Bated Breath: An M/M/M BDSM Erotic Short

by Casey Cameron

  He pushed his cock into me again, and this time I didn’t gag, though it was a close thing. But he pulled back again before it was too much, let me breathe again, and pressed back inside. He kept a steady rhythm—in, out, pause, in, out, pause—until the sensation wasn’t just tolerable—it was practically welcome.

  Just as I felt like I was getting used to the sensation, he thrust a little deeper, and I felt the head of his cock push through the tight resistance at the back of my throat and slip just that tiny bit deeper. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe—he’d cut off my air supply entirely, and my eyes went wide with panic, but for some reason I didn’t jump back. It was like my body still trusted him, even as the animal part of my brain scrabbled at the walls and screamed danger, danger!

  His cock slid back out of my mouth, and I sucked in a choking breath, my heart racing. It had only been a second or two, but it was like my lungs needed the reassurance that everything was still working as expected.

  Michael’s hands were stroking me again, fingers dragging through my hair and over my cheeks, and he was murmuring soft words of encouragement as I caught my breath. “Good, that was perfect. You listened so well.”

  My hands hadn’t moved from Michael’s thighs, and apparently that was the all-clear, because an instant later, his cock was gliding into me again. He went a little deeper this time, his hips rocking in tiny half-thrusts while his cock was buried in my throat. It was glorious.

  I got a little lost in it, in the push-pull of it, the cycle of tension and relaxation as Michael used my throat for his pleasure. Tears were coming to my eyes, my body twitching and convulsing as he pushed right past my gag reflex and buried himself in me. My breath was coming faster when he allowed me to breathe; the pauses were getting shorter, and my lungs scrambled to catch up on the air they were missing.

  I would never have thought any of this would be a thing I’d be into, but it was good—god, it was so fucking good. I soared with it, with the knowledge that I was bringing him pleasure just like this, just by letting him use me the way he wanted to.

  Michael’s hand wrapped around the back of my head and pulled me onto him, tight against him so that my nose was pressing against his skin as his cock throbbed in my throat. The rhythm of his hips had become comfortable and familiar at that point, and I was waiting for the release, the moment where he let me go and pulled out, but it didn’t come. He held me there, groaning roughly, as my fingers twitched on his thighs.

  I waited for the panic, but it didn’t come. Absurdly, I relaxed into it, my eyes slipping shut as I held him there inside me. Made him a part of me. Let him inside where nobody had been before.

  Tiny lights were flaring at the back of my eyes, my whole body burning with the need to breathe. As if from a distance, I heard Michael’s voice, gravelly with lust but soothing me with praise. “You’re stunning like this, Connor. You look so gorgeous on my cock.”

  Even my lungs aching for air, I felt a warm wave go through me; pleasure, because I’d satisfied him. I wanted to stay like this forever, speared on him with his voice whispering gentle words of encouragement in my ear.

  It was too much for my body, though, and the lack of air was starting to make me weak. My hands slipped—I caught them before they fell away from Michael’s body, not wanting to lose an instant of contact, but they dropped down a couple inches, and that was enough to make Michael immediately pull back again, his cock sliding out of my throat as the air rushed back into my lungs with a burst of unexpected joy.

  I sagged and lurched, pitching forward and crashing into his legs. My body was craving more contact, so I rubbed my face against his thighs like some kind of pleasure-drunk cat while he petted my hair. It was all just so good, I could hardly bear it.

  “Good boy,” he said to me, and the words made another wave of pleasure ripple through my body. I wanted nothing more than to please him, than to show him I was worthy of the praise he was lavishing on me. My head felt light and floaty, and every sensation was magnified and twisted into pleasure—the cold, hard tile beneath my knees, the rough texture of his pants against my cheek, the nagging ache of my cock between my legs.

  “Stand up,” Michael said. I struggled to my feet, aided by his strong arms, and I tilted my face up, expecting a kiss.

  A kiss wasn’t what I got, though. Instead, he spun me roughly around and bent me over the kitchen counter, running a possessive hand over the curve of my ass. “I’m going to fuck you,” he said, his breath hot on my ear, “and you’re going to keep being good for me, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I whimpered, my voice rasping through my abused throat. “Anything you want.”

