Candy Boys

by Raven, Jo

  Holy shit.

  This day is going down in fucking history.

  ***

  “Hey, girl. Where are you? Wanna come over?” Joel watches me gather our soiled clothes as he calls Candy, standing naked by the kitchen table.

  I forget myself for a second, gazing at him. Damn guy is built like a classical statue. Muscular legs, washboard abs, strong pecs, heavy biceps, broad shoulders—and then that fine face and blue eyes that currently look amused.

  Shaking myself, I pick up his pants and start toward the bedrooms. He didn’t even ask me about calling Candy. He didn’t have to. There’s a secret understanding that we’d always make out together, all three of us, and that this was an exception.

  I hope Candy understands.

  Tension is coiling the muscles in my back. I force myself not to listen in to the phone call. I jump into the shower, sigh when the warm water hits my shoulders, relaxing them.

  The memory of going down on Joel is running on a loop inside my head, and my cock makes a valiant effort to harden, but fails.

  Too soon.

  I soap myself up, turn my face into the spray, let the stress of the day seep away. Coming twice has sure helped, but it’s not enough to get my mind completely off the shitstorm that I feel is about to hit.

  It would help more if I could have Joel’s mouth around my dick. His cock in my ass. If he made me come so hard I forgot my own name.

  He was the one who kissed me and jacked me off today. Does this mean he’s not freaking out anymore? That he’s willing to give this liking-guys-as-well-as-girls thing a go?

  Yeah, wishful thinking.

  Then the bathroom door opens, and he strides inside, like we do this every day. Heh, don’t I wish. I expect him to grab something—or brush his teeth, whatever—but he slips into the shower stall without a word and grabs the soap and washcloth from me.

  “Turn around,” he orders, and I obey before his command reaches my conscious mind, a shiver of pleasure going through me.

  Uh oh. I’m fucked.

  Any remaining doubt flees when he runs the washcloth from my neck down to the small of my back and I moan, bracing my hands on the tiles and dropping my head forward.

  “J…” What is he doing to me? Do I know this guy?

  The washcloth stops shy of the crack of my ass, instead sliding back up until it reaches the knots in my upper back. It smooths over them, then it disappears and strong hands take its place, pressing into the knots expertly.

  Oh fuck.

  I bite my lip savagely to keep quiet as he massages my neck and upper back. He’s never done this before, but hell yeah. Didn’t know he had a knack for it, either. His thumbs press into a particularly tense spot and a groan escapes me.

  Holy fuck, this is good. Different from sex, although my dick is still doing its best to stir at the sensation.

  “You’re stiff like a motherfucker,” Joel mutters, and I drop my forehead on my arm, chuckling.

  Stiff is what I’ll be eventually if he keeps this up.

  Then his thumbs hit another spot and I shiver. “Fuck. You’re good at this.”

  “I’m good at many things.”

  “Arrogant bastard.”

  “Fucking dipshit. I’m still not washing your hair, for the record.”

  “Fuck you.” I elbow him in the gut, and he swears as he moves away to avoid me, snickering. “I can wash my own hair just fine.”

  The sound of the doorbell cuts through our banter.

  “Must be Candy,” Joel says and he’s still grinning when I turn to look at him. “I’ll get the door.”

  I nod, hiding a smile. Thank fuck this didn’t turn awkward. He didn’t act distant, he didn’t run away—and Candy is here.

  The things that scare me, the things that go bump at night or stab you in the back are fading into background noise. All I can feel is Joel’s touch on my body, all I can hear is Candy’s voice from the living room.

  I’m safe here, right?

  And if I should be worried that this is turning into a real good evening, if I should know that good things never last… Don’t blame me. A mind can only take so much before going off the deep end.

  ***

  So that’s why I don’t think as we lie on Joel’s bed and kiss, Candy in our middle, and touch, and hold on to each other.

  I don’t think as Joel goes down on her while I kneel beside them, stroking my hardening cock, watching. Or as she goes down on him afterward, sucking him until he comes hard, his hand in her hair.

