how he got in this position. Obviously he knows how he got there- he'd be a bit worried if he didn't know how he ended up naked on the bed in their motel room, sucking Alex's cock whilst Ryland stands somewhere behind him. What he can't quite remember is how they went from shooting the shit in the bar downstairs, to full-out gay sex in the room upstairs. He's fairly sure alcohol was involved. He's also quite sure that, at some point, he may have been flirting with Alex.
He's not complaining, of course. Not when Alex's cock is hot and thick in his mouth, the head nudging at his tongue and Alex clenching his hands in Gabe's hair. The sounds he's making are celestial.
Then Ryland steps up behind him, one hand resting on the curve of Gabe's hip, and he says, in a voice usually reserved for slimy building managers: "you have a thing for Alex, don't you, Gabe?"
Gabe goes to pull off, to say that, no, he really doesn't have a 'thing' for Ryland's best friend and possible casual boyfriend (or so we think, and if so can you keep it on the down low, otherwise I owe Vicky fifty bucks), not at all, no really; but Alex's hand suddenly tightens in his hair, holding him down.
Gabe dimly thinks he hears the 'snap' of a trap closing, but that might just be the sound of Ryland's hand when it lands heavily on his upturned ass.
He jerks, almost bites down before he realises what's in his mouth, and even then he ends up making a startled sound around Alex's cock. Alex doesn't seem to mind very much, though; Gabe can hear him moaning, the double-crossing bastard.
"Don't think we haven't noticed," Ryland continues, smoothly. His hand ghosts along Gabe's skin, deceptively gentle, and Gabe shudders and moans. "The way you flirt with him all the time. It's different than it is with me, right? Because you can't have him. Because he's mine."
One of the hands in Gabe's hair slides down to cup the side of his face; to gently, fondly stroke the arch of a cheekbone. Alex presses his own fingers to where his cock disappears into Gabe's mouth and they come away spit-shiny. He starts to roll his hips in tiny increments, never enough to hurt or choke, but enough that Gabe can feel the pressure of it, enough that the head of his cock rubs against the roof of Gabe's mouth.
Gabe whimpers, his own hand sliding down his stomach, towards his neglected erection.
He's almost ready for the next slap, and this time he arches the sting and moans.
"Really, Gabe," Ryland says, softly, rubbing the abused skin. "You're kind of obvious."
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ninetydegrees
'Untitled' 1/1 - Ryland/Gabe/Alex - NC17
on 2008-03-22 05:41 pm (UTC)He's not complaining, of course. Not when Alex's cock is hot and thick in his mouth, the head nudging at his tongue and Alex clenching his hands in Gabe's hair. The sounds he's making are celestial.
Then Ryland steps up behind him, one hand resting on the curve of Gabe's hip, and he says, in a voice usually reserved for slimy building managers: "you have a thing for Alex, don't you, Gabe?"
Gabe goes to pull off, to say that, no, he really doesn't have a 'thing' for Ryland's best friend and possible casual boyfriend (or so we think, and if so can you keep it on the down low, otherwise I owe Vicky fifty bucks), not at all, no really; but Alex's hand suddenly tightens in his hair, holding him down.
Gabe dimly thinks he hears the 'snap' of a trap closing, but that might just be the sound of Ryland's hand when it lands heavily on his upturned ass.
He jerks, almost bites down before he realises what's in his mouth, and even then he ends up making a startled sound around Alex's cock. Alex doesn't seem to mind very much, though; Gabe can hear him moaning, the double-crossing bastard.
"Don't think we haven't noticed," Ryland continues, smoothly. His hand ghosts along Gabe's skin, deceptively gentle, and Gabe shudders and moans. "The way you flirt with him all the time. It's different than it is with me, right? Because you can't have him. Because he's mine."
One of the hands in Gabe's hair slides down to cup the side of his face; to gently, fondly stroke the arch of a cheekbone. Alex presses his own fingers to where his cock disappears into Gabe's mouth and they come away spit-shiny. He starts to roll his hips in tiny increments, never enough to hurt or choke, but enough that Gabe can feel the pressure of it, enough that the head of his cock rubs against the roof of Gabe's mouth.
Gabe whimpers, his own hand sliding down his stomach, towards his neglected erection.
He's almost ready for the next slap, and this time he arches the sting and moans.
"Really, Gabe," Ryland says, softly, rubbing the abused skin. "You're kind of obvious."
end.