  He let out a low chuckle and dragged one hot, firm hand down my spine, and the touch settled me a little. I folded my arms on the cool kitchen counter and rested my head on them with a quiet sigh, turned entirely to putty by Michael’s will.

  He patted my hip and vanished from my side. My first instinct was to crane my neck around to see where he was going, but something stopped me. Michael would want me to stay still, to obey. I wanted to make him proud of me.

  I kept my eyes shut, my forehead pressed to my folded arms, and I heard Michael’s footsteps coming back for me.

  Scratch that—I heard two sets of footsteps. Shit, I’d forgotten entirely about Nathan, and here I was bent over the counter in my boxers. At least he wouldn’t be able to see my raging hard-on.

  But before embarrassment could jar me out of my sense of peace and well-being, Michael was at my side again. “You look so good,” he said, his hand stroking over my back again. “I wanted Nathan to see how pretty you are when you submit to me.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath and nodded, letting out a sound that was probably a whimper, but I didn’t care—I was kind of beyond caring about dignity.

  “Fuck, that’s hot,” Nathan groaned, his voice rough—with sleep or lust, I couldn’t tell. Maybe a little bit of both. I could picture him there behind me, his hair mussed, his lips parted, a light flush rising to his cheeks. All because of me.

  Suddenly the image of Nathan was pushed out of my head, because Michael’s blunt fingers were teasing at my entrance, slick with lube—he must have gone back to the bedroom to get supplies. Either that or he kept lube and condoms in his kitchen, and at this point that probably wouldn’t have surprised me. It’d be just like him to be absurdly prepared for sex at any time.

  The thick fingers slid into me without much preamble. I was still a little stretched and well-used from last night, and the slick invasion was more odd than uncomfortable. Then Michael crooked his fingers, and a moan rose from my chest as all awkwardness in me was replaced by pleasure and aching need.

  “Look at you,” Michael rumbled in my ear, sending shivers through my body. “So eager, and already ready for me.”

  “Do I get to touch him?” Nathan asked, his voice hesitant and lightly trembling. There was something below the surface there—some edge of deeper want that I wasn’t ready to deal with right now. Not when I was feeling so warm and loose and perfect under Michael’s touch.

  “Not yet,” Michael said, his voice radiating calm. “You’re going to watch while I fuck him.”

  I waited for mortification to set in, but it didn’t come. Instead, I was just mildly curious—what would it look like from Nathan’s viewpoint? Would he like what he saw?

  Michael’s fingers stretched me a little more, but it was clear I wasn’t going to need a lot of gentle care. My perception of time was a little fuzzy, because it seemed like an instant later that I felt Michael’s condom-wrapped cock nudging against my hole, seeking entrance.

  Once again, I willed my body to relax, and once again, it let him inside. His cock slid into me with gentle ease, and I sighed at the perfect fullness of it. I loved the way he filled me, pressed against all my inner walls until I was open and exposed, just for him.

  He rocked his hips, and everything was lost in the simple pleasure of skin on skin. I stretched my arms out, grabbi
ng for the edge of the counter as he thrust into me relentlessly, each thrust punching needy, helpless sounds out of my chest.

  I was floating, I was flying—everything was soft puffy clouds, cottony over my vision and my thoughts as his cock opened me up farther with every movement of his hips.

  The heat in my body pooled in my groin, sparks lighting at the base of my spine as I felt the inevitable wave of an orgasm approaching me. My moans grew higher-pitched, and I suddenly remembered Nathan watching and bit them off. But then I heard Nathan groan when Michael buried his hand in my hair again, and my self-consciousness dissolved. I moaned shamelessly, writhing under the sweet onslaught of Michael’s cock and his hands firm on my hips.

  I could hear Michael’s breath growing ragged—he was getting close, too, and I loved that I was doing that to him. I stretched deeper, lengthening my spine and admittedly trying to show off a little as I arched my back. I got a moan of appreciation from Nathan’s direction, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  Suddenly Michael was pulling me back against him, leaning forward to meet my body with his. His arm slid around my neck, firm and strong, and I felt myself subconsciously turning toward the embrace, the ridge of my throat tucking neatly into the crook of his arm.