  I don’t think that five years before my father killed my mom, his brother turned up dead. And it’s been five years since my mom’s death. Almost to the day.

  That means nothing. And if I thought I saw someone in the crowd at the bar once who seemed familiar, and if my cousin saw a guy watching from the windows, if someone broke and entered his house, looking for something… it wasn’t for me. It wasn’t my father, come back to get me.

  That’d be crazy. Like stuff-me-in-a-straitjacket-and-gimme-pills sort of crazy.

  So I refuse to think about it. My father’s missing, probably dead in some ditch out of the way, in the woods where an innocent tourist will discover his bones one day.

  Okay, so I can’t stop the thoughts from returning and feasting on my sanity like vultures, the images from that night five years ago haunting—my mom toppling over, the blood spreading under her…

  My father’s cold, blank gaze when he turned to look at me.

  Shit.

  Then Joel directs Candy to sit on my cock, distracting me for good. I’m fully hard by now, not even the godawful memories able to take down my hard-on.

  She takes my face in her hands, brown eyes warm, no, heated. I hope she won’t ask me if I’m okay, that she won’t bring up our conversation at the store.

  She doesn’t. Instead, she hands me a condom, probably from Joel’s stash, and bites her lip as I put it on. Then she climbs on top of me and sinks down, swallowing my moan with her mouth, my dick with her pussy.

  It’s so good. Her softness surrounds me, her slender arms wrap around my neck and her scent fills my senses. Soft is good. I need it, after the violence of the memories—but it’s not enough to yank me out of reality.

  Fuck.

  Looks like tonight I won’t have any real respite. She’s riding me and kissing me, and my body is tightening with need, but I don’t feel safe.

  Tomorrow. The anniversary is tomorrow. Five years.

  Stop, I tell my mind. Stop. Enough. He’s dead. He’s gone.

  I break the kiss to draw a shaky breath, my heart hammering fit to break a rib in my chest.

  “Jet?” She’s stroking my face, and I’m mortified to find myself shivering.

  “What do you need?” Joel asks, and his hand on my shoulder is a welcome weight.

  Joel is strong. He makes me feel safe. Makes me feel protected.

  And I want him. So damn much.

  I don’t say anything, but he’s scooting behind me, turning my face to suck on my lips. His kiss is bruising, savage.

  Perfect.

  Candy braces herself on my shoulders, rocking, and the twin feel of them is what I need. Pressed between them, I gasp when his tongue slips into my mouth.

  Then his hands are on my ass, and I moan recklessly, breathlessly, as his fingers brush down my crack.

  “God, yes,” I whisper when lube dribbles over my opening, and then Joel’s thumb presses inside. “Hell yeah, please.”

  His thumb presses into me.

  Fuckfuckfuck. Candy has stilled again, but her lips are trailing on my cheek, and I face her, crushing our mouths together as Joel starts fucking me with his thumb.

  A groan rises in my chest. My cock swells more, making Candy shudder. This is fucking good, more than I ever expected from Joel, and I can’t… Oh hell.

  He’s pulling his thumb out, stroking the rim, adding more lube. What is he…?

  The blunt head of his cock presses into me. It’s so muc
h larger than the dildos I’ve used, and it’s pushing into me, an unrelenting pressure that has me gasping.

  “Shh,” Candy whispers against my lips.

  Does she know what’s happening?

  “Do you…?” My voice breaks on another groan as his cock pops inside me, sliding deep, filling me up so that I hunch forward. Joel’s hand on my back pushes me forward more.

  “Holy shit,” Candy whispers as I lower her to the mattress, her blond hair fanning out around her, her eyes wide. “He’s fucking you, isn’t he?”

  I can’t speak, lost in the feel of both of them—Candy’s pussy gripping my dick, Joel’s cock inside me. I drop my forehead on hers, trying to get my bearings.

  Joel slides out a little, then slams back inside me, and I cry out, pushing into Candy. She clamps around my cock, and my mind implodes.

  Memories? What memories? What danger? I’m a shiver of pleasure caught between two bodies, a burning flame. He pushes into me, and I thrust into her. Her mouth licks mine, and I can only hang on as Joel picks up speed, pounding into me.