  The muscles in his arm pulled tighter, squeezing my neck with light pressure, and I realized, distantly, that I’d just let him put me in an honest-to-goodness chokehold. The idea should’ve terrified me, but I only felt safe there, and I leaned forward into the pressure of the arm collaring me.

  “God, you’re perfect,” Michael hissed in my ear, and the words sent me soaring even higher. His cock in me, his muscles flexing against my throat—I was filled and surrounded by him, my whole world made up of just Michael, just what he wanted from me.

  The position of Michael’s arm kept my airway mostly clear—I was still able to drag in rattling breaths—but my head was rushing, dark spots flaring and growing behind my eyes. I suddenly realized that he was cutting off my blood flow, and I was very rapidly losing consciousness.

  And god, I…almost wanted it. To let him have complete dominion over my body, to give up control in the most primal, physical way. There had to be something wrong with me—I waited for the hot rush of shame, but it didn’t come.

  Michael held me, and fucked me, and I leaned and leaned into it, my vision going completely dark and my limbs turning to jelly. I heard, from a distance, Michael’s low growl as he came, his cock pulsing deep inside me as he leaned me gently over the counter again and I slipped that last little bit toward the void—

  Suddenly he let go, and a wave of liquid cold replaced every bit of tingling heat building in my body. It was like slipping into the ocean on a hot day, pure pleasure and relief mingling until my body sagged again, but this time from the purest relaxation I’d ever felt.

  And then the ecstasy hit.

  “Oh god,” I whispered, faintly aware that my voice was totally wrecked. “Oh god, oh yes, yes, yes.”

  It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It was like my whole body was coming, just suffused entirely with pleasure from the top of my scalp to the tips of my fingers and toes. I wiggled my fingers, and tingling waves of it crested again, leaving me babbling and incoherent and so fucking happy I thought I might explode.

  The intensity of it began to drain from my body, and I was aware of hands on me. Lots of hands—Michael must have brought Nathan over—stroking every surface of my body, touching every inch of my skin, even the ones that hardly anyone ever touched. The knob of my elbow, the inside of my knee, the little divots at my hips.

  I let myself drift in the warmth of those touches, the counter cool and soothing under my cheek as the two of them lavished attention on me. I felt the whole thing like the sound of a tinny speaker through water, a strange kind of synesthesia that made everything go wobbly and distant. The weight of the world couldn’t touch me here; only those hands, only these men I’d entrusted myself to.

  My awareness lapsed; I never actually lost consciousness, but forming memories seemed like trouble for another person to handle. I couldn’t be bothered to give a fuck. The next thing I knew, I was lying in Michael’s bed, one man on either side of me, their bodies warm and firm against mine.

  I blinked; turning to Michael, I saw a pleased smile on his face, and he reached up to stroke my cheek. “Oh, wow,” I whispered, reverence making me inarticulate. “Wow, that was…”

  “Good?” Michael finished, his voice dancing with amusement.

  “So good,” I sighed.

  “That was one of the hottest fucking things I’ve ever seen,” Nathan said as he dragged his fingers down my chest. “The way you just gave it up for him. The way you were so completely blissed out and responsive afterward. God, I—do I look like that when I’m—?”

  “You do,” Michael said affectionately, his hand grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging him down to rest his head on my chest. Nathan gasped and went completely pliant at the touch, letting out a happy little rumble when he settled there.

  Michael’s hand drifted down to cup my cock, which was…not fully soft, but close. I suddenly realized that in all the excitement, I hadn’t even come. Orgasm had seemed so distant and unimportant, given everything else that was happening to my body at the time.

  It didn’t seem quite so unimportant now, and I got hard almost instantly as he stroked me, my balls aching a little as my body got back in the game. “Do you want to come now?” Michael murmured.

  “Yes, please,” I gasped, and he chuckled softly.

  “Nathan, help me out, would you?”