  Candy arches her back, clenching and unclenching around my dick. “God, this is so hot! Holy crap…”

  I want to lick her nipples, stroke her until she comes, but I can’t. I’m caught between them. Suspended. Buffeted from every direction. I’m distantly aware I’m moaning loudly, grunting, harsh, hoarse sounds I didn’t think could come from me.

  “Jet…” Joel breathes on the back of my neck, and damn, he bites down hard.

  My body jolts. My dick jerks. I howl, thrust in a storm of pleasure, barely aware of Candy clawing at my shoulders, but then her pussy closes around my dick like a vise, and I’m gone.

  The pleasure is sharp and overwhelming, slicing through me like a blade, breaking me to pieces. I shake and buck and rock and try to take it.

  No way. I come so hard everything goes white, and then black.

  ***

  I come to with Candy smiling brilliantly up at me and Joel cursing, still pumping in my ass.

  “Holy fucking hell,” he mutters, and I feel his cock lurch inside me again and again before he slumps on my back. “Shit.”

  I’m crushing Candy. Blinking the stars from my eyes, I do a push-up, and Joel curses again.

  “Don’t. Move.” He hisses as he starts pulling out, still semi-hard, and I bite on the inside of my cheek as wisps of pain/pleasure rock me. “You’re so fucking tight.”

  I shake my head, but a grin tugs at my mouth. “You big-dicked son of a bitch.”

  Joel snorts.

  Candy giggles.

  I just stay there, on all fours, not sure how long before I collapse back on top of her. I feel…boneless. Light. Like I’m floating on air.

  Joel pulls me off Candy, rolls me on my back and stares down at the both of us. I can’t read his face. Then again, my brain is mush, like my body. Not sure I can formulate a coherent sentence, or move a fucking finger.

  Stick a fork in me, I’m done.

  Joel rubs a hand over his face, glances down at his dick. He frowns.

  Uh oh. He’s thinking. Overthinking. Probably about to freak out at what happened. This weird I’m-not-gay mantra he’s obsessed with.

  I turn my head to Candy, gather the last shreds of energy hiding in my body. “Tackle-hug Joel?”

  She looks as exhausted as I feel, but she grins. “Oh yeah.”

  He yelps when we launch ourselves on him, landing him on his back on the bed and hold him down. He struggles, but relaxes after a while and tugs us to curl against his sides.

  I’m asleep before I know anything more.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  CANDY

  Title: Finders Keepers

  From Candy Boys (Blog serial)

  “Harder,” he hisses as J-Two thrusts into him from behind, and he rocks into me with each thrust, so that we’re all connected and our pleasure is pouring from one to the next in a loop that never seems to end.

  “Make me come,” I tell them, “make me come, guys.”

  Not that they ever say no. Good boys… I think I’m going to keep them.

  Joel is making us pancakes and coffee for breakfast. He’s quiet, but he’s here and that’s all that matters.

  I can see Jet is relieved, too, trying to hide his smile by stuffing himself silly with pancakes.

  I tug on the T-shirt I’m wearing, one of Joel’s that’s hitting me at mid-thigh, and push my glasses up my nose.

  Holy shit, it really happened. Joel fucked Jet.

  My girly parts throb at the memory. I wish I’d seen it, instead of only feeling it through Jet.

  Maybe they’ll do it again? I mean, it’s not like I forced them into it, or even asked them or anything. That was Joel going at it from his own volition.

  Has to mean something, right? That he wanted it. That he really wants Jet sexually. I could see his face behind Jet as he fucked him, the raw need in his eyes, the force of his motions. I could barely focus enough to look toward the end, but the sounds they both produced…

  Holy shit, so sexy…

  The memory heats my blood and warms my face as I rush to dress and drive myself and Jet to work. I can see his cheekbones flushed, too, and I know he’s also remembering last night.

  I want to laugh and dance and drive right back to the apartment. Haul both my boys back to bed and start all over again.

  Damn you, real life. Why do you have to keep getting in the way with work and adult commitments? I don’t want to adult today.

  I want… I want to tell them how I feel. Tell my boys I love them. The thought of anything happening to them has my stomach in knots. The thought of spending time with them makes my heart light.

  But I hesitate. Guys often bolt when the L-word is spoken, don’t they? Maybe they don’t feel that way. Maybe they don’t feel anything at all, except lust.

  Nah. They do feel something. I just know it, from the way they take care of me, the way they hold me, the way they talk to me.

  I steal another glance at Jet. He catches my gaze and smiles.

  Boom. Like a bullet to the heart. I reach over, catch his hand, and squeeze. That dark gaze dips to my mouth, to my boobs, back up to my face, and his smile widens.

  I can’t help but smile back. “Everything okay?”

  “When I have you and Joel…” His gaze dips, the flush on his cheeks deepens. “Then everything’s perfect, Candy pop.”

  Perfect. It feels that way for me, too.

  “Last night was hot.”

  “Sure was.”

  “You really love Joel, don’t you?” I glance from him to the street ahead and back. “Really want him, like he wants you.”

  “Yeah? I’m not so fucking sure.” Uncertainty crosses his features. “I often think I want… so much more from him.” He snorts. “I want from him what I want from you.”

  My heart booms. “I’ve imagined you two like that so often.”

  He glances at me, his long lashes throwing shadows on his cheeks. “Like what? Like last night?”

  “Yes. I, um… I’ve been writing a story.” Crap, why am I telling him this? Oh God. “Featuring you two. I didn’t really know you back then, so I hope you don’t mind. I’m going to take it down now, though,” I rush on. “Doesn’t feel right anymore. Sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for?” He licks his lips, his eyes gleaming. “So is it like… erotic? Do we fuck, all three of us?”

  Hearing him saying it like that, crudely, sends fire skittering over my skin and an ache between my legs. “Yeah. We do.”

  “And Joel fucks me, too?”

  “Oh yeah.” I park the car, my face flaming. “He sure does. As do you.”

  “As do I what?”

  “You fuck him.” I clap a hand over my mouth, torn between laughing and groaning in mortification. “Oh God, please don’t hate me.”

  “Hate you? You’re fucking kidding me.” He leans forward, grips my face and kisses me, hard, though his eyes are laughing. “When can
I read it?”

  ***

  He gets no chance to read it, though, because it’s a busy day and customers file in and out, keeping us on our toes. Plus, he seems distracted. Very, very distracted. He keeps glancing out of the glass storefront at the street, but when I ask if it’s Joel he’s expecting, he shakes his head.

  I’m so relieved he’s been so nice about my revelation about my blog, I give him a pass on his crappy mood.

  He vanishes during lunch break to the back of the store to make a phone call and doesn’t surface again until later, when I see him help out an old lady who’s apparently looking for a guide to great sex.

  “It’s for myself!” she clarifies, loud enough that I hear her across the store.

  Well, kudos. I bet my mom would approve, although I snicker at Jet’s blank face as he shows her our selection.

  Then Donna draws him aside, her face serious, and to check the sex guides. Jet follows her to her office, his back rigid.

  I stare after them, worried. What now?

  But with Jet gone, I’m left so busy I don’t have time to think. I see glimpses of him later and try to catch his eye, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

  Weird.

  Even weirder is that he leaves before me, before, in fact, I even notice he’s gone. I stand still in the empty shop, a strange pain in my heart. This is the time we’ve sat together for a week now, reading together, waiting for Joel to come pick us up. Take us home.

  I take out my phone to call Jet, but my finger remains poised over his name. Why should I call him? What’s this—he’s giving me the cold shoulder? Why, after everything we’ve discussed, everything we’ve shared, he won’t come to me and I should run after him?

  I’m angry. Oh crap, I’m angry at one of my boys. And scared.

  Scared that I misjudged. That I fell too hard.

  Then again, I was afraid of that all along. Afraid that, in real life, happy endings aren’t the norm.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  JOEL

  “Sometimes,” Jet told me once, “there is no getting over something when it’s sunk its claws too deep. You can only drag it with you and get used to the extra weight as you move on.”