  “Yes sir,” Nathan said, a little cheeky. Despite my lack of experience, I could tell that this wasn’t a scene—he wasn’t in the mood to submit right now, and Michael didn’t seem to want him to. It was a little disorienting, the way Nathan could be so thoroughly submissive or not, depending on his mood. This was going to take some getting used to.

  Nathan cupped my balls while Michael stroked me gently, and I let myself relax into it, comfortable and warm, enjoying pleasure just for the sake of pleasure. They worked in tandem, switching their positions easily as they drove me back to the edge of climax. I lost track of whose hand was whose, simply experiencing the tight grip on my shaft, the tug on my balls, a spit-slick palm gliding over the head.

  It was over almost embarrassingly fast—after the treatment I’d had earlier, my body was more than ready to let go. My back arched and I came, both their names on my lips as they kept stroking me through it until I was shuddering and oversensitive.

  And then Michael made us omelets, chatting easily with me and Nathan while he did, as though he hadn’t just fucked me while choking me until I almost passed out. It took me a long time to get into the flow of the conversation, but Michael made it easy with his smooth confidence, and Nathan helped out with some gentle ribbing that was as familiar as it was irritating. It was reassuring, though, to know that despite all the kinky sex, my relationship with my best friend was unchanged.

  As Nathan and I dug into our omelets, Michael just watched us for a little while with a fond smile. I started wondering if this was some kind of dominance thing, and there was a little pinch of self-consciousness at the thought, but it faded pretty quickly. Even if it was a dominance thing, I found that I didn’t mind giving that to him.

  This whole thing was definitely going to take some getting used to. But I was really looking forward to that process.

  Books By Casey Cameron

  Contemporary Romance

  More Than Luck (Legendary Pairs Book 2)

  Perfect Game (Legendary Pairs Book 1)

  Love Keeps Giving

  Paranormal Romance

  Tying the Knot

  Omega Studies

  His Alpha’s Alpha

  Omega On the Line

  More Than Luck

  Legendary Pairs Book 2

  It’s never too late to play for keeps.

  Drey Harper isn’t looking for love; he had
more than enough heartbreak after a betrayal cost him everything five years ago. Now at 40, he’s the art director for the hit collectible card game Legendary Pairs. Between long hours at work and countless anonymous hookups, Drey’s life seems pretty full…until the day he meets Lucas Cho.

  In the world of Legendary Pairs, 24-year-old Lucas Cho is a superstar. He plays for big money and parties like a rock star, and his arrogant swagger gets him what he wants, at the gaming table or in bed. But when a chance encounter with Drey in a crowded bar leaves him wanting more, all his fortune and skills count for nothing.

  The company thinks Lucas’s glamorous playboy lifestyle is good for business, but it's going too far—Lucas is spinning out of control, and Drey has been sent to clean up the mess and save Lucas’s sponsorship. With a major tournament coming up and Lucas’s contract with Legendary Pairs on the line, it’s up to Drey to keep him out of the bottle and walking that line.

  For Lucas, the stakes have never been higher, but the game he’s playing has nothing to do with cards and everything to do with the stoic older man who’s captured his attention. Drey knows a relationship between them is out of the question—Lucas is too young, too reckless, too broken—but the more time he spends in Lucas’s company, the more he wants the beautiful disaster he knows he shouldn't have.

  More Than Luck is a 78,000 word stand-alone May/December romance with an enemies-to-lovers story, plenty of heat, and a happily-ever-after ending. It is the second book in the Legendary Pairs series, which can be read in any order.

  Perfect Game

  Legendary Pairs Book 1

  “Hate the player, love the game…or was that the other way around?”

  Research biologist Neil Parkinson had to give up a lot in pursuit of his Ph.D–his friends, his music, his home town–but the one thing he managed to hang on to was Legendary Pairs, the hyper-competitive collectible card game that has propelled so many nerds just like him to fame and fortune. With a new job in a new city, loneliness drives him out of his apartment and into The Ogre’s Den–a haven for local players, amateur and pro alike. Neil never aspired to be a professional gamer, but that was before he met Robin.